Lipstick under my Burkha is the unmet, untold and unknown desires and wishes that run deep in the hearts of every Indian woman who is taught to act like woman. The constructs of society presses her to dress, talk, write, express, behave, work, talk, obey, sleep or breathe in a way that society has given cognizance of being correct for feminity. Her expression becomes hardwired to suit the men at different times and different levels and she unknowningly receives unsaid pleasure of adhering to the norm.
The movie runs deep into the message of the travails of women through trivia. The narrative of Rosy to live a limitless world her way intricately weaves into the plot of a widower who breaks her shackles to learn swimming and feel masculinity of the teacher by sexting in hidden kingdoms, a young enthusiast singer who dares to live life the way she wants to adapting to the needs of the butterfly generation to appear cool, of a woman who wants to live a life of purpose beyond a progeny producing body, a woman who wants to marry for security but dares to challenge a virgin fiance, a pregnant young girl who can’t afford to lose on the boyfriend.
In such stories, every woman you see today is Burkha clad, the Burkha of her own mental constructs, of adhering to the existing. She forgets and suppresses her desire of being her and shuns the idea of being a rebellion. She then internalizes and adapts to the pain and doesn’t question the convention. Lipstick under Burkha is the celebration of all those desires which are subtly expressed by challenging the convention by removing that Burkha. It salutes all women, and especially men who help salute those desires lipsticked by women to herself and suppressed by the cloak of Burkha. It’s a grand tribute to all un-burkhaing and pro-lipsticking.