They suffer in life and become powerful after death: meet cinema’s female ghosts
With her ghostly turn in the supernatural comedy Phillauri, Anushka Sharma joins the league of popular Indian actresses who have played spirits on the screen.
Unlike many many of her predecessors, including Madhubala and Dimple Kapadia, the glittering ghost in the March 24 release appears to be armed with sparkling wit, but true to form, she has a tragic history of love and loss.
Female ghosts are a time-honoured trope in Indian cinema. With desperately sad stories of violence, grief and untimely deaths, female ghosts are the embodiment of the Freudian notion that repressed ideas and entities tend to reappear in bungled forms.
Considering that women are routinely suppressed, it makes sense that women with terrible histories return as ghosts and spirits. They are often products of crimes committed by men, ranging from rape and murder to forced confinement. Their deep discontent is inextricably wound up in love and sexuality.
The spirit in Mahal (1949) is rumoured to be of a woman who dies after her lover is killed in a storm. In more recent films like Raaz (2002) and Krishna Cottage (2004), the temperamental ghosts are women who have died after being summarily spurned by men. An exception is the titular ghost in the Tamil horror comedy Mo (2016), a woman who dies before she can fulfill her dream of becoming a mathematics teacher.
The tragic histories of female ghosts also expose how class hierarchy overlaps with male dominance to render women powerless. In Bees Saal Baad (1962), for instance, locals believe that the ghost of a young woman who was driven to suicide after being raped haunts the local marshes, determined to kill the rapist’s progeny.
In Lekin (1990), Reva succumbs to a sandstorm while attempting to escape the clutches of a lustful king. Her ghost has been trying to cross the desert where she died. Reva’s eerily vacant eyes and inability to escape a barren landscape are perfect reflections of the personal devastation experienced by trauma victims. Lekin draws a powerful analogy between a ghost frozen in time and a woman repeatedly victimised by men.
In the deliciously incisive satire Bhooter Bhabishyat (2012), which features a mansion full of spirits, the two female ghosts – 1940s actress Kadalibala and the young, rich Koel – have been unlucky in love and are products of suicide. Compared to the political reasons behind the deaths of the male ghosts, their origins are somewhat stereotypical.
But both spirits are unabashedly sexual, witty and powerful. With Kadalibala’s character, Datta makes a jibe at the typical cinematic characterisation of the lonely female ghost who croons melodiously and haunts large homes with single-minded dedication.
Since female ghosts are wronged by skewed gender politics, they are particularly invested in asserting their power over men. Their death absolves them of restrictions, finally equipping them with the potential to extract revenge and assert their dominance.
In Madhumati (1958), the ghost of the titular character terrifies and eventually kills the man who punished her lover and caused her to plummet to death. In the Malayalam film Aakasha Ganga (1999), the brutally wronged Ganga’s ghost compels the men of the family who burnt her while she was alive to remain celibate.
Considering that the audience for horror films is presumed to be largely male, the empowered and vengeful woman is an especially frightening figure.
Female ghosts often use all tools available to them, especially their voices, to achieve their ends. Consider the mellifluous woman in Woh Kaun Thi (1964) who periodically bursts into the deliciously haunting melody Naine Barse Rimjhim, spooking and attracting the male protagonist with effortless skill.
In Talaash (2012), Rosie’s voice is as smoothly seductive and self-assured as her stride and she easily transmits her availability to the inspector Surjit, who is interested despite himself.