Haq is a riveting courtroom and social drama that delves deep into the messy relationship of religious people with their country and their very own religion.
This is such a masterfully crafted film. It carries immense emotional gravity while trying to convey a message that might have been too big for the movie.
But the writers handled this one perfectly.
Our protagonist, Shazia Bano (played by the remarkably stunning Yami Gautam), is married to an elite lawyer, Abbas Khan, with three children. We follow her into the plot as a responsible young wife whose world shatters when her husband brings another woman home.
A devastated Shazia returns to her home with her three children. Abbas had promised to give a monthly child maintenance fee. But when he decides to become an even more despicable douchebag and stops sending the money for his children, Shazia knows she’ll have to pull her punches now.
So she starts her legal case to demand child support from the husband who divorced her. And man, we’re in for an epic courtroom drama.
First of all, let me just address all the prejudices that come with ‘going to court’ with this issue.
Abbas Khan was an elite lawyer. By going to court against him, not only did she defy him, she did it in his domain.
She challenged him where he is considered to be the most powerful
2. Opening up a Religious Discussion
By demanding that he give her child support, she forced the courtroom to dabble in the messy waters of religious matters.
She says that by religious commandments he is obliged to bear this financial responsibility; he says that by the very same divine precepts he is not bound to do that.
And so the issue unfolds. A dispute between two parties that can only be approached through a religious lens can never be solved because religion is up for interpretation.
Every single person’s interpretation of religion is different. Because the divine books (of all religions) in their true forms are very vague in their writing.
(Which I think is quite spiritually poetic because delving into religion is a self-exploratory experience. But it is a legal nightmare)
The specifications of certain matters are… not specific. The wording is never exact, which leaves room for interpretation. And every person will have a different interpretation.
So different schools of thought arise. Different schools of jurisprudences uphold their unique meanings to the same text.
Then which one will the Court of Law uphold?
This is the rather sticky situation Shazia Bano found herself in. How can you ask for someone to defend your claim if they do not know which version of the ‘text’s meaning’ to trust?
This is a very frustrating situation to be in. Of course you believe in your version of religious understanding and perceive it to be the best, but in order to preserve ethics of human society and honor the very religion you pledge by, you have to accommodate for other school of thoughts as well, however heinous or altogether atrocious they may appear to you.
That is why opening up a religious discussion, and trying to win it, appears to be sort of an impossible task.
That is one point.
Another extremely important subplot that runs throughout the plot is ‘The Importance of Having Knowledge of Your Religion.” This awareness is astronomically important and is ghastly absent in the populace. Bano embodies the hunt and thirst for the understanding of her religion.
She delves into understanding the wisdom of religious text, so that no one can use their own interpretation of the text against her.
3. Asking for Religious Rights as a Minority
Not only was Shazia Bano fighting for her religious rights in the court, but she was also doing it as a religious minority. Her husband weaponizes this point against her.
He argued that by asking the state for this right, she is implying that her country, India, has deprived her of her rights and wronged her as a minority. And that entices the decades-long hate between the Hindus and the Muslims of the region. He argued that this sort of legal case will only encourage division amongst the people of India and hence must not be entertained by the judge.
The thing that messes up Bano’s life here is that countries usually do not have well-structured laws regarding minority religions. So when an Indian court is asked the question of whether a divorced Muslim woman should be provided child support after iddat, they are forced to venture into the muddy waters of their uninclusive law.
Now the biggest statement heard in the legal proceedings throughout the movie is ‘Secular Law vs Personal Law ‘.
Bano presented her case under secular law; Abbas contested it under Muslim Law… or personal interpretation of Muslim law… I don’t know what the correct wording here is. I guess nobody knows.
So could the argument made by a Muslim lawyer backed by his interpretation of Sharia override the demand made by his Muslim wife backed by the Secular Law of India?
That’s, I mean… I can’t say.
I mean Abbas is an insufferable prick, and I would obviously side with any person like Shazia Bano. But that’s personal bias, which doesn’t matter. The courtroom matters.
4. Choosing to Keep on Fighting
And finally, the matter of going to court, it might be one of the most daunting things out there.
Actually pursuing your case and not stopping until you get what you think is right, I think that takes decades in court. That is incredibly daunting.
And when you do that sort of thing, give decades of your life to winning a court case, it’s no longer about the trifling matter that started the fight; I think it’s more about just making a point.
Courtroom victories like this are symbolic victories, meant to send a message to all the people, meant to make a point.
It is unimaginably hard to give your life for something like this. But people have done this in our past, and we are better for it.
The actual Shah Bano fought this case in India, leading to the landmark Supreme Court judgement in 1985.
Although they ruled in her favor then, they reverted later. Due to the immense debate triggered by this case, and the uproar from conservative groups, Indian Parliament passed the Muslim Women Act of 1986 limiting maintenance liability to the iddat period.
And then they sort of reverted again in the Danial Latifi v. Union of India case.
Yeah, that’s how courtroom stuff happens, I guess.
And another case I really want to include here is the Khadija Siddiqi case. Mostly because it is so close to home for me. I was 10 when it was at its peak.
In May 2016, Khadija Siddiqi (then a 23-year-old law student) was attacked while she was picking up her younger sister from school. The attacker stabbed her 23 times. She survived and went after that ignorant scoundrel (who had extensive family legal authority) in such a way that it showed girls all around the country what happens when you stand up for your rights.
Albeit the idiot douchebag only served three and a half years for his crime, which is unspeakably outrageous, a point was made.
Khadija did not back down. She stood in the face of all bad odds and kept standing there till she got what she wanted. That’s making a point. That’s giving a message.
Bano did the same, as did many other men and women who stood for what they believed was right.
And many more will come.
Thank you for your reading time. I pray upon us respectful marital and friendship relations and potential court proceedings in favor of what’s right.