Chilli Chicken Puts Bengaluru's Migrant Workers In The Spotlight

Chilli Chicken Turns A Discerning Lens On Bengaluru's Migrant Workers

Prateek Prajosh's Chilli Chicken was the first Kannada film to release in Manipur. Now on OTT, the film's director speaks with Subha J Rao about crafting the nuanced narrative he wished to present to the world.

THE first-ever Kannada film to release in Manipur in recent times, Prateek Prajosh’s acclaimed Chilli Chicken is now available to stream. Chilli Chicken’s theatrical release was approved by the Manipur State Film Development Society, and it ran for about a week in theatres there, registering a better box-office collection here than in Karnataka. This is a film which speaks with empathy about five migrant workers from the North East who live in Bengaluru — Ajoy (Victor Thoudam), Khaba (Bijou Thaangjam), Jimpa (Jimpa Sangpo Bhutia), Jason (Tomthin Thokchom) and Ranjoy (Hirock Sonowal) — and a wannabe restaurateur Adarsh (BV Shrunga) from small-town Karnataka.

Chilli Chicken refuses to judge anyone — it speaks about the stigma the boys face, but it also speaks of those who help by offering them a rental space in their homes. It shows some of them as stealing from their owner, but it also shows how the owner presumes he’s doing them a favour by not treating them as badly as the others treat their migrant staff. Eventually, after many struggles and a death, everyone learns to carve out their destiny in the world of food, by working together as a unit, in the spirit of how a business should be run.

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Chilli Chicken also shows that the workers learn Kannada, and even converse in it casually, without making a big deal of it. This part especially strikes a chord in today’s times, because the IT capital of Bengaluru is struggling to come to terms with a large group of people who say "Kannada gothilla (I don’t know Kannada)" even as they make the city their home. Things have come to a near-flashpoint, both on social media and offline.

Sadly, as is now common for non-star, non-tentpole Kannada films that don’t carpet bomb audiences with prime shows, Chilli Chicken's theatrical run in its home state lasted only a week. However, there’s hope that its release on Amazon Prime Video on August 28 will help it find a wider audience. Much deserved, because what it speaks of is universal. Excerpts from a conversation with the director:

When did the idea of Chilli Chicken come to you?

Well, my co-writer Siddhanth Sunder gave me the idea sometime in 2014 or 2015. We began work on it in 2020. In between I had signed up to work on a couple of films, all of which got dropped, after we put in the work. That was also when I realised why you need people who produce a film to back it cent percent. A good thing that happened was that my partner and I had a baby, and I loved my role as father.

During the pandemic, I decided to revisit the script and tune it to real life, because of the stories of migrant workers I had heard, and because racism toward people from the North East peaked to an all-time high.

That your characters spoke in Kannada seems to have charmed many.

It was a very important, natural thing for the characters to do. The nature of their world makes this so much easier. If you remember, I’d ended the teaser with Jason trying to read in Kannada. I wanted to create a film about us, not them and us.

The film is clear that it treads a grey area. Everyone has their pluses and minuses.

Yes. Housing is a huge issue for workers from the North East. So, while I did write in a house owner who is willing to rent to them and backs them when neighbours protest, she also refuses to allow them to use her kitchen.

Customers think the cooks, who they call China-avru, use ajinomoto and ruin their health. Neighbours call them "chingi-pingi" and insist they will chase them to Nepal. The hotel’s clients whisper among themselves that these workers should all be taught Kannada, and are surprised when Ajoy speaks in Kannada.

Even amid the boys, there’s a clear sense of hierarchy. Ajoy knows who the boss is. The chain of command is clear. He’s secure, but the head chef Khaba is not. He’s edgy and struggles with the hierarchy.

You said you were inspired by two films for the look of Chilli Chicken.

Yes, for visual tonality and the restaurant lighting, I was inspired by Happy Together, a 1997 Hong Kong film, and the mood of humour and sarcasm is a tribute to American Beauty.

What is your take on the bond migrant workers have with a city?

Well, they have to remain in the city, so it’s a love-hate bond. Sometimes, they learn to love the new city, imbibe local habits and go on to become better people. Sometimes, they just run with what they have.

The original ending was grim and horrifying, and my co-writer and I felt we needed to consciously move towards an open ending, because the despondency of the original ending felt like sending the wrong message.

Chilli Chicken debunks so many modern-day myths regarding food and who can play what role.

Yes. Among those is that Chilli Chicken is not a staple dish in the North East! And that you can have a really mean female loan shark. Kasi (played by the lovely Padmaja Rao) was supposed to be a male character, but when we saw her in her home, we decided she’s going to play it. We did not change a single line!

Did you consciously leave the place of origin of the migrant workers vague?

Not really. I wanted to avoid stereotyping. Bijou Thaangjam who plays Khaba is a Masterchef contestant. In the film, Ajoy, Khaba and Jason are from Manipur, Jimpa is from Tibet. We wanted them to stick to their roots, because it is an extension of who they are.

How does the film resonate now in the current climate of language supremacy and the call for those from outside to learn Kannada?

Within the world of this film, we see the boys speak Kannada, albeit broken and not with the fluency you’d expect from a native speaker. They learn to speak it because of their need to survive in a new city, and it’s also what their job demands.

Personally, I feel that rather than using force, sensitising people toward cultural nuances may be a better approach. It’s still okay if you don’t know a language, but you better not joke about it and appear dismissive towards it.

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