One of India’s first female film editors, Patil’s story, shorn of self-pity, weaves personal and professional life and is also about breaking barriers
Although it is written in chronological order, Arunaraje Patil’s autobiography, Freedom, My Story, is one of those books that can be opened on any page and invariably one will find oneself hooked. Patil has lived deeply and has an intense relationship with every choice she makes, yet her narative style remains light and pacy.
In the world of film-making, it is an oft-repeated truism that the finer the editor’s work in a film, the less likely it is that the audience will notice it. The best editors manipulate the raw material with such finesse that they make the work of director, cameraperson and actors look seamless. As a storyteller, Patil has a no-frills style analogous to fine film editing. She was one of the first women to train as an editor and director in Pune’s Film and Television Institute of India and has inadvertently been a trailblazer all her life.
I found myself greedily moving from one phase of her life to another, and also simultaneously reading online about details about the films and film professionals that her life intersects with. Scenes blend from one to the next, documenting love and loss, births and deaths, heartbreak and recovery, personal traumas and professional highs—leaving the reader soaked in her turbulent, triumphant life.
Patil began her career with her husband and FTII batchmate, Vikas Desai, and they co-directed and edited all their film projects as Aruna-Vikas.
“Tell me what you want, not how to do it! It is my job to give you what you want but how I will get that for you is my lookout, considering I am supposed to be the expert.” Patil shares candidly that she would often have to spell out these words to her directors. It is a piece of dialogue that will resonate with women professionals and technical crew across professions.
On Page 57, Patil casually writes, “People found me an oddity.” As a pioneering woman in her field, and as one whose upbringing had conditioned her to be agile and flexible, Patil has always been ahead of the curve. She isn’t self-conscious about her choice of work roles or the strikingly feminist themes of her films. Her decisions came naturally to her and she has never shied away from the rigour and hard work necessary to realise her aspirations.
One of the films that Patil is best known for is Rihaee, her first full-length feature as a solo director. Released in 1988, and featuring career-best performances of Hema Malini, Vinod Khanna, Naseeruddin Shah, Mohan Agashe and Reema Lagoo, Rihaee is what would now be termed a ‘bold film’. It unabashedly explores the agency of women over their bodies, their sexuality and reproductive rights. Going even further, it articulates the confusion of men as they grapple with societal notions of male honour, marital fidelity and true love.
As Amarji, the migrant labourer played by Vinod Khanna, struggles to come to terms with the fact that his wife, Taku Bai, played by Hema Malini, has had an affair and is insisting on protecting her unborn child, he realises that he doesn’t want to be violent or even abandon the woman he loves.
“How come you forgive yourself for adultery but cannot forgive a woman”, Hema Malini asks the panchayat that intends to banish her from the village. “Our nights are also long and lonely. We also seek tenderness and love.” Finally, in the climax, Vinod Khanna speaks up against the collective pressure of the community and redefines masculinity for all to hear. “A real man can be both strong and vulnerable,” he says, “and still stand up for his family”.
Throughout the book, Patil deftly weaves stories from her personal and professional lives. She shows rather than tells, and her words are shorn of both pride and self-pity. She has lived a rich life and she is grateful for that.
Patil’s autobiography is a story of far more than just her life as an innovative, creative film-maker. It is an account of the evolution of Indian cinema over the years. It is a narrative of women in film technology and how they have battled it out over the years to create their own body of work. As she breaks barriers at every stage in life, Patil’s book illustrates the process of being a film-maker and an artist—of one who constantly reinvents herself as the world changes rapidly around her. Patil is an inspiration and her autobiography is a gift that will remain relevant for a very long time.
(The writer is a film-maker, media trainer and columnist)