Director Ananth Mahadevan deserves credit for delivering a film that stays true to reality rather than resorting to a fictionalised biography.
Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3 / 5)
By Mayur Lookhar
What do most dying men wish for? Perhaps some are content with life, some repent past actions and seek forgiveness. The poor might wish, that if granted another life, it comes without suffering. And then there are those like Mahatma Phule, consumed by fear—whether his ilk would find respect even in the afterlife. “In this world, I wasn’t granted entry into temples. I hope you, Almighty, will open the doors of your temple for me—will you?”
Given how he asked to be left alone in his final moments, this may well be creative imagining—but it perhaps epitomizes the feeling of many dying Dalits. Derived from the Marathi word dalita meaning ‘oppressed, the word Dalit is credited to Mahatma Jyotirao Phule and his wife Savitribai Phule. Nearly 130 years later, India has come a long way from those days of overt oppression, but the continued existence of the caste system is a stark reminder that discrimination still persists.
Writer-director Ananth Narayan Mahadevan’s Phule (2025) courted controversy even before its release, with certain Brahmin groups labelling it a potential anti-Brahmin film. While the film naturally highlights social oppression, it is by no means anti-Brahmin. It simply and humbly condemns discrimination of any kind. At its core, the film champions the larger cause that Jyotiba Phule and his wife Savitribai fought for—the right to education for girls. After all, education is the key to shaping human minds and creating a just and equitable world.
While Phule does delve into the caste bias faced by Jyotiba, Savitribai, and their ilk, director Ananth Mahadevan and writer Muazzam Beg handle the subject with maturity and sensitivity, steering clear of any us-versus-them narrative. As Jyotiba (Pratik Gandhi) says, “I’m not anti-Brahmin, I’m simply against the unjust caste system.” With its primary focus on girl child education, this thought-provoking film highlights the trials and tribulations of Jyotiba and Savitribai in achieving the impossible.
In a time when mainstream films struggle to draw theatrical audiences, a social film is often dismissed as a documentary. If such voices arise after a press screening, it only highlights the enormous challenges a film like this faces. Labelling these voices as insensitive, intolerant, or ignorant wouldn’t be the language that even Savitribai or Jyotiba would prescribe. Let’s be honest—despite all the reform, many of us still subconsciously carry our biases. And this holds true not just for Brahmins; even Dalits carry their own demons and perceptions.
The moment you identify yourself as one, you are likely to suffer. Yes, certain self-proclaimed elites did deprive you of your rights, but many within the Dalit community also discouraged their daughters from pursuing education. Watching Phule calls for objectivity and rising above individual identities to condemn what is immoral. Well, there were Brahmins who shared the vision of Jyotiba and Savitribai, so how can Phule (2025) be called anti-Brahmin? And this film is made by a Brahmin.
They are mentioned in our textbooks, but who were Jyotiba and Savitribai really? Impressed by their dedicated work, Peshwa Baji Rao II had donated around 35 acres of land to Jyotiba’s father, Govindrao, a florist. As a result, the Gorhe family became known as Phule (meaning flower). Born as Jyotiba Gorhe, the family belonged to the Mali caste (gardeners or fruit/vegetable vendors). Today, the community is classified under OBC (Other Backward Classes), but in the 19th century and before, Malis were considered Shudras. At 13, Jyotiba was married to Savitribai, who was about 9 or 10 years old. The couple would later oppose child marriage. They never had biological children but eventually adopted a boy whose widow mother had been abused by a relative.
After the fall of the Maratha empire, the Phules continued to serve under the British, some of whom wholeheartedly supported their call for girl child education. This gave fodder to envious elites, who labeled them as British servants out to destroy Hindu culture. While Jyotiba did seek help from the British, he was also mindful of their divide-and-rule policy, where conversion was used by some to propagate their religion and further divide India.
Amidst a divisive society, Mahadevan’s film also stands out for its inclusivity, where Jyotiba and Savitribai take refuge in the house of Usman Sheikh (Jayesh More) and his sister Fatima (Akshaya Gurav), who would later be recognized as the first Muslim woman teacher in India.
Phule (2025) grips your mind and soul for an hour, but thereafter, it begins to feel like a grind. Part of it stems from the lack of serious tension, but credit to Mahadevan for refraining from unnecessary drama. That’s what separates it from fictionalised Bollywood biopics. One mustn’t lose sight of the fact that an ageing Jyotiba and Savitribai could no longer carry their tasks with the same energy and gusto.
Much of the film rides on the strength of Pratik Gandhi’s sincere, dedicated, and soulful performance. This wouldn’t be possible without the man genuinely imbibing the values that Jyotiba stood for. With remarkable restraint and grace, Gandhi breathes life into the reformer’s spirit. He may well go down as the only actor to play the two most revered Mahatmas – Gandhi and Phule.
Patralekhaa has been around for a while but had few opportunities to showcase her talent. She gave a timely reminder of her skill with an impressive performance in Anubhav Sinha’s IC 814: The Kandahar Hijacking. While Pratik is familiar with Maharashtrian culture, Patralekhaa hails from Meghalaya. She looks the part as Savitribai and is impressive in the early stages, but like the film’s second-half screenplay, her performance too begins to feel like a grind. Nevertheless, the petite Patralekhaa puts up a brave front, unafraid to take on the cocky, arrogant, bull-headed Brahmins in Poona. (Amit Behl is impressive as the Panchayat head.) Like Pratik, she imbibes the spirit of Savitribai.
Even after all these years, while we have a fair idea of what Jyotirao Phule looked like, there are just a few illustrations of Savitribai, highlighting the multiple forms of discrimination women faced during that era.
A huge shout-out to young Akshaya Gurav, who delights as Fatima Sheikh. Though a biopic on the Phules, Fatima Sheikh gets a much-needed, fitting tribute in Ananth Mahadevan’s film.
Recently, filmmaker and actor Anurag Kashyap courted controversy with his rant against Brahmins. While his intention was clearly to highlight the despicable acts of upper-caste men urinating on poor Dalits, his below the belt comment ignited the ire of Brahmins on social media. Perhaps Kashyap could learn from Jyotiba and Savitribai Phule who chose not to respond to hatred with more animosity. . As an old man said in Shah Rukh Khan’s Swades, “Joh kabhi na jaati, woh hai jaati.” Let’s hope for a time when Indian society, and the world at large, will be free from all discrimination. Returning to the beginning of this review, perhaps Jyotiba Phule needn’t have concerned himself with the afterlife. When you’re named after a deity, and the fragrance of your human values still lingers a century later, it’s not you, but the Gods, who bow to a Mahatma and his Iron Lady.
Watch video review below.