While watching an afternoon show of Manpreet Singh Dhami’s His Story of Itihaas in the plex the other day, I noticed that the theatre was almost empty. The three other viewers who were present looked quite engrossed in the movie though. Honestly, bolstered by a strong script and helmed by the earnest performance of Subodh Bhave, the acclaimed Marathi actor who donned the role of the protagonist Namit Bharadwaj, a Physics teacher, in the film, there wasn’t much to be distracted by.
Dhami’s film minced no words in challenging the way history has been taught in India, particularly in schools, ever since we became independent. It focused on an educator questioning the accuracy and completeness of the historical narrative presented in school textbooks and aimed to expose what he perceived as a distorted view of India’s past. The film argued that a lot of historical information is misrepresented or ignored, leading to a skewed understanding of Indian identity, culture and history. Anyone with a yen for well made social dramas should have found this cinema riveting. However, the lack of interest in the film from the Indian audience spoke otherwise. Not only did the film not get good show timings and halls, the absence of buzz around it ensured that most Indian moviegoers would not even know of this important work.
I am not surprised though. Dhami in a recent interview admitted that 60 mainstream actors rejected his film before Bhave decided to do it. This is in no way demeaning Bhave’s talent or performance but in a country where films often garner acceptance more for who they star than the story, this was a given. This also points out to the disturbing trend of Hindi film celebrities choosing scripts based on how sensational they are rather than being meaty or author backed. The money (Dhami operated on a tight budget) plays a big role, too, the absence of which deters a Hindi film actor from signing a film no matter how promising the role is.
However, I am quite tempted to ask whether even a top Hindi actor would be enough to draw in the crowd, who for generations have been systematically brainwashed in schools to dismiss subjects like history with extremely boring techniques and curriculum in teaching. While the emphasis continued being on science subjects, the importance of delving deep into our social and cultural past kept being ignored. A scene where the parents of the girl are more interested in meeting the science teacher at a parent teachers’ meeting says a lot about the general perception towards subjects like History in our country’s education set up.
And here we must ask why was this depletion in curiosity about our past, presented through authentic facts and not half-baked information, arranged by the drafters of the education curriculum of independent India! Why were generations brought up on history lessons that were made to appear boring and tedious for students so that they get distanced from their civiliational bearings? Most importantly, in a bid to appear secular, why were lessons dished out in a lopsided manner where students were trained to wallow in self pity while glorifying a bunch of lies about treacherous invaders. This film showcases in an extremely direct fashion how through the act of subverting the tales of valour of Indian kings and queens resisting invaders, there was vicious propaganda aimed at brainwashing generations in India to identify more with a colonial mindset than take pride in their own indigenous habits and cultures. If you are a parent who studied problematic historical lies in school and are unnerved by the continuation of such harakiri done to your offspring now as well, you would probably identify with Namit Bharadwaj’s pain and plight.
In a few day’s time Dhami’s movie would perhaps be available on an OTT platform. That would be a good chance for parents to watch this and raise some important questions and hold discussions with their wards who have been fed with toxic propaganda garbed as history in school over the years. For, this is a movie that doesn’t stop at exposing the agenda driven formulation of history curriculum by people like Chhaya Mukherjee (Vasanti Sundaram is playing a role that will remind you of Mridula Mukherjee) and Ishaan Kabir (Ankur Vikal is too young to represent Irfan Habib but the reference is too obvious to be missed) but also make you realise the extent to which the Indian populace has been colonised long after the colonisers exited. And yet, through the educational diktats and formulations of Thomas Babington Macaulay, generations were trained and honed to become psychological slaves of the British who just appeared Indians in skin.
A country that was systematically brainwashed to forget their indigenous habits, practices, languages, culture and practices can never take pride in what was originally ours. Such coloniality can never accept the truth even after the lies stand exposed. While the movie’s central argument is that the history taught in schools is incomplete and biased, often ignoring key aspects of Indian civilization and focusing on a Western perspective, it also critiques the influence of Western education and the perceived brainwashing of Indian children through the adoption of Western languages and cultural practices.
The director emphasises on the importance of seeking truth and questioning narratives, advocating for a more accurate and comprehensive understanding of India’s history and culture. However, that is easier said than done. In the end when a politician gives into the arm twisting of mobocracy, one is disheartened by the lack of resolve shown by the powers-that-be to correct the wrong with an iron fist. While busting the brainwashing industry, though the film seeks to reclaim stolen civilizational memory in a courageous format, there is a sense of hopelessness that also looms over the damage already done. Here is where we as parents have a greater responsibility.
To step in and motivate our youngsters to know what the truth was and this is only possible by recounting not just the stories and sagas of bravery and valour of our Hindu rulers and dynasties but also talk about the treacheries of the invaders and colonisers with a thoroughly objective mindset (as pointed out by Professor Yogendra Tiku’s Professor Kamal Subramanian in the movie). There is an dire need to question the sanitized and distorted narratives taught in Indian school textbooks—from Ashoka’s remorse to Tipu Sultan’s heroism and shed light on the deep-rooted ecosystem that has shaped generations to feel ashamed of their heritage but there is also a need to take the cudgels to set matters straight now that is over and above school curriculum. Education, in actual terms, must begin at home, too.
While the movie is based on the book Brainwashed Republic: India’s Controlled Systemic Deracination by Munieshwer A Sagar and Neeraj Atri (Atri is the president of the National Centre for Historical Research and Comparative Studies, Chandigarh), there is also enough discussion on the divisive tactics the colonisers employed in India using caste as a tool as against our varna system that ran our society in a harmonious manner before they arrived. This explanation is deconstructed using the instance of Rwanda where the society was similarly divided by the colonial masters. Sadly, when people do not want to dwell on how these discriminatory tools were infused into our society by people who came to loot and rule us, they are more prone to follow western narratives of India being reformed and civilised by the cunning colonisers. The friction between Namit Bharadwaj and his friend Ashish is a telling instance of this vicious ploy by the colonisers and then the agenda driven education policies formulators to keep the reservation fumes ignited.
For many who would watch this well-made work, this might be the first time they truly understand how parents and children get trapped in their ideological web. The film runs a parallel narrative of two families – one wealthy, one not. And it successfully shows that the issue affects everyone, regardless of class or gender. It’s a story of resistance against a powerful system. It’s a challenge to the status quo, and a lament for the helplessness of the new order that emerges after change. In fact, I would call this film a rare triumph for dealing with a subject that even a few years ago would be considered as a ‘no-go-zone’. What began with The Kashmir Files in 2019 has now reached Chhava and His Story of Itihaas. Note the emphasis on the His, thus marking how our history has always been told from the perspective of the invaders and the colonisers). “The government may be theirs, but the system is still ours.” This powerful line from The Kashmir Files resonates even more deeply after watching Dhami’s work. For, even today, the academic and creative space is dominated by those who are hell-bent on erasing or tarnishing anything positive about India. And this is a battle that cannot be won by just one film. The problem is too deep-rooted—it will take many such efforts to cleanse the rot.
Namit (Bhave is brilliant in the film) seeks Subramanian’s help in challenging the school texts, and is mentored in matters of history. The history professor tells him that none of the facts presented in the school curriculum have any corresponding proof. In a scene he even evokes Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels, to prove his point. “If you call a circle square through flowery language enough times, that becomes the truth. That is how propaganda works,” the professor says. Next time you pick up a school history text and see this happening in between the lines, remember the words of Goebbels and thereafter this significant film.
