The pretty sounds of silence.

Unlike a lot of people, I'm not too fussy about watching films on anything other than the big screen. Sure, watching on the big screen is great and, if possible, I wouldn't have it any other way myself but that's not how it always works out, does it? Therefore, I've thrown fuss out of the window and make do with almost anything that comes my way...VCD, DVD, cable, whatever. This is something I'm quite willing to make a compromise on.

So, anyway, my Sundays are threatening to never be the same again, what with the film club and all. This week it was another Iranian film, Sokout (The Silence) by the great Mohsen Makhmalbaf. It turned out to be one of those films, which, when they're over, you continue sitting in your place and thinking about. It may not be about any issue that the film has raised, if any, or even the 'story' but it could simply be some images from the film that keep coming back to you. In this one, it is the sheer lyricism.

The film revolves around a young blind boy, Khorshed, who is about 10-12 years old. He works as an apprentice in a music shop, where he is in charge of tuning the musical instruments. His father, we're told later, went to Russia and never came back, leaving Khorshed and his mother to fend for themselves. His salary isn't nearly enough to sustain mother and son and, as a result, they live in a near impoverished state. Then, there is Naderah, a young girl, who is Khorshed's constant companion at work and acts as his eyes around the place at most times.

The film opens with the loud pounding of their front door, as we learn that Khorshed and his mother have only five days in which to pay the rent for their house. Failure, of course, will result in eviction and a life on the streets. It's a desperate situation and Khorshed's mother asks him to request his boss for an advance on his salary so that they can pay the rent. Now, Khorshed is but a boy and given to child-like frivolities and a short attention span, which, I think may be the bugbear of my existence as well. Anyway, being blind, he has a highly heightened aural sense and is amazingly alive to the sounds and smells of the world around him - the smell of freshly baked bread that pretty young girls are selling by the side of the road, the touch of luscious apples and juicy cherries, the buzzing bee. Endearing as all this is, his enhanced sensitivity to sound often lands him in trouble as well...because Khorshed has been known to get off the bus that he takes to work to follow a "pretty voice", and, as a result, lose his way. Therefore, he has to be constantly reminded to block his ears so that he isn't distracted by any beautiful sound. But he cannot help himself and is invariably late for work...because, each day, he finds a new distraction to follow. First, it's a couple of schoolgirls on the bus, who're trying to memorise a verse, then there's this flamboyant but really good musician, who sings and plays music for money on the bus. The boss doesn't take too kindly to this and is perpetually upset with Khorshed, discouraging the boy from asking for the money they need so desperately for the rent. In the end, Khorshed loses his job and, at home, the landlord evicts them from the house.

We're not told what becomes of the little boy and his mother but that's okay because, frankly, it's not something that bothers us too much. And, it seems, that's pretty much how it is with the little boy as well...what matters most for Khorshed, instead, is his association with music and sounds in the here and now. In the end, then, the film is not a comment on the social or political reality. It is, perhaps, only about the boy and his near obsessive fascination for music or, at any rate, about musical sounds. Maybe it is this that translates into the almost lyrical feel of the film.

Then, there's little Naderah, Khorshed's guide at his place of work. Attired in colourful, vibrant and traditional clothes at all times, with two long pleated tails running down the sides of her face, the beatific Naderah loves to drape cherries around her ears, to use as earrings, and colourful petals on her nails as nail polish. Then, as Khorshed sits down to tune the instruments, Naderah sways to the rhythm of that music...which is so surreal and fascinating.

What is also fascinating is how the blind boy describes things and people in such visual terms, like a "pretty voice", etc...not a good or deep voice, but pretty voice.

The opening frames of the film - the unseen and unheard landlord banging on their front door and the buzzing bee that Khorshed releases from the glass jar - suggest the importance of sound and music in the world that the film inhabits. The title of the film, therefore, seems mystifying at first, even ironic...The Silence. Because Khorshed is able to find music in even the most mundane, everyday sounds...the banging of the door, the hammering of the pots and pans in the market, everything! And, not just any music...he is able to translate the four staccato knocks on the door into the four opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony! When he passes little boys working on copper pots and wooden musical instruments, hammering away and beating them into shape, Khorshed stops to instruct each of them to follow a specific beat, which, when those simple folks can understand and implement, adds up to Beethoven's masterpiece. In the grand finale, after Khorshed and his mother have lost their house, the little boy walks into the marketplace and conducts an impromptu performance of the Fifth Symphony...it's an uplifting moment for the viewers and, obviously, for Khorshed as well. It's a moment of triumph, as he walks away from the camera, with the 'musicians' lined on either side, flailing his arms about like a pro and conducting his piece. It does seem as though everything up to now has been leading to this emotional and musical crescendo and yet it is also about living in the present, in the here and now...about the triumph and celebration of living in the moment.

It is perhaps a coincidence, or maybe it isn't, but it seems oddly fantastic to me that in both these Iranian films, Dayereh last week and now Sokout, we find simple, everyday people, who have had absolutely no exposure to high art...and I mean the fine and performing arts...can identify with it so completely, without feeling any sense of alienation that is perceived on their part as a result of such interaction. Be it Vincent Van Gogh in the first film or Beethoven in the latter, their works are cross-cultural in the truest sense, eliminating any differences that can arise out of time, distance, cultural relevance, education, awareness or exposure. Perhaps that it what all Art is meant to do...connect with people at their levels.

And so, after the film is over, you take a deep breath and just sit there, fascinated...maybe even with a silly smile or look on your face and you wonder...

Oh, for a cigarette!

My Bombay trip has been stalled, as is work on the TV series, till almost the end of the month. Because, in their innate wisdom, the channel folks have now decided to find buyers for the show...by showing the prospective sponsors our rough cut, which is, essentially, an unfinished film. Whatever! It's not very often that I use that term but, unfortunately, it seems to be the only appropriate reaction under the circumstances. I mean...why is it that every time they decide to let off monkeys from the zoo, they let them loose near my house?

Anyway, one unfortunate outcome of this is that I'm missing out on the MAMI Film Festival in Bombay. Completely missing out! Nothing can make up for a loss of that magnitude, of course, but what has softened the blow...just a wee bit...is the sudden appearance of a film club on my horizon and, therefore, the promise of one good film a week. It was one such film that made me venture out last Sunday.

Digression. Depending on one's perspective, working independently has its benefits. Or, not.

Unlike most folks, who have respectable jobs, work out of fancy offices and get paid at the end of each month, Sunday is just another day for me...as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing special about it. I don't have to wait till Sunday to rest my weary bones, stretch my tired back, give my overworked mind a break, catch up on my sleep...or to do anything else. As a result, over time, the day has ceased to mean as much to me as it does to a lot of people.

Yet, psychologically, I treat it as my day off as well...day off from what is hard to say. But, that's how it is and, if I can help it, I don't do much on Sundays. Resistance to plans for Sundays comes quite easily to me. But, I went out this Sunday. To watch a film. Alone. End digression.

I'm quite a sucker for most things Iranian, especially their wonderful films. What drew me out last Sunday was one such film from Iran, Dayereh (The Circle), by Jafar Panahi. And, I'm so glad I went because, apart from the fact that it is a bloody good film, I think, it found some resonance in my life.

Now, 'circle' may be a literal translation of the word in Persian but, to my mind, and in the context it is normally used in, dayereh should mean limits or boundaries...even confinement, of sorts. And, in the context of the film, I think, all of these meanings, including 'circle', work. Anyway, the film doesn't have a regular story or protagonist/s but it traces small parts of the lives of a few women, with each story being interconnected in some way, directly or otherwise. Each of these ladies, each, has either been to jail, has just been let out or will be heading there very soon. None of them, however, is a criminal and their misdemeanours are often nothing more than travelling alone, without a male companion and/or without their requisite IDs. Funnily, through the film, almost all of these ladies want to smoke but are mindful of the consequences of lighting up in public. Or, are reminded of the consequences by people around them.

Each portrayed situation is, obviously, character-specific as also a comment on the status of women in the Iranian society. Much like India, and I don't care if anyone insists otherwise, it's a male-dominated society in Iran although, clearly, Indian women have far greater freedom than their Iranian counterparts. At least the educated and urban ones do...for most part.

The film begins in the maternity ward of a hospital where, much like it happens in India, the birth of a girl is greeted with a scowl rather than a smile. That pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the film, with the grandmother of the newborn refusing, at first, to believe that her daughter had given birth to a girl and then running away to avoid her son-in-law and his sure-to-be disgruntled family. Next, we meet two girls, Arezou (I just love the way this name sounds...imagine it being called out in that soft, lovely Persian accent. It's a killer!) and Nargess, both convicts, who're trying to put together some money so that they can travel to Rozili (not sure about the name), which, apparently, is Nargess' hometown. They're also looking for Pari, their friend from jail.

What is funny and extremely poignant is the time when Nargess forces Arezou to stop in front of a painting on the street and claims that that is her hometown, where they're trying to get to. We get to see only one corner of the painting, a landscape, which is why I'm not so sure about this but it seems to be a copy of Poplars On A Hill by Vincent Van Gogh! Either way, this is extremely touching because, obviously, what Nargess sees is not so much her village but hope...or the security that she is seeking so desperately. Arezou doesn't respond and, you think, it's perhaps because she is preoccupied with the more immediate task of arranging for the money. But, later, when they have the money, Arezou hands it all to Nargess and tells her to go on, alone, to her Promised Land because, if it turns out to be anything less, she (Arezou) won't be able to handle it. It is then that you realise that she can see Nargess' fantasy for what it is. This also connects beautifully with my most favourite story of all time, Ha'penny by Alan Paton. In it, Ha'penny, an orphan and a juvenile delinquent, creates this entirely imaginary and fictional world around himself, complete with a loving family...but, I'm digressing again. There's something to be said about this actress who plays Nargess, and the look she carries through the film. For someone so young to be able to portray the pain and anguish that usually come with experience and, generally, life, is quite incredible.

Next, we meet their friend Pari. She is pregnant, wants an abortion and, like the other two, she is also on the run. That her husband/boyfriend was executed a few months ago complicates her situation even more because, without his physical presence or, at least, written permission, she can hardly hope to find a doctor who'll do the needful. Through her we meet another lady on the street, who is trying to abandon her little daughter in front of a popular club, in the fond hope that someone more privileged than herself will adopt her daughter. She tells Pari that, although it kills her to do so, this is her third attempt to find a home for her daughter. As Pari tries to dissuade her, the irony and, again, the poignancy of the situation are apparent: a woman who cannot have her baby is trying to convince another to keep hers.

There was something quite haunting about that mother...her face...either she is a brilliant actress or simply gifted with a face that lends itself so easily to a tragic demeanour. (Incidentally, she was one of only two professional actresses in the film. The rest are all amateurs.) After she has parted with her daughter, there's this track shot of her walking through the street at night, passing shadows and islands of light. There's something about the shot, which goes on for a bit, about the way she walks, about the look on her face...that feeling of, perhaps, having lost everything that had any meaning...that just completely breaks your heart. As she walks down that street, she is propositioned by unseen men in unseen cars. Finally, perhaps aware of her circumstances, or maybe because she is tried of fighting all the time, she sits in the next car that stops for her. Her luck, the driver turns out to be a policeman, who is out to nab prostitutes. As this car pulls into the police station, we meet the next character, a sex worker, someone who has clearly accepted her lot in life. As she is being led away to jail in the police van, she is finally able to achieve what many others had wanted to do and attempted before her...she takes out a cigarette and smokes. Then, as she enters the jail cell, we find that all the characters that we've seen up to now have also landed up inside.

As the last scene of the film unfolds, you suddenly realise that this is precisely where the film had begun...that that maternity ward is actually a part of the prison. So, even in that respect, the film has come a full circle.

There are many stories in the film but none are resolved. There are many questions too that pop up in your head but no are answers are provided. For instance, why does Nargess have that ugly scar on her face? Is her boyfriend, for whom she buys a shirt, real or imaginary? How did Arezou get the money that she gave to Nargess to travel? Was Pari married to the father of her child? Why was he executed?

Smoking is clearly used as a metaphor in the film...for freedom, for the freedom to make choices. And, if you think about it, the film is not just about the Iranian reality...it applies to all of us. If you think about it, the prison in the film is really a metaphor for the world and the many small private prisons in it, which limit many of us. I know because I have mine and, somehow, this seemingly simple act of going to watch this film meant that I had broken out of one of mine...or, at least, expanded the limits of my dayereh.

Next Sunday I'll be going back to the film club to watch Mohsen Makhmalbaf's Sokout (The Silence)...and I can hardly wait!

And, oh, guess what was the first thing I did at the end of the Dayereh screening? Yup, I went out and smoked a cigarette :-)

Whether (?) report

If I didn't know better, I'd say that Bombay isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Because, in the last three months or so that I was away, I can't say that I had the greatest time there. Except for those occasional bits of relief, I doubt I'll ever remember this trip with any degree of fondness. Because, for most part, it was quite miserable and lousy. Four trips to Pune didn't do much for me either. It must have been for the first time in my life, therefore, that I didn't quite mind returning to Delhi.

Anyway, the first episode of the television series we are working on is close to being approved. We're waiting for the decision to be formally communicated to us. Maybe I should rephrase this a bit...we think we're almost there but, around me, you can always expect a twist in the tail. But, more of this in a bit.

I might have likened this project, and the last few months, to a roller coaster ride, except that, unlike the latter, the distribution of highs and lows during this time has hardly been equitable. Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic here but you know what I mean! In a post long ago, I had written about this new approach in life I was going to adopt - the feck it approach. But, guess who got fecked! That, however, will serve as fodder for a bitter post some time soon :-)

Back to the TV series...what we've submitted to the channel is a rough cut. As the term suggests, at the rough cut stage, a film does not include all the elements of a finished product. Usually, it will not include music, high-end graphics, animation and the final voiceover, etc.

This is the third rough cut that we've worked out...because, obviously, they weren't happy with the first two edits. The first edit was pretty much based on the approved script and the "script-flow" document that the monkey from the channel was so adamant about. But, in the end, that document doesn't seem to be anything more than a useless bureaucratic procedure, although I'm sure it'll have to be followed for the next twelve episodes as well. (This is what I meant by pencil-pushing SoB in my last post!) Anyway, after watching the first cut, they told us that we should shift the focus of the film. Admittedly, at that point in time, the film was a bit loose and needed some fine-tuning but to be asked to shift focus, after the film had been shot, was a rude shock. What it also confirmed is that these guys are unable to visualise the script you hand in and which they then sit in judgement over. Because, if they could visualise it, either they would tell you at that stage, before you start shooting, that the script is not exciting or whatever the crap they think is wrong with it. Or, they wouldn't find fault with what you've shot because that's done on the basis of the damned approved script!

Anyway, on the basis of their suggestions, then, we worked out the second cut. And, truth be told, it was awful! Clearly, our hearts were not in it and, maybe subconsciously, we were only intent on giving them what they had specifically asked for...unmindful of how it was coming together, if at all. Expectedly, they didn't like it and told us quite bluntly that the film was simply unwatchable. That's not the sort of thing you like to hear but, hell, it was true. I had a long chat with the VP of the channel (thankfully, I haven't had to deal with the monkey lately), during which he had the good grace to admit that a fair bit of the second cut was based on their own suggestions. After this discussion we worked out the third cut, in which we've adopted a slightly more direct approach. The film now has a good, rounded feel to it and flows quite seamlessly. The best indication that this cut works well is that, after watching it, you don't feel as though you've just sat through a 23-minute film. At least that's how I feel.

We showed the film to the VP a few days ago and, thankfully, he liked it too. Of course, he had a couple of concerns, suggestions and ideas, which we'll be more than glad to address. But, basically, he told us that he is happy with it. Now, we're waiting for the official "feedback", after which I'll be going back to Bombay for the rest of the post-production work.

A few days after this presentation, when I was returning to Delhi, I was all prepped-up for a couple of fights...with two different people...and, of course, both of these fights were going to be very short, very one-sided and very bloody affairs. The first of these was to be with the producer of our show, a man who has been described, by many, as the devil himself. The trouble with him is that, although he is a decent sort, he's a little full of himself and loves the sound of his own voice. I won't say that he's stupid, because he is not, but he can often be annoyingly silly. Anybody who reads his articles in the Sunday papers will readily confirm this. Although he's on television almost every day of the week, he seems to have no understanding of the process of making television shows and films...not exactly the sterling quality you'll look for in a producer, is it? He's decent, he's honest, he's straightforward and he's not petty, which is more than what I can say for over ninety-nine per cent of the people I've had any dealing with in my line of work. And, for that, I'm thankful...but, sometimes, unfortunately, even gratitude has a short shelf life. Even during the long and painful period that preceded the formal commissioning of the show, right up to the shoot in Alibaug, on various occasions, he has proved to be a pain up the backside. The only real work he has done so far is to negotiate the contract with the channel. Of course, he also shoots his mouth off all the time and writes silly mails. And, it was one such silly mail that got my goat and filled me up with killer instinct.

Let's just say that, in itself, the mail is harmless. It was a piece of internal communication, between him and us, and that's how it should've stayed. But, unfortunately, our man marked copies to the blighters from the channel as well. Now, just why would anyone do something like that? When I got back to Delhi and asked him about the mail, and told him how it had upset us, it was literally as though a light had suddenly come on in his head and he immediately realised what consequences his "well-intentioned" brainwave can have. Short of apologising (because that would be too much for him), he explained his reasons and, although I don't agree with his reasons, I don't doubt his intentions. Either way, that doesn't help because, I think, the damage has already been done...which is why it is taking the channel so long to give us the formal go ahead. But, let me not go down that road yet. I have to meet the channel folks in a couple of days...we'll find out soon whether the approval is coming through now or whether we need to do some more work before we get it.

As you'd expect, by now, this film is starting to come out of my ears!

Moving on...the MAMI Film Festival is coming up in Bombay, from March 8-15. But, the way things are unfolding here, it's almost certain that I'm going to miss, at least, the first couple of days of the festival...and, that's not such a happy thought. Like the Asian Film Festival late last year, the MAMI is also going to clash with our work schedule but, then, we know which of the two is more important and will get precedence :-)

One of the rare bright spots during my long trip was when I went with my Pune friend to this absolutely wonderful place, the Mulshi Dam area and Tamahini, about 70-odd kilometres away from Pune. He has been looking for some land and, on one of my trips, one day, I went with him to look up a plot that someone had recommended. The hills on both sides and a large-ish lake make this a stunning location. I have to confess, the place just took my breath away. I remember sending a message to a friend, saying that the place is to die for! Anyway, we got off the main road, on to a dirt track, and drove for another two or three kilometres further in. There was hardly any sound anywhere and, when we spoke, we found ourselves talking in hushed tones...almost as though talking loudly would be a sacrilege. Maybe I'm overreacting...I don't know. But, I loved what I saw and I hope I can go back there again. Soon. And, the next time, I plan to take my camera along.

The last few months may not otherwise add up to a great trip...for most part, it wasn't...but, of course, there was some good stuff too. Either way, a lot of it was quite eventful...starting right from the journey to Bombay, which also featured a few top fashion models, including this really nice one, who flashed a smile at me...then, there was this great drama associated with my friend's move from Bandra to a lovely flat in Juhu, which we had to break our backs to clean...then, at my friend's son's sports meet in his school in Pune, there were these kids with names like Adelaide (a boy!), Durban and Stallion...then, there was this really obnoxious woman on my Pune-Bombay bus, whom I would've liked very much to whack on the head because, besides embarrassing her poor boyfriend by loudly asking him if he had brushed his teeth, she was very vocal about "smelly people" and how such people should "use deos". Yet, when the bus stopped for a short break at a food court on the Expressway, she promptly came back smelling of raw onions on her breath...about wandering aimlessly on the streets in Bombay and Pune...about sitting in a bookshop called Landmark, in Pune, and reading a whole book about Martin Scorsese...about visits to this dentist in Pune, who sings girlie songs in falsetto while he fiddles around in your mouth...about meeting a blogger a couple of times in Bombay and, over time, becoming good friends...about not being able to meet the second blogger and a third one who couldn't meet because of...what did he say..."a crazy schedule", was it? :-)

Generally, the world's not such a happy place at the moment. A lot of it, I know, has to do with this television project, which is taking forever and a bit and, in the process, not allowing any time or room for anything else. It's like I said to a friend one day, what I would really like is to start over...to get away from everyone and everything I know and to make a complete break. Of course, this is only a passing phase but, trouble is, it's taking a long time to pass :-) and just that I need to take some really hard decisions...quickly.

As Dylan says, people are crazy and times are strange...I used to care but things have changed.

Finally, before I end the very long post, let me plug this website that a couple of my friends have just launched. If you're interested in yoga, organic food and healthy living, traditional beauty treatments :-) and suchlike, please visit www.grasroutes.com