Awards (Page 4)

About 15 years ago, an American singer of humble roots broke onto the government’s then-infertile hip-hop audio field and transformed it always.

He teased, cajoled and vexed his audiences, daring them to explore the “devilish” outlines of his head, as he sang reckless lyrics about events, drugs and” seducing” people. His music played in venues and weddings, blaring from stereos at large parties and wayside tea stalls everywhere.

Finally, at the top of his occupation, he vanished. Seven years later, Yo Yo Honey Singh is again- with a new song and an continued music trip, claiming to be a changed man after a continuous battle with drug abuse and mental health struggles.

The 41-year-old songwriter and producer was once one of India’s biggest music superstars, a number who “moved the social inertia of hip-hop music”, says audio journalist Bhanuj Kappal in Famous, a new Netflix film on Singh.

But he was also deeply controversial – and, by his own admission, an “aggressive and reckless man”, routinely accused of promoting vulgarity, debauchery and violence through his music.

Some criticised Singh’s lyrics for depicting violence against women and assault, an picture that gained more traction in the media after his original partner and childhood sweetheart accused him of domestic violence in her divorce filing. Singh has denied the charge.

Seven years later, the singer is no longer the defiant hitmaker who once ruled the charts with his provocative, foot-tapping anthems.

A lot has changed in the intervening years, including Indian hip-hop, which has evolved into a thriving, dynamic space. Artists once inspired by his sound have now surpassed him as the genre’s leading voices.

Singh also seems different. From someone who described himself as” the all-knowing master of the universe”, he now identifies as a God-fearing man who believes in good energies, the cyclic nature of life and “scientific astrologers”.

He claims his music is now more conscious, moving beyond drugs to something deeper. But loyal fans say it’s lost its edge and his latest tracks haven’t left a mark.

” He has a core audience that will stick with him forever… but his vision is old now. It’s outdated”, Kappal says.

But Singh is not ready to be written off, yet.

Instead of trying to conceal or defend his personal struggles with fame and drugs, he has made it the centrepiece of his comeback.

Since his return, Singh has candidly admitted his struggles with addiction and mental health. ” Drugs destroyed me completely”, he told Lallantop, a digital news platform. ” I lost myself to fame, money and women. I was like a devil, completely satanic”.

In interviews, he is witty and relaxed, speaking with the clarity of a tormented artist who, after battling his inner demons, seems to have unlocked a spiritual truth

” What goes around comes around, I really believe that”, he said recently. ” It took a lot of time for me to get out from where I was stuck. But I am back now”.

Born Hridesh Singh in Punjab state, he grew up in a cramped Delhi neighbourhood. Those tough early years shaped his music and still echo in his work today.

” This ghetto was my home, my hood, always will be”, he’s often heard saying.

Singh always knew he wanted a career in music. He started as a college DJ, later moving into production full-time. ” I wanted to make beats and produce music, not sing or write”, he says.

But after years as a small-time producer in Punjab, he realised it wouldn’t be enough. ” My sounds were too urban for the place. People didn’t understand it. For that, I had to go beyond the state”.

So he went solo. In 2011, Singh released The International Villager, his breakout album. Blending Punjabi folk- its dhol beats and string melodies- with global hip-hop, he created something entirely new.

For three months, it seemed the formula had failed. Then everything changed. Overnight, the songs went viral, topped charts, won awards- and catapulted Singh into Bollywood.

Brown Rang, a song about a brown man’s global ambition, became YouTube’s most-watched video in 2012. Shot in Dubai on a million-dollar budget, it introduced many Indians to the bling of hip-hop – fast cars, baggy clothes, gem-studded watches and gold chains – set to slick, thumping beats.

Despite mounting criticism over his misogynistic lyrics, Singh packed stadiums and churned out hits, breaking into Bollywood with songs for stars like Shah Rukh Khan and Akshay Kumar.

” A lot of times, my lyrics were trash, even I knew that. But people were still listening to it because the sound was so good and fresh”, he told Lallantop.

But Singh’s ascent to fame coincided with his personal downfall.

” I was drowning in drugs and alcohol, smoking 12-15 joints and downing bottles. I abandoned my family, lost control. This one time, I got so high I bit a friend on his stomach eight times”, he told Lallantop.

In 2017, Singh broke down mid-tour- a moment that shook him. He quit music and substances, returned to Delhi and began recovery with a global team of doctors and therapists. ” I told my family I was mentally unwell. I can’t do anything till I get better”.

Singh says he’s been sober for seven years, except for the occasional beer.

” I have been to hell and back”, he says in Famous. ” Even now, I wake up hazy because of the medicines”.

Fans, however, appreciate Singh’s raw honesty about his self-destructive tendencies- and his effort to overcome them.

” No-one’s perfect. But at least Singh tries to be better. He may have left the scene briefly but his music never stopped playing”, says Nandini Gupta, a Delhi-based student.

Others see his transformation as performative, noting his new music remains problematic. ” Though toned down, he is still objectifying women and talking only about money and fame”, says listener Bushra Neyazi.

No matter how you see it, Singh’s redemption feels like another challenge to his audience- pushing them to accept his complicated past and give his music another chance.

” I was away for seven years, but I will drive everyone mad again in the next seven”, he said recently.

” I am back and I want the same love I received seven years ago”.

It is often said that marriages are made in heaven.

But in India, where a majority of marriages are arranged, the process of match-making can feel like a passage through hell for a woman and her family.

That’s the premise of Sthal: A Match, the 2023 gritty Marathi-language film that has won several prestigious awards at festivals in India and abroad. It is releasing for the first time in theatres in India on Friday.

Set in rural Maharashtra state, the film centres around Savita, a young woman striving for an education and a career in a patriarchal society, and the attempts by her father Daulatrao Wandhare – a poor cotton farmer – to find a good husband for his daughter.

“He wants a good price for his crop and a good match for his daughter,” says director Jayant Digambar Somalkar.

The film is notable for the unflinching way it portrays what its lead actress calls the “very humiliating” experience of many young women, unlike other Indian movies about arranged marriage.

Sthal has also grabbed attention as its entire cast is made up of first-time actors chosen from the village where it is shot. Nandini Chikte, who plays Savita, has already won two awards for her brilliant performance.

The film opens with a sequence where Savita is interviewing a prospective groom.

Along with her female relatives and friends, she watches as the young man serves them drinks from a tray. They laugh when he, visibly nervous, fumbles during questioning.

Rudely awakened from what turned out to be a dream, Savita is told to get ready as a group of men are coming to see her.

In reality, the gender roles are completely reversed, and in a scene that’s replayed several times in the nearly two-hour film, Savita’s humiliation comes into sharp focus.

The prospective groom and other men from his family are welcomed by Savita’s father and male relatives. Guests are fed tea and snacks and once the introductions are done, Savita is called in.

Dressed in a sari, with eyes downcast, she sits down on a wooden stool facing her interrogators.

Questions come, thick and fast. What’s your name? Full name? Mother’s clan? Date of birth? Height? Education? Subject? Hobbies? Are you willing to work on the farm?

The men step out, to hold a discussion. “She’s a bit dark. She had makeup on her face, but did you not see her elbow? That is her real colour,” says one. “She’s also short,” he goes on to add. Others nod in agreement.

They leave, telling Daulatrao that they will respond in a few days to let him know their decision.

According to her parents, “this is the fourth or fifth time someone has come to see Savita” – all the earlier meetings have ended in rejection, leading to heartbreak and despair.

The scene rings true. In India, men often have a laundry list of attributes they want in their brides – a glance at the matrimonial columns in newspapers and match-making websites shows everyone wants tall, fair, beautiful brides.

Savita’s protestations – “I don’t want to get married, I first want to finish college and then take civil services exams and build a career” – carry no weight in her rural community, where marriage is presented as the only goal worth having for a young woman.

“Marriage is given far too much importance in our society,” Chikte told the BBC. “Parents believe that once the daughter is married, they will become free of their responsibility. It’s time to change that narrative.”

She says she found it “very humiliating” that Savita was made to sit on a stool to be judged by all those men who discussed her skin colour, while there was no discussion about the prospective groom.

“I was only acting, but as the film progressed, I lived Savita’s journey and I felt angry on her behalf. I felt insulted and disrespected.”

The film also tackles the social evil that is dowry – the practice of the bride’s family gifting cash, clothes and jewellery to the groom’s family.

Though it has been illegal for more than 60 years, dowries are still omnipresent in Indian weddings.

Parents of girls are known to take out huge loans or even sell their land and house to meet dowry demands. Even that doesn’t necessarily ensure a happy life for a bride as tens of thousands are killed every year by the groom or his family for bringing in insufficient dowries.

In the film too, Daulatrao puts up a “for sale” sign on his land, even though farming is his only source of livelihood.

Director Somalkar says the idea for his debut feature film is rooted in his own experience.

Growing up with two sisters and five female cousins, he had witnessed the ritual far too many times when prospective grooms visited his home.

“As a child you don’t question tradition,” he says, adding that the turning point came in 2016 when he accompanied a male cousin to see a prospective bride.

“This was the first time I was on the other side. I felt a bit uncomfortable when the woman came out and sat on a stool and was asked questions. When we stepped out for a discussion, I felt the conversation about her height and skin colour was objectifying her.”

When he discussed the issue with his fiancée at the time – who is now his wife – she encouraged him to explore it in his work.

In a country where 90% of all marriages are still arranged by families, Sthal is not the first to tackle the subject on screen. IMDB has a list of nearly 30 films about arranged marriage made by Bollywood and regional film industries just in the past two decades.

More recently, the wildly popular Netflix show Indian Matchmaking focused entirely on the process of finding the perfect partner.

But, as Somalkar points out, “weddings are hugely glamourised” on screen.

“When we think of weddings in India, we think of the big fat wedding full of fun and glamour. We think of Hum Aapke Hain Koun,” he says, referring to the 1990s Bollywood blockbuster that celebrates Indian wedding traditions.

“And the Netflix show only dealt with a certain class of people, the ones who are wealthy and educated and the women are able to exercise their choice.

“But the reality for a majority of Indians is very different and parents often have to go through hell to get their daughters married,” he adds.

His reason for making Sthal, he says, is to “jolt society and audiences out of complacency.

“I want to start a debate and encourage people to think about a process that objectifies women who have very little freedom to choose between marriage and career,” he says.

“I know one book or one film doesn’t change society overnight, but it can be a start.”

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