Chehra – An Encounter with Faces Documentary Review

Chehra – An Encounter with Faces is an 18-minute black-and-white documentary directed by Vidhu Vinod Chopra. Set in 1978, it offers a haunting portrayal of destitute children, aged between 3 and 18 years, institutionalized in two observation homes in Maharashtra – Dongri and Markhund. Nominated for an Academy Award, the film serves as a stark visual metaphor for the realities of marginalized children entangled in cycles of poverty, abandonment, and systemic neglect, both outside and within state institutions. Beyond its cinematic artistry, the documentary invites a critical sociological inquiry through the lens of visual politics and conflict theory, exposing its own limitations in providing a comprehensive critique of the structural failures that perpetuate juvenile delinquency.

The documentary opens with a moving train and a small child fleeing an unseen figure, repeatedly exclaiming “menenahiliya, mujhenahi pata” (I didn’t take it, I don’t know). This powerful beginning sets the tone for a raw exploration of juvenile delinquency. The film’s distinctiveness lies in its complete absence of voice-over narration, allowing children’s candid testimonies to take centre stage. Their narratives, revolving around abandonment, poverty, and encounters with the law, illuminate pressing themes such as marginalization, parental neglect, and the erosion of childhood under the weight of deprivation. Scenes showing 10–15 children crowded on a single mattress, or groups silently staring into the camera, starkly depict how systemic apathy corrodes the developmental needs and rights of children.

These visuals do not merely document poverty—they underscore the normalized structural violence that continues to define institutional care in India. The country, still grappling with overcrowded juvenile homes, insufficient rehabilitation mechanisms, and an underdeveloped understanding of children’s agency, echoes the documentary’s unspoken critique. Through the lens of social disorganization theory, the film reflects how poverty-ridden neighbourhoods, stripped of informal social controls, become breeding grounds for delinquency.

A particularly harrowing aspect is the intersection of poverty with violence and exploitation. While some children admit to stealing to quell hunger, two girls recount being raped by men arranged by their mother in exchange for money—only to be falsely accused and institutionalized. Such testimonies reveal how familial breakdowns and exploitative networks entrap children, showcasing the role of both primary and secondary socializing agents—family and peers—in shaping their paths. One child is taught theft by his father; another is coerced by friends. Despite the children’s active voices, the absence of institutional perspectives narrows the film’s scope, reducing systemic critique to fragmented personal suffering. The lack of engagement with authorities or legal mechanisms risks individualizing structural problems and omits a discussion of potential reforms or interventions.

The documentary’s visual grammar further complicates its ethical stance. The close-ups of children’s faces, while evoking empathy, tread the fine line between humanization and the aestheticization of suffering. This raises questions about whether the film serves advocacy or falls into the commodification of trauma, reinforcing hegemonic narratives about postcolonial societies in the Global South. In today’s media-saturated world of Instagram reels and TikToks, such depictions risk transforming poverty into consumable content, prompting a reflection on the politics of visual representation.

Though the film evokes deep empathy, it ultimately offers little in terms of sustained critique of India’s juvenile justice system. Under neoliberal influence, India has since adopted more rehabilitation-centric approaches, including assigning mental health counsellors, periodic health check-ups, and provisions for trying 16–18-year-olds as adults in serious offences—mirroring systems in the Global North. However, Chehra prompts vital questions about the efficacy of such transposed models and the need for context-specific interventions tailored to India’s socio-political realities. Understanding the historical and global power dynamics shaping poverty in the Global South is crucial to framing meaningful policy responses.

Comparative cinematic references further enrich the critique. For instance, Lion (2016) revisits similar themes of abandonment and institutional failure with a broader socio-legal frame. In contrast, Chehra’s observational style eschews commentary or solutions. A closer parallel can be drawn with Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali, where deprivation is depicted with restraint and authenticity rather than dramatization. Such contrasts underscore how narrative strategies influence public engagement with systemic injustices. Regionally, child institutionalization in Sri Lanka’s correctional centres or Bangladesh’s child labour policies highlight how South Asian nations continue to wrestle with similar ethical and structural dilemmas.

The film concludes with the same scene as it begins, now accompanied by the melancholic song: “Mohabbat karne wale, kamnahonge, teri mehfil meinlekin hum nahonge.” This closing line deepens the documentary’s poignancy—an elegy to lost childhoods and a sombre reminder of exclusion. The absence of closure resists resolution, allowing the film to speak through its silences—a powerful indictment of societal apathy. These silences, too, are political.

As juvenile delinquency continues to rise globally, with the United States leading in rates, Chehra forces us to confront the intersection of crime and social injustice. Here, children’s engagement in criminalized behaviour appears less as a thrill and more as a survival strategy. For India to truly aspire toward Viksit Bharat, its legislative and policy frameworks must begin by centring the lived realities of its most marginalized citizens—its children.

Film Details

Title:Chehra – An Encounter with Faces
Director: Vidhu Vinod Chopra
Producer: K. K. Kapil
Year: 1978
Language: Hindi
Runtime: 18 minutes
Production House: Vidhu Vinod Chopra Films
Availability:Watch the documentary on YouTube

Reviewer: Debangi Sanyal
Intern, Asia in Global Affairs

Disclaimer:
The views expressed in this review are solely those of the author and do not reflect the position or opinions of Asia in Global Affairs. No institutional authority or endorsement is attributed to Asia in Global Affairs.