She is an example that wearing LBDs, partying hard every Saturday night, and asking for ‘four more shots please’ is not what makes one a feminist.īollywood is keen on portraying a certain kind of ‘privileged feminism’ as women empowerment, where the “feminists” are extremely rich, too apathetic, and somehow always ‘loose’ in character (as perceived by our society).

Her dress code does not drastically change after marriage, from jeans or salwar to saree, a tactic many films have used in an effort to show how a woman has embraced household living and exhibits wifely behaviour along with the mangalsutra and surname change.īommi is not just a blazing example of a rooted, strong, and independent woman onscreen but she also quashes what has come to be known as “feminist” characters, especially in Bollywood. She wears her saree with pride, with a pottu (bindi) on her forehead and long, plaited hair. She is hurt when her husband hesitates to ask her for financial help (although he resists most discriminatory practices, he was still conditioned by a patriarchal society and hence has been ‘taught’ to be egoistic, especially in matters of money) because the pre-marital deal was to fend for themselves as well as each other.Īlso read: Bollywood Hypocrisy: Mixed Signals and Faux Feminism She mentions time and again that her bakery business is not “small” or insignificant compared to her husband’s airline business.

She dreams big, takes pride in her career, and puts in the work to reach her goal. She breaks into dance when she is happy – not in exotic foreign locales, but at home. In every space that she inhabits – either within or outside her home, she holds her own. It was a huge relief and delight to watch Bommi, largely because of how tired we all are of undeveloped/under-developed female roles in films.īommi is from a small town, but we see nearly none of the ‘village belle’ stereotype in play.

In the very first scene that she appears in, a stranger on the train makes an unsolicited remark about how parents get looked after only by male children, while female children get married and move into another home. She is everything that mainstream female protagonists are largely not: feisty, ballsy, with a mind of her own and with ambitions (which she does not sacrifice after marriage and childbirth). You see evidence of this distinction through the course of the film.īommi lights up the screen with her presence. She is Bommi, not ‘Maara’s wife’ or the ‘hero’s love interest’. Among the many things that are commendable about Sudha Kongara’s Soorarai Pottru (2020) is the characterisation of Bommi (Aparna Balamurali).

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