Prakash Jha: ‘Matto Ki Saikil’ represents half of the country’s population

Prakash Jha discusses portraying the life of a Dalit daily wager, the boycott trend in Bollywood and if the present political climate impacts films and filmmakers

One of the few products of the parallel cinema movement who continues to be relevant, Prakash Jha, is in the news again. In the mid-80s, when Hindi cinema was running away from grassroots reality, he introduced us to the world of a bonded labourer in Bihar with  Damul. Now he is playing the role of a Dalit daily wager in a Mathura village in M Gani’s  Matto Ki Saikil (Matto’s Bicycle).

When Gani, a self-taught filmmaker, approached Jha, who has acted in  Jai Gangaajal and  Saand Ki Aankh, the seasoned director thought he needed some help with production. “Somehow, he felt that I am suitable for the role, and I could not have said no to such a challenging part,” says Jha. The film was screened at the Busan International Film Festival, and Jha says that the social media response shows that the audience is waiting to watch stories from the villages of India. 

Edited excerpts from an interview:

What made you agree to play the role of Matto? 

I liked the purity and honesty of Ghani’s story.  Matto represents pretty much half of the country’s population that doesn’t find reflection in Hindi cinema. We come up with a  Do Bigha Zamin or a  Damul once in a while, but largely one half of the country remains out of focus. They are the ones who build our homes, flyovers and highways, but we wake up to the existence of these lakhs and lakhs of people only when a pandemic strikes. Matto’s life revolves around an old bicycle. If it works, he would be able to get work. He has accepted socio-political discrimination and unkept promises as part of his everyday life. 

How did you acquire the body language of a daily wager who rides a rickety bicycle? 

I spent three months under the sun in Mathura doing everything that Ghani wanted me to. Coming from a rural background, I have had an understanding of village life. I spent hours chatting with daily wagers and smoking beedis. As my beedis were organic, they would say  ye to dum na de rahin!  (They are not strong enough). The training was so rigorous that contractors mistook me twice to be an actual daily wager, and picked me up from the labour chowk.