Written by Sarmistha Chakravorty, the Assamese film Jiya explores multiple themes simultaneously. It tells the story of a single mother, Jiya, who is negotiating the many complexities associated with the upbringing of her child after leaving her abusive husband. As she is navigating through the search for an ideal job and a rental property to move in, she is also coping with her family’s taunts forcing her to restart her life. But the search for a new home in the city isn’t easy, especially when you are a divorced woman with a child.
There are numerous complexities that blend with each other. With issues of personal, familial, and professional, that are tied together by a greater problem that relates to our social indoctrination, the film tries to highlight the acceptance of gender roles, priorities, and the prejudice thereof.
Actor-director Kenny Basumatary, famous for Local Kung Fu and Local Utpaat, directs Jiya and offers a surprising twist of taste which is away from the similarities of his earlier films. This one is not about the gags or the funny tales of lads going mad. There is a sweet and innocent core in Jiya that makes the film involuntarily close to you even if it tackles hard themes like indifference to urban society and modern relationships. Jiya is surrounded by the practical difficulties of being an independent woman in a modern society, where she is expected to make some compromise and is also scrutinised wherever she goes. It looks at the disappointments in life and also advocates for the necessity of sustaining without defeat.
Jiya offers a very direct portrayal of life that never screams melodrama. The examination of the issues is matured as the film doesn’t pass judgment on who is to be blamed for what happens or if it happens, why it happens in a particular way. The cast is effective which helps the believability of the film and the natural state of situations translates to great interaction scenes between the actors.
The closeness to reality is so much that the film even stays away from a resolution. The void remains. There is no simple solution to the issues at hand and compromise is not an option. But it looks for a meaning in the incompleteness of this family of two – of autonomy, self-reliance, self-sustenance, and freedom. Perhaps it is only ‘incompleteness’ that can truly define the nature of completeness. And as long as you are prepared to accept it as true, it is.
The character of Jiya, portrayed by Sarmistha Chakravorty, is well-written as a woman who must share responsibilities and make decisions in her roles as a wife, mother, daughter, and a friend, and that too with her career in between.
Despite dealing with serious subjects, Jiya is never overtly depressing and thus makes for a suitable one-time watch. However, there is a lack of strong artistic finesse (visual and otherwise), which can perhaps be attributed to its marginal production cost and design. Still, it doesn’t hold back the film from communicating its purpose.
Also, an interim period of dullness does seep into the second half as Jiya and Abhi consider their compatibility. However, the film quickly makes up for it as the drama surrounding Abhi’s drinking habits takes the narrative to its conclusion. Eepsita Hazarika plays the role of Pallavi, Jiya’s best friend and her daughter’s fairy godmother. It’s a character that is too good to be true but shaped up in a way that is too real to be disregarded. And although it’s a completely different genre, but do keep an eye out for the traditional Kenny Basumatary directorial stamps in Jiya.