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by Mary V.
Cass
If one has
to arrive at an "ungodly hour" (i.e. 3
am) someplace in the world and not want to find a deserted airport
and dark, lonely streets, it's Delhi. The airport was packed on my arrival, and on
the streets, well, it was traffic as usual for Delhi, which means millions of 4 wheel and 3
wheel vehicles, and a considerable number of cows are all vying for moving
space, all the time.Rather than
frightening me it was a fascinating experience to see such a mass of humanity
"on the move"- magnify 10 times what you experience at rush hour in Manhattan and you'll have
some idea. I had come to Delhi as a participant in
an international film festival. Arriving at that unseemly hour you can imagine
my relief in seeing my host and other jury members from Europe
waving and smiling at me from the crowd.
My first
week in India
was a rapid immersion not only into this city of great antiquity, but also into
what is the world's largest film industry. We - 20 or so guests from abroad - were
housed at Western Court, a grandiose, elongated structure of colonnades and arches, typical of
the Western-Classical British architecture of early 20th Century
India, designed for use by the Empire's government officials. Because of its
close proximity to Delhi Parliament House, it is now used as a hostel for ex
MP's who come to Delhi
from the various States for government business. Located in the center of the
city, it provided an excellent starting point for exploring, in our free
moments, Old and New Delhi
- its glorious monuments, indicators of its past grandeur and its soaring
skyscrapers and bustling commercial complexes, evidence of its fast economic
growth.
All of this
served as a background to some special (memorable) encounters with film artists
and media persons. It would be impossible to highlight here more than two such
meetings: the first being with director Nebyendu Chatterjee, a filmmaker whose
work spands 4 decades and typically reflects Kolkata art-house cinema. Since
social justice and human rights issues mark the body of Chatterjee's works, his
films are famed for being at times "uncomfortable" and provocative.
"For me,"
the director shared, "it is very important to highlight the perennial struggle
of any civilization to the right of rice everyday for natural survival."
As the week
unfolded I came to know this affable and dapper Indian gentleman more, and his
profound commitment to promoting good cinema in his country. "I pray to be pardoned for my mistakes and
omissions," Chatterjee humbly confessed, "and be only remembered for good and
useful work, that might, in time, evoke social and cultural change where
needed."
Suffering
in his own personal life - loosing his mother at birth and two of his own
children as adults- molded within this artist a soul of great sensitivity,
especially toward the poor and marginalized. It also strengthened his own inner
resolve to not compromise his work for commercial success or political correctness,
but to remain tenaciously committed to creative authenticity. Although
his films have garnered awards from all the Indian Film Festivals and shown in
many festivals in Asia, Europe and North America, as Cannes, Berlin, Fribourg,
Japan, Australia, Korea, Chicago, Toronto, to name a few, little has been
written on his work. I felt privileged
to have had the hours together that the festival offered to know this artist
who has intentionally and successfully avoided publicity and what he calls "the
rat race of film making." He is
certainly not your conventional filmmaker: he has made only a small number of films
in over a 3 decades, works on a shoe-string budget, and chooses new and
forgotten faces for lead roles, exacting memorable performances out of them.
Film critic, author and Chatterjee's close friend, Pradip Biswas, says that you
can always identify his films "he puts his signature all over his work....they're
easily identifiable for their artistic excellence." In writing about the Director's work, he was
reminded of the words of filmmaker Lindsay Anderson: "Art that does not aim to change the world is
not art at all."
One film
that reveals the director's capacity to enter into another soul and make the
suffering there his own and then, in turn, transfer it into celluloid is Mansur
Mian-R Ghora (The Last Ride). This film is a quaint, low-budget film, produced
in collaboration with the Indian National Film Development Corporation, and
well received in the Indian Panorama. It recounts the story of an old man,
Mansur Mian, member of a certain vanishing clan of Moslems in the city of Kolkata, who clings to his
profession as a landau driver with the conviction that his vintage carriage,
handed onto to him by his father, and his aged horse define his very being in
life. Mansur is forced to confront the encroachment
of his way of life by modernity when his son insists that the landau must be
sold to provide the capital for his new taxi business.
The viewer
journeys through the street of old Kolkata as a passenger on the faded velvet
seats of the carriage, lulled by the rhythm of old horse's plodding feet and
sees a disappearing culture through the despairing eyes of the old man. The
window that this film offers onto the human and social values at risk in a
lower middle class Muslim family demonstrates the rare insight and compassion of
the director for a culture very different from his own upper class Hindu
background.
"For me,"
Chatterjee commented, "Mansur Mian presents a theme that runs through many of
my films, that is the struggle of an individual to survive and triumph over life's
contradictions and adversities. The divide between Muslims and Hindus is
bridged by the universality of this very human plight. The story is placed within
the Muslim culture because it is the Muslims who drive landaus and reside in
Rajabazar, part of old Calcutta.
The theme, however, transcends ethnic or religious differences: the interior
journey of a human soul, fearful to let go of his ancestral past, and in
constant conflict with the materialistic world
of the present."
The interpretation
of the elderly Mansur and his tragic demure by actor Arun Mukherjee is brilliant.
Chatterjee feels that acting is an essential part of the creative
process of film art.
"Acting is
an art to be inculcated; it cannot be merely learned. I choose artists for my
films that are capable of bringing out the soul of the characters they are
portraying. Their role should never look rehearsed or copied. Acting is like
breathing: the actor "inhales" the soul of the character they are to portray to
then " exhale" it as a personality, alive and communicating itself to others."
I asked the
director what impression he hopes to leave with his public after seeing Mansur: "This work
has been an artistic labor of love for me. In a way, Mansur represents myself,
my ambitions, dreams, miseries - all being part of my journey as an artist. A
film of inner journey is something very difficult for an artist to express. It
is my hope that its purity of emotion and its faith in human values will be
what remains with the viewer."
My second
memorable visit was with Sandeep Marwah of Delhi,
who plays a different but very important role in the world of media in India. One of
the highlights of my trip was coming to know him and his wife Reena, who is the
daughter of the well known Indian producer Shri Surinder Kapoor. Sandeep, who
holds advance degrees in business and
media, and a notable experience in the arts (theatre and television), was well
equipped to initiate the building of the first "film city" in Northern
India. Aware of the lack of
training and research facilities for
film artists and media professionals in
the capital, Sandeep founded in 1993, within the Film City of Noiba ( a suburb of Delhi) his
own institution, called the Asian Academy of Film and Television. AAFT today
has the distinction of having trained over 4000 men and women from over 55
different countries and has emerged as one of the finest film schools for
short-term courses. Its mission statement clearly reflects Sandeep's own
commitment to film and the media arts as instruments of social change. It
states: "The Asian Academy
of Film and Television is committed to excellence in film and television
education and training so that its alumni through their work, may make it a
better world one day than it is today."
I spent 2
days at the Academy and saw evidence of Sandeep's deep belief that film can
break down social, political and cultural barriers. It was his determination to
put this belief into action that led him
to contact the only existing film school in neighboring Pakistan. After a number of years
of discussion between the governments of India
and Pakistan, he was
recently able to obtain an educational visa for 30 Pakistan students, the first
allowed in over 60 years.
"This has
lead," Sandeep shared, "to deeper understanding and collaboration between our
two countries. By sharing the
professional excellence that India
has achieved in mass media education with the young people of Pakistan, we
can begin to build more positive relationships, beginning with a new generation
of communicators who want to work for a better world. Through the medium of film and media, our
Indian and Pakistan students have learned to regard one another as "brothers and sisters," as
protagonists for an industry that shares its resources and talents for a
greater communion among all."
The Pakistan
students were eager to share their experience. "While studying cinema and television
together," a young Moslem from Karachi
commented, "we have felt preconceptions and political and religious hostilities
collapse....it was remarkable to discover we are all the same!"
"It is our
hope that our program can be first among many aimed at bringing about
greater dialogue and collaboration
between our two countries," exclaimed a Hindu Pakistan student. "There has been
no friction between us. We have all gained from the exchange of artistic
talents, especially important for us from Pakistan where our resources in the
media field are much less developed."
My last
night in Delhi was spent at the beautiful villa
of Sandeep and Reena Marwah - a wonderful conclusion to my stay in India. Their
gracious hospitality, a trademark of the Indian people, imparted a feeling not
only of acceptance in this culture so vastly different from my own, but also a
spirit of universal brotherhood, embraced by Sandeep and lived out with
contagious enthusiasm.
It was
close after dawn, a few hours were left before my return flight to Rome. I couldn't leave Delhi without visiting
with my friends the site that perhaps most embodies the soul of the Indian
people: the tomb of Matatma Gandhi. Raijghat, a small area that eludes peace,
is entered in silence. Gandhi's tomb of black marble, simply adorned with
bright flowers and marked by an eternal flame, is walked around 3 times. Each turn seemed to bring us symbolically closer
to the "center" of this man's inner being: love. As a spontaneous response to
the sacredness of this moment, we began to recall out loud a few of Gandhi's
timeless, life changing words. One saying, characteristically brief and simple,
remained within as perhaps the most appropriate in summing up my brief visit:
"The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others."
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