ANGRY INDIAN GODDESSES 93
anticipation of a final showdown with her brother’s killers. Having thrown Lakshmi
out for storing such a dangerous object in a house accommodating an inquisitive
child, Frieda later goes looking for her to initiate reconciliation. In a rare and
wordless moment of deep camaraderie, Frieda ushers Lakshmi back to the house and
walks her home with held hands, as if they are children again, all their years of
togetherness alluded to and reflected in the lack of a need for explanation.
But such moments of solidarity which transcend class barriers are rare. In fact, the
clear divisions between Lakshmi and the rest are starkly visible throughout, although
an attempt is made to ameliorate this through the shared space of the house. As Frieda
comes out to the rest of the group, an inappropriate Pam, attempting to guess who
Frieda’s partner might be, remarks “it can’t be Lakshmi! You can’t possibly marry a
maid!” (Angry Indian Goddesses 2015). The film, although empathetic and nuanced
in its depiction of the class barriers, betrays its weakest moment when the narrative
segues unruffled past this remark. There is no qualification of the comment, instead it
is virtually dismissed, as if it has already taken for granted the impossibility of any
form of union – homosexual or otherwise – that surpasses the chasm of class. This, in
effect, reinforces and endorses internalised normative class hierarchies.
Other clichés abound. Mad and Pam’s characters appear to be fashioned to represent a
twinned identity-struggle in the equation that they create with each other – the former
exhibiting the sacrifices demanded by an impressive career trajectory, and the latter
those necessitated by an apparently successful marriage. Joanna’s character is pitched
not so subtly to introduce a measure of balance to the narrative arcs. Spry and
dreamy, Joanna performs at a slight remove from the daily frictions of the other
women’s troubles. The film opens with an extended sequence of Joanna being
exhorted by a Bollywood director to move her exposed belly fluidly even as she
struggles shackled in chains by lecherous abductors, waiting for the hero to,
stereotypically, sweep in and stage a spectacular rescue. She is being instructed to
play her role – not act – as frivolous entertainment for a voyeuristic audience. After a
few feeble attempts, Joanna refuses to comply. Instead, she denounces at length the