Neeraj Bunkar
Phule—a film directed by Ananth Mahadevan faced significant opposition from Brahmanical ideologues. The film chronicles the revolutionary lives of Jyotiba and Savitribai Phule, whose fight against caste oppression and gender inequality remains strikingly relevant.
A Historical Canvas with Contemporary Resonance
The film opens in 1897, Poona, during the bubonic plague, with an elderly Savitribai Phule (played by Patralekha) carrying a child to a medical camp. The scene sets a sombre tone, underscored by dramatic music that sometimes feels heavy-handed. A poignant dialogue between Savitribai and Dr Ghole reveals Jyotiba’s complex relationship with faith: “People thought Seth ji didn’t believe in God, but he did. He believed God never wishes harm on humans; human nature does.” This line raises a paradox—how could Jyotiba, a fierce critic of religious orthodoxy, be a believer? The film subtly suggests his belief was in a higher moral order, not the dogmatic structures he challenged.
From 1838 to 1897, Phule covers roughly 50 years of the couple’s life, weaving together their struggles and societal contributions. From their marriage—Savitribai at nine and Jyotiba at thirteen—to their establishment of India’s first school for girls, the film captures their defiance of a rigidly hierarchical society. A flashback shows a young Savitribai’s thirst for knowledge, ignited by Jyotiba’s encouragement, setting the stage for their lifelong partnership in reform.
Confronting Caste and Patriarchy
The film doesn’t shy away from depicting the hostility the Phules faced. In one scene, orthodox Brahmins recoil from the couple’s shadow, prompting Jyotiba (Pratik Gandhi) to remark, “They purify their homes with the urine of the cow we raised, yet fear our shadow.” This biting critique of casteist hypocrisy underscores the couple’s mission to awaken self-respect among the oppressed. Their efforts to educate girls, considered sinful by traditionalists, are met with social boycott and violence. A particularly harrowing sequence shows a mob, incited by Brahminical forces, attacking their school and brutally beating Jyotiba. The scene feels eerily contemporary, reminding viewers that challenging religious dogma or advocating rationality in 2025 can still invite peril.
Yet, Phule also highlights moments of allyship. A progressive Brahmin, Tatyasaheb Bhide, offers the couple space to run their school, declaring, “Caste couldn’t stain our friendship; how can it taint your noble cause?” Such instances of solidarity, though rare, offer hope amidst the film’s grim portrayal of societal resistance.
A Global Context for Local Struggles
The film draws parallels between the Phules’ work and global movements for equality, referencing the French Revolution and Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man. Jyotiba’s vision of inalienable human rights—equality and liberty—echoes Paine’s ideas, framing the Phules’ fight as part of a universal struggle. Their establishment of the Satyashodhak Samaj, a movement to dismantle caste and religious dogma, is portrayed as a radical reimagination of society. Jyotiba’s words, “Our book Gulamgiri wasn’t written to demean Brahmins but to uplift our society,” reflect his focus on constructive reform over reactionary critique.
A powerful scene features Jyotiba addressing a small gathering alongside Usman Sheikh, Fatima Sheikh, and Savitribai. Introducing Fatima and Savitribai as teachers, he emphasizes education’s role in emancipation. Savitribai’s speech critiques the hypocrisy of a society that venerates goddesses like Saraswati yet denies women education and dignity. Fatima adds a global perspective, noting that women in France, Britain, and America are winning freedoms through education. This intersectional dialogue—bridging Hindu and Muslim feminist perspectives—highlights the universality of their struggle.
Cinematic Strengths and Shortcomings
Phule excels in its historical authenticity, with meticulous attention to period costumes and a muted colour palette that vividly evokes 19th-century India. Pratik Gandhi delivers a compelling performance, particularly as an aging Jyotiba, his gravitas anchoring the film. Alexx O’Nell shines as Ribbs Johnes, a missionary ally, while Patralekha struggles to fully embody Savitribai’s era-specific mannerisms, occasionally appearing as a modern woman in historical garb.
However, the film falters in its pacing and narrative structure. At times, it feels like a lecture, with heavy-handed voice-overs and an overpowering background score that drowns the story. The lack of narrative progression makes the film feel stretched, and its preachiness risks alienating viewers seeking a more cinematic experience with purpose. Controversies surrounding the film’s content, including CBFC-mandated changes, are evident in subtle shifts, such as replacing “Peshwai” with “Rajshahi,” which dilute historical specificity.
The film also contains historical inaccuracies that risk spreading misinformation. For instance, it depicts Savitribai Phule, while discussing the primary goal of the Satyashodhak Samaj, as seeking to replace the term “Shudra” with “Dalit.” This is historically inaccurate. Savitribai used the word paddalit (meaning “trampled” or “oppressed”) only once in her poetry collection Kāvyaphule, and not “Dalit” in the political sense the term carries today. Jyotirao Phule, meanwhile, referred to marginalized communities as “Shudra” and “Ati-Shudra” to foster unity among the oppressed, alongside terms like dīn dalit (meaning “deprived and broken” in Marathi).
The film follows a problematic Bollywood template of merging distinct social identities. It conflates Shudras, who are today’s OBCs (Other Backward Classes), with Dalits (formerly “untouchable” communities), misleadingly presenting their struggles as one. This oversimplification undermines the complexity of their historical and social contexts.
Additionally, emphasizing certain facets of Jyotiba’s life, such as portraying him as an agent of the British, highlighting domestic disputes, or focusing on his connection with God, diminishes his revolutionary efforts to dismantle an unjust social system.
A Controversial Yet Vital Scene
One of the film’s most debated scenes depicts a Brahmin child throwing cow dung at Savitribai and Fatima Sheikh. Despite objections, its inclusion is justified, exposing how casteist prejudices are ingrained from childhood. This moment resonates with contemporary India, where caste-based discrimination persists, often cloaked in religious sanctity.
A Legacy That Endures
Phule culminates in Jyotiba’s paralysis and death, with Savitribai lighting his pyre—a bold act for 1890, rare even today. The film closes with Savitribai’s death during the 1897 plague, followed by a voice-over reflecting on their legacy: the transformative power of education and the slow dismantling of caste hierarchies over 177 years. Jyotiba’s honor as “Mahatma” by Baroda’s Maharaja Sayajirao Gaikwad III, who likened him to George Washington and Martin Luther King, underscores his global significance.
The film’s portrayal of Gulamgiri’s publication and the Satyashodhak Samaj’s formation highlights Jyotiba’s proactive approach: “When we criticize society’s rules, we must propose new ones.” His rejection of Brahminical rituals, exemplified by conducting a marriage without priests, challenged the religious establishment’s monopoly, a fight that resonates in today’s debates over secularism and social justice.
Why Phule Matters
In an India where religion is weaponized to consolidate power and caste marginalizes millions, Phule is a vital cinematic document. Ambedkarite activists, despite limited resources, have sustained the anti-caste movement for decades, spreading awareness of Bahujan heroes like Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule. Their efforts have compelled mainstream recognition, with even Bollywood directors from privileged castes now producing films about these figures. Phule educates audiences on a 19th-century struggle that remains unresolved, prompting reflection on caste, gender, and rationality. Though its didactic tone and length may challenge some viewers, its message is undeniable: the Phules’ “torch of revolution” must endure. For those unfamiliar with their contributions or the injustices they confronted, this film serves as a compelling primer, showcasing cinema’s power to enlighten and inspire. Still, I urge everyone to read Phule’s writings for a more accurate and authentic historical account of his life and philosophy.
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Neeraj Bunkar is a PhD research scholar at Nottingham Trent University, Nottingham, United Kingdom. He tweets @ThinkerNeeraj
