Director: Arun Fulara
Writers: Arun Fulara, Shreyas Chougule, Pratik Kinnarimath
Cast: Sushama Deshpande, Anji Alva Naik, Suhas Sirsat
The title of Arun Fulara’s 16-minute short is self-explanatory, but it also reveals the inherent gaze that adult agency is subjected to. The perspective (“My Mother’s Girlfriend”) is that of a person referring to a parent. It’s the lens through which society views – and stigmatises – the concept of middle-aged desire. The implication is that the words “Mother” and “Girlfriend” are usually separated by a conjunction; they aren’t supposed to be connected like this. The triumph of Fulara’s film is that it allows the title to morph from a wry and accusatory phase into an anecdotal one. By the end, it sounds like the sort of memory that a son or daughter nostalgically narrates in the future. One can imagine a roomful of dropped jaws, but the story is recalled with warm hindsight.
That gaze here belongs to a Mumbai taxi driver named Mangesh. A character like him is the default protagonist by virtue of age, gender and social status. From his point of view, this is a story about a grown man confronting his single mother after discovering that she is in a romantic relationship with another woman. Yet, he is not overly aggressive or menacing. If anything, Mangesh is his mother’s son, who is still pretending to be a “what will people say?” guy. There’s a sense that he is okay with her living the way she chooses to, but is worried about the (lack of) discretion. Suhas Sirsat’s performance, too, explores the bridge between societal pressure and human empathy. He seems to know the truth, but is too busy playing the role of an Indian male, husband and father to realise his significance as a son. My Mother’s Girlfriend opens and closes with Mangesh in his cab. And the film sets out to remind him that he is not the central character.