Assi

At one point in Anubhav Sinha’s Assi, a father (Manoj Pahwa) and his son (Abhishant Rana) are devouring a plate of chhole bhature. The father says, “Your mother is an excellent cook, but the chhole bhature she makes is… okay. No shame in eating outside once in a while. You can get a plate like this for Rs 60, maybe Momos for Rs 90,” he says, going on to add – “but a man never brings these home.” Only towards the end, does a woman overhearing the conversation realise that the duo aren’t talking about her food. The son is shown to be an accomplice in a rape, a few scenes earlier. I can see why co-writers Sinha and Gaurav Solanki [the duo had also earlier written Article 15] might lean on the wryness of a scene like this to explain a perpetrator’s mindset. But the scene feels too satisfied with its oversimplified metaphors for deep-seated dishonesty and compartmentalisation that the (primarily) male, urban population is capable of.

There is no gentle way to say this—Anubhav Sinha’s Assi hits you hard. It is, at times, an uneasy watch—and therefore, a very good film. To be clear, the unease does not come from graphic visuals; it comes from statistics read aloud by a lawyer, from stark statements that linger long after they are spoken. If merely listening to these details causes discomfort, one can only imagine the horrors endured by the victims. Sinha not only stabs us in the heart; he twists the knife—quietly, deliberately.

A nation that measures sexual violence in minutes rather than in isolated tragedies has already indicted itself. In India, a rape is reported, on average, every twenty minutes—a statistic so numbing in its repetition that it risks becoming background noise. More damning still is the chronic failure of justice: cases stall, survivors are scrutinized more ruthlessly than perpetrators, and institutions meant to shield the vulnerable too often retreat into silence or self-preservation. It is into this moral quicksand that Anubhav Sinha strides with Assi, a film that refuses both euphemism and escape.

There is a scene in Anubhav Sinha’s Assi, a social drama in the shape of legal deliberation, where a female lawyer gets into a heated argument with a male police officer. There is a context here: rape. In Delhi, a woman was gangraped and the accused, four till then, systematically erased and misled evidence. Frustrated, the cop gets hold of an accomplice and threatens to get a confession. Seeing this, the lawyer, representing the survivor, erupts. “You think only you are angry?” she charges at him. “We are so angry that we can burn the world. We just don’t want to.” In many ways, the speaker, Raavi (Taapsee Pannu), is the film’s chosen voice, yet Sinha’s work, too, is dipping with rage.

Javed Akhtar once famously said art and culture are the vocal cords of society. This week, writer-filmmaker Anubhav Sinha and co-writer Gaurav Solanki give a sarkari statistic on rape, a scarred face, an unflinching voice, and a social context. The outcome is deeply disquieting as the film investigates the pervasive rape culture, institutional complicity, and the gruelling aftermath for survivors. Sinha’s relentless expression of the state of helplessness and depravity makes one leave an impression of anguish on the seat’s armrest.

How often have we read news reports of a woman being gangraped in a moving car and how often have we turned insular to reportage of such heinous incidents? In his latest film ‘Assi’, acclaimed director Anubhav Sinha not only gives a face, heart and soul to a rape survivor, but also stirs something deep within us. With horror, we watch a young woman, Parima (Kani Kusruti), being pulled into a car by a bunch of youngsters. Hereafter, what happens is meant to evoke repugnance and Anubhav succeeds in bringing out the reprehensibility of the crime in a no-holds-barred sequence. How can this crime against women, rather humanity, be fun for some? The thought is as unsettling as searing.

Anubhav Sinha directs a script by Gaurav Solanki and himself, to craft a courtroom drama that approaches sexual violence through the lens of law, procedure and the domestic impact of violence. The film begins in the hard-hitting way it means to proceed, sparing no punches. Parima, the survivor, played by Kani Kusruti, is introduced as a working woman who lives independently and moves through the city on her own terms. She shares an easy relationship with her husband Vinay (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub). Parima travels alone at night in Delhi, something the film initially treats as completely normal, until she notices a car following her. The rape sequence that follows is intentionally hard to watch, with the glee of the men juxtaposed with the heartless, brutal violence against the woman. Only later, in the courtroom, does her decision to be out alone at night get quietly reframed as poor judgement, revealing how quickly a woman’s independence can be turned against her.