Hope is a dangerous thing for Indian women. The Hema Committee report dangles it before us once again, but experience has taught us to be wary of such promises. In an ecosystem of pervasive hostility—sexual and otherwise—hope is that ever-elusive mirage permanently parked in the future. Even when there is occasion to celebrate, like the mere existence of a landmark report probing the condition of women in the Malayalam film industry, our cautious elation is tempered by the ghosts of past disappointments and the spectre of future battles.
Still, we push ourselves to hold on to slivers of optimism. The 235-page report is really one of a kind. The three-member panel, headed by former judge K Hema, was set up in 2017 after the sexual assault of a prominent actress by a group of men. In the investigation that followed, Kerala police arrested (and later released on bail) Malayalam superstar Dileep who is said to have orchestrated the attack on his co-star. From the story pieced together by the authorities, Dileep is believed to have hired thugs who intercepted the actress’ car, assaulted her, and recorded it as revenge for “interference” in the superstar’s personal life. Seven years on, the case is still underway.
The deviousness of the case shook the foundations of Kerala’s movie business, but the findings of the commission that followed it should surprise no one. According to the report, a group of men with immense clout, including directors, producers, and actors, preside over everything in the industry. Sexual harassment of actresses and women crew members is rampant; being asked for sexual favours in exchange for roles is par for the course. Women crew members—when they manage to get hired at significantly lower pay than their male counterparts—grapple with terrible working conditions and without facilities that are taken for granted. Unlike organised sectors, the film industry, traditionally viewed and framed as a creative, unregulated trade, has no grievance redressal mechanisms in place.
Also read: Malayalam cinema is a Boys’ Club. Its progressive tag coming apart with Hema Committee report
Routine reckonings
For many Indian women, the findings of the report, as well as the reactions it has drawn, feel like familiar territory. It took multiple legal challenges, an RTI petition, and five years, for the report to be released to the public. This, coupled with the customary strategy of propping other women up to deny, deflect, and defuse the findings, has put a dent in our optimism.
But beyond that, it feels like Indian women are routinely made to believe that they are in the midst of a reckoning and are brought to the precipice of change, only to have their hopes dashed. The #MeToo moment in 2018, which led to a groundswell of allegations against the power elite in several industries, including Bollywood, was one such reckoning.
It offered women in the Hindi film industry catharsis and a space to share their stories of sexual abuse and harassment. For a brief second, there was an illusion that men who had abused their positions of power for years, would be held accountable. Then the spell broke, and women realised that the power structures of Bollywood had only been fortified—this time against them.
A culture of silence and individuation has allowed abuse to thrive in India’s film industries. After the #MeToo tide abated, the only people who ended up suffering were the women complainants who were comfortably dismissed as outcasts. The Malayalam film actress who was assaulted ended up losing all her projects and had to take a five-year sabbatical. Tanushree Datta, who repeatedly alleged that Nana Patekar had sexually harassed her during the shoot of the 2008 film Horn ‘Ok’ Pleassss and even filed a formal complaint against him, has found no work in Bollywood. Patekar, meanwhile, has had multiple releases in Tamil, Hindi, and Marathi.
This is a pattern that repeats across the board. Producer and director Vikas Bahl, who was accused of assaulting and harassing his colleagues, including actress Kangana Ranaut, has released five films since the allegations surfaced. Director Sajid Khan, who was banished for one year following multiple counts of sexual misconduct, reentered public life in 2022 with a grand platform in Bigg Boss.
Six years on, #MeToo feels a little like screaming into the void, and for one fleeting, exhilarating moment, hearing an answer. It seems to have had little measurable impact, outside of giving men a new opportunity to joke about how scared they are of false allegations.
Also read: Harvey Weinstein will never be free. Social nooses are tighter than legal loopholes
A relentless inquisition
In a recent interview, filmmaker and screenwriter Vinta Nanda, who had alleged that actor Alok Nath, sexually assaulted and brutalised her, opened up about how little support she found after she spoke about her assault. Nanda said that she had been talking about the assault for ages, including in an interview with Bombay Times in 2004. “But everyone pretended that they had not read Bombay Times that day,” she said. When she reiterated the allegations in 2018, in the wake of other #MeToo allegations, she was criticised for not speaking up earlier.
Nanda’s experience is emblematic of several women, who unwittingly sign up for interrogation from every quarter when they talk about sexual abuse. Questions are posed about their personal and sexual history, the details of their abuse, their intent, and the timing of their allegations. They are asked why they didn’t open up sooner, why they didn’t file formal complaints, and why they put themselves into those positions in the first place. Not only must they relive their trauma, but they must subject themselves to a relentless inquisition.
The goalposts keep shifting. While women tilt at windmills, none of this scrutiny is levelled at the men who are accused of these crimes. They continue to fail upwards. Despite this bleak environment, Nanda seemed hopeful in the interview. “Who knew that there would be a world of #MeToo, where the world would be prepared to hear these things,” she said.
Maybe that’s the hope with which we should treat the Hema Committee’s report. It’s an incremental step in the right direction, a formalisation of what had hitherto been open secrets. One of the biggest criticisms of the #MeToo movement was that these were often not formal complaints, and that public allegations could potentially ruin the lives and careers of accused men—though I am still waiting to see any powerful man who has lost professional opportunities because of these allegations. But I, and Indian women like me, have made our peace with the fact that change will be built on the graves of the careers of many women.
The Hema Committee report is a start. It’s a reminder that hope is not an emotion, it’s a discipline that requires us to keep pushing forward. For now, we’ll take this small victory, because the alternative—silence and resignation—is simply not an option. The only question that remains: how many more reports, how many more careers, and how many more lives will it take before we see real change?
Karanjeet Kaur is a journalist, former editor of Arré, and a partner at TWO Design. She tweets @Kaju_Katri. Views are personal.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)