Caste, politics and humanity: Ramchand Pakistani

If there is a renaissance happening in Pakistani cinema today, then Ramchand Pakistani is at its forefront. Mehreen Jabbar’s tale of an innocent boy from rural Pakistan who crosses the border into India by mistake is honest and simple. Its transparency as a film shines through. That is Mehreen’s biggest achievement, especially as a first-time feature director. It would have been relatively easy for the film to wind up being either boring (most of the action happens in one of two places – Ramchand’s village or the Indian jail where he is held following his transgression), or an overdramatic essay on hostile India-Pakistan relations. Ramchand Pakistani is neither. 

Based on a true story, the film captures four years in the life of young Ramchand, who is as headstrong as he is guileless, given his humble origins – his father is a peasant and a teacher and his mother a housewife. Their home, a small mud hut, reflects their status in society of being Untouchables or Dalits. (Pakistan’s Hindu community is a tiny percentage of its largely Muslim total population, and Dalits are an even smaller group within that). When Ramchand goes away in a huff having had a tiff with his mother (Nandita Das), he unwittingly crosses over into India and is promptly caught by the Indian border police. When his father (Rashid Farooqui) goes after him to bring him back, he is caught as well, and the two are taken to an Indian jail. There they are faced with having to remain unregistered for many years due to local politics amongst different police departments, in addition to being treated as untouchables and Pakistani to boot. But all is not lost, as the pair begin to forge relationships with their fellow inmates who are, at heart, mostly good. Meanwhile, Ramchand’s mother waits for their return even as her pleas for help go unheeded by the Pakistani police. As the days melt into months and years, we see her identity as a woman (as opposed to those of her as a mother and wife) slowly changing, so naturally that we find ourselves in complete accordance with what she does. 

Syed Fazal Hussain as the younger and Navaid Jabbar as the older Ramchand bring the character’s personality to life remarkably well. The transition to his teenage years leave his dominant stubbornness unchanged, and it is easy to believe that this is exactly the kind of person he would become. 

If films from Pakistan are going to make their voices heard next to the thriving Indian film industry next door, they could do worse than to make films like Ramchand Pakistani. It is remarkably well-made.