Garmi: A scorching drama on Indian Campus Politics

Set in a fictional college-town in North India, the SonyLIV thriller Garmi (2023) takes viewers on a nuanced exploration of the nexus of caste, politics, power, and violence.

- Chittajit Mitra

 

Released in 2003, the Tigmanshu Dhulia-directed film Haasil became a modern classic. Set around issues of student politics in the University of Allahabad, the film features Anirudh Sharma (Jimmy Shergill), who, after meeting Ranvijay Singh (Irrfan Khan) on campus, eventually kills Gaurishankar Pandey (Ashutosh Rana), his arch nemesis. The drama focuses on how the ground realities of violence can penetrate through even the seemingly-docile world of college life.

Now, two decades later, Dhulia returns to campus for Garmi, a nine-episode web series on SonyLIV that revisits Haasil—and takes a new story forward.

An Allahabadi himself, Dhulia invites viewers to the imaginary city Trivenipur, where Arvind Shukla (Vyom Yadav)—an angry young man from a nearby village—arrives to pursue his postgrad at the university, and simultaneously prepare for the UPSC exams. Even though Allahabad’s name isn’t explicitly mentioned, the politics of Garmi refer to much of the present conditions of the region. Garmi tells a simple yet compelling story of how the malafide politics of our universities can entrap even the best of us.

Even though Allahabad’s name isn’t explicitly mentioned, the politics of Garmi refer to much of the present conditions of the region. Garmi tells a simple yet compelling story of how the malafide politics of our universities can entrap even the best of us.

As the young protagonist enters the university premises, he is soon introduced to the several political factions that are in continuous conflict with each other to claim the throne of Student Union President. Arvind immerses deeper, soon getting embroiled to the depths of corruption, caste supremacy, violence, the involvement of mainstream politicians, contractors, goons, and even police officials.

The story’s narrator, Lal Bahadur (Satyakam Anand) introduces viewers to the different factions and their leaders, all of whom play an important role in deciding Arvind’s fate. Arvind’s first interaction with campus politics is abrupt. The president of the student union, Bindu Singh (played by Puneet Singh), helps Arvind get a room at the hostel—but not before inquiring about his caste. Meanwhile, the opposing political faction on campus is led by Govind Maurya (Anurag Thakur), the vice-president of the student union who dreams to win the president’s post in the coming year.

Each faction is supported and guided by bigger players: Bindu is a Thakur leader with the backing of the Chief Minister and a local police officer Mrityunjay Singh (Jatin Goswami), who wants the whole police system to be headed by Thakurs; Govind—an OBC leader—has the support of Bairagi Baba (Vineet Kumar), an shadowy personality who heads an akhada and has immense political influence. Both the student leaders seem to be mere pawns to further different kinds of political agendas.

While these two sides represent the mainstream politics of caste and power, there’s yet another challenger in the university, led by Anjani Kumar (Rahil Bharadwaj), whose guide is the narrator Lal Bahadur himself. Anjani’s politics are representative of the downtrodden, and aims at breaking the settled norms of caste and discrimination, and he often tries to question the wrongdoings performed on campus.

The story picks up pace as Arvind joins a theatre group at the university, where, he meets Surbhi (Disha Thakur). As Arvind and Surbhi develop a closer relationship, Arvind has to spring into action to save a fellow actress from getting molested by two students from Bindu Singh’s group, an act of courage that makes him popular at the university. Accompanied by Anjani’s faction, Arvind now protests this incident. He enjoys a rapid increment in his social status, but one that comes at a cost of antagonizing the two existing student leaders—Bindu and Govind—as well as their godfathers.

Arvind’s passive entry into the university politics takes several more twists and turns, changing the gears of his life. With each attempt to set things right, he manages to create new problems for himself. The pace of the story may become trickier for the viewer, but Garmi keeps one rooting for Arvind—and his unbridled quest to be just a ‘normal’ student, who merely wants to focus on the academic (and romantic) pursuits of campus life.

Through this narrative, Dhulia depicts the contemporary situation in our country, where activists and progressive people are confined to jails under draconian laws. When extremist literature is planted on Anjani and his fellow comrades, they are branded as ‘Naxals’ by local police authorities (and by Bindu and Govind) and ultimately killed.

Beyond the themes of power and politics, the series comments on issues of moral policing as well, as ambitious political organizations attempt to impose themselves upon the personal lives of other students.

There have been several recent OTT series in India which have focused on the macro issues of caste and politics in India; Garmi, however, dares to be a little bit more. The writers of the series have made a conscious effort to include many more themes to the complexities of campus life. One such exploration has been in the depiction of gay sex, which, frankly, left me a bit conflicted. Queerness is not handled with the same sensitivity as many of the other issues in Garmi, and I felt that each portrayal did more harm than good to the marginalized groups.

Garmi shines, however, in the examination of themes of caste and social status. Caste in India has always existed in layered forms; savarnas, who generally like to consider themselves ‘caste-neutral’, have often been guilty of showing their prejudice when it comes to forming social bonds with the Dalit community. Garmi reflects these complexities, too, with brilliant dialogue and entanglements that will challenge the viewer to reconsider their perceptions of India’s caste realities.

Overall, Dhulia treats the script with impeccable authenticity. The trend of smaller-town Indian parents sending their kids to ‘bigger’ cities—with the hope that they may clear the civil services [UPSC] exams—is the reality of many, especially in states like Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. The fictional city of Trivenipur is very much real for large parts of India—and so are its politics of caste supremacy and dominance. Students walk into such universities with great determination, only to find themselves dampened by the true ground realities. Keeping caste and violence as its central focus, Garmi depicts these disappointments with an emphatic, clear eye.

   

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Chittajit Mitra (he/him) is a queer translator, editor and writer from Allahabad. He has been working on issues of gender, sexuality and mental health with the team of Resistive Alliance for Queer Solidarity (RAQS) from the last five years in the city. A postgrad in anthropology, he is interested in constitutional ethics, social justice and human rights. He regularly reviews books on his Instagram: @cj_mitra. You can reach out to him on chittajit.mitra@gmail.com or Twitter: @cjmitra.

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