Reva and Hellaro
Contemporary Gujarati cinema has increasingly moved beyond formulaic narratives of romance, comedy, and nostalgia to engage with deeper questions of belief, tradition, gender, and cultural identity. Two films that stand out in this shift are Reva (2018), directed by Rahul Bhole and Vinit Kanojia, and Hellaro (2019), directed by Abhishek Shah. Though vastly different in tone, setting, and narrative strategy, both films interrogate belief systems embedded in Gujarati society—Reva through an inward journey of spiritual transformation and Hellaro through outward social resistance against patriarchal norms.
This blog offers critical reading of these films from sociological, cultural, and philosophical perspectives. Rather than romanticising faith or rebellion, the analysis focuses on how belief systems are constructed, questioned, accepted, or resisted within specific social contexts. The aim is to examine what these films do with belief—how they represent it, justify it, or leave it unresolved—rather than what they emotionally celebrate.
Reva (2018): Rational Skepticism, Spirituality, and the Ambiguity of Transformation
The American Character as a Rational Disruptor
The film strengthens this rational skepticism through explicit dialogue. Early in the narrative, the American character directly challenges ritualistic belief by stating,
“You people walk so much believing a river will change your life… isn’t this just superstition?”.
This line is crucial because it verbalizes the epistemological gap between inherited faith and rational inquiry. Rather than subtly implying doubt, Reva allows skepticism to be spoken aloud, momentarily legitimizing atheistic critique within a predominantly religious narrative.
In Reva, the introduction of an American character who openly challenges Indian religious rituals and belief systems serves as a deliberate narrative device. His atheism and rational skepticism function as an external gaze—one that labels religious practices as superstition, questions ritualistic repetition, and demands logical coherence rather than inherited faith. Sociologically, this character represents modern secular rationality, often associated (rightly or wrongly) with Western epistemological frameworks.
What is significant is that the film initially allows this skepticism to exist without immediately vilifying it. His questions are not caricatured as arrogance; instead, they echo genuine critiques often raised against ritualized religion—questions about blind faith, symbolic excess, and unexamined tradition. In this sense, Reva briefly opens a philosophical space where belief is not assumed as default truth but as a system open to interrogation.
The Narrative Shift: From Skeptic to Yatri
The shift from skepticism to devotion is also conveyed through dialogue, though far more sparsely and ambiguously. During the Parikrama, the character admits in a subdued tone, “I don’t understand this belief… but something here feels real.” This statement signals emotional disarmament rather than philosophical resolution. The absence of logical articulation—no argument, no counter-question—marks the transition from rational doubt to experiential faith.
However, the film takes a crucial turn when this same character later becomes a devotee and undertakes the Narmada Parikrama. This transformation is presented as deeply emotional and experiential, rooted in encounters with nature, suffering, and silence rather than articulated philosophical reasoning. The river Narmada becomes not just a geographical entity but a symbolic presence—suggesting continuity, endurance, and spiritual grounding beyond rational explanation.
The critical issue here is not the transformation itself, but the lack of sufficient narrative and philosophical scaffolding supporting it. While the film briefly gestures toward an explanation through the conversation between the protagonist and Shastriji, this exchange ultimately reinforces ambiguity rather than resolving it.
In the episode involving the elderly woman who has stopped eating and claims she will soon die, Shastriji offers no medical solution, instead giving her a pot of Narmada water. When questioned by the protagonist about why he “lied” rather than offering medicine, Shastriji calmly explains that the elderly are not interested in science but possess complete faith in God, and that connecting healing to belief makes recovery possible, however he later explains the reason also.
On the surface, this scene appears to justify faith pragmatically—as psychological comfort rather than divine intervention. However, the film does not pursue the ethical or philosophical implications of this reasoning. Shastriji himself raises a critical but unanswered question: what happens if such symbolic acts later become the unquestioned foundation of belief for future generations? What begins as a compassionate tactic risks solidifying into unquestioned tradition. Yet the film does not allow this concern to develop further. Instead, the moment concludes with a close-up of the protagonist’s face, suggesting quiet acceptance of Shastriji’s logic, after which the narrative moves forward.
Rather than staging a sustained dialogue between rational skepticism and faith, the film once again resolves tension through emotional acquiescence. The protagonist does not challenge the long-term consequences of substituting belief for reason, nor does the narrative interrogate whether such “necessary lies” contribute to the very superstition skepticism seeks to dismantle. As a result, skepticism does not evolve or find reconciliation with faith; it simply recedes. The transformation remains emotionally persuasive but intellectually underdeveloped.
From a philosophical perspective, belief systems gain credibility not merely through emotional intensity but through reflective engagement—either by confronting doubt or by redefining the limits of reason. Reva gestures toward such engagement but ultimately resolves the tension ambiguously. Faith is presented as something one feels rather than something one critically arrives at.
Nature, Spirituality, and Quiet Resolution
Nature functions as an unspoken interlocutor, occasionally reinforced through culturally loaded dialogue. A fellow yatri remarks, “નર્મદા જવાબ નથી આપતી, તે માનવીને બદલે છે.” (“Narmada does not answer questions; she transforms the one who asks.”) This line foregrounds a spiritual worldview where questioning is rendered secondary to surrender. Dialogue here does not debate belief; it neutralizes debate, subtly privileging faith over rational inquiry.
The yatri also says they are “followers of God, not religion,” suggesting a faith that transcends ritualistic or institutionalized frameworks, and that their culture has “updated” religion to align with moral or social realities. Yet the film repeatedly invokes “Narmada Mata,” signaling that even as it gestures toward universal spirituality, it relies on familiar religious symbols. Faith is thus privileged over reason, while the tension between personal belief and institutionalized religion remains unresolved.
The film’s strongest contribution lies in its portrayal of nature as a mediator between skepticism and belief. The river, landscapes, and physical hardship of the Parikrama offer a form of experiential spirituality that does not rely on doctrinal assertion. Yet, even here, the film refrains from articulating whether this spirituality is universal, cultural, or personal.
As a result, Reva neither fully interrogates belief systems nor explicitly endorses them. It occupies an in-between space where faith is rendered personal and ineffable, but this very ambiguity limits its philosophical rigor. The audience is asked to accept transformation rather than understand it.
Hellaro (2019): Patriarchy, Tradition, and the Ethics of Resistance
The Village as a Closed Social System
Hellaro is firmly rooted in a traditional Gujarati village structured by patriarchy, rigid gender roles, and ritualistic customs. Unlike Reva, which moves across landscapes and internal states, Hellaro remains spatially and socially enclosed. This enclosure is crucial—it reflects how tradition operates not as abstract ideology but as everyday regulation of bodies, especially female bodies.
The film presents women’s lived realities with sociological precision. Women are silenced, restricted from public joy, and expected to absorb suffering as virtue. Being labeled a witch or being offered symbolically to appease a deity are not exaggerated dramatic devices but culturally recognizable mechanisms of control. The film’s restraint in portrayal strengthens its critique: oppression is normalized, not spectacularized.
Manjiri: Education, Questioning, and Moral Reasoning
Manjiri’s resistance is articulated most powerfully through sharp, ethically grounded dialogue. When elders insist on unquestioned obedience, she challenges them by asking, “જો પરંપરા આપણને બોલવા પણ ન દે, તો એ પરંપરા સાચી કેવી રીતે?” (“If a tradition does not even allow us to speak, how can it be right?”). This line reframes tradition as a moral question rather than a sacred mandate. Despite limited formal education, her reasoning is philosophically incisive, grounded in ethical consequence rather than doctrine.
Manjiri emerges as a central figure of resistance not because she is exceptionally educated or externally empowered, but because she persistently asks questions. Educated only till the 7th standard, she embodies an important philosophical intervention: critical thinking does not require formal academic credentials; it requires moral clarity and the courage to doubt.
Her questioning targets the ethical foundation of tradition. She does not reject culture wholesale, nor does she romanticize rebellion. Instead, she asks whether a tradition that demands women’s silence, suffering, or sacrifice can claim moral legitimacy. This approach grounds the film’s feminist critique in lived ethics rather than ideological abstraction.
Collective Assertion Without Exaggeration
The women’s collective voice emerges through restrained but forceful dialogue. When a male authority figure asserts, “આ તો પેઢીઓથી ચાલતું આવ્યું છે.” (“This has been going on for generations.”), a woman responds quietly yet firmly, “એટલે જ તો ખોટું છે.” (“That is exactly why it is wrong.”). This exchange encapsulates the film’s critique of tradition as historical continuity rather than moral legitimacy, without resorting to melodrama.
Hellaro avoids the trap of portraying liberation as instant or absolute. The women’s collective assertion—through dance, voice, and presence—is symbolic, yet it remains anchored within the social constraints of the village. The men are not depicted as monsters; they are products and enforcers of a system that has normalized dominance.
This nuanced portrayal allows the film to critique patriarchy structurally rather than emotionally. Resistance here is not about individual heroism but collective awakening, and even that awakening is shown as fragile and contested.
Belief, Faith, and Resistance: A Comparative Reading
The most striking contrast between Reva and Hellaro lies in how they engage with belief systems.
Reva approaches belief through inward spiritual surrender. Doubt dissolves into personal faith, and transformation occurs quietly, without social confrontation.
Hellaro approaches belief through outward resistance. Tradition is questioned publicly, and faith is measured against ethical consequences rather than emotional comfort.
In Reva, belief is individualized and internalized; in Hellaro, belief is social, enforced, and therefore contestable. One film leans toward reconciliation with tradition, the other toward renegotiation of tradition.
Reflective Perspective: Hellaro and Lived Gujarati Realities
From a sociological standpoint, Hellaro resonates strongly with lived realities in many Gujarati (and broader Indian) contexts, where patriarchal superiority is often normalized as cultural continuity. Practices that restrict women’s autonomy are frequently defended as tradition rather than examined as power structures.
What makes Hellaro significant is its refusal to depict this as an isolated or historical problem. The village may be temporally distant, but the logic of control—silencing dissent, moralizing suffering, equating obedience with virtue—remains disturbingly familiar. The film thus functions not only as representation but as reflection.
Conclusion: Contributions to Contemporary Gujarati Cinema
Together, Reva and Hellaro signal an important shift in Gujarati cinema toward critical engagement with belief, faith, gender roles, and cultural identity. Reva explores spirituality and faith as personal journeys but stops short of fully interrogating their philosophical foundations. Hellaro, on the other hand, rigorously questions tradition by exposing its ethical and social consequences, particularly for women.
Neither film offers definitive answers—and that is their strength. They invite viewers not to consume belief passively but to examine how faith, tradition, and culture operate in shaping human lives. In doing so, they contribute to a more reflective, questioning, and socially conscious Gujarati cinematic discourse.
References
Bhole, Rahul, and Vinit Kanojia, directors. Reva. Brainbox Studios, 2018.
Shah, Abhishek, director. Hellaro. Harfanmaula Films, 2019.
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