Haq Movie Review: Audacious, blistering, seething and sensitive. Haq is all of that and so much more. It raises some pertinent questions on identity – cultural, religious, moral, individual. What should
a Muslim woman do when her husband decides to divorce her on a whim? Should she let the Muslim Shariat law dictate her life hereon? Is there a difference between a Muslim woman and an Indian Muslim woman in a court of law? Does fighting for her rights as a woman, a mother and an ex-wife make her selfish? What about shame?
Does standing up for oneself mean inflicting embarrassment on her family? Is alimony all that there is a woman can claim after her husband leaves her? And what about respect? Director Suparn S Varma takes the courageous stories and struggles of Shah Bano, Bai Tahira and Fuzlunbi, and creates Haq like a reduced, rich sauce. The film opens in Uttar Pradesh’s Sankhni where we’re introduced to Shazia Bano. She gets married to a lawyer, Abbas Khan. Life looks like a bed of roses for these love birds. Abbas appears to be an epitome of the perfect husband.
He loves her, defends her against nosey, curmudgeon neighbours. But there’s a catch. We learn that Abbas isn’t someone who believes in fixing household items. If a cooker starts malfunctioning, he immediately buys another. So, their kitchen has three of these vessels now. All goes well until Shazia becomes pregnant for the third time. She realises that Abbas isn’t the same partner, who used to dote on her. He suddenly appears distant and lets work take up almost all of his time.
One day, he takes a work trip to Murree in Pakistan. And that changes Shazia’s life forever. When he returns home after three months, he brings Saira as his new wife. As Shazia is taken aback, demanding an answer from Abbas, her mother-in-law defends his act, stating, ‘Isne nikaah karke sabaab ka kaam kiya.’ Needless to say, Abbas treats his wives and cookers in the same way. His growing closeness to Saira naturally ticks Shazia off. And one day, she decides to take her kids and go back to her parents’ home in Sankhni.
What starts off as a fight to demand Rs 400 from Abbas as child maintenance soon transforms into a full-fledged legal battle that leads the Supreme Court of India to declare that there’s no conflict between the provisions of section 125 of the Code of Criminal Procedure and those of the Muslim Personal Law in a landmark judgement. In this grueling process, Shazia meets lawyers Bela Jain and Faraz Ansari who become her pillars of support. But at the heart of Haq also lies a story of a feminist ‘maulvi’ father who leaves no stone unturned to see his emotionally battered daughter win.
Haq discusses so many issues, so many conflicts, many of which continue to plague Muslim women even today. In a key scene in the first half, what steals the show among many other moments, is a verbal showdown between Shazia and Abbas. She cries, demands, almost pleads – but never at the cost of compromising on her self-respect – for him to recognise their marriage, her rights and the rules laid down by their religion in the holy Quran. It’s gut-wrenching, hard-hitting and powerful. ‘Quran dekhne mein, padhne mein aur samajhne mein fark hota hai,’ she later announces. In a way, Haq also attempts to break down the many myths surrounding talaq-e-biddat, mahr and waqf.
In another scene, Shazia boldly debates with members of the Muslim Law Board, who rebuke her for taking personal and community matters to a court of law. Even as she fights them, her vulnerability, inherent feminine apprehensions never leave her. And it’s this paradox and chaos in which Shazia thrives. Writer Reshu Nath deserves the loudest applause for penning a story that makes you think, infuriates you, leaves you teary-eyed and redefines resilience.
Each monologue, each sequence keeps you invested and hooked on to the narrative – for the most part. Shazia and Abbas’ closing monologues that form the crux of the screenplay are extremely well-written, executed and performed. They serve as the ultimate tools for this layered, fine film that portrays a story where objectivity is numero uno. Yes, this is how you make a politically and religiously-charged film without creating monsters out of characters. Not even for a moment will you find yourself pitying Shazia or hating Abbas.
Their ethical friction anchors the film. And despite some heavy-weight sequences, there are no theatrics here as character arcs are driven by conscience rather than histrionics. The narrative is laced with minimal background score and sharp dialogues that question power and norms but that never feels like sloganeering. The courtroom that acts as a major backdrop is a product of realistic world-building. A big part of this believability also comes from the cinematography and the costume teams.
There are dense legal arguments, emotional pleas are made and the courtroom becomes the stage for a nation’s conscience and a moral debate. The narrative has an enviable depth and sensitivity that gets highlighted, especially during the courtroom exchanges. You almost feel like a silent spectator in this uncomfortable grey zone where faith, law and identity collide. While this intellectual sincerity gives this 2-hour 16-minute film a lot of emotional weight, it also demands patience sometimes, especially in the second half where the momentum slows down a bit. But the good news is that nuance is given a preference over noise.
This remarkable screenplay is further elevated by superlative performances by Yami Gautam Dhar and Emraan Hashmi. As Shazia, Yami delivers her career-best performance. She’s an interesting paradox – strong and fragile, fearless and delicate, hopeful and anguished. She’s no superwoman. But she delivers her arguments with sharp focus, making her long legal monologues feel personal rather than academic. She’s quietly fiery, simmering with tension and chaos. But even then, the restraint she brings to the table is noteworthy.
As for Emraan, who plays the unlikeable Abbas, he leans into calm conviction. He’s measured and sincere in his portrayal of a man with an ego that’s hard to crack and a fatigue that hasn’t completely weighed him down despite fighting battles with unclean outcomes. What’s also interesting is that he doesn’t shy away from stepping back just enough for Yami to take centrestage without ever diminishing his own presence. And together, Emraan and Yami are electrifying and a delight to watch. This A-team is ably supported by Sheeba Chadha, Vartika Singh and Aseem Hattangady.
Watch Haq for its storytelling, nuance and performances. Narrative depth is one of its strongest suits and it refuses to oversimplify or collapse a complex debate into a convenient hero-villain binary. Here, all parties are treated with a lot of humaneness, including the other woman in Shazia and Abbas’ dynamic. Haq is quietly provocative and insists on conversations, and that’s what makes it a winner. With an epiphany-like impact, the film ends with Shazia whispering ‘iqra’, thus quietly imparting a lesson to the fanatic world to read and learn before picking up a battle.
