Dug Dug

Ritwik Pareek’s Dug Dug is quite the tease. In a gloriously meditative opening sequence, a visibly inebriated man steps out of a liquor shop with a ‘quarter’ in one hand, and a beedi in another. He rides into a dark highway on a luna (a two-wheeler), zigzagging with abandon. SUVs, trucks and buses whiz past him from either side of the road. A car advises the man to stick to one corner of the highway, which he promptly rebuffs with profanities. The foreboding begins as the drunk man struggles to stay awake on his two-wheeler, risking his own life and others. He seems to know where he’s headed, suggesting he’s done this many times before. Watching this opening stretch, felt like seeing a nation coasting through a lonely, dark road.

Ritwik Pareek’s film opens with the image of a temple on a hill after dusk, prayer bells on the soundtrack. This gives way seconds later to shots of distant highway traffic and a great reverberating spaghetti western guitar chord. A man stumbles out of a dive bar, slurs a farewell “Jai siya Ram” and rides off into the night. In the world of Dug Dug, the distance between sacred and profane can be covered in one drunken lurch. The opening stretch, around 11 minutes, is as mesmeric as anything I’ve seen in this decade of Indian film. Walking out of the bar, the man stands in semi-darkness, takes a swig from a quarter bottle, tries to light a beedi. He’s successful on his third try. At this exact moment, lights come on overhead, a brilliant mesh of blue and purple neon. A gravelly voiceover mulls the mystery of life. The man sets off on his motorbike, straight down the middle of a badly lit highway. More ominous twangy music. Vehicles whiz past; some curse at him and he curses back. He veers off the main road onto a less crowded one, but having got this far, skids and crashes. Under a gaze of a lurid billboard announcing a magic show, he lies, gasping. The camera pans away just in time for a passing truck to run him over.

Strange things are unfolding in writer-director Ritwik Pareek’s debut feature from the get-go. There’s a drunk man riding his motorbike on a highway in darkness and barely holding it together. He meets his death in the ghastliest manner in a hit-and-run accident while his Luna remains unscathed. A peculiar billboard featuring a magician, image of a body split into half, and two sultry women is the only witness. And so begins Pareek’s trippy, wild adventure that’s invigorating and amusing while partially losing direction.

After a drunken Thakur Lal, driving in a daze, dies in an accident on a desolate Rajasthan highway, his modest Luna or Dug Dug bike begins mysteriously returning to the crash site despite being locked away at a police chowki by seemingly clueless policemen. This inexplicable event sparks rumours, then belief, and eventually a full-blown cult. A priest suggests devotees offer Thakur’s favourite items to the ‘divine’ two-wheeler. Soon, followers start pouring alcohol and offering bidis at the site with the hope that their wishes will be fulfilled. What starts as a quirky mystery evolves into a commentary on the rapid birth, intoxication, and commercialisation of a new religion.

Dug Dug is a satirical comedy-mystery exploring blind faith, inspired by Rajasthan’s “Bullet Baba temple”, a unique shrine where a 350cc Royal Enfield Bullet is worshipped. The film is a clever and sharply observed satire on the commercialisation of faith and belief. Set in Rajasthan, the film follows the strange aftermath of a local drunkard’s (Thakur sa) death in a road accident, after which his pink and blue moped mysteriously keeps reappearing at the accident site. The mysterious event soon transforms into a wish-granting phenomenon, drawing both the poor and the wealthy in search of miracles and hope. Concept is the hero in this promising directorial debut. The Luna and its dead owner become the central characters, which is rare for a movie. There is no lead actor or known face driving the narrative, just a subject that delightfully resonates.

Ritwik Pareek’s wicked satire Dug Dug premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival this year as part of the Discovery section. An audacious new voice, his debut feature casts a critical look at how superstition and blind faith provide a fertile breeding ground for religious cults and idolatry to grow unchecked. Set in Rajasthan, it’s well into 10 minutes that we trail an unnamed man as he rides his motorcycle on a busy highway, with trucks and cars speeding past him. The ominous background score creates anticipation and there is a strong hint that something is about to happen. And it does. A terrible freak accident takes place, where the man lies dead in a pool of blood.

The first ten minutes of Dug Dug are intoxicating. A precarious scene of a drunken man (Altaf Khan) riding his rickety Luna down the highway at night is filmed like a dapper motorbike ad: a poetic voiceover, shots synced to a trippy guitar-riff score, an endless stretch of road, aerial sweeps, a lit cigarette, slick lighting, a “Ride Free” surge of adrenalin. You’d think he was ripping an Enfield; he looks invincible. It plays out like a hero-intro sequence. His name carries that punch too: Thakur. But it’s actually a hero-exit sequence. The spell breaks. The man dies in a gruesome accident; the hoarding of a magician is partly responsible. To be fair, he wasn’t even a hero. He is, by all accounts, an anonymous statistic: a lone figure relegated to the margins of public memory.