Hindi films have over time introduced us to several women who kill ruthlessly. A horrifying yet splendid portrayal of the murderess can be seen in cult classics like Khoon Bhari Maang (1988), starring Rekha and Vidya Balan’s Kahani (2012). Both Rekha (Aarti) and Vidya (also named as Bidya in the film) are seen to be killing for a cause, that is to avenge their families, their crimes remain morally justified throughout the script of these films.
Both Rekha (Aarti) and Vidya (also named as Bidya in the film) are seen to be killing for a cause, that is to avenge their families, their crimes remain morally justified throughout the script of these films.
Those whose crimes cannot be absolved by the revenge narrative, make up the other end of the narrative spectrum, the “evil girl”. A poignant portrayal of such evil women is seen to transpire into the idea of the femme fatale (an eroticised depiction) specifically in films like Saath Khoon Maaf (2011). However in a delicate in-between of the moralistic avenger and the evil girl, lies a third trope of the murderess in hindi films, that of the, “good girl gone bad”. It is important to unpack the idea of the “good girls gone bad” through its depiction in two thriller films, Srinath Raghavan’s Merry Christmas (2024) and Ramgopal Verma’s Kaun (1998).
Set in 1970s Bombay, with stereotypical characters from a niche Christian community, Merry Christmas starts out with the return of the prodigal NRI son, Albert to his maternal home on Christmas eve, which is followed by him meeting a beautiful single mother, Maria at a pub. Albert and Maria effortlessly strike up a flirtatious energy, what follows is a series of twists and turns finally leading the strangers go back to Maria’s well decorated home. It is at this point the plot thickens in mysterious ways, and viewers are taken back to an earlier film, with a similar character, the nameless “Ma’am”, while remaining completely transfixed with Maria.
“Ma’am” played by Urmila Matondkar, inhabited the gloomy world of monsoons in Mumbai in Ramgopal Verma’s Kaun? (1999). We first encountered Ma’am when a stranger named Sameer, played by Manoj Bajpai comes knocking to her empty bungalow, asking for a certain Mr. Malhotra. Urmila, is alone in the house and talking to her mother over the phone urging her parents to come back, as she repeatedly tells them that she is feeling terrified in the empty house. Urmila’s growing nervousness compliments the raging downpour outside, only to be worsened by the relentless knock from the stranger.
The alluring house and the mute spectators
While for Maria, the easy flirtation leads to inviting Albert to her house, only to find her husband Jerome lying dead on the sofa, on the other hand Sameer is only too eager to get access to Urmila’s house, when she frantically seeks his help, terrified by noises (which she imagines to be an intruder). The home in both the films, play a pivotal role as a sanctum-sanctorum or a safe space.
Traditionally as a feminine domain, both Maria’s and Urmila’s home are a visual retreat with a certain amount of inexplicable softness that accordingly work in tandem with the feminised persona of the women.
Traditionally as a feminine domain, both Maria’s and Urmila’s home are a visual retreat with a certain amount of inexplicable softness that accordingly work in tandem with the feminised persona of the women. They have beautiful décor, pastel colours on the walls, and a cosy feel, everything worked out perfectly to lure in the men. As curated spaces, the homes also help in reassuring the outsiders, about a certain nurturing quality of their owners. The house in Kaun? is adorned with beautiful white drapes and cosy cushions, in which Urmila found lazing around with her cat. The constant noise of rain outside is setting the mood for enchanted mystery and melancholy, coupled with Urmila’s growing fears being stuck alone.
Maria’s house (in Merry Christmas) on the other hand is on top of her an old family run bakery. It is made up of typical elements of an old-school Christian home, like a beautiful gramophone with yesteryear jazz records, a cosy living room, a well curated bar cabinet and a decorated Christmas tree to fulfil the festive mood. There is nothing unassuming about these homes, except a deep sense of melancholy, that is perhaps indicative of the loneliness that both these women feel. The only other presence apart from the protagonists, who punctuate the overall silence of the space is the Urmila’s cat and Maria’s daughter, Anne (who has lost her voice).
It is interesting that how both the cat and the daughter, remain as the only true witness to the crimes that their caregivers commit, but remain as mute spectators. They in fact, much like their homes do the opposite in making both the viewer and the male guests feel at ease and somewhat reassured about these women as nurturers, albeit harmless! The dependents and the homes in these films, serve a unique purpose of securing faith of the men and also luring them in.
The “damsel in distress” trope
Both Maria and Urmila from the beginning of their stories are “damsels in distress”, almost immediately grabbing the attention of the male protagonists. The men easily and quite thoughtlessly plunge themselves into their chivalrous act to “rescue” these women. After relentlessly pursuing, when Urmila frantically opens the door for the stranger Sameer, asking him to come in and help, he responds before anything ‘Aap fiqar mat ki jiye ma’am, mein dekhta hu!‘, (don’t worry about it ma’am, I will handle it.)
We hear identical responses from Albert, on discovering Jerome’s corpse. Albert tries to sooth Maria and tells her ‘calm down, I will handle it!‘, he soon becomes nervous and tries to flee the situation.
We hear identical responses from Albert, on discovering Jerome’s corpse. Albert tries to sooth Maria and tells her ‘calm down, I will handle it!‘, he soon becomes nervous and tries to flee the situation. But Maria’s helplessness draws him back in to the sticky situation and subsequently Albert helps her cover up the crime and finally even takes the blame for it. Similarly, Sameer by the end of the film realises that Urmila is the psychotic killer, terrorising the city and ultimately becomes her victim.
In a scene, a distraught Maria is even screaming at Albert, asking him to leave her alone! To which Albert retorts, ‘don’t worry, I will help you!‘ The men’s refusal to move away from the situation, takes us closer to the unresolving the mystery of the plot. The cunning of the story, also helps us deconstruct the archaic tropes of “chivalrous men” and “damsels in distress”. In the films, the women have carefully portrayed themselves in distress, and their captivating charm of the “damsel”, have almost disallowed these men to move away from a sticky situation.
The men have fallen prey to their own chivalry and stereotypical understandings of a harmless damsel! This turnabout of the situation is an interesting plot point, because it makes us understand that damsel in distress was an act all along that these “wicked women” used to prey on the men, completely reversing their position from a hapless victim to a perpetrator.
“Good girls” and wicked women
If anything, both Maria and Urmila subvert their gendered position in more ways than one. Women considered as “naturally good” and performing their gendered duties of nurturers and motherhood, make them an implausible choice for criminals. In most cases, the crime committed by women is considered as something, triggered by a momentary lapse of judgement or a complicated logic of coercion. Afterall, to follow the patriarchal assertions made by Cesare Lombroso, (father of modern criminology), who told us almost a century ago, ‘good girls, are trained to inflict their disappointments upon themselves, to become not angry and aggressive but depressed and self-destructive.’
In such a common sensical understanding, Maria and Urmila do not fit the mould of “good girls”, instead they pose as a “jolt” to our senses, an anomaly of sorts, their crimes are not “acts of passion” or “momentary lapses”, rather carefully planned and executed.
In such a common sensical understanding, Maria and Urmila do not fit the mould of “good girls”, instead they pose as a “jolt” to our senses, an anomaly of sorts, their crimes are not “acts of passion” or “momentary lapses”, rather carefully planned and executed. It leads to a general discomfort for the viewer to witness the nurturer’s transformation to a cold-blooded murderer. Both Urmila and Maria in transcending their damsel position finally land on the other side of the antithetical binary as “wicked women”.
In both the films, these women characters are created with the intention to communicate the absurdity of the situation, somewhat cementing these women as defying the norms of things. The stories never fully address the lasting question of “what made them kill?” Was it, Urmila’s struggles with mental illness and paranoia or was it, Maria’s compulsion to escape her abusive husband? Or was it something deeper, that makes us wonder about the several complicated stories of women who live isolated lives as misfits?
