Umesh Shukla’s Ek Chatur Naar (2025), currently streaming on Netflix, presents itself as a familiar Hindi entertainer – light, lively and comfortably situated in the realm of situational comedy and family drama. It’s the kind of film that relies on clever narrative twists rather than heavy themes and is intended to amuse rather than unsettle. There is no apparent pretense of social commentary, no visible attempt to question politics or ideology. The film just wants to entertain, at least on the surface.
Titled after the idea of a ‘smart woman’, the story follows Mamta Mishra, played by Divya Khosla, a resourceful, clever woman who copes with financial instability while taking care of her young son and mother-in-law. Mamta’s intelligence is not described as extraordinary brilliance, but rather everyday survival, quick thinking, adaptability, and the ability to recognize situations before they approach her. The narrative unfolds with humor and lightness, inviting the audience to root for her small victories and clever escapes.
It is precisely in this tone of harmlessness that the film wins the viewer’s trust. “Ek Chatur Naar” neither announces itself as a political cinema nor does it invite one to be read with suspicion. Like many mainstream Hindi films, it is based on a familiar grammar – a language in which laughter tempers conflict and convenience often drives storytelling choices. And it is precisely in this comfort that a certain moment passes almost unnoticed.
The sequence barely lasts a minute.
Set in a crowded subway station, the camera follows a seemingly everyday incident in the city: a man in a burqa secretly steals a phone and then disappears into the anonymity of the crowd. The moment does not pause for emphasis. It fits seamlessly into the rhythm of the film and only registers as a fleeting plot device – another small incident in a busy public space.
“Ek Chatur Naar” neither announces itself as a political cinema nor does it invite one to be read with suspicion. Like many mainstream Hindi films, it is based on a familiar grammar – a language in which laughter tempers conflict and convenience often drives storytelling choices.
Soon after, the story reveals its twist. The theft was not a coincidence, but was carefully orchestrated by the protagonist herself. The stolen phone becomes a strategic tool, turning what initially seemed like a petty crime into a calculated move as part of Mamta’s larger plan.
Later in the film, the garment returns, this time worn by Mamta herself.
As she is pursued by the man whose phone was stolen and by people demanding repayment of her husband’s debts, Mamta wraps herself in the same burqa, disappearing into public spaces and disappearing unnoticed. Once again, the moment requires no attention. It works smoothly and efficiently, doing exactly what the narrative requires it to do.
The burkha as cinematic convenience
And yet it is here that a question begins to form.
Why a burqa?
Why does this particular piece of clothing feel like such an effortless cinematic solution?
Films that describe themselves as serious or political are often viewed critically. Light comedies like this often come across as disarming. But can a film really be apolitical if its images circulate freely in the public imagination?
Statue of Ek Chatur Naar
Hindi cinema has long relied on costumes as cinematic shorthand. Cinema speaks through clothing long before it speaks through words. Disguises allow characters to cross boundaries and escape surveillance, a device the audience instinctively understands. Nevertheless, the choice of cladding is never neutral. When Ek Chatur Naar reaches for burkha, what exactly is it about: fabric or an idea of invisibility already attached to the garment?
To hide the malicious intent, the burqa was borrowed from minority identities as a form of concealment. Here, the burqa is chosen not based on who wears it, but based on what it hides.
“A burkha has complex meanings. It can represent faith, modesty, personal choices or even a social identity. A garment so deeply rooted in cultural and religious life can never be reduced to its mere function,” explains Saud Siddiqui, a registered lawyer with the Delhi Bar Association.
With the film, these layers are stripped away. First, the garment allows for theft. It becomes an easy option for the potential culprit. It allows escape. The narrative purpose becomes clear.
When the criminal and the protagonist both rely on the same symbol of deception, a cinematic device becomes a statement in the film. Images that pass without resistance often remain deep in the memory.
Images do not exist in isolation from the world in which they are viewed. In contemporary India, Muslim identity is increasingly politicized, with visible markings, names, beards and clothing often subject to suspicion and surveillance. In public discourse, the social behavior of Muslims is repeatedly presented as something that needs to be questioned, regulated or explained.
In this context, the casual depiction of a burkha as an instrument of anonymity takes on new importance. What was once dismissed as harmless now interacts with real fears and prejudices and often reinforces stereotypes. Cinema, as one of the country’s most influential cultural storytellers, cannot be separated from these realities.
“When a piece of clothing associated with women becomes a unisex tool of disguise, the film borrows women’s clothing but leaves out women’s experiences.” Says Sidra Fatima, journalist at FoEJ Media.
What’s remarkable is that the film never calls the disguise into question. But silence is never empty in the cinema. If a film doesn’t question its own images, it invites the audience not to question them either. The repeated use of burkha as a tool for anonymity carries a different weight. Can a humorous scene remain harmless when viewed in a charged social climate?
In this context, the casual depiction of a burkha as an instrument of anonymity takes on new importance. What was once dismissed as harmless now interacts with real fears and prejudices and often reinforces stereotypes. Cinema, as one of the country’s most influential cultural storytellers, cannot be separated from these realities
“Isn’t India starting to care about the religious security of the majority? When the minority does not have the right to express their objection to such Brukha considerations, let alone protest or file an FIR, as was the case recently in the case of the teaser of the film ‘Ghooskhor Pandat’, where an FIR was lodged and the case has also reached the Delhi court.”
“Sarva Dharma Samabhava – are we really upholding this today?” introduces Suhaira Irfan, a lawyer and LLM student from Jamia Milia Islamia.
Because Ek Chatur Naar is a comedy, these decisions often escape scrutiny. Humor reassures the viewer that nothing serious is at stake. However, comedy also allows certain images to escape unquestioned.
“If a problematic representation occurs without malevolence, it does not mean that it is less influential or difficult to name. The ease of a genre does not shield it from responsibility,” says Rabiya Parveen, an aspiring lawyer from Delhi University.
Criticizing these scenes does not mean accusing the film of malice or calling for its deletion. On the contrary, it resurfaces the artist’s implicit responsibility not to create out of ignorance. Popular cinema teaches us to see the world not only through what it highlights, but also through what it normalizes.
What “Ek Chatur Naar” ultimately reveals is not intention but habit. A habit of choosing certain symbols because they feel comfortable, familiar and uncontested. The burkha appears, does its work and leaves the picture, leaving behind associations that the film never notices. In recognizing such moments, the task is not to demand answers from the cinema, but to ask it better questions. Because what popular films treat as ordinary often tells us the most about how we are taught to perceive.