Basumatary’s Jiya is a Beacon of Hope for Assamese Cinema

In a society where women are always subjected to many prejudices and preconditions, the story of Jiya brings hope for women to rethink and reevaluate the structure in which they have been nurtured. Kenny Basumatary’s recent film, Jiya, which has already received numerous awards at various prestigious festivals and award ceremonies, would be an interesting watch for the audience this weekend and beyond.

At a time when Assamese movies are still struggling to grasp the audience’s attention and bring them to the theatre, I strongly believe this film has a substantial storyline and an interesting set of performances that will keep the audience glued to the screen for two hours. The film Jiya has so many dynamics that it is not only interesting to watch but also worth studying and analyzing carefully.

This film brings to the table questions about women’s autonomy, their friendships, their relationships, and how societal expectations affect their decisions. It will make you question whether our society at large is still ready to accept and acknowledge that women are capable of making their own choices and whether society believes that women could live a life without a man.

Jiya (played by Sarmistha Chakravorty), her female best friend Pallavi (played by Eepsita Hazarika), and Nupur, Jiya’s daughter, are the primary characters around whom the storyline of the film revolves. The story deserves appreciation for its portrayal of how a single mother deals with societal constraints while making harsh decisions to safeguard her daughter from influences that may affect her upbringing.

Jiya is unconditionally supported by her best friend Pallavi, who has been her rock since their school days. One of the most intriguing aspects of this film is its depiction of female friendship. The way Pallavi stands by Jiya through all her highs and lows, providing her with a sense of security in spaces where a single mother often feels vulnerable, is where the plot peaks in its exploration of women’s stories. This exploration shows that friendship that extends to solidarity goes a long way in providing healing, security, and empowerment to women.

Here, I believe Chakravorty and Basumatary have done a fabulous job of understanding and realizing that a strong bond between women acts as a means of survival and a means of selfhood. In fact, the friendship that Jiya and Pallavi share: the sisterhood, is a feminist strategy of going beyond as well as challenging patriarchy. 

The film doesn’t limit its viewpoint to female friendship alone; throughout the narrative, it shows how women, in general, have always been empathetic and understanding toward each other, whereas men often fail to grasp their struggles. For instance, Paplu’s sister informs Jiya about changes in the former’s behaviour and warns her to move out because of him.

Here, we see the helplessness in their conversations. Although the sister recognizes her brother’s increasingly inappropriate behaviour, she lacks the courage to stop him because Jiya and she are both women. They understand that Jiya would be blamed first rather than Paplu being held accountable. This sense of helplessness pervades the story, where the women often find themselves conforming to socially acceptable behaviours.

An example of this is when Pallavi suggests that Jiya wear sindoor and a ring to appear married in order to secure a rental house in Guwahati. However, when they meet a female owner, she understands Jiya’s situation and offers her the rental house, contrasting with the male owners who judged her upon hearing the word “divorce.”

The narrative carefully and sensitively deals with a woman’s life after divorce, giving ample attention to the prejudices she faces compared to the man whose behaviour led to the divorce. Jiya, while searching for a rented house, mentions how it is easy for a divorced man to find a place to live, but for a woman, it is next to impossible. In this search for a rented house, Basumatary sensitively addresses the question of space throughout the narrative. Having a space of her own is central to the story, whether it refers to a physical space or a metaphorical one, and it becomes increasingly difficult as the narrative progresses.

The story also compels us to think about the institution of marriage and how dominant societal perspectives suggest that a woman’s worth is solely defined by her marital status. Therefore, as we see in Jiya’s story, the collapse of her marriage is seen as an indictment of her entire being, rendering her life seemingly devoid of worth and making men view her as easy sexual prey.

At a time when Laapata Ladies (Director: Kiran Rao) and Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar (Director: Sanjay Leela Bhansali) on Netflix are capturing everyone’s attention on social media and sparking discussions about women’s narratives, I believe Basumatary’s Jiya not only contributes significantly to this discourse but also deserves greater recognition. Like other works by Basumatary, this story doesn’t just have a strong and bold storyline, but complemented by impeccable situational comic timing, which adds a fresh and intriguing element to the narrative.

The performances of the actors are the cherry on top, they are exceptionally realistic and raw, described by a crew member as being “accidental actors,” which enhances the authenticity and charm of their portrayals. The film maintains a realistic approach without excessive dramatization, creating the effect of watching familiar characters in everyday settings as if a camera were set up in our own homes.

The reason I believe Jiya needs more attention from the audience is that this film could be a beacon of hope for good Assamese cinema. At a time when the Assamese film landscape is struggling to produce compelling stories, and people have almost lost faith in Assamese filmmakers, producers are also hesitant to invest in Assamese films because audiences rarely come to the theatres.

If people come to appreciate this film, it would motivate filmmakers to create more. Certainly, platforms like YouTube and Netflix provide additional ways to watch and enjoy films, but they can never replace the essence of the cinema hall experience. Therefore, I believe the audience shall come to watch this movie at their local theatres and appreciate its narrative about women, just as they are doing for recent mainstream Hindi media.