Subhash K Jha revisits Onir’s delicately drawn Queer drama, My Brother… Nikhil, which starred Juhi Chawla, Sanjay Suri, and Purab Kohli, as it clocks 20 years since its release.
There was something happening to Hindi cinema in 2005… Something strange, stirring, exciting, and pathbreaking. After Madhur Bhandarkar’s Page 3 and Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Black, you would think our cinema has given enough of the unconventional palate for the audience to chew on.
Not so! In My Brother… Nikhil, an intimate and yet far-reaching study of family ties, social castigation, and the resilience that makes the human spirit ride over daunting adversities—much like the swimmer-hero of debutant director Onir’s heartwarming film who rides the oceans … until oceanic events overtake his well-ordered life.
First things first. My Brother… Nikhil is a film about a very critical social cause, AIDS, to be precise….The imprecise parameters of the complex issue are framed in a quaint but never over-emphasized or excessively well-ordered pyramid of montages. In fact, the narrative moves to a contrary beat whereby sections of the heart-rending story open up to us, almost like the petals of a reluctant flower that must blossom before it’s too late.
Like many of the new avant-garde directors, Onir uses the Brechtian distancing device whereby the characters speak directly into the camera about the protagonist. We get to ‘know’ Nikhil, the bright, promising sportsperson whose career life and self-regard are shattered by tragedy, through the voices of his father Navin Kapoor (Victor Bannerjee), mom Anita (Lillete Dubey), friend and companion Nigel (Purab Kohli) and sister Anu (Juhi Chawla).
The multiplicity of voices never crowd the narrative. Could it be because the narrative favours stillness over shrillness? There are great moments of drama in the narrative, especially towards the end when the dying hero has to come to terms with his impending end.
Scenes between Nikhil and his loved ones rip your heart open with their translucent candour. (I get tearful even as I write about those moments).
Onir never milks the inherent tragedy of the theme for melodrama. As in the masterful Black, the emphasis in My Brother… Nikhil is on light rather than dark. The ocean-blue landscape, quietly captured by Arvind Kannabiran’s non-judgemental camera, weaves through these flawed lives like a stream winding its way through a craggy valley.
Not since Shyam Benegal’s Trikal have characters looked so much at home in Goa. As we peer into Nikhil’s cozy world, we, the spectators, are never made to feel like intruders but rather like welcome guests.
The absence of mawkishness in the drama is a constant reminder of the new levels of maturity being attained by our cinema. Less always seems more in My Brother… Nikhil. And that’s part of its innate charm as a story and a slice of life that cuts a deep dent into our hearts without using a sharp knife. There are no sharp edges in the narrative, no laboured attempts to get our attention, even in moments of heart-rending tragedy.
I must single out the pre-climactic sequence where the dying Nikhil’s father meets up with his son after two years of ostracization. Overwhelmed with emotion, Nikhil says, “Remember, as a child, you’d come to me in the night and promise to make my nightmares go away. Papa, make this nightmare go away.”
It’s a moment every sensitive viewer would carry in his heart forever. My Brother… Nikhil is suffused with enchanting moments, done up in bright yet subtle tones that hold your attention without screaming for it. Besides its power to hold and heal without a shrill squeal, the film’s greatest triumph is the completely in-sync cast. Victor Bannerjee and Lillete Dubey, both very fine actors, live the anguish of parents who face the ignominy of ostracization in a close-knit conservative community. But the surprise is Purab Kohli. As Nikhil’s soulmate, Nigel, Kohli brings tremendous tenderness and moisture into the arteries of his difficult character. The sequence where he quietly clutches his dying friend’s legs after a bitter quarrel shows how much spontaneity the actor brings to the material if he believes in it.
Juhi Chawla, the eternal sunshine girl, is perfectly cast as Nikhil’s endearing, supportive, and defiant sister. I couldn’t help but think back to Aishwarya Rai’s sibling posturing with Shah Rukh Khan in that other Goan saga Josh. Whereas Rai and Khan were blustering and dramatic, Chawla and Suri play their characters at an even tranquil keel.
The film is finally a triumph for producer Sanjay Suri. Playing the title character, he gets the chance to play a role no other Indian actor has ever done. Nikhil’s sexuality and his struggle to die with dignity are mapped on Suri’s gentle face. He’s so equipped to convey Nikhil’s vulnerability that you wonder what has kept the film fraternity from proving him better opportunities.
A hurrah for Vivek Philip’s music. The theme song (stunningly well-sung by Shaan, Sunidhi Chauhan, and KK) reverberates across the moon-drenched mood of this mellow drama. The tune and its words just sweep us away into a galaxy of heartbreaking feelings.
Unlike the other film, Phir Milenge, about a protagonist’s fight against the prejudices associated with AIDS, My Brother… Nikhil is neither inspired by a Hollywood source nor does it get didactic and sermonistic. The social message on the stigma of the survivor is dealt with firm but soft hands.
The delicacy of the narrative reminds you of a dewdrop trembling on a large windswept leaf. Just how an emotion is perched in a plot is entirely up to the artiste who paints the scenario. And Nikhil’s creators have their hearts in the right place.
My Brother… Nikhil celebrates a life that withers away in front of our eyes. But not before asserting its right to die with grace. And such grace, even under such daunting pressure!
