'To Kill a Tiger' Chronicles a Father's Pursuit of Justice – and the Strength of Women Around Him

'To Kill a Tiger' Chronicles a Father's Pursuit of Justice – and the Strength of Women Around Him



'To Kill a Tiger' Chronicles a Father's Pursuit of Justice – and the Strength of Women Around Him
Nisha Pahuja's Oscar-nominated cinematic documentary purposefully unveils real-life stories, urging broader attention to the rampant epidemic of misogynistic violence.
Narendra Pachkhédé
Mar 10, 2024


A still from 'To Kill a Tiger'.


In the glitzy Oscars scene, where gowns and tuxedos steal the show, this year’s best documentary contenders, including Nisha Pahuja’s To Kill A Tiger, explore family, social justice, book banning, war and politics. Pahuja’s two-hour feature stands out, chronicling a father’s unwavering pursuit of justice for his daughter.




As I sat down to write a review of this heart-rattlingly urgent documentary, news trickled down about yet another killing of 13-year-old girl. She was allegedly killed in Jharkhand’s Godda district after she resisted an attempt of rape by two men aged 21 who have confessed to committing the crime.

The irony weighs on me.




In the vast media universe, stories of sexual assault often fade away, lost in overloaded legal processes or swallowed by toxic masculinity. Yet, To Kill A Tiger, a cinematic documentary, purposefully unveils real-life stories, urging broader attention to the rampant epidemic of misogynistic violence.

Tending to the rice fields, Ranjit – the doting father to his daughter, the victim of a sexual assault in 2017 – shares a poignant revelation towards the end of the film. “I was once told, ‘You can’t kill a tiger by yourself,'” recounts Ranjit, “But I replied, ‘I’ll show you how to kill a tiger all by yourself.’ And so, I did.”




That sets up the narrative arc of the tale.

Emotional journey

Forged over the course of eight years, the documentary, winner of more than 20 awards at festivals around the world, highlights the pervasive and deeply rooted nature of male violence against females ingrained in the fabric of our society. How does one tell such a story? Caught in the spotlight, Ranjit’s stance captivates the attention of the Srijan Foundation, an NGO dedicated to sensitising men and boys about women’s rights. They see in Ranjit a symbol for their cause, a beacon of inspiration for other men.

The New Delhi-born Canadian director Nisha Pahuja says “To Kill a Tiger actually started off as an entirely different film. That film, Send Us Your Brother, was a more pointed and direct exploration of Indian masculinity. The focus of the original work was Mahendra Kumar, the women’s rights activist who has a key, albeit minor, role in the film.” However, as Ranjit’s story emerged from a programme led by Mahendra in Jharkhand, the director recognised its potential as the film’s backbone, with his work and personal life adding a broader context to the narrative.

To Kill a Tiger charts the emotional journey of an ordinary man thrown into extraordinary circumstances – a father whose love for his daughter forces a social reckoning that will reverberate for years to come. The allure of this approach stemmed from its simplicity. It offers a continuity to a rich body of works that Pahuja has undertaken over two decades, like Pahuja’s short film for Global’s investigative news and current affairs programme 16×9 ‘Indian Bus Outrage’, investigating flaws in the justice system in India following the brutal 2012 gang rape and murder of a young woman on a bus in New Delhi. It was a recipient of an Amnesty International media award for Canadian journalism in 2015.






Pahuja approached Ranjit’s complex situation with a keen understanding of its layered sensitivity. With prior experience directing films in India, notably The World Before Her (2012) that juxtaposed the competition among women aspiring to be Miss India with Hindu nationalists defending their beliefs (awarded Best Canadian Feature at the Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Festival), she was mindful not to take sides in Ranjit’s narrative.

In the documentary’s narrative fabric, intimate scenes from village gatherings reveal a spectrum of perspectives, featuring voices even from the fathers of the accused. Yet, as the legal proceedings persist, a faction of villagers resorts to coercive tactics against Ranjit – employing emotional manipulation, proffering bribes and escalating to threats of arson and murder. This mounting tension culminates in an increasing animosity directed at the film crew earnestly documenting these unfolding and unsettling events.

The narrative

Pahuja’s husband, Mrinal Desai, wields the camera like a poet’s pen. He deftly captures the village’s serenity, meandering through its tranquil spaces and deciphering the unspoken dialect of gazes – all the while encapsulating the hidden subterranean explosiveness simmering beneath the narrative’s surface. As if drawing inspiration from the locale, a mining town famed for its rich mineral veins, the cinematographer moulds haptic images, extracting their nuanced meanings and tensions. The cinematic shots in the labyrinth of courts in Ranchi reminds one of his early work in Chaitanya Tamhane’s Marathi-language courtroom drama, Court (2014).

The cinematic narrative commences with Ranjit articulating the profound experience of welcoming his daughter, Kiran, into the world. He cloaks her in the entirety of his affection, challenging the notion that love transcends the confines of material reality. With her penchant for narrative-driven films, Pahuja crafts intricately woven worlds that captivate with their visual splendour – a close-up of Kiran braiding her hair with colourful ribbons – reminiscent of the Spanish filmmaker Isabel Coixet. More so, it is particularly apparent in her silent portrayal of Kiran’s mother, highlighting her steadfast silent presence and the nuanced dynamics of her relationship with her husband Ranjit. The deliberate manner in which she guides and supports him during his moments of vulnerability underscores her inherent strength. Wrestling with the profound intricacies of human existence remains a constant in Pahuja’s exploration.

In the National Film Board of Canada-funded documentary, her storytelling, delicately rendered, possesses a distinctly feminine and sensual allure. That made me think of Jane Campion, one of the greatest contemporary filmmakers, and her classic short – a tightly controlled nine-minute drama – Peel (1982), The Piano (1993) and more recent The Power of the Dog (2021). Though a tale of the father’s pursuit, this film is predominantly concerned with female characters struggling to be heard, recognised and understood. The intricacies of other figures in the tale – namely, the Ward Member, Ranjit’s wife Jaganti, and, most notably, his daughter Kiran – unfold in delicate layers. While Kiran undeniably survives a brutal crime, her character transcends simplistic victimhood, revealing nuanced facets that enrich the narrative.

Ethics

Yet, Pahuja’s narrative ethics govern her art. “Discussing morality without considering the ethics of filming a survivor, especially a child, would be a lapse on my part. Initially hiding Kiran’s identity complied with Indian law and felt right,” she reflects. However, grappling with the prevailing cultural stigma, she questions, “By not showing her, am I perpetuating the bias I critique? Yet, imposing my perspective on a vulnerable child feels unjust.”

However, this is emerging to be a thorny issue. Anna M.M. Vetticad, author of The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic, points to the ethical and legal violations inherent in the making of the film. The issue of filming a minor rape victim makes it vulnerable for the filmmaker, given the stringent guidelines under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act 2012. The victim’s parent’s permission does not suffice, one has to get a directive from a special court if it deems in its view that such disclosure aligns with the best interests of the child involved. Meanwhile another Canadian filmmaker, Leena Manimekalai, has patently dismissed the film as “a classic example of a settler colonist gaze on an indigenous child survivor of gang rape in a developing country”.

In the documentary, Kiran existed as both a child and a survivor. Today in her 20th year, Kiran is so much more. She stands tall and looks out to a brighter future and wonders about falling in love and what she will tell her beloved.

“It’s also my hope that collectively we empower her and support her healing as part of this film’s journey in the world – a journey with impact at its heart, and one that’s being planned carefully and strategically with lawyers, documentary impact strategists, therapists and an advisory council made up of women’s rights and human rights organisations,” says Pahuja.

The growing list of executive producers that are attached to this film including Dev Patel, Mindy Kailing, poet Rupi Kaur, Dr Atul Gawande and Priyanka Chopra Jonas, to ensure this story does what it can in the world.

But with the distressing news of yet another assault on a 13-year old girl in the same region filtering through, the sickening irony piles up, each layer adding a punch to the gut within the narrative of this documentary.

Narendra Pachkhédé is a critic and writer who splits his time between Toronto, London and Geneva.