Courage Becomes Cruelty: An Appropriation of “Arjan Vailly” in ANIMAL
With a bloodthirsty protagonist and an army of brute Sikh men, Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s controversial hit Animal reduces the Punjabi folk song “Arjan Vailly”—a storied war cry against oppression—into a chorus of vile brutality.
After vowing to avenge a life-threatening attack on his father, Ranvijay ‘Vijay’ Singh (played by a disheveled-looking Ranbir Kapoor) makes his way to the vibrant farmlands of Punjab, a land gifted with aplenty sarson ke khet. Women sit on ground floors soaking in the winter sun, while Sikh men workout and lift weights on the terrace, their bulging biceps and strong builds ooze of virility and brute strength.
“Main apne pravon se twade dil, twada hausla te twada jigar maangne aaya hu,” Vijay asks them. I’m here to ask my brothers for their courage, strength and heart. But, in the context of Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s controversial new hit Animal (2023), this request is for more than courage and heart. Please lend me your physical strength, Vijay seems to request of these men, So I can fulfill my bloodlust, and avenge my father’s attackers.
The portrayal of the Sikh men in Vanga’s film is, at best, problematic, and at worst, destructive and corrosive. With their majestic beards, colourful turbans, and intimidating looks, the film reduces these men to little more than brute physicality. These men laugh at every joke Vijay cracks, like jesters in a king’s court. They follow his commands and seem to have no duty besides intimidating the enemy (or, the perceived enemy, since Animal clutches at straws to antagonize a Muslim man).
Starring Ranbir Kapoor, Anil Kapoor, and Rashmika Mandanna, the film about a tumultuous father-son relationship broke several box-office records upon its release in early December, including the highest grossing second Friday for a Bollywood movie. However, Animal has faced criticism for its unnecessarily violent scenes and problematic portrayal of women. The Guardian called Vijay “one of the vilest protagonists of cinema history”.
When assailants armed with automatic rifles attack Vijay in a narrow hotel lobby, the Sikh men around Vijay break into a Punjabi folk song, like a Shakesperean Chorus. Originally composed by Punjabi folk artiste Kuldeep Manak, this song, “Arjan Vailly” is based on the life and times of Arjan Singh Nalwa, who was born in the Malwa region of Southern Punjab (near present day Ludhiana). The track has signature Dhadi-Vaar music, the origins of which date back to Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth and final Sikh Guru. As the urban legend goes, Gobind Singh used the musical form to inspire courage in those fighting against the oppression of the invaders.
Nalwa’s father, Hari Singh Nalwa was the commander-in-chief of the Sikh Khalsa Fauj, which was meant to combat the persecution of Sikhs. The younger Nalwa—or Vailly—under the able leadership of his father, played a key role in curbing the efforts of the British to exert their control over predominantly Sikh territories. Besides combating British expansionism and fighting the oppression of colonizers, Vailly played an active role in the Anglo-Sikh war of October 1848.
The original “Arjan Vailly” is a war cry against oppression. During the song in Animal, however, Ranbir Kapoor’s Vijay takes a hand ax meant to break the glass of a fire extinguisher. The assailants wear sleek masks to cover their faces. In an extremely triggering sequence, Vijay slaughters them with his ax. The masks aid in their dehumanization, as blood and guts sputter out of their half-dead bodies.
It’s preposterous to draw a parallel between Vailly, a historical figure celebrated for his fight against shackles of oppression, and Vijay, whose use of the gandaasi (hand ax) is not to liberate his people from oppression but plain, revenge-motivated cruelty. It is exactly the rewriting of history and misappropriation of a freedom fighter that one should be vary of.
The grand finale of this pointless murderous sequence is a bigger bloodbath. Vijay’s very own machine gun—which his workers have proudly claimed is “Made In India”, is used to blow up a hotel lobby. The sequence ends with the word Intermission flashing across the screen, as Vijay lies down in what seems like a mass grave of dead bodies. It is a gross reminder of unnecessary violence, especially in a time when visuals of real war and conflict are regularly flashed across our screens.
It’s preposterous to draw a parallel between Vailly, a historical figure celebrated for his fight against shackles of oppression, and Vijay, whose use of the gandaasi (hand ax) is not to liberate his people from oppression but plain, revenge-motivated cruelty. It is exactly the rewriting of history and misappropriation of a freedom fighter that one should be vary of.
In another scene from Animal, Vijay tells his lover Geetanjali (Mandanna) about the Neanderthals and the cavemen. He explains how ‘Alpha’ men would hunt and procure food as women bore their children and decide which man gets to receive their love and affection. The non-Alphas, Vijay says, wrote poetry to impress women. “They say they will get the moon and the stars for these women. They do nothing, really. Alphas do everything.”
For someone who feels poetry is a bastion of non-Alpha males who are simply jealous of the hyper-masculine men and their virility, why would Vanga use a folk song—with poetic lyrics—to sing praises for this very ‘Alpha’ protagonist? Perhaps, that is the power of poetry: it makes the most vicious and painfully ignorant appreciate its existence, even if it is done subconsciously.
Besides the gross misappropriation of the Punjabi folk song, Animal continues to reduce the Sikh men in its cast to their biceps and well-built torsos. At one point, we see these men from Punjab—none of whom are given proper backstories or names—drink, smoke, and engage in casual sex with prostitutes, all while their wives are back home. Vijay requests the men to not call the hookers in his house, lest his father sees them. He even offers them to stay celibate if they give in to his demand, as a mark of brotherly sacrifice. After all, if his henchmen aren’t getting sex, why should he? The entire exchange is so juvenile that it it becomes, frankly, hilarious.
The problem with Animal’s misrepresentation of Sikhs is that it has come have a troubling time for the community. The farmers’ protests are still fresh in the public memory, as a record number of (largely Sikh) farmers camped at the borders of New Delhi to oppose the contentious Farm Bills introduced by the government. As a result, some pro-government propaganda cast a negative light on Sikhs worldwide. In June, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau publicly accused India of conspiracy to kill a Canadian citizen in the Parliament, which was followed by resignations of diplomats from both countries. A couple months later, the United States also accused India of plotting to assassinate a Sikh separatist leader on their soil, filing a sealed indictment in a New York district court.
In tense times like these, where many in the Sikh diaspora are being villainized, their loyalties being questioned, shouldn’t filmmakers be more responsible with their creative choices?
Alas, one can’t expect Vanga to take responsibility for his ‘art’. Perhaps, the director could have spoken to Joginder Pal Singh Virk, a Canadian citizen and Vailly’s great-grandson. In an interview to Indian Express, Virk emphasized that his great-grandfather “never accepted injustice”, and that he saved many Muslim families during 1947 riots, in addition to helping the poor in his village.
Perhaps, it is kindness rather than cruelty which will stand the test of time. Perhaps, the legacy of Vailly’s courage and kindness will outlast the roar of Vanga’s brutal Animal.
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Deepansh Duggal is an art and culture writer based in New Delhi. He has a keen interest in analysing artworks and folk songs which lie at the intersection of socio-political and gender issues. He also writes on films and pop-culture. You can find him on Twitter: @Deepansh75 and Instagram: @deepanshduggal.
