Deepa Mehta’s ‘Fire’ and the Lesbian Connotation of Saying No

Released in India in 1998 to protests in Mumbai, Delhi, and Surat, Deepa Mehta’s Fire (1996) is encapsulated in an air of defiance. In what was one of the first mainstream Bollywood films to portray a lesbian relationship, the film—the first instalment in Mehta’s Elements trilogy—tells the story of two sisters-in-law in loveless marriages living together, all four under the same roof. The much younger Sita (Nandita Das) marries Jatin (Javed Jaffrey), who has only wedded her to appease his older brother while remaining in an extramarital relationship. Radha (Shabana Azmi) is married to Jatin’s older brother Ashok (Kulbhushan Kharbanda), who is devoted to a local religious leader who teaches that desire is the root of all evil. As these brothers live at their leisure, Sita and Radha are tasked with running the home and the family at the expense of their own desires. Slowly but brazenly, they start to reject their household roles for each other’s company. In a story that was not only progressive for its time but remains a piece of progressive representation today, Fire showcases an explicit and direct denial of the notion that lesbianism is a form of wrongdoing. 

Newlywed Sita comes into her marriage eager to please and quick to comply with the traditional gender role expected of her, doing what she is told in an attempt to win over Jatin, who continues to show little interest in her. Yet, even at the beginning, we see a glint of who she is and the independence she craves. Alone in her and Jatin’s room, she strips out of her elaborate sari and excitedly puts on a pair of Jatin’s jeans. Far too big on her, we watch as she poses in the mirror and flaunts an air of joviality in the more masculine look, an expression of relaxation visibly absent in her feminine garb. Still, Sita is set on making her marriage a success, even though she never seems fully convinced that her preordained role is fair. 

Radha, who has been married to Ashok for 13 years, guides Sita through married life, which is now filled with chores. The independence she holds in private that we witness at the beginning blossoms into discussions with Radha about the unjust nature of their roles. While Sita starts to resent the lack of attention she receives from Jatin and the lack of freedom that comes with her responsibilities, she finds solace in speaking her mind to Radha. In their conversations, we learn that Radha is unable to have children due to being barren. Ashok, whose religious leader teaches that carnal desire is only acceptable for reproduction, often tests his resolve with Radha by requiring her to lay next to him in silence, refusing to touch her. While Radha has never wavered in her role as wife, Sita’s fiercely independent ideals force her to reflect on her marriage and thus start to resonate with her. The two form what could be called an alliance, leaning on each other’s company to make it through their monotonous days. 

It starts slowly. Jatin’s rejection of Sita leads her to crumble, and a private consolation by Radha turns romantic. While comforting Sita, Radha holds her close, and Sita leans in and kisses her quickly but with intention. We watch as desire awakens in two people who thought it was a defunct part of them. In the following days, both of them touch their fingers to their lips while alone, thinking of the moment that they know is seen as wrong. Their pact in household chores then turns into a relationship fueled by desire.

The thesis of the film comes halfway through: after Radha and Sita have slept together. Sita asks Radha nervously,

            “Did we do anything wrong?”

            Radha answers assuredly, “No.”

When Radha affirms that they have not, the two find the freedom they have been seeking. Deciding that there is no moral flaw in their desire is not only an incredibly moving sentiment but is also one of liberation, and Radha’s direct and simple refusal of wrongdoing emboldens the pair to continue to rebuff their oppressors. They reject their partners, they stop abiding, and they start saying no. The next day, Ashok asks Radha to feed his mother Biji, but Radha declines and suggests that he do it instead. The day after, Sita and Radha close the family’s takeaway business early to explore the city. Perhaps most significantly, Radha declines Ashok when he requests Radha lay by his side, the aforementioned practice he engages in to further mute his desire for her. Day by day, we watch them refuse their expected responsibilities for time with each other. 

When their affair is discovered, Radha is pushed by Ashok to admit it was a mistake by demanding Radha’s repentance, which she denies. She goes as far as to say that she desires Sita, and Sita’s body. There is a fervent rejection of any type of patriarchal approval that begins when Radha and Sita become romantically involved and reaches its zenith during this scene between Radha and Ashok. After being beaten and burned, Radha escapes to find Sita. In a notably radical move in the context of lesbian cinema, Fire ends with the two women reuniting, choosing each other in an ambiguous but hopeful ending. With this narrative decision, Mehta defies the common framework of lesbian films, often known for their brutal and unhappy closures.

Lesbian relations have long been coded as wrongdoing; Fire not only vehemently dispels this notion for the viewer but also portrays it as a form of liberation. Filled with unabashed female desire and an unequivocal denial that loving women is not wrong, the film does an eloquent job of portraying just how gay it is to say no.