Over the past decade, the conversations surrounding feminism have taken an interesting turn – anything that deals with women’s emancipation is immediately termed ‘man-hating’ or ‘anti-family’. In that scenario, when a movie like The Great Indian Kitchen or Mrs. releases, the reactions from a certain section of social media become predictable to a tee.
The films aren’t having a ‘new’ conversation; they aren’t positing anything that hasn’t been discussed at length for years and yet, they spark the same anti-feminist rhetoric every time and this time, with the release of Mrs., its opponents have a groundbreaking theory – ‘Surely cooking in the kitchen can’t be that hard’.
The Glaring Vacuum of Media Literacy
Cinema is meant to be enjoyed – it is art after all. Despite its themes and connotations, anyone that makes a film expects it to have an impact – from whistles in theatres to starting conversations about social issues. Some films want the audience to leave their brains at home and just enjoy the spectacle, some others ask for critical thinking.
Jeo Baby’s The Great Indian Kitchen (starring Nimisha Sajayan) and Mrs. (based on the former, starring Sanya Malhotra) fall into the latter.
Let’s get a brief idea about the films if you haven’t watched them – a newlywed woman struggles to adjust in her husband’s house specifically because of the kind of ‘wife’ they expect her to be. Expectations that arise from patriarchal notions of gendered roles in a marriage.
She is expected to cook for the entire family – and guests who arrive un-announced (to her)—someone doesn’t like chutney prepared a certain way, another needs all his clothes laid out before he gets ready. The entire home must be neat and tidy, the clothes must be washed by hand, a mug needs to be washed and put away, the dirty water in the sink must be cleared, mutton can’t be cooked in a pressure cooker, a phulka isn’t a roti and...
By the film’s second half, the friend I was watching it with turned to me and asked, “Why is this a horror movie?”
For many online, it doesn’t read that way. It doesn’t read that way because the couple is Everyman and Everywoman – they exist in multiple homes. In the family unit, we expect women to carry out household chores and we expect men to go out and work.
That is also an argument that has come up frequently in the debate surrounding Mrs. ‘Why isn’t there a film about the stress men face at work?’ Let’s, for a second, ignore the basic fact that women are part of the workforce as well across sectors. But gosh, if only films like those existed – maybe we could call them something like Death of a Salesman or Rocket Singh or Delhi Belly or Roti, Kapda aur Makaan, or Naukri.
But that isn't the main issue either. If we want more films to look into how exhausting the grind of hustle culture can be & the devastating effects the economy can have on the working class, we have all the right in the world to ask for it. However, that doesn't take away from how important films like Mrs. are.
Ironically, the burden that falls on men to be the breadwinner of a family, whether they want to work or not, is also a consequence of the roles patriarchy assigns. How often have we seen people look down on a man who decides to become a stay-at-home father?
What then is this debate about? Quite simple -- a movie like Mrs. airs a family’s dirty laundry for all to see and that makes people uncomfortable.
It’s reminiscent of what the character of Edith says in Enola Holmes, “Politics doesn’t interest you…because you have no interest in changing a world that suits you well.”
Truly understanding a film like Mrs. and the suffocating effect that a patriarchal setup can have on a woman – whether you think cooking is ‘easy and meditative’ or not – will ask for a bigger undertaking. We will have to look into our own contribution to that suffocation.
People see the women in their family reflected in The Great Indian Kitchen and Mrs. They see the way the women in their family always eat after the men, how they wake up first and sleep last. How several women across the world had to give up on their dreams or even an equal opportunity for education because their entire identities became centered on the families they married into.
These movies were never just about cooking as an act – they’re about the assumption that any form of labour inside the four walls of a house is a woman’s job; from cooking to child-rearing.
In Mrs. even when Richa (Malhotra) gets a “break” from her household duties, the men in the family bring in another woman to take over her chores – Richa’s father-in-law wipes down the glass of water she gives him but won’t go and get it himself.
She makes an off-handed comment about the family's casteism before she continues the chores - despite playing a hand in her oppression, the family doesn't hesitate to burden her with this assumption of labour.
The Different Shades of Abuse
In one of the most frustrating scenes from Mrs., Richa’s father-in-law tells her that his wife has a PhD, but she chose to sacrifice it all to take care of her family and children.
Now, there are two distinct possibilities – she made that choice on her own or she made it under the weight of expectations we assign to women in families (to prioritise child-rearing and care of the family over themselves). The latter is an issue for obvious reasons but even if the former is true, why is the same expected from Richa?
When Richa expresses the desire to go out and work – with the condition that she will complete all the house chores – her husband dismisses her and her father-in-law ‘forbids’ it. Maine mana kiya tha (I'd said no), he says when she tells him she’s going for in interview. The very idea that him saying ‘no’ doesn’t directly translate to everyone doing what he wants is surprising to him.
This is because he perhaps grew up in, and propagates, a culture where men take the decisions for the entire family – including whether the women in a family work or not. Most of us aren’t strangers to the phrase ‘Ghar ki auraton ko kaam karne ki kya zarurat hai’ (There's no need for the women in our family to work) or the iteration used in Mrs. ‘Aisi kya majboori hai?’ (What's the compulsion?)
The implication is that a woman doesn’t need to step out of the house and work unless the family needs the extra income. For Richa’s family, her decision to get a job reflects on her husband’s ‘ability’ to provide. Not only does it place undue pressure on her husband, it takes away her financial agency.
The United Nations includes this form of abuse in their definition of domestic violence as ‘economic violence’ and explains it as when a person “denies his intimate partner access to financial resources, typically as a form of abuse or control or in order to isolate her or to impose other adverse consequences to her well-being.”
As you watch the film, you notice Richa withdraw from her friends as well, effectively isolated from everyone except the people in her new house. It’s already distressing to watch a woman have to give up her dreams because she doesn’t get time off from household chores. But the reality of economic violence can’t be ignored in that equation.
The ‘Red Herring’ In the Mrs. Debate
Most of the debate surrounding Mrs. is a blatantly transparent attempt to distract from the film’s messaging – by attempting to make it seem like the characters’ frustrations amount from nothing.
As many on social media have pointed out, Mrs. features another couple as well - Richa's friend and her husband.
In fact, Richa's husband feels compelled to get up and help with the dishes when he sees her friend's husband do it - for the former, it's a way to save face but for the latter it's a division of labour.
Yes, a lot of the film is set in the kitchen and focuses on the way ‘food’ becomes the vessel for the family’s burgeoning expectations. But towards the second half of the film, a particular sound enters the film’s background score – a constant drip, drip, drip.
A leaking tap becomes a sign of something bigger – Richa becomes a fixture in her own house, one nobody listens to.
(Content warning: The next few paragraphs discuss marital rape and sexual assault)
When she asks if a dish is good, her father-in-law barely acknowledges her, commenting instead on the state of the curd. When she tries something new, her husband jokes about how she ‘ruined a recipe’. When she asks her husband to get a leak fixed, he doesn’t. These seemingly small things start to pile up, the metaphorical snowball rolls down the hill becoming bigger and bigger till it’s impossible to ignore.
But that isn’t the only time her husband doesn’t listen to her – he doesn’t listen when she says ‘no’. The film, while speaking of other things, also addresses marital rape. This entitlement is also rooted in what the patriarchal setup he is raised in expects from them as a couple – as his wife, the next step in Richa’s life is to become a mother.
Not only does Richa’s husband believe he is entitled to sex, he never asks her what she wants from it. When she finally snaps and calls him out on it, he instantly twists the narrative to make her feel ‘undesirable’, not addressing the actual conversation around consent. It’s telling that the same ‘kitchen smell’ he found ‘sexy’ earlier, now makes her ‘undesirable’.
If it wasn’t so distressing, the irony of people using distractions to not address the film’s deeper themes would be laughable.
Mrs. is not even close to the most biting of feminist critiques when it comes to Indian society and if this simple look at women’s lives in our families is enough to cause such a stir, maybe the problem is much deeper than it looks.
There’s a leak in the basin we’re all ignoring.