With Vijay Varma playing an unassertive cop in Kaalkoot, director Saxena and sexuality educator Vatsalya discuss how the show challenges gender roles and toxic masculinity
Vijay Varma and Suzanna Mukherjee in Kaalkoot
In a scene in Kaalkoot, we see Vijay Varma’s character, cop Ravi Shankar Tripathi, climbing a wobbly ladder, tentatively and hesitantly. His fear is only heightened by his boss, who hollers at him from below. Moments later, a junior cop climbs up the ladder swiftly, while Ravi is mocked for his inability to perform the task. The humiliation is repeated in another instance when he is unable to stand up to his boss in a game of badminton. Through these little snippets, Kaalkoot presents a meek, hesitant and quiet-mannered protagonist. And fortunately, a new gaze through which to look at a ‘hero’.
“When Kabir Singh [2019] released, it was lambasted for romanticising toxic male behaviour. But there was another film, Bareilly Ki Barfi [2017], which wanted the audience to laugh at Rajkummar Rao’s character for not being ‘masculine’ enough. Now, if that is the kind of clown you create, then Kabir Singh is the kind of hero you will get. What we have tried to do in our show in the initial bits—when he looks unassertive, unambitious, and lost—is that we empathised with him,” begins writer-director Sumit Saxena.
ADVERTISEMENT
Shweta Tripathi, Sumit Saxena and Apurupa Vatsalya
Toxic masculinity
Kaalkoot sees Varma’s character investigating an acid attack case. In telling the tale of acid attack survivor Parul, essayed by Shweta Tripathi Sharma, the series delves into society’s distorted idea of masculinity, how that propagates toxic masculinity, and gender violence.
Sexuality educator Apurupa Vatsalya says the JioCinema offering holds up a mirror to society and challenges its notions that an ideal man is assertive, domineering and is the protector and provider. “At the outset, you see the hyper-masculine cops ridicule a fellow cop for being too empathetic. It is viewed as a character flaw. The suggestion is that he will not be capable as a cop because he is too emotional. He is doing all the macho things—riding a bike, investigating—and looks masculine, but because he is not assertive enough, he is suddenly incapable of his position. Toxic masculinity is sometimes ingrained. You’re not supposed to express your emotions or cry. They have grown up internalising their emotions,” shares Vatsalya.
As the series progresses, it sheds light on the microaggressions that often denote toxic masculinity. In an instance, the cops are quick to determine that Parul must be a sex worker, after discovering a bottle of whiskey from her bag. Another scene sees two cops discussing slapping their wives for not being submissive and quiet—“haath chhoot jaata hai,” they say. Breaking down such patterns, Vatsalya says, “I perceive toxic masculinity as when men do not have the opportunity and space to express and explore the wholeness of masculinity. It therefore spills out in ways that are harmful, not just for themselves, but also for the people around them. They subjugate women by slapping them, and disallow other men from expressing their identity.” She adds that masculinity should not immediately be implied to be toxic. “There are beautiful expressions of masculinity. It’s important to also see whether a person, irrespective of their gender, is in touch with their masculinity and femininity, both.”
Toxicity not gender specific
The sexuality educator also highlights that toxic masculinity is not always gender-specific, women are often seen as gatekeepers of this mindset and behaviour. “Women also perpetuate this masculinity. So, these expressions of masculinity and femininity are gender-agnostic. If we then automatically move away from the notion that masculinity and femininity are equal to men and women respectively, we can then move away from the binary formula.”
In Kaalkoot, Saxena illustrated this point through the character of Rashmi. Envious of Parul’s beauty, confidence, and the attention she garners from men, Rashmi uploads Parul’s explicit pictures on an adult website and poses as her to talk to men. “One brute way would have been to cast Rashmi as someone who is oversized and has attention deficiency [from the opposite gender]. Instead, we showed her as an average-looking person, but who suffers from her own insecurities, which gave her [that vicious] personality,” explains Saxena.
Vatsalya agrees that misogyny stems from different markers and years of patriarchy, and makes us all victims. “The privilege of beauty is something we value. Unfortunately, it is based on how one appears, their body size, the complexion of their skin, and so on. Rashmi, like all of us, is victimised by the structure of patriarchy. We are raised with a scarcity mindset—we are taught constantly that women have few opportunities, we are fighting for the same few jobs and the same few men. We are taught and raised to be each other’s competition, and are not taught the values of sisterhood.”
The series, while offering commentary on society’s ills and prejudices, is equally cognisant of its protagonist’s shortcomings. Varma’s character calls off his marriage when he realises that his fiancée has epilepsy. His anger stems from the fact that his fiancée hid the detail from him. As he evolves in the course of the narrative, he realises that he too harbours male entitlement and patriarchy—the very ideas that he claims to fight. Vatsalya, who is also a lawyer, explains this dichotomy. “Nobody who is inflicting harm on another person is thinking of themselves necessarily as a perpetrator. They might be viewing themselves through a moralistic lens, and considering themselves the saviour or hero. Everyone is a hero in their own story, but they might be a villain in someone else’s story. When Vijay Varma’s character invites or rather tries to humiliate his fiancée by saying, ‘Have sex with me, then I will marry you,’ [he is using] sex and sexuality as a tool of control. This draws us back to [the clause of the ideal woman being a virgin]. The negotiations we make with patriarchy are not rational.”
Need for dialogue
Saxena and Vatsalya agree that the only way to combat misogyny or toxic masculinity is to have a constant dialogue about it, thus fighting our conditioning. The director asserts, “We must talk about whatever makes us uncomfortable. Clinical psychologist Jordan Peterson had noted that Voldemort in Harry Potter is called, ‘He who must not be named’. Why is that? Because the true nature of horror is unspeakable. So when you speak about the horror of life, it reduces [the conflict]. There is a sense of grim horror in the show. To end the horror, we must speak of it.”
Subscribe today by clicking the link and stay updated with the latest news!" Click here!
