PUJAR SARKI: A BOLD CONFRONTATION WITH CASTE, LOVE, AND RESISTANCE IN RURAL NEPAL

 

Movie: Pujar Sarki

Directed By: Dinesh Raut

Written By: Bikash Subedi

Produced By: Subash Bhusal

Starring : Aaryan Sidgel,  Pradeep Khadka, Paul Shah, Anjana Braili, Parikshya Limbu

Country : Nepal

Language: Nepali

Release Date: May 23, 2024

Pujar Sarki is a powerful and politically resonant Nepali film that dares to tackle one of the most deeply rooted issues in Nepali society: caste-based discrimination. Directed by Dinesh Raut and written by Bikash Subedi, the film doesn’t just aim to entertain but to confront its viewers with an uncomfortable truth that still persists across much of Nepal’s rural and even urban life. Set in a vivid rural backdrop, the film tells the interwoven stories of love, resistance, and social injustice, all framed within the context of Nepal's caste hierarchy.

At the heart of the story is the character Pujar, played by Aaryan Sigdel, a Brahmin priest who defies social norms by marrying a woman from a so-called lower caste. His love story stands in contrast with the journey of Maita Bahadur, played by Pradeep Khadka, a young Dalit man who also falls in love—this time with a girl from a higher caste. While Pujar's transgression meets with disapproval and tension, it is Maita’s act that provokes an even more brutal backlash. This contrast is sharply drawn and becomes the film’s most effective critique of how caste discrimination is not just a matter of tradition but one of selective and violent enforcement based on one's position in the social hierarchy.

The film opens with slogans of revolution and ends on a note of resistance, suggesting that the struggle against casteism is far from over. Dinesh Raut crafts the narrative with an emotional sensibility that never feels exploitative. Rather than showing caste violence only as physical brutality, he leans into the emotional, psychological, and social consequences that ripple out from these love stories. The tension is not just between lovers and their families, but between an entire system of social order and the individuals who dare to break it.

Pradeep Khadka's portrayal of Maita Bahadur is deeply moving. He brings to life the vulnerability, frustration, and quiet strength of a Dalit youth who knows the odds are against him. His performance feels both grounded and emotionally rich, particularly in scenes where he wrestles with his own sense of worth and dignity. Aaryan Sigdel, as Pujar, plays a more restrained role but with equal impact. His portrayal is less reactive and more thoughtful—an embodiment of someone using his caste privilege to challenge the very structure that gave it to him.

Paul Shah’s role as Meghraj, a political activist, adds another layer to the narrative. His character walks the tightrope between revolutionary ideals and the realpolitik of caste dynamics. While he enters the scene as a firebrand demanding social change, the film subtly critiques the limitations and hypocrisies within political movements that often ignore the very communities they claim to uplift.

The female characters—Maiya, played by Anjana Baraili, and Gaumaya, played by Parikshya Limbu—are portrayed with sincerity and emotional depth. They are not just romantic interests but individuals whose own dignity and identity are at stake in these relationships. Their performances offer a quiet but powerful resistance to the narrative of passive victimhood that often surrounds women in such stories.

Technically, the film is carefully and beautifully made. The rural locations are brought to life with detailed cinematography that feels both intimate and expansive. The sound design, by Uttam Neupane, particularly the use of DTS:X immersive audio, adds a visceral dimension to the viewing experience. The background score supports the narrative without overwhelming it, allowing the characters’ emotional journeys to breathe.

Critically, the film has been received with praise for its boldness and sensitivity. Viewers and reviewers alike have noted its emotional weight, timely themes, and performances—particularly from Pradeep Khadka—as key strengths. However, there has also been some criticism regarding a few exaggerated action sequences that felt out of place in an otherwise grounded film. Some critics and audience members have also pointed out that while the film aims to center the Dalit experience, it occasionally slips into telling the story more from the perspective of those with privilege—namely, the Brahmin character, Pujar.

Despite these critiques, Pujar Sarki succeeds in doing what few mainstream Nepali films have dared: it looks casteism in the eye and refuses to look away. It does not offer easy resolutions or romanticized rebellion. Instead, it offers pain, courage, compromise, and, above all, the ongoing struggle to be seen and loved in a society where one’s birth can determine one’s fate.

It is a film that stays with you—not just because of its characters or its music or its visuals—but because of the mirror it holds up to society. In a time when entertainment often chooses to stay safe, Pujar Sarki is a bold and necessary reminder of the power of cinema to confront, to challenge, and to move us toward change.