Written and directed by T.J. Gnanavel, ‘Jai Bhim’ (2021), stands as one of the most powerful cinematic narratives in Indian cinema addressing social justice. Featuring Suriya as advocate and Justice K. Chandru, the film is based on a real-life legal case involving Chandru, who fought for the rights of the Irula tribal community in Tamil Nadu (TN), India, in the early 1990s.
The story follows the wrongful arrest, brutal custodial torture, and enforced disappearance of a poor tribal man Rajakannu, and the unwavering struggle of his wife, Sengeni, to seek justice.
From the outset, ‘Jai Bhim’ makes it clear that this is not merely a legal drama but a scathing critique of the systemic caste-based oppression that pervades various institutions in India – particularly the Police and the Judiciary. The film is rooted in the broader theme of human rights, with a particular emphasis on how the caste-based hierarchy and poverty exacerbate the vulnerability of marginalised communities. Through the lens of a personal tragedy, the film invites reflection on national and international human rights principles and how they are betrayed by everyday State practices in India.
Caste as structural violence
In ‘Jai Bhim’, caste is not just a social identifier but a structure that defines the limits of dignity, access, and justice for India’s oppressed communities. The Irulas, a Scheduled Tribe in TN, are depicted as living on the margins of society – geographically, economically, and politically. They are snake catchers and labourers, engaged in occupations dictated by centuries of caste-based segregation and deprivation. This portrayal speaks volumes about how caste determines one’s social function and location in the Indian hierarchical system.
Structural violence refers to systematic ways in which social structures harm or disadvantage individuals. In the film, caste operates as such a structure. The Irulas are routinely criminalised without evidence, their testimonies ignored, and their lives deemed expendable. Rajakannu is not arrested based on any material evidence but on the mere assumption that his caste identity and poverty make him a likely thief. This reflects how institutions like the Police continue to act on ingrained caste biases, despite legal prohibitions.
Moreover, the film reminds viewers of the historical legacy of criminalising lower-caste and tribal populations, particularly under the British Raj’s Criminal Tribes Act, which branded entire communities as ‘habitual offenders.’ Even though such laws were repealed after Independence, their spirit seems to live on in the way that marginalised communities are profiled and policed. Thus, ‘Jai Bhim’ places caste-based injustice within a long continuum of institutionalised violence.
Custodial torture: A violation of human dignity
Perhaps the most disturbing scenes in ‘Jai Bhim’ are those depicting the custodial torture of Rajakannu and his relatives. The graphic nature of these scenes is not gratuitous but meant to shake the audience into acknowledging the brutality that often takes place behind closed doors in Indian Police stations. The victims are stripped, beaten, forced into false confessions, and ultimately disappeared. These acts are not isolated incidents but representative of a larger pattern in which marginalised people become easy targets for custodial abuse.
Torture in Police custody is a blatant violation of human dignity and fundamental rights. Article 21 of the Indian Constitution guarantees the right to life and personal liberty, which includes protection from torture and inhuman treatment. India is also a signatory to international human rights treaties such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which obligates States to prevent torture. However, in practice, enforcement mechanisms are weak, and perpetrators are rarely held accountable.
In ‘Jai Bhim’, the Police operate with impunity, manipulating records and intimidating witnesses. The case reflects real-world scenarios where custodial torture disproportionately affects Dalits, Adivasis, and minorities, whose access to legal recourse is minimal. By documenting these violations in harrowing detail, the film acts as a form of testimonial justice, giving voice to those whose suffering is often ignored or silenced by the system.
Legal struggle and human rights advocacy
The legal battle in ‘Jai Bhim’ is not just a fight for justice in one particular case but a broader commentary on the power of law as a tool for both oppression and liberation. Chandru represents the rare figure of a lawyer who treats the Constitution not just as a legal document but as a moral compass. He is committed to using the law to hold the State accountable and to protect the rights of the oppressed.
Through strategic litigation, he challenges the Police version of events, demands the production of missing evidence, and invokes constitutional guarantees of due process. Importantly, he also references international human rights norms to bolster his arguments. His courtroom interventions are educative, showing how the law, when wielded by ethical practitioners, can be a powerful force for justice.
However, the film does not romanticise the legal system. It exposes how difficult and exhausting it is for someone like Sengeni to even access legal aid. The institutions of justice – the courts, commissions, legal aid cells – are often inaccessible, bureaucratic, and indifferent to the needs of the poor. The film’s message is that while human rights are enshrined in law, they must be fought for in practice – and that such fights require courage, patience, and solidarity.
Gender, resistance, and the struggle for justice
While ‘Jai Bhim’ is centred on caste-based violence, it also subtly but powerfully foregrounds the role of gender. Sengeni is the emotional and moral backbone of the narrative. Her transformation from a grieving wife to a relentless seeker of justice is one of the most powerful arcs in the film. She negotiates with a world that constantly devalues her — as a woman, as a tribal, and as a poor person — but she never loses her resolve.
Sengeni’s character breaks the stereotype of the helpless Dalit or tribal woman waiting for rescue. Instead, she becomes an active participant in the pursuit of justice, risking social ostracism, financial ruin, and even her life. Her interactions with the legal system are difficult — language barriers, the lack of documentation, and social intimidation are real hurdles — but, she persists. The film thereby reflects the intersectionality of caste, class, and gender, illustrating how multiple axes of oppression operate together.
Her role also invites us to reimagine who we consider heroes in stories about justice. Sengeni is not a lawyer, not a political leader, but an everyday woman driven by love and dignity. Her strength, patience, and moral clarity serve as a reminder that the struggle for human rights often begins at the grassroots, far from media headlines and political debates.
Cinematic realism and political consciousness
What sets ‘Jai Bhim’ apart from other legal or social justice films is its commitment to realism and political clarity. The film does not rely on melodrama or fictional exaggeration. Instead, it roots its narrative in documentary-style realism – carefully reconstructing the geography of rural TN, using authentic dialects, and presenting procedural legal developments in detail. This approach lends the film credibility and urgency.
Moreover, the film is not apolitical. The very title ‘Jai Bhim’ is a nod to the chief architect of India’s Constitution and an icon of Dalit emancipation, Dr. Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar. Throughout the film, Dr. Ambedkar’s presence is invoked not only through slogans and portraits but through the legal philosophy of Chandru, who believes in the transformative potential of the Constitution. By aligning itself with Ambedkarite politics, the film critiques the upper-caste dominance of State institutions and demands a more inclusive, egalitarian society.
The film also serves as a medium for popular education. It introduces audiences to the realities of custodial violence, caste-based profiling, and the workings of the legal system, all the while maintaining emotional engagement. In doing so, it raises awareness and builds political consciousness, especially among viewers who may be unaware of the depth of caste-based injustice in contemporary India.
Conclusion
‘Jai Bhim’ is more than a compelling film – it is a moral call to action. It exposes the cruel realities of caste-based discrimination, Police brutality, and institutional apathy, while also celebrating the resilience of those who fight for justice. By centering the story of a tribal woman’s search for her missing husband and a principled lawyer’s battle against the State, the film brings to life the human cost of legal and social inequality.
The film ultimately reminds us that the struggle for human rights is not an abstract ideal but a daily, difficult endeavour. It challenges viewers to reflect on the contradictions between India’s constitutional promises and the lived experiences of its marginalised citizens. In doing so, ‘Jai Bhim’ reaffirms that justice is not merely about punishment or compensation – it is about restoring dignity, acknowledging suffering, and dismantling systems of oppression. It stands as a vital contribution to India’s cinematic and political landscape, and a testament to the enduring fight for equality and human rights.
(Thilakarathna is an attorney and a lecturer of Law at the Colombo University and Madushanka is a lecturer of Sociology at the same university)
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The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication