If you were here, Billo

guava juice and pomegranates

Two private screenings of "Lilkee" last week. One to a small group of Gujarati women writers, Abhivyakti with a full farsan turnout, including lovely red guava juice from Bhavnagar. The second to a film club of 8 and 9 year olds at Shishuvan School in Matunga, organized by the Pomegranate Workshop.

I cannot yell if my life depends on it, so it was Dhanno who took over the noisy, excited children and their scores of questions.

"Did Lilkee really live in the village? Was that her real mother, her real sister? Where are they now? Where are her friends?"

Seeing Dhanno's cell phone peeping out of her pocket, one child asked, "Where was her cell phone in the film?"

One little girl wanted to know how we had got a shot of the beach from so high up. A little boy answered, "Oh, they must have done it from a helicopter." I said, "No, there was a hill, and a fort, and we took a shot from the top." To which he replied, "Oh, you could have done it from a helicopter".

An important scene in the film is when Bittu, the baby swallows a bead, and the children take him to the doctor, and Tutu comes home and does not find the kids at home. After endless queries about Bittu's welfare, and whether he had really swallowed the bead, and whether he was really crying, a couple of the kids wanted to know why in the film, we don't actually see the children going to the doctor. One of them piped up, "Because they did not find an actor to play the doctor." Another said, "They did not want to show the operation." A third said, "Because the children did not go to the doctor at all."

Each one of them had their own favorite moment in the film, for someone it was when Lilkee went to school, for someone else when the girls went to the beach, for a boy when they all played football, and for another boy when Dadaji told Anushka that you should always do what you think is right, even if no one else agrees with you.

Dhanno had to sign 50 autographs and give her cell number to all of them. She was feeling very pleased with herself, certainly. And she had her two best friends along to show off to.

Lilkee in Beta

Now that I'm ready for the brickbats (and the bouquets), I set up a new blog for "Lilkee". The beta version of Blogger is great fun, really, and I'm hoping that I can convert all my blogs soon to beta. Meanwhile, check out my Lilkee blog. Right now, it's only old wine in a new bottle. But ofcourse, I'll post new stuff.

the last day of "Lilkee"

For the last couple of months I've been finishing off work on "Lilkee" very reluctantly.

How often I have thought, what is this madness that prompts you to make a film? I'm never going to even want to make a film again.

It's hard, when you are working with very little money, because you have to do most of everything on your own, even all the not-so-fun stuff, like couriering letters, filling up forms, photo-copying scripts and more tedious stuff like that.

But yesterday, when I went to the lab, to make my final payment, waiting outside near the car, for the negatives of the film to be delivered, I felt a rush of nostalgia already for the fun we'd had for the last year.

The truth was it was hardly ever any fun, while we were doing it, we were all working so hard, and exhausted most of the time. But, but... already the stories came back to my mind, and I started saying to Vivek, remember when .. remember when...

And when I came back home, the Mac had behaved impeccably well, and encoded a good DVD (it's harder than it sounds) and so, I felt finally, all's well that ends well.

And by evening, Vivek and I were sitting down and pontificating about how we'd do better the next time we are making a film. And already I'm thinking, what next, what next?

say cheese!

The computer crashed, I picked up the pieces, and as we'd had only two more days of work, and now have to work for another eight days, perhaps, plus have lost eight days in trying to sort out, what's wrong, I grit my teeth and smile.

Rahul, who is not a computer engineer, but an editor and a teacher, and knows more about the Mac and Final Cut Pro than anyone in the universe, Ok, actually, anyone in my universe, and certainly more than the official Apple guys in Mumbai, is not in a very fix-it mood, and potters around, gritting his teeth and smiling, because like the Mac, and like all well-designed, logical beings, he's moody.

Judith, his friend from Austria, who's here on holiday, waits for us to sort out all our problems, so she can make use of the first sunny day in Mumbai in a week, and walk outside, away from the computer, for God's sake, but makes conversation with me, and since 99% of my already limited mind is with my Mac, my conversation is inane to say the least, and I start off by asking her inane questions like, "how long you been here?, is it your first time? what you do?", luckily biting my tongue before I blurt out, "do you like it here?"

What is any tourist meant to say to that, "No, I hate it, actually, it stinks, there are rats everywhere, people are shitting on the roads, it's too crowded, my stomach's heaving"?, but no, they can get their back at you, with "I love the people, the colors, the way always everyone is always smiling" and you think, hmm, smiling yes, but pity no one can hear the "chk, chk, chk" grinding of their teeth, above the cacaphony, as they go around with the pieces, wooing Mr.Fix-it.

my football match

While the football fever is on, I remember the day we had to shoot the football match for "Lilkee". For days, I'd been trying to pass on the responsibility to someone else, Vivek maybe, an assistant director, the kids, and hoping they'd bite. I'd also tried wistful sighing, reminding everyone that on a commercial film set, the match would be looked after by an action choreographer, and I may not even have landed up on the location. We would also have had at least two days to shoot the match, more raw stock, and professional child artistes, who knew how to play football.

But this is a low-budget film, and I have no choice but to land up on location, and face the unit, all men, who look at me knowing I know nothing of football, nor anything about shooting the game. Twenty or more children, from the apartment block we are shooting, are at their morning best, creating a din, which makes it even harder for me to assume or pretend control. They kick around the ball, and go from one end of the garden to the other, and behave as if they've never played football before. The pathetic attempts I've made at a shot breakdown, curl up limply in my sweaty, terrified hands.

We have two hours to finish the shoot. Vivek's getting impatient, we are all yelling at each other to no effect, my assistant director goes off into silence nursing a cold. I go off to the loo, and have a secret cry, sure that everyone finds me ridiculous. I come back on location to find Aiman crying as well, for no real reason except she can feel my desperation.

I wonder why I ever wrote that football match into the script. We bung through the two hours, in a sort of stoic frenzied way. And trust to the editor to cover up the "absence" of the director.

I watch Germany and Argentina play for the World Cup, look at the tight circle of cameras around them, and keep thinking of how I could have handled my own football match better. I'm looking at the TV, but don't see Argentina make a goal.

Sometimes, you are so busy scratching your own backside, you miss the moment.

Interview

Upperstall has uploaded an interview with me, about my film Lilkee.

Family weekend

Mohammed as "Golu, the spoilt brat" in my film.





When my brother Ali and nephew Mohammed descend on us, noise levels increase. Mummy and sis-in-law Farzana are quieter. We play "Life". Aiman cries, jealous of Mohammed and his attention-grabbing ways. Mohammed whirls around oblivious of anyone's likes or dislikes, waking us up rudely from bed, with huge hugs and incessant questions.

My family is completely non-intellectual. When I was growing up, their lack of Apparent Culture embarrassed me. But now, I find it immensely rejuvenating. We talk of films, ofcourse, and politics, and the world in general, but in delightfully naive terms. The absence of any jargon, political or aesthetic brings laughter back to the Pursuit of Art.

Apple v/s Steinbeck

I know my editing friends from FTII will kill me. But I do love editing on a non-linear system, more than I ever did on a Steinbeck. And no, I don't miss the smell or touch of film. Blasphemy!

As a direction student at FTII, my on-hand editing experiences were limited to the 1st year practicals. Getting into the freezing studio after a warm lunch in the warm afternoon, when more exciting things were happening near the Wisdom Tree was bad enough. The heavy metal doors of the editing studio locked out the whole world outside. Then Dalviji handed over the spools to us. I dreaded the moment it was my turn to wind or rewind the film. The congenitally clumsy person I am, the exercise started with the spool dropping from my hands, being retrieved, me cranking too fast so that the film rushed through my hand and snapped at some point, or too slow so that it wound in loose bumps. Dalviji didn't look at me too kindly.

The bins with their bits of film flapping were too disordered for my liking. And the worst was when one decided one needed a bit that one had casually chucked away. Searching in the bin, coming up with lint on one's fingers, peering at pieces of film, and wondering if looking for those two frames was worth all the bother.

And then, ofcourse the splicer. I was always afraid my finger would get chopped off one day. It felt so much like a guillotine. And the perforations that always threatened to tear. And cellotape that never stuck in a neat line for me.

The only thing I loved was the funny old student exercises that we practiced on. Asrani, and Paintal and assorted actors, in their young days. But I don't think I learned a bit about editing. Anyway, we were only foolish Direction students, and Mr. Mehboob Khan didn't condescend to pay us too much attention.

Hmm, so I love my Apple and FCP. I can look out of the window whenever I want, and the noises of the house reassure me.

Sleeping beauties

Noorbhai, the camera attendant has handed over his duties to Raees.








Anjibabu, the make-up man, asleep for the day.





"Rhea", played by my neice Anushka, has finished shooting for the day, but must wait for all of us to pack-up to go back to the hotel.



Looks like we are all working very hard indeed. But what better than a cat-nap to compensate for late nights, and all too early mornings?

jacks, all of us

Suresh at Rudraprayag, with his head in the continuity book







Manoj at Forest Castle, Pune with his head in the costume trunk





Working on a low budget film, or rather, ultra low budget film has it's own postpartum glamor. On "Lilkee" most of us were working overtime, managing more than 2-3 departments. Manoj not only played seven cameo roles, but also helped me to write the script, rehearse with the children, and take care of their costumes on the shoot. Suresh was not only playing the main lead, but also taking care of continuity and background action. Vipin took care of sound and frayed tempers. Satish did the stills, and helped me with accounts, and production work. I discovered that my sister, Farida and sister-in-law, Farzana were excellent costume directors apart from being caretakers for the children. Vivek had to be the art director along with being the cinematographer. Aiman not only played her role to perfection, amidst conditions of extreme stress, but helped with choreography and make-up. And me, what did I do, amongst all this? It seems to me that my biggest strength has been the people around me, and my ability to pick their brains, their talent, and their hard work.

Rough cut

Vivek and Noorbhai at Rudraprayag, Garhwal.







The crew at Korlai beach, near Alibagh.









Hemanti has finished the rough cut. It's bliss to edit at home. After ages, my MAC behaved perfectly. Found out that all the trouble had been caused by a corrupt hard disc. And so many people had been going around in circles, trying to find the problem, loading and reloading again. Anyway.

After having given the DVDs to CFSI, there is a lull. Oh, these lulls. I hate not working, I really don't enjoy the emptiness of waking up, with nothing to do, the way Vivek seems to. I'd love more than anything else to be tearing around, stressed out, trying to manage a hundred things, and failing miserably. Instead, I have the calm of a not too busy director around me.

Satish has uploaded some photos from our shoot on Yahoo. To see them, go to the link below.

Back home

A long 20 days in Pune. I've gone back as a stranger for so many years, resigned to the changes, assuming the Pune I loved no longer existed. We have moved house, most of my friends have gone abroad, my other friends have also moved. The city has grown, the traffic is horrendous. Blah, blah, blah.

But shooting a film there, was the loveliest way to reclaim the city as my own. Living in the old, rambling YMCA, in the middle of Quartergate, eating everyday at the places where we had eaten during family outings, for more than 25 years, and finding the people very, very Puneri inspite of the malls, the traffic, the flyovers. Afternoon siestas prevail, 2 km distances are the other end of the world, and one can still whiz around the city three times in a day.

Shooting at Forest Castle, Silver Woods, and Satellite Towers was another experience altogether. Mundhawa is far by any Puneri standard, but the buildings are beautiful, with a Japanese austerity. They look fantastic on screen.

The children performed very well, except one of the kids, who being supremely talented, is also a bit of a monster, and definitely under-performed. We who knew her so well during rehearsals, were disappointed, imagining what she could have done with a little more concentration.

Otherwise, the usual goof-ups that happen on low-budget shoots. After watching the telecine rushes yesterday, relieved that we haven't messed up, a little ashamed at the spots where one lost control, and which immediately shows on celluloid, and wishing for the luxury of re-shooting bits that need it.

Anyway, still recovering. And getting used to Mumbai all over again. The worst was coming from the Pune winter to the Mumbai sultry heat. Back again.

Actors and rehearsals

Rehearsals with actors, have been working with them individually, some times in pairs. Most of the time it's been heartening. Occasionally, a little dejected. Have I made the right choices. I've cast everyone in the film, without a single audition. Should I trust my intuition, or should I consider myself a fool? Well, so far, nothing has led me to despair. Just a little more hard work needed. Lots of hard work needed.

The trained actors are all right. The amateurs are OK too. It's the ones who've done a little bit that are the worst to handle, because they are set into patterns that are false, and they lack the experience to go beyond them.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm running on auto, there's no time even to be exhausted. Besides, after cribbing for years about being without work, I cannot even open my mouth a micro-centimeter to complain.

music and lyrics

The last two days have suddenly been turning points. Three days ago, Teja gave me a long lecture on music and lyrics, and how I needed to put in more work. As usual, I defended myself by saying that my work process was internal, and that, one day I would be ready. He knows that, but does get exasperated by how vague I can be at times, and thus perhaps give the wrong impression to people who don't know me.

Perhaps it was the effect of his scolding, but I woke up in the morning, with part of the lyrics for the letter-writing song, written in my sleep. And once you have a springboard, it does not take long to launch off into space. We drove off to Revdanda beach for a recce, looking for a lighthouse. We found it a few kilometers ahead of Revdanda at Korle village. 

It is spectacular, an old fort, the sea, hills, a old world fishing village. At the base of the fort, while I waited for Teja to finish taking his stills, I wrote the beach song, as well. I could not believe I had done it, as for a year, I had been proclaiming that I would need a professional lyrics writer, and I could not do it myself.

That's made me believe how powerful the mind is. Once I had done that, I could talk to my music director too very clearly about what I wanted, and what I hated. Now I feel sure that I'll get what I want, and not just accept what he thinks will be nice.

Frantic location hunting

25 Sep 05

Still struggling to find a location. When I wrote the script, I thought I was being smart, fitting my story into an apartment complex where I lived. I knew CFSI budgets were miniscule, and I wanted to make a film, which could be well-executed within the budget.

But the film took more than a year to happen, the apartment politics changed, and I am stranded without a location. And what was to be the easiest part of the shoot, right now seems to be the most difficult.

All my decisions, including secondary actors' casting, props, assistant directors, apart from the more mundane issues of hotels, food and transport are swinging around because of this uncertainty.

When I had my baby 12 years ago, what went forever was the arrogance of my youth. I learnt that one could not be anti-social if one wanted the best for one's baby. I learnt to be patient with all kinds of people, nurture relationships, selfishly for my kid. And it's the same with making a film. Once again, it's all about finding different languages to deal with different people.

meetings begin

22 Sep 05

Today we had a first meeting between two lead actors, Nazneen and Suresh who are playing the roles of Bela and Tutu; Manik, Vivek's camera assistant, Manoj, my associate scriptwriter and assistant director, Vivek and myself. I read the script, and we had an initial discussion. Now that we are closing in on dates, there seems to be a huge amount of work, and little time and resources. We need a lot of action props that were going to be easy to manage if we were shooting in Challenger, in our own flat. Now that we have shifted the location to Pune, a lot of small little details will have to be worked out completely. I'm hoping that by involving people like Gauri who are based in Pune, I'll be able to manage more than budget permits.

The important job of a director seems to be to make everyone excited in the project, and give it their best.
And the most exciting moment, to hand out scripts that one has laboured on, in solitary confinement, for more than a year, and see words taking physical shape through the interpretations of others'.

Work and more work

When an adult does not have meaningful work, a purpose, she slowly withers away. The work has to be meaningful not by any one else's definition, but satisfy her own soul. For years now, though I was busy, taking care of my home, my child, earning a living in the best way I could, I felt myself shrivelling day by day, wasted. Because I was not making a film, because I was not getting funds for my ideas. I did make a documentary on DV with my own hard-earned savings, but that did not feel quite right. It felt somehow, as if I had cheated, as if I had found a short-cut in the race.

Today, when I have been commissioned by the Children's Film Society to make a film on a miniscule budget, I find myself back in action. I feel as if I have a place in this world, as if I have a voice again.

Work does lend one an inner confidence, which even money cannot. Or love. Atleast for me, work has always been an important factor of my life. Though in the way of most foolish females, I have often let relationships surmount me.

On finally making a film

After a year of waiting and working, the CFSI film is finally happening. The budget is miniscule, and they want more than I set out to give them, but what the hell? It's 10 years since my Institute days, and this is going to be my first feature film. We are used to guerilla film-making, low or no-budgets and I've been clever enough to write a "do-able" script, and not my usual mad-cap over-ambitious ventures.

The trouble is I'm not feeling elated, or anything. So many years of waiting has dulled my nerves. And I've still to realize that yes, I am making the film.