Social reform amidst a sea of poppies

Mint

16-05-2025

Vivek Chaudhary's I, Poppy is a ruminative film on poppy cultivation and the insidious way the process in India is tied to exploitation more than growth. It throws light on government policies, which issues licences for opium poppy cultivation and buys back the produce at Centre-decided rates, and outlines the helplessness of farmers and their vulnerability to corruption. The filmmaker, however, inspects the social malaise through a personal dynamic. At the heart of I, Poppy lies Vardibai, a Rajasthan-based poppy farmer and her iron-willed, schoolteacher son, Mangilal.
There is a world of difference between them. Vardibai is old and unlettered; the middle-aged Mangilal is the first educated member in the family. She spends her time tending to poppy flowers; her son either talks over the phone indoors or rousingly speaks to farmers outside. They are Dalits but differ in their responses to injustice. Vardibai is passive to the aggressive money-making tactics by corrupt officers where licences are revoked at will; Mangilal mobilises crowds to fight against manipulation of farmers. She discourages him from protesting but he carries on, as if, fed on the very crop they sow, he is intoxicated to the idea of social reform.
I, Poppy, with its intimate title, offers a sobering portrait of a rebel and the cost of his rebellion. Shot over four years, it underscores the loneliness that comes with it and by insisting activism to be a full-time job, also questions its feasibility in a dissent-averse country like India. The film premiered and won the best international feature at Hot Docs, marking a consecutive win for an Indian protest documentary at the Canadian documentary festival. Last year, Nishtha Jain's Farming the Revolution secured the coveted honour. Prior to the announcement, Chaudhary spoke about his journey. Edited excerpts from an interview.
How did you find Mangilal and Vardibai?
I lived in western Rajasthan where opium addiction is a culture. Growing up, I have seen elders have this brown liquid while we drank milk. Opium can be a deadly drug but is also a benign pain relief medication. At some point, I got fascinated with poppy and in 2017, researched and realised how potent the crop is. Multiple factors—the Narcotics Bureau, the black market, people who require morphine for palliative care—try controlling it for vested interest. It started out as a bigger story and at some point, became too big which came with safety issues. We scaled it down by going back to the source where it is grown.
In 2018, I shot with three families for a whole season (70-80 days for six months). But they ended up being scared to be on camera for a story like this. We were in a fix. Then at a protest, I met Mangilal. Initially we did not like him because he talked too much (laughs). We were also looking for someone older like a quintessential Rajasthani farmer. On a whim Mangilal asked us to come home and meet his mother. We agreed.
His mother didn't consider our presence. From the moment she saw her son, she started scolding him for being late. She kept saying, 'you will be killed. Don't do this". I asked if we could shoot, and when we did, the presence of the camera almost had no effect on them. I realised it was a great story.
The fact that they are from the Dalit community informs their resistance. But it appears that you had not set out to explore it.
Absolutely. When I was looking for families to shoot with, I was taken only to villages where upper caste people lived. Lower caste people live tucked away and our attempts to talk to them were thwarted by village heads. Access was difficult. But when I met Mangilal and his mother, I was struck by the dynamic they shared. We tried not overplaying their caste. There is one reference at the 60-minute mark but there are many references to (B.R.)Ambedkar. His portraits adorn their house and Mangilal wears the Ambedkar blue.
Mangilal was associated with the Bharatiya Janata Party in fringe capacity 10 years ago. Later, he read books about Ambedkar and realised that he walked a certain way into the world because of that man. Vardibai resists fighting bigger battles because she has grown up in a world where untouchability was rampant. She wants to protect whatever space she has.
You shoot them differently, opting for static framing for Vardibai and more frenetic shots for Mangilal.
Our visual treatment became clearer while writing the several applications to procure funding. Mustaqeem Khan, the cinematographer, and I decided on the filmmaking intuitively. Since Vardibai spends most of her time in the field, we put the camera on a tripod. Mangilal has this relentless pace. A million thoughts go inside his head so we had to be ready.
The film interprets the social reality the poppy farmers are in through the difficult relationship between Mangilal and his mother. Yet, a sense of boundary comes through in the way you have shot them. For instance, we never see Mangilal in his room. His wife remains absent till she appears in one scene but her face is obscured. His sons appear much later. Was this due to limited access?
During shooting, we stayed at their house. They cleared the storage room and put out two cots for us. There was a connection, especially between me and Mangilal. In a way, both of us are stuck because of who we are as people. If he was not an activist, he would go on with his life, and if I was not a documentary filmmaker, I would invest my time and energy somewhere else, and not keep going back to making films where there is nothing, financially speaking. Even with his mother, I could converse freely because I speak the language.
We got a rhythm of their lives. Mangilal and his wife have a difficult relationship and although we shot with her, we both felt uncomfortable. Initially, when his sons and he argued or fought, Mustaqeem and I stayed in our room. It felt wrong to intrude. Little over a year later, we asked Mangilal if we could shoot and he instantly agreed. He could sense the film we were making. There was a push and pull in the filmmaking because a family dynamic had formed.
'I, Poppy' ends on a solemn note. Given that this is a film about a man standing up against a mammoth system that will only continue, when did you decide to stop filming?
During the shooting, we got a sense that Mangilal's steps were becoming bigger. He was mobilising larger crowds and something was waiting to give. Either he will win, which is the story everyone wants to see, or he won't. Since this is India, one has to find that happy ending. This is why we give him a hero-like shot at the end. There could not have been a definite resolution but we wanted to see where things go. At the end, when the rain destroys their crops, it seemed like an appropriate point to stop. They won but they also lost.
Ishita Sen Gupta is an independent film critic and culture writer. Her work is informed by gender and pop culture.
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