Some Tandoori Thai

Loud woman on phone: "Hey, there's this Thai actor, wants to make a Hindi film. We have to first mount 5 action sequences. Yes, those are the highlights of the film. Story - we will think of something around them. The story should be something which is very low-production value. They want to spend all the money on the action scenes. Those will be the high points of the film. What do you think? Should we do it? It sounds very exciting."

So, now you know how films are made here in Bumm-Bumm-Bholeland.

P-Bapu and I were barely able to stop ourselves from choking on the Tandoori Bekti and the Aloo Poshto at 'Oh Calcutta'.

Later, I said: "Isn't this Andheri West culture too much?"
P-Bapu said: " Maybe she was only pretending to speak to some one on the phone. You know, telling everyone in the restaurant, how busy she is."
I said, gloomily: "And maybe, they were really planning a film around 5 action sequences."
P-Bapu said: "Yeah."

Who says you can write your own destiny?

Every day I try to forget 'Aamir' and every day, the film seems to come up in discussion, the papers or as a TV spot. For over a week, I've been trying to tell myself, it's only a film. But try as I might, I cannot calm down the negative vibes it has evoked in me.

The fact that it is shot in Chor Bazar, Bhendi Bazar, Dongri, the areas that I grew up in, where I still have family, where my family still has family and friends, makes it difficult for me to view the film objectively. In my childhood, these areas were mohallahs, not ghettoes, as they have become now.

And I wonder, how did these traditional community enclaves become ghettoes? Is it due to overcrowding and a breakdown of infrastructure? Is it due to the takeover by communal and criminal elements? Or is it due to a changed perception of a community?

The director of 'Aamir' professes that the film is the story of a common person, and how easily a common man today can become a victim of elements beyond his control.

The dangerous part of the film is how every common man from Andheri to Dongri, in fact, seem to be part of the terrorist network, connected to Pakistan, actively a part of the terrorist nexus, or at least passively aware of it. From the taxi-driver at the airport to the seemingly friendly prostitute in the dingy lodge in Dongri, from restaurant owner to waiter to STD phone booth woman, from the manager of the lodge, petty gangsters to junk-yard workers, and countless other nameless, unidentified faces, they form a malevolent, hostile and inescapable trap for any innocent.

'Aamir' perpetrates the worst myths about Indian Muslims.

1. That most of them live in ghettoes.
2. That they live in filth and squalor.
3. That they do nothing to come out of it.
4. That they eat and butcher meat, and that enhances their inherent violence.
5. That they are more attached to the larger Islamic community rather than their own country.
6. That they get a huge amount of money from outside to fund their terrorist activities here.
7. That most of them are connected somehow with the terrorists or the underworld. Actively or passively.
8. That an outsider cannot say who or who may not be involved.
9. And of course, that anyone, who makes any attempt to get out of the larger community will still at the end be subsumed by it, becoming part of the terrorist nexus due to circumstance, or become a victim to it.

These are as absurd as the myths that all Gujaratis are right-wing Hindu fundamentalists, all Biharis are thieves and crooks, all Maharashtrians are lazy, unfriendly and insular, all Goans are amiable drunks and all Sikhs are either fools or trouble-makers.

The trouble with the film is that it is very well-shot. Anyone, who has anything at all to do with film-making in Mumbai will know how difficult it is to execute a shoot like that, given the crowds and traffic here.

That combined with the narrative form of a man chasing against time to save his loved ones, in fact, does not give any space for the protagonist Aamir, to be well-defined as a character. The one dialogue that makes his stand clear, that he believes that each person can make their own destiny, that they can pull themselves out of their circumstances, gets lost in the thrill of the chase. And of course, by the countering dialogue of The Bad Man who asks if this is the destiny (that is trying to save his family) is what he has chosen.

The Bad Man however gets enough time to repeat ad nauseam his stand on the Muslim issue, spending a lot of precious time haranguing Aamir about Islam, his responsibilities to the community, his infidelity in having a Hindu girl friend, not caring enough to send money to fund terrorist activities, and so on. To the extent, that it gets one wondering whether The Bad Man is more keen on teaching Aamir a fundamentalist lesson in Islam, or he wants him to get on with the job.

Was The Bad Man seriously hoping to convert Aamir to the terrorist cause, by kidnapping his family, having him wade through shit, not letting him drink water (a very un-Islamic thing to do, by the way, because not giving someone a glass of water when they ask for it, is tantamount to a sin in Muslim households), having him beaten up??

In the same vein, it is not clear why Aamir, an innocent and reluctant man, has to be emotionally blackmailed into putting a bomb in a bus, after a complicated, convoluted journey through the city, when it would be the easiest thing in the world for any one of The Bad Man's minions to walk into a crowded bus with a bomb, leave it there, and walk away, without any trace.

But of course, The Bad Man is a dark, bald, fat, meat-eating monster who shuns light, and sits in a dark room all day. He exudes menace when he holds up a kid, and then proceeds to beat up a toy monkey. So perhaps, one can expect only illogical planning from him.

All work, no fun

Dhanno comes back home after a 8-hour day in school, lugging her 14 kilo bag in the afternoon sun. She is sweaty, hot, tired, cranky. She doesn't take too kindly to my invitation to fool around a bit.

She looks at me, snuggled up in bed with a book in my hand, and says angrily, "I am tired. I've been working."

I say, "I've been working too since you went to school."

She raises an eyebrow.

"After you left, I spent about an hour and a half, taking care of the plants, shifting them around, and what-not."

"That's your hobby."

"Then I worked on my script the entire morning."

"That's fun."

"Then I cooked some chicken for lunch."

"You like doing that. It's not like you have to do chemistry. Which is so-o-o boring."

"I'm not asking you to study chemistry. I'm not asking you to go to school. In fact, I've been asking you to leave school for the last 5 years."

She looks at me as if I am a hopeless case, and walks off. Nothing can convince her that what I do is work, unless I look more miserable about it.

bright sparks in dharavi

We were hoping to meet some girls in Dharavi. Bright, ambitious girls with plans. I call up D who works part-time as a guide at Reality Tours, and lives in Kumbharwada in Dharavi. D's family has lived in Dharavi for a few generations. The potters were one of the first communities to be relocated from the heart of the city, to the marshland used by unscrupulous, lazy builders as an illegal dumping ground, to save on trucking costs to Deonar. Around 75 years ago.

Turning off from the 90-ft road into Kumbharwada, once again you are face-to-face with the wonder that is Mumbai city, small villages, communes, areas with a life, identity, architecture all their own. Kumbharwada could be a small, crowded village anywhere in the country, with a river supplied by imagination. Small houses, small courtyards, heaps of pots everywhere.

D's house is tiny, a room for parents, D and 3 sisters. His father doesn't make pots anymore but sells them in a small shop in Vile Parle. His uncles and other relatives continue to make pots.

D's youngest sister, in the Xth Std., wants to be a doctor. She thinks it's great how doctors are respected, worshipped like God. She wouldn't mind being worshipped. She's naughty, restless, prone to picking up fights with her sisters just to have a nice ruckus going on at home. The older one wants to get a good job, somewhere, any job, after her BCom. The eldest is away at work already.

D wants to do his MBA, specialize in Human Resources. This is an ambition he has nurtured in the last 3 years of his interactions with different people as a guide. He says he's an average student, and has to work hard to get decent grades. But he's been told by happy clients that he's good with people, that he could do well in HR. He wants to get a corporate job with a MNC, with all the perks, house, car, and move out of Dharavi. If his father agrees to move out. But he'd like to keep this house of his ancestors for life, for remembrance.

D says it won't be easy for him to get a student loan, because he lives in Dharavi. So he's making sure he saves up, with his part time work. Perhaps some of his clients will help him, as they have promised.

We also meet D's neighbor, a girl, who's been working since she was 15, cooking at homes in Bandra. Laughing all the time she talks, she only hints at a father who can't work, and a brother who won't. Mother and daughter manage the house. She's learnt to make pasta and pizza for her employers, but doesn't think anyone at home would want to eat those. Anyway, she doesn't have all the ingredients at home.

D thinks the development plans for Dharavi will make those with small houses happy. They'll get flats to live in. But what will happen to those with small industries, the potters, the tanners? They won't be able to work in apartment flats. Where will they go? Where will his community go?

The youngest scamp asks us what a documentary is. My colleague explains, "Like the programs you see on Discovery, you know, on wild animals and all." My colleague is not being rude, just struggling with her Hindi giving up after a long hard day. I think however, she's not far off the mark. We make documentaries about people who to us, are as strange, unfamiliar, as wild animals. The only difference is that we need to treat the wild animals with more respect, keeping our distance, in case they attack us, or run away. With people, particularly poor people, we can walk into their space, sometimes with little regard, for their privacy. We turn our cameras on people living, working, bathing, sleeping on the roads, sometimes without even a courteous by-your-leave.

After many years, I feel drawn to a people, like I did in Kutch. Perhaps it's the way they treat the cameras. They don't list their complaints, tear their hair, beat their chests, roll out the tears, like many unfortunately do, seeking attention for their real griefs in a trivial fashion. They just go about doing their work. The people at Dharavi are tough, hard working, but also graceful in their ability to negotiate their hardships without much ado, with dignity.

This is a good article on Dharavi, How the other half lives.
And some good pictures here of Kumbharwada.

who wants a girl?

A couple of days ago, more than 50 female foetuses were found outside a hospital in Punjab.

People have different reasons for doing away with unborn babies - a career, money, because they already have enough children, or whatever. Abortion is legal in India, so how can one question the motives of why a couple chooses to abort a baby?

Even if these parents who chose to do away with unwanted girls had been forced to have the baby girls, they would have made the girls' lives miserable. The girl child would grow up cursed everyday for being a burden, neglected, malnourished, poorly educated and married off to the first available male. After that, she would most likely be harrassed for dowry and burnt. Better that she was killed by her parents before birth rather than her life increasing suffering on this earth.

But perhaps, one of the girls would have turned out to be a rebel and changed the society she lived on it on its head, and improved the lot for all other girls like her? Who knows? I've often looked at families and said to myself, "I hope no girl is born in this family."

Girls should be born only into families that deserve them, that will appreciate the gift they have been given through a girl child.

No law can work to protect the girl child, or the female foetus as long as parents don't want girl children. Laws cannot be imposed from the outside, but have to come from within the requirements of our society, and our society doesn't need more women. So be it.

those guys back there

Teja called early in the morning, from Rudrapur. He doesn't do that usually, knowing we may be sleeping in late. He was planning to abandon the shoot and come back home. Since he's never taken such an extreme measure in the 12 years of his professional career, and is generally, an easy-going chap, I know he must have been pushed against the wall pretty bad.

His director has been displaying her film-making skills by being rude to all and sundry. Throwing temper tantrums on the set is not an uncommon stress-buster for directors. Of course, it comes at the cost of giving everyone else stress and often, humiliation.

 
Teja dared to tell her not to talk to the camera attendants "like that". Which displeased her. Which led to an exchange of bitter words. Etc, etc.

The light-boys and camera attendants work the hardest on a set, where actually everyone, even actors usually, work very hard. A shoot is physically grueling for all of us, but I cringe with shame when I watch the hardships we put our light-boys and camera attendants to. Their work is as arduous as the construction worker's. And of course, here, in India, they do it all without adequate safety measures, no safety or health insurance, no extra hardship allowances. The only saving grace is they do have strong unions which at least ensure that they get paid on a daily basis, even if they don't always get paid the official minimum rate.

They also begin work 2-3 hours earlier than the rest of the crew, loading and unloading equipment, and similarly pack up 2-3 hours later than everyone else. Since, in India, there's no concept of a minimum 12 hour break between call times on a shooting schedule, they are often blessed with only 3-4 hours of sleep. On location, they have a slightly better time, because at least they don't have to travel huge Mumbai-scale distances, to and from home. But then they are usually, accommodated like cattle in a room, sometimes even 15 people sharing one toilet and sleeping on the floor. And they are flogged to death.

Usually, on a set, a cinematographer is the only person with the power who can stand up for these guys. Assistant directors' hearts may bleed, with sympathy, because they are dogs-bodies as well, but who on earth is going to listen to that pitiable breed?

A lot of my cinematographer friends from the Film & Television Institute, India have got into trouble on set, with directors, producers and production people about ill-treatment of workers. Needless to say, they are not liked, and certainly, not called back for other jobs.

On international documentary shoots in India, usually the camera man and the sound recordist lug their own equipment. The director, and researcher/fixer will pitch in to help. I always try and get a driver who'll be happy to join in. Of course, the crew will never shoot day in and day out. Call times are at 12 hour intervals. There is a break after 5 days of shoot. No one expects them to shoot the day they fly into the country. (Teja and the camera attendants travelled to Delhi on a 4a.m. flight, which meant they'd been awake the whole night, and were shooting by 8 a.m., through the day. After which they travelled for another 6-7 hours to the next location, to begin again the next morning).

And even to come to glorious India, foreign crew gets paid a hardship allowance for the heat and diarrhea they may have to suffer. And there's no way they will take unnecessary risks with their safety. The executive producer will keep them away from even innocuous dangers like the edge of the road, for fear of heavy lawsuits, in case of an accident.

But even foreign-funded projects made now, with a mix of Indian and international crew, get by with treating the Indian crew differently. Since we set examples in rudeness and exploitation, we do get treated accordingly. Of course, with the desperation born out of the need to just survive in this madly competitive world, it's easier to ignore injustice, to not even notice in fact, the people milling around at the back. They are after all, only menial labour. If one of them falls off the catwalk, or gets killed doing a stunt without a safety net, or does not sleep for two days, or wears unwashed clothes because no one's thought of his laundry on a 15 day schedule, what does it matter? There'll always be several other nameless, faceless guys hanging around, waiting for the job.

Women Writing in India

I've been reading this amazing anthology of Women Writers in India, from 600 B.C. to the present (1991 to be exact). Edited by Susie Tharu and K. Lalita, the anthology in two volumes, is very well-researched. Because most of the excerpts are from Indian language writing, and beautifully translated, they brought to me a literature that I had otherwise no real access to. Sometimes, more interesting than the actual excerpt itself, is the biographical essay accompanying each piece, a little bit about the author, her times, the context in which she wrote, how her work was recieved and who her contemporaries were. These short biographical sketches pieced together a social history. It made me realize how many freedom fights were fought over the years, how many were won, and how many still remain to be fought.

In a lot of communities, reading and writing for women were caste taboos. One of the most evocative pieces is an excerpt from the simply written autobiography, in Bengali "Amar Jiban" by Rassundara Devi. Written in 1876, it is the first autobiography written in Bengali. The author was an ordinary housewife, who taught herself to read and write in secret, and her account of how she learned to read is one of the most moving pieces of social statement. The anthology is replete with examples of women who broke social barriers again and again to reveal their extraordinary intelligence.

And the battles were not always against the obvious evils, those were relatively easy to fight - but the subtle, subconscious battle against gender discrimination existed even in the past. Women did not accept their subservient roles as silently and placidly as one believes. What amazes me not that women did write so extensively then but the fact that for ages, women have written about freedom, about their yearning for their individual beings, freedom from social fetters.

In fact, the first polemic against gender discrimination, a 40 page tirade "A Comparison of Men and Women " was written and published in a Marathi newspaper, by Tarabai Shinde, in 1882, as a response against the death sentence passed on an unwed mother. This was almost a century before Simone de Beauvoir wrote her acclaimed "The Second Sex".

Check out this link if you want to know more.http://www.english-literature.org/essays/indian-women-writers.html