The Violence We Ignore, The Women We Don’t See

Last weekend, I watched a much-hyped Hindi movie called Durandhar.
All my friends who are movie buffs watched it, and they liked it. They said there is a lot of violence, but if you ignore it, it’s a great film.
So I watched it.
And yes, it was fine. But I couldn’t ignore the violence. It felt excessive and unnecessary.
Another thing that irritated me in the movie was the portrayal of the woman, the hero’s love interest. I know this isn’t new. Indian cinema has done this for decades.
The beautiful girl who exists only to fall in love.
To look pretty, to be just there.
Often charming, often decorative, and very often unintelligent.

It’s been provoking this thought in me for the past few years, and even more recently. It made me realize how I was conditioned to accept women in those roles since childhood.
It feels so repelling to me nowadays that I can’t digest or accept it.
It has become so normal. My friends warned me about the violence. However, they didn’t notice how demeaning the woman’s role is.
A kind of silent pain swells in my heart.
How can violence be noticed, but the violation of women be normalized?
How do we all see it, and yet not really see it?

The very next day, I was on a call with my team from India. Before I joined, they were already deep in conversation about the sequel to the same movie.
When they asked if I had watched it, I told them I had seen the first one. I also told them I didn’t like it, not because of the violence, but because of how it portrayed women.
There was a pause. A bit of surprise.
One of them, who had been praising the film’s cult following, admitted he hadn’t thought about it that way.
That moment stayed with me.
No one thinks about it, and it’s considered unimportant.

It made me think that this isn’t just about movies. The narrative is everywhere.
I grew up watching these movies, listening to, and absorbing these narratives. It conditioned me to a certain extent, groomed me in certain ways, and made me accept this as normal.

At the same time, I watched the strong women all around me. They were lifting families. They did something heroic without any recognition or remuneration.
They silently kept the world moving.
And yet, they were not loved, respected, or protected.
The narrative did not match the reality.

And still, I tried to fit into that narrative. I tried to be obedient and subservient.
The urge to obey, just to avoid conflict.
The belief that marriage equals security.
The instinct to preserve a relationship at any cost, even at the cost of myself.
The quiet reliance on charm, instead of fully owning my intellect.
At some point, I started to question the narrative.
I began observing my behavior, my thought process, my words, and my actions. I started to catch myself, questioning those instincts, choosing differently, and making conscious decisions not to fall into that pattern.

And today, I feel grateful to life. It knocked me down many times. This allowed me to realize my strength and independence.

I am the heroine of my own story. I don’t serve any Durandhar. I can be one.