In Sandhya Suri’s Santosh , a young Dalit girl has been murdered and her body is found floating in a village well. But it’s the apathy, the procedural inertia, and the sneering shrugs and sideways glances that come after, that she somehow makes feel more criminal, more evil. The dead victim, as these things often go, is secondary.
The focus instead lies on how the living respond, contorting themselves around the discomfort of injustice, and how the system metabolises tragedy. At the center of it all is the titular Santosh, a reluctant police constable who assumes her dead husband’s post not so much out of civic duty but as the only alternative to facing the scorn of her bitter in-laws. A terrific Shahana Goswami plays Santosh with a weary tautness, like someone still getting used to the weight of her new uniform.
She isn’t a crusader. She just wants a roof over her head, a paycheck, and a way to avoid being swallowed by the void of widowhood. But on her first day, she’s thrown headfirst into a case that’s already unsolvable for the simple reason that no one in power wants to solve it.
The girl’s brutalised corpse lies on slabs of melting ice and the police remain disgustingly indifferent and unbothered. Santosh initially does what any reasonable person would do — she watches, listens, and learns the rules. The revoltingly misogynistic police commissioner whose primary qualification for the job seems to be an unshakable belief in victim-blaming, is swiftly repl.
