All reports are that Udta Punjab is flying. The film-makers are happy that it’s come back from the censors (or the certifiers, it’s difficult to know which) with only one cut — a urinating scene. The censors (or certifiers) are happy that they were left with something at least to show that they’d done their job, the reviewers are mostly ecstatic and people are flocking to the cinemas. I’m reminded of an old ee Cummings poem: ‘Everybody happy we we we, and to hell with the chappie who doesn’t agree….’

It’s not that I don’t agree or am unhappy. I watched the film. It’s powerful, strong, true and disturbing. It also made me think about Punjab, the tragedy of a place that so many called ‘ sone ki chidia ’ and that has lived through and survived Partition, and the Green Revolution and Operation Blue Star and 1984. Except that it clearly hasn’t, as Udta Punjab shows.

But I am intrigued and disturbed about several things. The cutting of the urinating scene for example — what purpose did that serve? By hiding this most public of male activities out of the film, did the certifiers really think they would make it go away? But you only have to turn any corner, walk down any road, stand at any crossroads, look into any field and you will see a man urinating in public. Admittedly his back will be to you, and he may well be facing a wall or something, or someone, but you know what he is up to. So why pretend?

In fact the delicious irony of this cut was that in a commercial just before the actual film opened (I forget which commercial), you see a man urinating. And I think there was some kind of message — wasted on our men though — about cleanliness.

The certifiers left in a whole lot of other stuff, and it’s interesting to look at what that was and what it tells us about our society. I should say here that my argument is not that any of this should have been removed — I believe censorship is an insult to adult intelligence. But what stays and goes and the objections that are raised are all educative.

For example, there was a big discussion about the swear words which the certifiers wanted removed, presumably because they give a ‘bad’ image of our society, but the film-makers argued for, saying, rightly, that these were in common use in everyday parlance not only in Punjab but also in other parts of India. And certainly sexually charged abuses about incest are as common as namaste and adaab .

They do create a problem for the subtitlers, for even though what is being said is being said and cannot be misunderstood, what is being written must not articulate those words, so a lot of asterisks are brought in. Sister (that’s a harmless word so it can stay) f****r is not, and so asterisks. Mother (again a harmless word) and then f****r once again to indicate that-which-must-not-be-written.

More importantly though, they point to something about our society that the censors and certifiers are wilfully oblivious to. But it’s something that I think the filmmakers would have done well to think about when they were arguing their case, even if it was only for their own education. And that is this: sexual abuse of sisters by brothers is so widespread, misogyny is so naturalised and so widely accepted in our society that a term of abuse that describes that and captures the hatred for women does not even mildly shock us, it only seems ‘normal’ and ‘natural’. And so it stays in because it is ‘normal’ and ‘everyday’.

How did it come to this pass? The sisters who are f****d by the brothers every day inside homes cannot and must not speak about this. But the brothers who are doing the f*****g can not only speak but can boast, and shout it from the rooftops.

Would the film have been equally effective without these swear words? Very likely not, much of its power comes from how hard-hitting and unsparing it is and toning down the language might have taken this away. And that is not really what my concern is about.

Rather, what it is, is this: the sexually charged abuse we hear on our streets every day, and we see in our films all the time, reflects a rather ugly truth of our society, a sort of public secret that we all know but will not speak about. Is it too much to hope that people like the filmmakers — articulate, influential public figures — might use their clout by trying to change this reality even if only by acknowledging the secrets these swear words hide? Or am I being a romantic, expecting filmmakers to have a social conscience?

Urvashi Butaliais an editor, publisher and director of Zubaan; blink@thehindu. co. in

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