I lean closer towards the screen in your seat as the camera focuses in on the tension between the two men, clearly gearing up for a fight – the narration from the wrestling match on the screen matching the audience’s excitement. I’m not sure who will be the winner, but the anticipation hums beneath my skin all the same, the same thrill anyone gets watching a race or a sports competition, because there will always be a winner, and there will always be a loser.
This is a fitting opening to Dangal, a Indian Hindi semi-biographical film chronicling the story of Mahavir Phogat’s training of his daughters Gheeta and Babita, who eventually become world-class wrestlers. The ending of this movie is written already, as is the ending for all sports movie – we know they will win, but the fun is seeing how they win, if they fall at first and have to get up and continue on, like all people and all heroes do. Gheeta and Babita’s frustration at having to work hard at wrestling for their father’s dream and not their own dreams conjures up memories of a younger me, always told to work harder and longer, for your own good. But it takes time for the lesson to fully sink in, for Phogat’s dream of wrestling to become Gheeta’s dream of wrestling as well, as she itches for another fight after losing her first one, determined to prove herself and fight stronger and harder the next time.
The musical numbers and Gheeta’s training montages are fun and enjoyable to watch, and I found myself getting caught up in the excitement of it all, cheering Gheeta on when she wins match after match, and when they call her a storm, a hurricane, ready to conquer all obstacles in her path to win the Nationals and begin her real journey towards winning India a gold medal. But people are not storms. Sometimes mistakes are made as we walk our paths. The movie shows Gheeta becoming less focused on her training, wanting to instead explore the freedoms her father always denied her while moving slowly away from her family and the hard-earned lessons her father bestowed on her at 5am every morning, and you feel an accompanying sense of unease. Growth and change is necessary for us to make the best out of life and what we want, but not growth at the expense of what made us who we are.
Gheeta slowly realizing that she has been walking away from her path, and once again wanting to try again for her dream is a slow but very moving process, culminating in a phone call where she just keeps repeating “I’m sorry, Papa” to her father – sometimes too many words are not needed to show how we feel, just an important gesture. Both actors conveyed this masterfully and you feel yourself tearing up. Another extremely touching scene in the movie came with Phogat’s speech to the head of NSA – I could truly feel his passion for his dream and his country, as well as his deep love for his daughters as he wished to build a better future for them, one where they don’t have to be limited by people’s expectations as women in India, where they can break down boundaries for others and themselves. Phogat is a stern father throughout the film, but in this scene he lays his emotions completely bare for the audience to see, demonstrating how important this moment is to both him and Gheeta.
The use of memory during the last fight was very interesting, as Gheeta remembered something her father told her about having to fight for herself, and that he will not always be there for her – this is what ultimately pushes her to continue on with her fight, and pushes her to successful victory. It’s a lesson I’m still learning. There is no guarantee of winning, but there is always a chance, if you try, but you must try for yourself and believe in yourself. Only after Gheeta truly understands is she able to win her match and become India’s first female wrestler to win a gold medal. The dream that was once her father’s dream, has now become her reality.