By Adil Sayyed
Films have always been political, and their influence can threaten political mechanisms, as seen when Satluj, a new historical drama from India, was taken down from a streaming platform mere two days after its release. No official reason was provided, but it’s important to note that the film was earlier titled ‘Punjab 95’ and was stuck in a limbo with the censor board demanding 100 edits, which included references to the state and the identity of the protagonist.
The main actor of the film, Diljit Dosanjh, has an interesting space in the Indian film industry. Just a couple of weeks ago, he refused to comment on politics, justifying his distance by saying he is an artist. Yet his very existence, due to anti-Sikh racism, has been politicised. Dosanjh is an unapologetically Sikh actor in an industry which has shied away from politics, unless it feeds a certain echo chamber, and is working in a nation which is demonising Sikhs every chance they get. The ban on his latest film, Satluj, is just a reminder that Dosanjh will never be able to escape politics, because his very identity is political.
Satluj is about Jaswant Singh (Dosanjh), a bank officer who attempts to find the missing mother of his late friend. While trying to find her in a morgue, he uncovers ledgers of unclaimed bodies being burnt in crematoriums. Not being able to restrain himself, he makes it his life’s mission to bring justice to thousands of Punjabis being killed in the name of safeguarding the state from “terrorists”.
The film is based on the life of Jaswant Singh, a real-life human rights activist in Punjab. He released thousands of cases of extrajudicial killing and illegal cremations carried out by the Punjab Police during the insurgency in the 80s and 90s. His work drew international attention to Punjab, even from international organisations like Amnesty International.
The insurgency in Punjab stemmed from the separatists seeking to form their own state called ‘Khalistan.’ Human Rights Watch has stated that the Indian government ordered counterinsurgency operations that caused ‘arbitrary detention, torture, extrajudicial execution, and enforced disappearance of thousands of Sikhs.’ Most victims of disappearances are most likely killed, which was hidden by illegal cremations carried out by the police. These special laws also gave incentives and rewards to police personnel for eliminating militants, which obviously caused disappearances and deaths.
Even today, Sikhs continue to remain an oppressed group. They are accused of being ‘Khalistanis’ for protesting for better conditions, as seen when farmers were protesting the Indian farm laws in 2021. The protest was out of fear of corporations taking over the farming sector, but the ruling party used its majoritarian tactics to label the protestors as ‘Khalistanis’.
Satluj is a brave film that dares to address the police state and police brutality, where the police have unshackled power to surveil the masses. What happens is that the same authority entrusted with security becomes the oppressor, and they start to pile up encounters to get promotions and benefits. It’s not only a story about Sikhs, but a story about every oppressed group being targeted by political machinations; it could be about Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, the African-American community in the United States or a Muslim in India.
Dosanjh delivers a powerful performance, understanding the gravity of the situation and portraying his character with resolve and steadfast commitment. Another amazing performance in the film is by Suvinder Vicky as SSP Sugga, who portrays his character with menace that fills the room with tension and makes you hold your breath by his mere presence.
The film runs for a lengthy 164 minutes, but don’t let that runtime stray you. Satluj absolutely justifies its runtime, with a story that deserves every bit of its near three-hour length. Every scene seems pivotal to do justice to the story about police brutality in the affected Punjab and Jaswant Singh, who literally lost his life fighting for those who were made invisible by politics and majoritarianism.
