I went to the Rising,at last. Not with my family, with my pre-university classmates. It was an all girl reunion, with samosas and bhelpuri at the mall, and then off to the cinema hall.

I can’t say I liked the movie. That would be a lie. But I was inspired. As a member of the second generation of people born after independence,I felt that the film somewhat invoked the dormant patriotism in me. Somewhat. Clearly, this film is not a lagaan.

Here are some pics of the cast.

The film starts off with the “Mangal Mangal” song.At first, it seems like a folksong sung by guys on an elephant,but only after the film progresses halfway do you get the full import of the words.The steady, rythmic chant “Mangal Mangal” gives me goosebumps.You can listen to it here.

Soon enough, you are introduced to a visual sight of the socio-economic conditions of “pre-revolt” India….

Enter India of 1857,which stretches from Kabul(modern day Afghanistan) to Cape Comorrin,fully under the monopoly of the English East India Company. Where Indian sepoys are employed to fight and win wars for the company. Where Indian nautch girls are sold like toothpaste in a bazaar. Where an untouchable sweeper is trashed for accidentally touching a Brahmin. Where a young widow is burnt along with the body of her late 80+ husband, under the pretense of “this is her Karma” shit. Where the gora sahibs (white masters) called the poor Indians Kala kutta (black dog) {Oh,please. We’ve had it with the overused comparision of Indians and dogs. Can’t they think of another animal; a hippo, a possum,a blast ended screwt,perhaps?}

The story of Mangal Pandey starts with a gun. But, in the end, its not really about the gun, its about what the gun represents; captivity. This is what the film is trying to say. But, thanks to the innumerable tiring clichés, the distracting side stories {What was that about Gordon doing it with an Indian widow?? Huh??}, the totally “could-have-done-without” song sequences {sexy choreography,though}, few got the message.

In a nut shell, it was okey-dokey.

The last scene, where they hang Mangal and subsequently all of India starts revolting, showing the untouchable sweeper as the first person, is a gem. The love between Mangal and Heera, the courtesan, is maturely developed. Toby Stephens won my heart despite his horrible Hindi accent, and Aamir Khan was, as usual, excellent.

Here is a dialogue, by Mangal, that had me;
“The minds of Indians had gathered rust for a long time,but a little grease awakened them today.”