The Lunchbox was a refreshing movie. After a long time, watched something which is "epistolary" in nature. Something of this style which comes to my mind is "Tumhari Amrita" a play and of course as a book- "The Color Purple" by Alice Walker. Both of these were significant, poignant and beautiful. However as an Indian Movie, Lunchbox to my memory is the only one of its kind.
That is precisely the reason, why after so many years, i am back to blogging about this movie. When i begin to write about "The Lunchbox", it forces me to think about it in layers- just the way Fernandes opens the Lunchbox, tier after tier and the 1st tier of the dabba to be opened at the last- as if this is his attempt to add some sprinkles of surprise and expectation to his otherwise mundane life.
The movie indeed has multiple layers-what is stark and yet handled in a subtle manner is that of the hypocrisy or facade of marriage. Ila, her mother and in fact may be her unseen neighbour (present as a brilliant Voice Over by Bharati Achrekar)all shows the bourgeoisie shallow-ness of holding to a decaying relationship merely for social security. Ila has no reason to love her husband, but apparently she stays with him since she has no other place to go apart from may be Bhutan, a metaphorical place for her which her daughter's text-book has revealed to revel in high Gross National Happiness instead of our all encompassing GDP. And that is where i felt though in an extremely light-hearted way, the narrative hints at the failings of this all- consumeristic society in a mega-city. Ila redeems herself through the recognition and attention Fernandez gives to her cooking. This was touching and reminded me of an Iranian movie i had watched and had also written a blog on- Cafe Transit(the story revolves around a young widow managing a cafe defying social norms and remaining inside the kitchen connects with people all across through her food) here too food symbolizes a tool to liberate Ila, a bored and neglected house-wife of all the dull-ness that life has in store for her. Her neighbour Deshpande Aunty is interestingly her accomplice in the beginning- she takes to heart the dull remark on the food-"the food was salty" and that sets the discourse. Even Deshpande Aunty is burdened with a paralytic husband- the only difference is that somehow she holds on to this status with love and there is hardly any bitterness at least from what the voice conveys. Whereas in case of Ila and her mother, both seem to convey the feel of a crumbling relationship, suffocating, yet there is hardly any way out than going on with it. Ila's mother lamments the loss of a son who could have mended the family fortune and catered to the financial needs. Ila being a house-wife is hardly of any help to her. The numbness and futility of marriage and the social security that these women attribute because of this, comes open after Ila's father's death. All her mother feels at that moment is "hunger", not any pain or insecurity.
Fernandez is a widower, staying alone at his Bandra home and has almost accepted conformity of a mundane routine. The sudden spark that his taste-buds get through this accidental arrival of lunchbox, spices up his life. A month left for his retirement, he almost for the 1st time in his life gets eager to taste the un-tasted. The reticent Fernandez, almost aloof from even his own lonliness and feelings gets wary when he hears about the suicide of a housewife with her daughter. Ila enters his mindspace. He starts this communication and also withdraws, somehow cautious of over-indulgence. Irrfan Khan was terrific. He mostly had his body and eyes to emote.
However the most interesting character in this movie is Sheikh- the street-smart, garrulous, often irritating yet ready-to-please Saudi-returned apprentice that Fernandez gets for hand-over. Sheikh belongs to a different class- and in fact "lower or lower middle', a self-made man, who had been to Saudi, had worked in hotels and now back to India. He stays at Dongri, aspires to break the glass ceiling of class and even after travelling a day in the Mumbai Local 1st class without ticket, buys a 1st class monthly pass the very next day. Sheikh is almost everything that Fernandez is not-he is disturbingly intrusive for Fernandez, not deft at his job, while on his way home, uses files as chopping plate to cut his veggies, forces Fernandez to even defend him and brave and bold in his love for Mehrunissa. He is the alter-ego of Fernandez the ever-cautious accountant. And here somehow the movie opens up the 3rd layer, that of class. Sheikh has no facade to hide behind, no qualms, no ego- he is unabashed in his demand to enjoy life to its fullest, to grab opportunities as and when they come and he is happy.
Lunchbox above all is a "Mumbai film". I personally cannot imagine this film to belong to any other city than Mumbai.Fernandez cannot belong to any other place than Bandra-Ila's neighbor, close and yet remaining a voice and still overseeing Ila's kitchen has to be any of the housing societies in the suburban city,the sheer irreverence that Sheikh shows, has to be that of a Mumbaikar. Above all the main link for the narrative-the dabbawalla- they belong only to Mumbai. And how smug they are of the accolades that they have received from Harvard and even from the Monarchs that they will refuse to accept the misplacement of the lunchboxes. However they are extremely rooted and hence their loyalty and devotion to Sant Tukaram is unshaken. And moreover the most vociferous character of the movie- the Mumbai locals with their sounds and cacophony and crowds. The city was used at its fullest and the detail through which the transfer of the lunch-boxes was shown from the suburban homes to the offices mostly at the island city was enjoyable.
Lunchbox is a lovely little movie which touches you at all the right cords, makes you ponder over your lonliness in the city. You think about the lovely little moments which may have had come across your life many times and made you feel happy.It definitely reminds me of something which i experience almost everyday. The smell of the cooked food left at my kitchen by my cook, whom i hardly ever see. The movie reminded me of her. How meticulously and honestly she takes care of my home and my kitchen and we have no communication and even donot see each other. I was smiling throughout the movie. Truly the film belongs to Bombay, a city where i so smoothly and casually trust someone i never get to see and one who surprises me everyday.
