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‘Khajoor Pe Atke’ film review: This family comedy needed more bite

In Harsh Chhaya’s directorial debut, a family gathers in a hospital where a relative is lying in a coma.

Film and television actor Harsh Chayya’s directorial debut goes over ground previously covered by Rajesh Mapuskar’s Marathi movie Ventilator (2016): a family assembles in a hospital where a relative is in a coma. In Ventilator, the extended clan wants to hurry things up because the Ganpati festival is around the corner. In Khajoor Pe Atke, inheritance is causing impatience levels to rise in the hospital lobby. If Deven croaks, it is hoped, the property will pass on to his brothers and sister.

The big difference between the two films is about the degree of sentimentality on display. In Ventilator, the family members are overbearing but ultimately well-meaning. Khajoor Pe Atke is far less sanguine about the humanity of its characters. In a refreshing change from the cloyingness that characterises families in Hindi films, the siblings don’t seem to care for each other very much. When Jeetu (Manoj Pahwa) gets a midnight call from his nephew, his first reaction is irritation. His pragmatic wife Sushila (Seema Pahwa) has the next best reaction: what will the plane tickets cost?

Each relative turns out to be deeply self-serving: Ravinder (Vinay Pathak) is more worried about a lucrative deal that is in danger of being stymied by his comatose brother. Lalita (Dolly Ahluwalia) uses the moment to gush to everybody about the miracles wrought by the godman she follows. Jeetu’s daughter, Nayantara (Sanah Kapoor), is happy to come along on the Mumbai trip so that she can fulfill her dreams of becoming a movie star. Her brother and his male cousins treat Mumbai as an Indian outpost of Las Vegas, filled with the promise of sin and easy women.

The “sadness” – as Jeetu refers to Deven’s situation – takes its time to be resolved. While we are waiting, Chhaya offers a few nifty character sketches. The humour is scattershot in a production that feels like a play and is shot like a television show, but it is welcome when it hits its target. The constant bickering between Jeetu and the rest of the world produce the best scenes, with Manoj Pahwa, Seema Pahwa and Vinay Pathak acing all their screen moments. Dolly Ahulwalia proves to be a redundant and hammy add-on to the often forced mayhem, and the track involving young Nayantara and her Bollywood dreams only drags the film down.

The humour is often biting, especially when it comes to the happily hypocritical siblings, but it actually needed to have been even more savage. The background music, which acts like a laughter track and keeps trying to alert viewers that a joke has been cracked, adds to the film’s inability to trust the material and be subtle. There isn’t enough of a plot to extend over 119 minutes. With a tighter script and trimmer running time, Chhaya might have actually been on to something special.

Khajoor Pe Atke (2018).
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Swara Bhasker: Sharp objects has to be on the radar of every woman who is tired of being “nice”

The actress weighs in on what she loves about the show.

This article has been written by award-winning actor Swara Bhasker.

All women growing up in India, South Asia, or anywhere in the world frankly; will remember in some form or the other that gentle girlhood admonishing, “Nice girls don’t do that.” I kept recalling that gently reasoned reproach as I watched Sharp Objects (you can catch it on Hotstar Premium). Adapted from the author of Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn’s debut novel Sharp Objects has been directed by Jean-Marc Vallée, who has my heart since he gave us Big Little Lies. It stars the multiple-Oscar nominee Amy Adams, who delivers a searing performance as Camille Preaker; and Patricia Clarkson, who is magnetic as the dominating and dark Adora Crellin. As an actress myself, it felt great to watch a show driven by its female performers.

The series is woven around a troubled, alcohol-dependent, self-harming, female journalist Camille (single and in her thirties incidentally) who returns to the small town of her birth and childhood, Wind Gap, Missouri, to report on two similarly gruesome murders of teenage girls. While the series is a murder mystery, it equally delves into the psychology, not just of the principal characters, but also of the town, and thus a culture as a whole.

There is a lot that impresses in Sharp Objects — the manner in which the storytelling gently unwraps a plot that is dark, disturbing and shocking, the stellar and crafty control that Jean-Marc Vallée exercises on his narrative, the cinematography that is fluid and still manages to suggest that something sinister lurks within Wind Gap, the editing which keeps this narrative languid yet sharp and consistently evokes a haunting sensation.

Sharp Objects is also liberating (apart from its positive performance on Bechdel parameters) as content — for female actors and for audiences in giving us female centric and female driven shows that do not bear the burden of providing either role-models or even uplifting messages. 

Instead, it presents a world where women are dangerous and dysfunctional but very real — a world where women are neither pure victims, nor pure aggressors. A world where they occupy the grey areas, complex and contradictory as agents in a power play, in which they control some reigns too.

But to me personally, and perhaps to many young women viewers across the world, what makes Sharp Objects particularly impactful, perhaps almost poignant, is the manner in which it unravels the whole idea, the culture, the entire psychology of that childhood admonishment “Nice girls don’t do that.” Sharp Objects explores the sinister and dark possibilities of what the corollary of that thinking could be.

“Nice girls don’t do that.”

“Who does?”

“Bad girls.”

“So I’m a bad girl.”

“You shouldn’t be a bad girl.”

“Why not?”

“Bad girls get in trouble.”

“What trouble? What happens to bad girls?”

“Bad things.”

“What bad things?”

“Very bad things.”

“How bad?”


“Like what?”


A point the show makes early on is that both the victims of the introductory brutal murders were not your typically nice girly-girls. Camille, the traumatised protagonist carrying a burden from her past was herself not a nice girl. Amma, her deceptive half-sister manipulates the nice girl act to defy her controlling mother. But perhaps the most incisive critique on the whole ‘Be a nice girl’ culture, in fact the whole ‘nice’ culture — nice folks, nice manners, nice homes, nice towns — comes in the form of Adora’s character and the manner in which beneath the whole veneer of nice, a whole town is complicit in damning secrets and not-so-nice acts. At one point early on in the show, Adora tells her firstborn Camille, with whom she has a strained relationship (to put it mildly), “I just want things to be nice with us but maybe I don’t know how..” Interestingly it is this very notion of ‘nice’ that becomes the most oppressive and deceptive experience of young Camille, and later Amma’s growing years.

This ‘Culture of Nice’ is in fact the pervasive ‘Culture of Silence’ that women all over the world, particularly in India, are all too familiar with. 

It takes different forms, but always towards the same goal — to silence the not-so-nice details of what the experiences; sometimes intimate experiences of women might be. This Culture of Silence is propagated from the child’s earliest experience of being parented by society in general. Amongst the values that girls receive in our early years — apart from those of being obedient, dutiful, respectful, homely — we also receive the twin headed Chimera in the form of shame and guilt.

“Have some shame!”

“Oh for shame!”




“Do not bring shame upon…”

Different phrases in different languages, but always with the same implication. Shameful things happen to girls who are not nice and that brings ‘shame’ on the family or everyone associated with the girl. And nice folks do not talk about these things. Nice folks go on as if nothing has happened.

It is this culture of silence that women across the world today, are calling out in many different ways. Whether it is the #MeToo movement or a show like Sharp Objects; or on a lighter and happier note, even a film like Veere Di Wedding punctures this culture of silence, quite simply by refusing to be silenced and saying the not-nice things, or depicting the so called ‘unspeakable’ things that could happen to girls. By talking about the unspeakable, you rob it of the power to shame you; you disallow the ‘Culture of Nice’ to erase your experience. You stand up for yourself and you build your own identity.

And this to me is the most liberating aspect of being an actor, and even just a girl at a time when shows like Sharp Objects and Big Little Lies (another great show on Hotstar Premium), and films like Veere Di Wedding and Anaarkali Of Aarah are being made.

The next time I hear someone say, “Nice girls don’t do that!”, I know what I’m going to say — I don’t give a shit about nice. I’m just a girl! And that’s okay!

Swara is a an award winning actor of the Hindi film industry. Her last few films, including Veere Di Wedding, Anaarkali of Aaraah and Nil Battey Sannata have earned her both critical and commercial success. Swara is an occasional writer of articles and opinion pieces. The occasions are frequent :).

Watch the trailer of Sharp Objects here:


This article was published by the Scroll marketing team with Swara Bhasker on behalf of Hotstar Premium and not by the Scroll editorial team.