August assembly

Films and TV shows — all narrative art, really, but especially these two media — have come a long way in terms of structure and technique. Biopics and documentaries these days have all kinds of snazzy ways of making history come alive. My favourite biopic, the 2007 film I’m Not There , is surely one of the most unconventional examples of its genre, employing six actors to play seven stages of Bob Dylan’s lives, including, most memorably, Cate Blanchett who played the ‘Electric Dylan’. This is the main reason why I found myself re-watching Shyam Benegal’s 10-part TV series Samvidhaan recently — its charmingly old-fashioned structure, wherein re-enactions of Constituent Assembly speeches and debates (as well as other important events that led up to the drafting of the Constitution) are interspersed with Swara Bhasker doing her best old-school DD anchor impression, with inch-perfect Hindi and Urdu ( Samvidhaan , after all, was aired on Rajya Sabha TV when it was released originally, in 2014; all the 10 episodes, 50-odd minutes each, are now on Rajya Sabha TV’s YouTube channel).

Samvidhaan ’s biggest strength is the wealth of talented veterans it has at its disposal, playing some of the tallest figures in Independence-era Indian politics. You have Dalip Tahil returning to his iconic role as Jawaharlal Nehru, still pulling off Nehru’s anglicised accent with élan. The late Narendra Jha plays a ridiculously perfect Muhammad Ali Jinnah, his eyes brimming with hurt and a fierce self-belief in the face of mounting opposition. Rajeshwari Sachdev, (whose role in Benegal’s Sardari Begum remains one of Indian cinema’s unsung virtuosic acts) plays Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, while the late Tom Alter is magisterial as usual, playing Maulana Abul Kalam Azad. The real icing on the cake is Neeraj Kabi, who is only now getting his due thanks to Sacred Games , playing Mahatma Gandhi. It is undiluted pleasure to watch these masters of their craft in historical bombast mode, with nothing held back.

How can one not be moved, for instance, when the delightful Rajendra Gupta (known in the 1990s for Chandrakanta , popular these days for his role as Tanu’s father in the Tanu Weds Manu films), playing his famous namesake Dr Rajendra Prasad, addresses the inaugural meeting of the Constituent Assembly and delivers a flawless, rousing speech first in Hindi and then in English? Or when Gandhi meets Dr Jagjivan Ram in order to give him the famous taabeez (not a literal amulet but a nugget of advice) about assessing whether one’s life choices are doing anything for the poorest of the poor?

Benegal’s lighting and his use of space are at their most impressive here. ‘Wow’ moments include Jinnah musing about the future of the Indian subcontinent, sitting by the fireplace in his British-style drawing room, cigar never far from reach. Equally impressive is the moment BR Ambedkar (Sachin Khedekar) stands up to address the Constituent Assembly, spiffy suit matching spiffy hair matching spiffy glasses (spiffy for their time).

All of which brings us to Samvidhaan ’s one glaring problem — the short work it makes of Ambedkar and his place in Indian history (and, specifically, his central role in drafting the Constitution). The ratio of screen time devoted to Gandhi or Nehru and to Ambedkar tells its own story. The Gandhi vs Ambedkar adversarial situation, you ask? It has been whitewashed expertly, with a deft half-sentence uttered by Kabi, almost as an afterthought. The question of separate electorates comes up again and again with respect to Hindus versus Muslims, in part because those sequences lead up to the eventual formation of Pakistan. But the schisms between caste Hindus and Dalits (led by Ambedkar) barely get a mention in the 500-minute runtime. Eight hours of some of the most crucial moments in the inception of India and you ignore the elephant in the room?

It seems ridiculous to say this, and by no means is this a defence of the show’s inadequacy, but Samvidhaan isn’t the first, nor will it be the last mainstream Bollywood product (yes, Benegal isn’t Karan Johar but he is revered enough to be called mainstream) to sidestep or ignore caste altogether. Which is a shame because in the hands of a director less conservative than Benegal, this is cinematic gold — the haloed ‘father of the nation’ forced to confront one of his biggest shortcomings, perhaps his single biggest blind spot, really. But then again, perhaps it’s not that surprising, after all, given Benegal’s steady rightwards shuffle dance since 2014, when the show aired. Since then he has chided Aamir Khan for throwing his weight behind artists and writers returning National Awards. He has also supported the controversial appointment of lyricist Prasoon Joshi as Censor Board chairman (Joshi wrote a campaign song for Narendra Modi and his appointment was widely perceived as reward for political loyalty).

If you can ignore these aspects, Samvidhaan is a surprisingly breezy watch, given its sombre subject matter. Watch it, if nothing else, for Tahil and Jha thrashing things out even as Sir Stafford Cripps watches bemused. Nothing so entertaining as watching stalwarts behave like ordinary men.

Aditya Mani Jha is a commissioning editor with Penguin Random House

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