BY PRADIP BISWAS, THE INDIAN EXPRESS NEWSPAPERS, INDIA JURY MEMBER, INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL OF INDIA ANF FRIBOURG INTERNAATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL, SWISS INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL OF INDIA, GOA, INDIA The debut film Firaaq directed by Nandita Das, the noted actress, has taken everybody by surprise. Firaaq has not only been highly acclaimed in London Film Festival but it also has evoked equal interests at Toronto, Thessaloniki, Pusan and New York film festivals recently. The film has opened the wounds of Hindu-Muslin riots in Gujarat that rocked the whole nation. The British Film Institute (BFI) has hailed the film as “the elegiac document of human traumas”. It reveals a powerful drama involving ordinary people of diverse community trapped in communal riots in Gujarat in 2002. Firaaq means both separation and quest. The story of Firaaq is set over a 24-hour period, one month after a carnage that took place in Gujarat, India in 2002. This sectarian violence killed more than 3000 Muslims, hundreds of thousands were made homeless and the number of women raped is still unknown. It is a work of fiction, based on a thousand true stories. It traces the emotional journeys of ordinary people - some who are victims, some perpetrators and some who choose to watch silently. It is an ensemble film that follows multiple narratives that are at times interconnected and at times discrete. What unites them is their spatial and emotional context. In Firaaq Nandita looks sharp to refer to the conflict between Hindus and Muslims that continues to explode into violence in India, often triggered off by vested political and religious leaders. Firaaq begins in 2002 in the state of Gujarat, where three thousand Muslims died in communal riots. Obviously, the Hindus in Modi’s Gujarat are the master players in foxy game. Nandita structures the film starting with somewhat Shakespearean flair; two Muslim men are engaged in digging a mass grave for the victims. The film flips forward one month, away from the direct physical appearance of the conflict to the more hidden layers with an insinuation to inner discord. The film showcases multiple narratives that are emotionally interconnected. There is a middle class housewife Arti, caught in male supremacy at home, who, under domestic compulsion, closes the door on a woman desperately seeking refuge.... and then struggles to overcome her guilt. The narrative moves on thus. Two characters such as Hanif and Muneera return to the shanty they are compelled to leave during the flaring violence. On their return they find their darkish cubbyhole burnt down. Shattered by fundamentalist vandalism compounded by betrayal from their close family friends sharing the same untidy existence, they are awe-struck. But auto-rickshaw-driver, Hanif (Nowaz), whose house has been burnt down, tries to find a pistol/gun and shoot the perpetrators of the crime. And his wife, Muneera (Shahana Goswami), equally looks anguished, angry and abusive for revenge. But she fears for her life too. A tenacity to revenge haunts Hanif. Betrayed by an animalistic, predatory revenge turns to be the only weapon. In parallel segment the middle-class Hindus Sanjay and Arati are untouched by the hostilities as if they are not part of the society. On the other side of the spectrum is a radical Hindu, Sanjay (Paresh Rawal), whose brutality on his tolerant and caring wife, Arati (Deepti Naval), is matched by his loathing for Muslims. He has no qualms about looting an up-market store whose partner is a Muslim. But like Greek tragedy, retribution comes. Soon they are haunted by remorse and moral challenges. In the matrix of chaos and disorder, the sane older musician Khan Saheb (Naseeruddin Shah) is a relief as he tries to transcend religious differences. But as a Muslim sharing the same Hindu neighbour-hood, he now finds this surface fraternity more alarming and dreadful. The horror of bigotry, fury of communal hatred, and the sense of hopelessness stare at us from every nook and corner. The most humanist character, a musician Khan Saheb (Naseeruddin Shah), bent with age, repents the futility of the Hindu-Muslim feud when he says that no music can hope to calm this rage and malevolence. His resignation is pathetic and total. He is shattered within by the infernal revenge agenda. His dreams for communal amity, much beyond the bookish sermons, start fading out. In his heavy old age, he looks misfit for replenishment of eternal human bond on the verge of extinction. Human values plummet so low that it is beyond his music sense to retrieve the lost humanity. His figure of melancholy radiates dirge. Yet another component includes Anu and Sameer, an intermarried Hindu-Muslim couple, who discover a strange phantom existence in fear-hit locality. His resignation is total. Sameer Shaikh (Sanjay Suri), a well-to-do businessman married to a Hindu, Anuradha Desai (Tisca Chopra), has packed his bags and ready to relocate in New Delhi, where he feels he would be free of fright and panic. But faced with temporal reality, they start questioning their own identity with a struggle of conscience. It gives Sameer, a Muslim, a freedom to come out of chrysalis of hidden identity. Both of them test the ordeals of times, violent, feisty and cannibalistic. In a brave way, Nandita turns our gaze at cannibalistic terror that covers the dreadful carnage perpetrated by the majority Hindus on the minority Muslims in Gujarat in early 2002. The figure of casualty is fudged and the official version says not much but only 3,000 Muslims were butchered. Indeed the number is quite higher and this is nothing but a genocide. The film is also an eloquent reminder to what has gone awry in the past. As said earlier, Firaaq is based on a 24-hour period, one month after the Hindu-Muslim riots that has ravaged Gujarat in 2002. By judging the opening shot of a Muslim gravedigger and his nephew burying tens of unclaimed bodies takes us into a deeply tragic scenario. The film is allowed space to close with the same digger resting at a temporary camp for all those whose homes are torched, destroyed and razed to dust. A humanist face is introduced at this juncture when he joins the little boy, Mohsin, (Mohammad Samad), who has witnessed the animalistic rape and brutal killing of his mother among others. Through these characters we experience the tragic consequences of violence that impact their inner and outer lives. Violence spares nobody. Yet in the midst of all this madness, some find it in their hearts to sing hopeful songs for better times. Firaaq, I think, within has a spirit of the “darkling thrush” of Hardy. Someone is whistling in the dark! On the making of the film Nandita says: “The journey of making Firaaq has been a cathartic experience that has pushed my boundaries, in more ways than one. Most films about riots are full of violence that they set out to critique. Instead I wanted to explore the fierce and delicate emotions of fear, anxiety, prejudice and ambivalence in human relationships during such times.” Indeed she has chosen an ensemble structure because there are many stories that she has heard, seen and read, that need to be told. She makes it clear that in mass violence there are no individual heroes or villains. When thousands have suffered, the suffering of only one cannot be glorified. It is gathered she has come to feel many strands of interests coming together and getting subconsciously intertwined. With almost 13 years of acting experience in more than 30 films, she admits, she has expected the transition not be a difficult one. The feeling, to be frank, has acted in reverse way. She is of the view that making a film entails much more than what she could have ever imagined. According to her from an actor to a director, is like taking a quantum leap! The fact is that during her many travels and interactions around the world, she has sensed a collective desire to understand the complex and violent world we inhabit and a palpable need for peace. She says: “I hope Firaaq reflects this spirit and touches the hearts and minds of those who watch it. What compelled me to make this film is best captured in the words of Brecht, “Will there be singing in the dark times? Yes, there will be singing, of the dark times.” While shooting is the most important aspect of the film making process, but there is lots more that goes into the film after that, which was completely new to her. Says she: “I personally found editing to be the most exciting part of the whole filmmaking process. For one, after the madness of the shoot, it is a great to be in a quiet room, with just one more person as your collaborator. Second, you feel that things are finally under your control as there is so much you can do in the process of editing. Although I had heard the old saying that a film is really made at the editing table, I understood the true meaning of it only when I went into the editing room for Firaaq.” It may be mentioned for this she has got the best partner she could have ever wished for - Sreekar Prasad, an eminent editor, whose sensitivity and temperament are exactly the same what Nandita feels and needs. So in a very special way, Sreekar Prasad’s contribution to the film looks enormous. Nandita Das and Suchi Kothari have written a script that goes beyond the dramatic time frame: it is a terrifying account, fictionalized out of a 1000 true tales. Four stories unfold, and the players, if at all connected to one another, it is through an overwhelming sense of loss and fear. A marvelous first effort by Nandita -- often described as a thinking actress whose oeuvre includes the works of Mrinal Sen, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Deepa Mehta, Mani Ratnam etc-- the film with its art-house appeal travels to many festivals though not high in box-office rating. While dovetailing strands of tales, Nandita outstrips the length of the film a bit. This results in a feeling of disjointedness. The many drafts of the script were written between 2005 and 2008, through their meetings in India, UK and New Zealand, and via every conceivable medium of communication. While taking Nandita’s film for critique, this critic is reminded of the Nobel Laureate Professor Amartya Sen’s ideas on “identity and violence”. Ours is pluralistic society. Hence the broad question also “relates to another, to wit, the role of evolutionary selection of behavioural norms” which plays a very significant part. It is said if a sense of identity propels to “group success”, through individual betterment, then those identity-sensitive behavioural modes may end being multiplied and promoted. One can assume both in reflective choice and in evolutionary acceptance, ideas of identity are sure to be important; say when critical reflection and selective evolution are merged, it may lead to the prevalence of identity influenced existence. In other words, the film Firaaq incidentally opens one’s mind to such reasoning and fiduciary responsibilities toward others with whom one does not identify in any typical sense. In its crisscross multiple layers of diverse society out of which Firaaq emerges makes us realize why we need to see the film not for anything but for looking at ourselves. It turns the evasive mirror to our face and self. On her debut direction Nandita says: “The journey from acting to direction is not a long one. Spurred by communal upheavals in Gujarat as a social activist, I have tried to address the issues of social and human rights. Since each of us belongs to many, I commit myself to the idea of cinema as a powerful tool for social change. Others may not agree with me but I like it that way”. In the process, the shooting of the film is like doing five short films, one after another. Nandita and her crew had to move to a new location and had different set of actors every five days. She explains she had to be in a different state of mind each time, to tell that particular story. To do a sync sound film where silences form a large part of the soundscape, was not easy. They were in crowded places and not always did people understand the need to keep quiet. On one occasion, where 10,000 people gathered to watch the shooting at night, and her production team could not quite keep them at bay, she had to take the mike and reach out with an impassioned speech. To every one’s shock it actually worked! And they shot rest of the night in peace and silence! Firaaq has unique levels of social identity. In multi-ethnic country, she says, “one is many”. It may sound high-flyer but this critic thinks there is much substance in her statement. A look into her film would reveal how physical reality assumes a redemptive dimension. Says she: “This much I can tell you it is as much about fact as about human stories and relationships. Bloody communal riots in Gujarat have led to myriad contradictory views. My film focuses on the post Gujarat blood bath and fear, still raging but proclaimed normal by the State administration. This is funny as the common people, the Muslin minority in particular, are forced to live a dreaded present. In a free democratic society, no community, either Hindus or Muslims, could live without fear of being wiped out at the slightest provocation. My film is an indictment of the fundamentalist groups operating under various labels.” According to Nandita Das, the background relates to `human rights’ focused on communal violence, cultural prejudice and religious identity. In fact she is actively associated with social activities relating to gender discrimination, religious bigotry, subaltern issues, women trade and communal divide. This is one area she has found most dangerous and harmful. It is largely known how the hiatus between genders keeps widening marking patriarchal forces as rulers and women as ruled. We are no more in the age of Manu. Yet, things described in Manu still rule the roost. On the relayed stories put in the film, one finds starting with one story but she then has expanded to ten because she feels one story is not strong enough to justify what she reveals in the texture of the film. In this context, she asserts: “To do justice I have explored some of the stronger anecdotes/stories to make them more relevant and poignant. In the end I have introduced commonplace stories/incidents where you can actually identify with the characters, the social milieu and the contaminated climate”. While watching the film, one finds how the director makes it “a work of fiction based on a thousand true stories.” On the poignant placement of 80-year old Muslim character, she says: “Placement of the character is a reference to the optimism, faith, fearless idealism and humanism I have incidentally discovered among many 80-year old Muslim friends I know for years. I am overwhelmed by their tolerance and basic humanism absolutely necessary for preserving secular, democratic fabric of India. At a time when stark cynicism grips us, they show extraordinary resilience and tenor. This is why I prefer `a thousand true stories’ to ‘fictional stories’.” We all know how the film Final Solution has tackled the Gujarat violence. There is Parzhania too. In both the films, physical narrative as well as fictive narrative works to a great extent. Firaaq is not a sequel to Final Solution. Firaaq presents a kind of perspective the people in the post-Gujarat riots are ridden with. Judged in critical comparison both the films capture scars of violence and fear of violence. In her case, she wants to look at the same subject from a reverse angle. Here all shots can seldom be related to actualities of violence. She finds it more interesting to work out communal theme from real as well imagined perspectives. A film should not necessarily detail in frames the actual, spot violence. No doubt, films based on actual happenings have cutting edge but she believes if she could place the same from another vision, it would strengthen artistic credibility. Great films, irrespective of themes, are made in this way. Nandita wants to pursue the mood accordingly. Finally Nandita admits: “For me this film is not an end in itself. It is a means to stir a dialogue about our own fears, prejudices and responses to violence. But I also believe that having good intentions is not enough; the form it adopts in telling the story is just as important. No film is perfect and this too has its flaws, but going by the reactions I have been getting, I feel the intent with which I have made Firaaq is being fulfilled and it has been well worth making it, against all odds.” That Firaaq is a milestone would irritate many contemporary filmmakers. Mrinal Sen, the agit-pro and heretic director, hails the film thus: “That was the worst of time for you and me, the worst for the countrymen of yours and mine. That was also the best of time for your understanding. Which was why you could make a phenomenal film. I admire your courage and conviction. And as you make this film, the first ever, I recall my most favourite words of Niels Bohr, the celebrated physicist, that confidence comes from not always being right, but also from not fearing to be wrong. Never fail to keep it up because I can see you will go a very long way.” How does one rate her film? What’s one’s reaction to receptions of her film at various International film festivals such as London, Toronto, Pusan and New York? She looks ponderous for a moment and says: “Firaaq as a film has evoked genuine response from all four film festivals. A lot of positive reviews are evident. There is no doubt that my film is accessible to all who care for subjective sensibility and objective standpoint.” What she believes honestly is that a film should appeal to senses first. It should stir human emotions. Art of the film should recognize the possibility of changing state of mind. It inspires thinking that where the many are, there is security; what the many believe must of course be true; what the many want, must be worth living for, and necessary, and therefore good. On surface, Firaaq is all bleak, grainy and desolate; yet this critic feels that somewhere at the end we could probably hope that the unity of mankind will assert itself irresistibly one day beyond the dark shadows of humanity. PS: EXCERPTS FROM FOUR INDIAN DIRECTORS WRITTEN BY PRADIP BISWAS, EMINRENT CRITIC, INDIA
Posted on: Tue, 22 Jul 2014 14:08:28 +0000