The opening scene in the Netflix show Kohrra, of a couple having sex in a maize field, immediately throws questions on whether it is a consensual union. The confusion lingers for a minute or so before it becomes obvious that while it is consensual, there is an element of underlying aggression and violence in the way the young guy talks or behaves. Soon enough, the camera pans to a dead body, lying in the middle of the lush green maize fields, close to where the couple was having sex.
It sets up the mood board of the show—an inversion of the tropes many of us have come to associate with both Punjab and its culture, thanks to Bollywood and popular media in general. The romance, the mustard fields, the flowing dupattas, the yearning NRIs, the affable and cheerful Punjabis, the big-hearted over-the-top family, perpetuated and reinforced by Bollywood from Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1996) and Veer Zara (2004) to Namaste London (2007) and Jab We Met (2007).
“Punjab was the perfect setting for the story of Kohrra, with its unique set of anxiety over land to hypermasculinity and drug problems,” said director Randeep Jha.
Writers Gunjit Chopra and Diggi Sisodia, producer Sudip Sharma and Jha have earlier worked together for a film that brought to the fore the drug problem of the state, Udta Punjab (2016). The Shahid Kapoor-starrer focused primarily on the drug situation, from the network to addiction to how even the music scene fuels it. In the Punjabi-language Netflix show CAT, starring Randeep Hooda, the insurgency that plagued Punjab in the 1980s is explored along with the drug network. But that is where the buck usually stops. Kohrra pushes the envelope further and doesn’t depend on oversimplified ‘drug addiction’ to tell a story.
The series is a police procedural that makes incisive inroads into the human psyche, and the many problems that plague Punjab’s society. Familial tussle over land, hyper masculinity, patriarchy, generational trauma, sexuality and class, all find nuanced exploration in the six episodes of the show. It is currently trending among the top 10 shows not just on Netflix, but across OTT platforms.
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Tip of the iceberg
Gunjit Chopra doesn’t see the show as an inversion of popular Punjabi culture.
“Personally, for me there was no attempt to intentionally invert anything. I just never saw Punjab like it was shown in the movies and most importantly Punjab is nothing like that,” said Chopra.
Kohrra’s USP is its compelling writing, which stands out for the sheer mastery over multiple aspects deftly interwoven along the length and breadth of Punjab.
“The myriad lives of people I encountered in Punjab moved me a lot as a filmmaker. People from all walks of life, be it cops, NRIs, artists, addicts and immigrants. I had it all in me and it just happened that it all came out in the form of a procedural,” said Chopra.
An NRI named Paul Dhillon (Vishal Handa) is murdered just before his wedding, his throat slit, the body is found in a field. The discovery opens a can of worms. The police investigation is led by Balbir Singh (Suvinder Vicky) and Amarpal Garundi (Barun Sobti). The duo questions the murder victim’s fiancée Veera Soni (Aanand Priya) and her rapper ex-boyfriend Saakar (Saurav Khurana). But Balbir quickly figures out that the two former lovers represent only the tip of the iceberg. With every episode, skeletons tumble out of the closets of nearly every character.
Every character is either a perpetrator or a victim of some form of patriarchy. Steve Dhillon beats his son for taking off his turban, considered a symbol of masculinity. Balbir forces his daughter Nimrat (Harleen Sethi) to stay in a loveless marriage and bring up a child she did not even want in the first place. And everyone wants an escape, a better life.
Such is the force of the performance delivered by each member of the cast that it is difficult to rank one over the other.
“The best compliment I have received about the show is that even the junior actors, or small characters were believable and looked authentic,” said Jha.
Romantic prop to murder site
Punjab’s farmlands have almost always been associated with romance in movies. Be it the mustard fields in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge when Simran (Kajol) reunites with Raj (Shah Rukh Khan) and both confess their love to each other, or when Geet (Kareena Kapoor) finally realises that she loves Aditya (Shahid Kapoor) in Jab We Met in a sugarcane field, the state’s countryside is the ideal romantic prop. But in Kohrra, it is the site of dark secrets shielded under the cloak of dense fog.
Even the idea of NRIs glorifying the land they once belonged to is challenged by the show. Steve Dhillon (Manish Chaudhary) doesn’t want his son Paul to roam around in the village without a driver. He says, “It’s not London.”
The show keeps bringing back the characters to the farmlands and each of those scenes draw one’s attention. The effect is almost jarring. “One needs to see beyond the mustard fields. Punjab has seen more ups and downs and grief and bloodshed in recent times than any other state in India,” said Chopra.
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Making sinners repent
The fallacy of Punjab’s NRI weddings have been in the news time and again. Yet, the yearning for better life makes the women go through with it. In one of the episodes of Amazon Prime’s Made in Heaven titled ‘A Marriage of Convenience’, a Ludhiana girl Sukhmani Sadana wins an NRI groom in a contest. Despite knowing that the groom is impotent, she marries him. It was either that or she would have to deal with the neighbours pointing fingers at her character.
In Kohrra, the underbelly of such alliances is explored through the ambition of Veera who cares less about whom she is marrying, and more about how she can start a new life abroad. She still has feelings for her ex-boyfriend but she has no qualms offering sexual favours to Paul to quite literally, seal the deal. When her dignity is dragged through the mud after Paul’s death, she finds another route to freedom by marrying another NRI.
But sex scenes or moments of intimacy in Kohrra are not used to titillate the viewers, or even to show romance. On the contrary, the scenes show the fissures underlying relationships. “Even with scenes of physical intimacy, the violence is a part of it. We have tried to focus on body language and composition,” said Jha.
The unbridled custodial violence and abuse of power isn’t treated as a righteous act, even when it is perpetrated by police officers. The show’s writers make all the sinners repent in their own way. In a scene, sub-inspector Amarpal is seen apologising to a man whom he had been torturing for days.
“I wanted to make sure that we don’t shoot the interrogation in a cliched manner. We wanted to make sure that people get an idea of the extent to which brutality can go. We have also ensured that no act of violence is justified,” said Jha.
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When the fog clears
Balbir’s character is the beating heart of the show. While it is Vicky’s powerful performance that makes you empathise with him, it is also most definitely how the character is written. He, as a policeman, recognises what is stopping him from doing his duty. The Punjab he serves isn’t so much ruined by the drug addicts or the unruly truck drivers as by those who move around in luxury cars. Every character is weighed down by existing systems, the actions of their past generations or their own. “What you see in Kohrra is the years/decades of baggage and inner turmoil that has been left unresolved,” said Chopra.
The class divide in Kohrra is possibly one of its strongest plot points. The rich almost always have their way and end up painting themselves as victims when they don’t. The show’s name Kohrra, which translates to fog, is a major tool in itself. The truth is revealed only when the fog clears. Maybe Punjab’s biggest problem isn’t drugs. It’s anyway not the only story worth telling about the state.
“All we have tried to do is pierce the surface a little and you can see inside,” said Chopra. And the creators were probably the most equipped to crack the rose-tinted glasses and show Punjab, and even humans for who they are–deeply flawed and struggling.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)