Supporting its leaves high above the ground, a tree fans out to meet the soil. Its branches extend to the edge of the tree’s silhouette. Several men and youths stand nearby; their feet occupy a patch of the ploughed land. A tree is now a crime scene where a farmer has hanged himself. The body has already been removed, with only the uttered stories to remind us of the befallen tragedy. And the tree is to be felled.
Suicide crisis
The feature debut by Kinshuk Surjan Marching in the Dark unfolds in India’s Maharashtra, in the backdrop of the farmer suicide crisis, with more and more people succumbing to the pressures of crop failures, volatile market prices, rising costs and overwhelming debts. «Something is terribly wrong in the countryside,» said Former Chairman of the National Commission of Farmers, M.S. Swaminathan. The quote well encapsulates the troubling statistics that report over 400.000 Indian farmers committing suicide in the last two decades. According to recent figures, during the years of the BJP-led Modi government’s tenure, about 30 farmers died by suicide daily.
Soaring suicide rates among farmers have led to a surge in widowhood in India, including younger women who are still rearing children. Widowhood in India comes with a particular vulnerability to discrimination, social and economic marginalisation and ostracisation, as society—marked by stringent patriarchal mores—by and large confers status on a woman through a man. Stigmatisation of widows is further perpetuated by certain customary codes and religious symbolism associated with widowhood, which deem widows as «bringing misfortune» or being «unworthy.»
«Something is terribly wrong in the countryside»
An invisible group
Bearing witness to adversities facing this «invisible» group of women, the film focuses on Sanjivani, a widow in her 30s and a mother of two, who navigates her life after her farmer-husband—crushed by debts—died by suicide. A compellingly austere and unadorned in its formalistic approach, the film drops us into the life of the young widow, simply documenting her daily routines, which oscillate between manifold responsibilities and chores, from silkworm farming to mending clothes, tending to children and preparing meals for her brother-in-law’s family. Amidst all the tasks, Sanjivani also studies, which turns into a furtive undertaking, as does joining a local support group for widows, with her having to conjure up excuses to attend the group sessions.
Articulating a gentle yet keen sense of observation, the film carefully places the observed world into a frame of storytelling, all the while extrapolating on the question of impact in a documentary film. Can impact be attained all along the process of filmmaking rather than only after the film is completed, distributed, and seen? – the director wonders in her notes on the film. Banding together the changemakers (such as psychologist and activist Dr. Potdar, who works suicide prevention among farmers, and the NGO Manaswini that advocates against violence and discrimination against women) and the widows in group sessions taking place within the bounds of the film, Surjan treats the filmmaking process not only as a means of crafting a socially pertinent story but also as a vessel to affect change while the camera is still rolling.
Narrative safe spaces
Proving effective as narrative pillars, the group sessions in the film ultimately serve as safe spaces for the widows to confide their grief, share stories of resilience, and partake in joyous celebrations or auspicious events that they are excluded from. The women also exchange views on the veiled areas of widowhood, such as child widowhood or entering into new conjugal relations following the death of their husbands. One woman who got wedded as a child recalls, «My husband died when I was 17. […]. I was in seventh grade when they got me married. I have two kids now. […]. I couldn’t even grasp his death [at that age],» she says.
«To be a widow in India is to become invisible to the state, the society, and even to her own family,» quotes the film’s press notes. Aptly using subtle narrative techniques, Sanjivani creates a poignant portrait of widowhood, its ineffable weight, and the inevitable traces of grace. The film closes with Sanjivani at home, barred from attending a Hindu observance akin to other widows. The woman’s silence, which seems to span several minutes, builds up an oppressive tension, which discharges at last into the whirring of the sewing machine.
