Scene and heard | Part One: The “debate” in Swades: We the People by Spandana

A scene from 20 years ago changed the way I perceived my country and its people

My column Frames and Flashes is my ode to cinema. Every movie I love has that one scene that I constantly think about. Scene and heard is an ongoing series in my column that is meant to discuss and deconstruct that one scene. 


Swades: We the People (2004) directed by Ashutosh Gowariker is a rare Indian film that showcases patriotism in a way that is not jingoistic. Its tone is understated, not flamboyant. The cast works in service of the film, the premise is compelling and the music is timeless. 20 years after its release, it continues to inspire me.

Here’s the gist of the plot: Mohan, a NASA scientist (played by a charming Shah Rukh Khan), returns to India in search of his childhood caregiver, Kaveri Amma (the warm and wonderful Kishori Ballal). His intention is to take her back to America with him. In the course of his visit, he reconnects with his childhood friend, Gita (played with understated grace by Gayatri Joshi), who is now a teacher in Charanpur—a fictional village in northern India where Kaveri Amma resides. As Mohan navigates life in the country he called home many years ago, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery and rekindles his bond with his homeland and its people. 

The film is full of unforgettable moments. The iconic “bijli” scene in the hut when an old woman’s house in  Charanpur is lit up for the first time, is etched in cinematic history. But the scene that stands out to me is the debate Mohan and Gita have over lunch. 

Just before the scene begins, Gita has rejected a marriage proposal because the family didn’t want her to work after marrying their son. Mohan is thrilled by her decision, while Kaveri Amma, like many of our elders, worries. Calm but resolute, Gita stands her ground: “Ye mere usoolon ke khilaf hai.”

The conversation shifts to the state of the nation, where Mohan argues that regressive traditions have shackled its progress. Gita counters with an unwavering belief that a country without tradition is like a body without a soul. What ensues is a thoughtful debate, where Kaveri Amma is a stand-in for us, the viewers. Our role isn’t to judge or pick a side, but simply to listen and reflect.

When Mohan criticises the government for failing to implement grassroots policies, Gita responds calmly, “Government ek system hai, jiska janata bhi ek hissa hai.” It translates to: the government is a system, and the people are an integral part of it. This perspective was eye-opening. 

Years ago, when I first watched the film, the India that people around me spoke about was Mohan’s—corrupt, impoverished, riddled with inequality, and drowning in problems. The aspiration then was to leave, to escape its imperfections. But Gita’s India was different. It didn’t deny the flaws, but embraced the possibility of change with confidence and hope. This was refreshing because up until then, the idea of love for my country meant I could never criticise it. The notion of patriotism was extreme, but Gita’s version offered balance. I was inspired to do something and be part of change at a “grassroots level” like her. 

Many years later, as a fresh law graduate, I travelled to parts of the country I never knew existed for a year. I spent days in remote parts of the country as part of a fellowship for an NGO (more on this another time). In many ways, I felt like Mohan in the later part of Swades when he travels to Kodi Gaon to collect rent from Haridas. 

During my travels, when I saw how little the law I studied mattered to the people I met, Mohan’s India stared me in the face again. I questioned what my education was worth and if the word “development” meant anything beyond policy books. But I carried on the way I knew best. 

Refreshingly enough, I did not want to escape this India. I wanted to stay, I wanted to work. My motivation was not sympathetic or even saturated with the state of affairs. It was, strangely enough, love for my country and pride in its people. I wanted to be part of the solution, not the problem. Almost five years have gone by since then and my job today is different. I no longer spend days on end in places without coverage. But the motivation to work for and in my country has remained, despite the fact that many issues Mohan raised in the scene 20 years ago continue to exist even today. 

Perhaps that’s the enduring power of Swades. It doesn’t offer easy answers or utopian solutions but urges us to confront the imperfections of our country with clarity, honesty, and hope. It also forces us to accept that we are part of this imperfection. Mohan’s journey is proof that progress isn’t about abandoning what’s broken but about staying, engaging, and working towards change. 

Today marks 75 years since our Constitution came into effect. Its preamble begins with “We the people,” the same words in the title of this timeless movie. Writing about it in this column is my reminder that the strength of our country lies in you and me, its people. Our resilience, our resolve, and our love for the nation. 

Happy Republic Day! 


Spandana is the writer of the column Frames and Flashes, a space that explores films through personal experiences and unfulfilled fantasies. 

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