A few years before I met Tribeny Rai, I watched Agnes Varda’s autobiography The Beaches of Agnes. One line from the film stayed with me long after the credits rolled.
“If we opened people up, we’d find landscapes.”
When I watched Shape of Momo for the first time at the MAMI Film Festival in Mumbai last April, that line reverberated in my head.
The film navigates the nuances of womanhood through the story of four women living in Sikkim, central to which is Bishnu, someone who embodies the phrase “chori bhaneko pani yei, chora bhaneko pani yei” (this is the daughter, this is the son) — something my dearly departed mother would often lovingly use to introduce me to people.
Bishnu, played by Gaumaya Gurung, whose dogged determination to fill her late father’s shoes makes you wonder if she is an anti-hero, clings to her idea of independence while simultaneously carrying the burden of guilt when her attempts to safeguard her family upend another’s life.
Even in moments when her insistence on standing her ground makes one uncomfortable, Bishnu is not unfeeling. She cares deeply about her family and her place in the world, even if her stubbornness thrusts her into situations where, as an audience member, one may will her to yield.
No points for guessing who my favourite character is.
Having said that, the film cannot move the way it does without Bishnu’s sister, Junu. Played by Shyamashree Sherpa, who is as lively in real life as she is on screen, she brings a childlike sense of joy to the family.
Without her optimism, the story might dull in parts. Despite having a burden of her own to bear, she maintains her resolve and becomes the support system that Bishnu sometimes takes for granted.
Not to mention the stellar performances by Pashupati Rai, who plays the mother, and the late Bhanu Maya Rai in the role of the grand dame of the family, who remains rooted in her faith in her long-distance son’s promise to take her away to greener pastures. Yet she is not a woman to be pitied.
She radiates a rare luminosity and humour, calling to mind all our witty grandmothers who have earned the right to be explicit — and how.
However, after the initial excitement of watching a film about Nepali women made by a Nepali woman had settled, a deeper understanding emerged. Part of the reason Shape of Momo affected me enough to write about it was how unhurried the women are when they are together.
They move at their own pace and in their own comfort, until the inevitable entrance of the male character. Then there is a quick acceleration of time and circumstance — the baby that is due, the single woman who remains unmarried, age marching forward relentlessly — all must be addressed and fixed immediately.
There is an inherent urge to protect, which Rahul Nawach Mukhia, as the love interest, portrays remarkably well, slowly unfolding and gently challenging Bishnu throughout the course of the film.
The storytelling is simple, and it pulls at your heartstrings in a bittersweet way. In an era when every big film seems to be shot on elaborate sets, every frame in Shape of Momo feels organic and real. Nothing is forced.
The tenderness with which the camera observes the characters owes much to the fact that Shape of Momo is also shot by a woman, Archana Ghangrekar. The light falls as it does. The silences are perfectly orchestrated. Boju’s comedic timing is exact.
When Bishnu’s steadfast gaze reveals guilt and confusion, Junu’s smile conceals faint anxiety, and Ama’s learned courtesy in speech feels intentional, what we witness is marvellous, mindful acting. These women deserve their flowers, and they deserve them now.
On my ride home from the theatre, I found myself thinking about the lives of women I know — women like them, women who contain multitudes.
My mother, a gifted artist and poet, chained to domesticity as an identity by the world she lived in. My aunts, shelving bright careers for children, or later, when wanting to start anew as their sons and daughters grew older, being chided for neglecting family values.
My girlfriends, talented and determined, many of whom have left behind their homes because their desires and dreams have outgrown the confines of a small town.
There is a cloud of impatience that hangs over these women, condensed by patriarchal systems that seek to dictate what a “good woman” should be.
To live independently, free from external forces deciding the course of one’s life, and to have the freedom to make mistakes — these remain privileges that only a handful of us have been able to realise.
Tribeny Rai has given something fragile and powerful to an entire state and a generation of Nepali women who will watch this film: hope.
They will find themselves, their sisters, their mothers, their cousins, their aunts, their friends, their grandmothers, and the women who came before them within its frames.
She has cleared a patch of land for us to plant our own stories. To feed the soil a piece of our dreams, water it and watch it grow; whether it wilts and teaches us to begin again, or blossoms into a harvest unlike any other, remains up to us.
To say it is my deepest wish that Shape of Momo inspires us to shape our own stories would be to understate a larger desire — for more women’s writing, art, music, policymaking and public discourse in Sikkim.
And when that happens, I will be waiting with my plate ready, delighted to devour the odd, imperfect and beautiful pieces.
Views expressed are that of the author and do not reflect EastMojo’s stance on this or any other issue. The writer is a Senior Creative Producer based in Mumbai, and a Zubaan Sasakawa Peace Foundation Fellow, whose research explores the socio-political rights of transgender communities in Sikkim and Darjeeling.
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