Dhadak 2's Savarna Feminism: When 'Love' is a Privilege, Not a Feeling

— ✍️Bavani Pasala

Dhadak 2 (a remake of the Tamil film Pariyerum Perumal directed by Mari Selvaraj) like Dhadak (a remake of the Marathi film Sairat directed by Nagraj Manjule) follows the trope of a Brahmin girl (Vidhi) meeting a Dalit boy (Neelesh). If it feels harsh to call it a trope, consider how in both Fandry and Masaan, it is a fair-skinned Brahmin girl and a dark-skinned Dalit boy.

It’s important we acknowledge these tropes as they form rather than being isolated in a state of gratefulness for a seat at the table.
When you search Dhadak 2 on Google, this is what comes up: “Nilesh and Vidhi fall in love with each other. However, tragedy strikes when the caste differences threaten to end their relationship.”

Vidhi and Neelesh meet and become friends, but it is Vidhi who is in a position to “fall in love”. In the journey from friends to lovers, who has the privilege of this realization? This uncertain space of the in-between is not equal for all. Love does not suspend our identities. To realize that one is in love with a friend requires freedom of the mind and heart. Neelesh is not allowed this freedom. Dalits are not allowed this freedom.

There is a monologue where he struggles to explain his existence to Vidhi, let alone the price that he would have to pay for them breaking caste rules. Caste informs every aspect of both these individuals’ lives but only one of them could ignore it.

Both are law students but she comes from a lineage of lawyers while Neelesh is the first in his bloodline to become one. When asked by their professor, she did not hesitate to say her full name, Vidhi Bharadwaj. Yet, when Neelesh Ahirwar spoke to her about being harassed for his last name, she dismissed him saying, “that professor is like that with everyone.” There is no such thing as caste neutrality, only pride and shame.

Tragedy has informed Neelesh’s life since the “accident of his birth” in Bhim Nagar. We see this in the opening of the film where a Dalit boy is being murdered and the scene cuts to it coming up casually in a conversation between Neelesh and his friends, as they all lived in the same area. We see a glimpse of his pain in a flashback where the police arrest him and his friends, and assault his mother for “stealing water”.

In contrast, tragedy was introduced to Vidhi when she associated outside acceptability by speaking and spending time with a Dalit boy. The tragedy being, her not getting what she wanted, with no regard for the safety of the person she claims to love. Unlike Jo (from Pariyerum Perumal, the character Vidhi is based on) who is naïve, Vidhi is selectively critical. She sees the injustice of gender as she is the victim in this framing but fails to acknowledge her position as an oppressor in terms of caste. When Neelesh points out their differences, her response is to argue that their differences are not her fault. “Love heals all” is easy to say when you’re not the one who’s wounded.

If Jo followed the “loosu ponnu” (dumb girl) stereotype of infantilizing women to be completely unaware of their surroundings, Vidhi is a Savarna feminist who does not acknowledge her complicity in caste oppression. She comes close to this when she offers to teach Neelesh English and Latin saying her privilege should be of some use. This was after Neelesh confided in her about an incident of caste violence he experienced. She could see caste when it was a story from his past, when the villains were strangers, but she could not see it in her family, in her brother, her father, herself. When asked about Neelesh’s last name by her family, she boldly, almost rebelliously said “Ahirwar” but later behaved cluelessly when he “disappeared” at the family function she invited him to. The idea that her family harmed him or were even capable of committing harm did not even occur to her.

Caste differences did not threaten to end the relationship. It couldn’t be formed in the first place. Not only because of her family’s cruelty but also her own oblivion. What does it mean to be in a relationship, to love, if not to truly see the other person?

bell hooks argues that the phrase “falling in love” suggests that love is something that just happens when it actually takes conscious effort. She speaks about how our behaviour shapes our feelings rather than it being the other way around. “To think of actions shaping feelings is one way we rid ourselves of conventionally accepted assumptions such as…that one simply falls in love without exercising will or choice” (hooks, 2000, p. 13).

“When we are loving we openly and honestly express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment and trust” (hooks, 2000, p. 14). A core belief of hooks is that love cannot co-exist with abuse. Can we think of neglect as a form of abuse? If Vidhi has no idea of the pain her caste and her blood inflicts on someone she loves, can what she felt for Neelesh, even be called love?

I wonder if the value we attach to the Dalit man is relationally conditional to the Savarna woman’s feelings about him. Is it because he is loved by an upper caste woman that the audience is supposed to care about him? If this typical Dalit boy meets Brahmin girl is flipped to Dalit girl meets Brahmin boy, would an audience care about a Dalit girl’s feelings the same way? Would they be moved by her tears? Much like how white women’s tears are weaponized, our caste counterpart of Savarna women’s tears holds true as well.

After escaping a murder attempt from Vidhi’s family, Neelesh puts forth his “case” expressing how he has been relentlessly tortured by them but this was not respected by the plot; this did not bring about any resolution. Rather, it was met with a gun being pointed at him. In response to this threat, Vidhi screams. It was this scream that was valued.
It was her distress that was centered, not his. Her feelings. Her desire. Her entitlement.

Pariyerum Perumal ends on a conversation between Pariyan (the lead) and Jo’s father. He says, “I don’t know sir. Before I could understand it, you beat me like a dog. You stabbed and tore my flesh and blood apart. But your daughter is very lucky. She can say what she feels openly, everywhere. But look at me. It seems like I have to die so many times before I can say what I feel.”

We see the tension of caste and gender in these ending scenes. With Pariyerum Perumal, we see the male gaze with two men discussing the feelings of a woman without her presence, but we must also recognize how this film centers Dalit pain. Space is created for Pariyan to exist as an individual. His value as a human being and his right to life, does not come from being loved by Jo. However, in the climax of Dhadak 2, the film uses Dalit pain as a setup to offer the audience a Savarna Saviour moment. The peak of this scene is not when he speaks, but when she screams. Dhadak 2 is being praised for using a female gaze but I argue that it is a Savarna female gaze.

-The author is a mental health worker thinking critically about identity and emotions.