Itchy, mitchy and ghitch

There once was an itch. 

"Arrey rey, what are you saying....there still is THE ITCH"

Ok, ok, lemmi start again...

Well, there's always this itch.

"This is derogatory, how can you say that to an ITCH?"

Grrr...The itch is here, like it has always been

"Now that's slightly acceptable.."

What do you mean 'slightly acceptable'? Do you want me to write an entire 'itch-charit-manas'?

"Wouldn't be bad..."

Can't I ever write in peace......the various voices ask for verification from Vaani...

The many voices in the head - one wants to send an email, another wants to write a letter, the third one tops a list as she stands by the tree and wants to send hawa ko sms...

What on earth is it with these people who have single point agendas in life? What about other agendas, would they feel left out? Haven't you ever felt that when you rub lotion on your right arm, the left one feels so 'un-lotioned'? What's the poor thing's fault? People have these quirks that they will do things a certain way only. What's with following a pattern? Imagine being a left arm? Always 'lotioned' second, never been allowed to feel food in the thali? Never allowed to offer the hawan samagri during a hawan?

"The left hand is impure, you twit!"

But who said that??????

I have this thing against people who have this thing against certain body parts.

For instance, what's wrong with feet? Aren't they a part of your own body, the same flesh and blood. Similarly, what's wrong with nosey-goo (every child can tell you the taste isn't that bad :-) ), potty and susu. Really, what's wrong with all this?

"The voice wiggles her nose."

This can go on and on...and finally land in a ghitch of an argument when the voice moves east and Vaani goes west...

"Oh-ho, wait, why shall I go east, you go there, I'll go west. I like west."

Well...what did I tell ya!

GHITCH!

Control the C, then control the V

This is a small piece by Amole Gupte that I happened to read at an opportune time in my work life!

A stitch in time saves nine

-itch saved mine

About to place the roof

And seal success...

Just then - the itch

To bring down the house of cards

A stitch in time saves nine

-itch saved mine.

Soft leather, bum feels good

Gobbled by good times....

Promptly the itch

To find and to last

A stitch in time saves nine

itch saved mine

Long live the itch! Lusty, lean, restless.

The stone is rolling fine

A stitch in time saves nine

-itch saved mine.

- Amole Gupte in EYE, Indian Express, 6th April, 2008.

Aam aadmi ka kela

"Yeh kya ho raha hai Ranjeet?", Tiku Talsania asked in his characteristic tone.

"Saahab, aam aadmi ka kela ho raha hai", I said.

"Yeh jo hai zindagi!", an old VHS reminded me...

Ever since the Congress took over the charge of the country, and in fact, whenever they've been in power, it has all along been the rattle about the aam aadmi. Initially, the aam aadmi would be the farmer, but over the years, the aam aadmi definition was broadened by them to include a large mass which had Air, Water, Food and Mobile. Then came the next move where the aam aadmi was 'inspired' to be a part of the great economic power of India by investing in the stock market. the aam aadmi thought it is his time to invest and finally make it big - send the kids to foreign institutes, buy a house , get a mid-size car.......Dhish-kyaoon! the bear is running and the bull ran over! the red in the market has washed a large part of savings of the retail investor who had worked hard at saving the small sums he/she had put in...Me and the husband did it too...we carefully followed the advice on business channels - buy bank, dont buy power..blah blah blah. Broke now...Hamara bhi kela ho gaya!

But the point is...shall I pick some up while they're down? :-)

Reverse Swing

Kinjal for me meant my first brush with non-fiction film making. 

It is a short non-fiction film about a young school going, working girl in a working class environment. Largely raising gender and aspiration issues, I used an improvisational film technique to make a reflexive piece of cinema that constantly refers to its own making.

This film gave me so much, that when I actually sat down to write about it, I was blank. Didn't know where to begin. Even the brief synopsis of the film that you'll find written at various places are words from my guide- Milindo Taid's response to it in my 'marksheet'.

How do you write clearly about something so close to you...It was almost like having a baby...the nurturing, the discovery that this beautiful being is yours...

I started with small workshops in Bapunagar, Ahmedabad, India. The only thing I knew at that point was that I wanted to work with and for children for my first documentary project. But what the theme would be, I didn't know...My head throbbed with questions...confusing my heart further...I decided to just stick around and hoped something will become apparent. I remembered Milindo telling me that in order to tell my story through children, I will need children who I can communicate with...I found Kinjal, Bharat and Raju interesting to talk to. They seemed very clear about their thoughts. Kinjal worked in the incense stick factory and was the eldest of the siblings. Bharat and Raju were shoeshine boys who worked in the Heera Market closeby. Many nights of lemon tea...midnight back rubs with Chinnu later, I decided that I will sit down with my camera and these three kids and see what they say...let's explore...

But like with many things in my life, how could this be so simple...Bharat and Raju ran away from home a few days before the shoot (Meena Ben - our lab incharge would've killed me if I changed my assigned shoot dates!!). So, now it had to be Kinjal only. Her parents weren't very forthcoming initially. But the kid sure used her charms and the mother, grandma and uncle agreed to come on camera. The reluctant father decided to give it a miss. I respect him for that.  In the film one does miss his thoughts and fundas. 

The granny was also a tough one. She did not see a point in being shot if it was not going to be on television. But she obliged after a lot of begging. I think Kinjal puts down my motives better in one of her lines when I ask her 'who do you will watch the film', she said, 'your teacher who has to grade you' !! I was surprised at the honesty and innocence with which she solved my dilemma at that point. I always used to think, who am I making this film for...Kinjal not only surprised me but showed me the mirror. She has done this not once,but many a times through the shoot...stripped my motives as a filmmaker but naked for the camera to see. She literally did turn the camera towards me.

‘Kinjal’ has been to the following festivals:

1. VIBGYOR International Film Festival, Thrissur, Kerala. May 2007.

2. Fringe Festival, India Habitat Centre, New Delhi, 26-27th December, 2006.

3. 3 Screens Film Festival, organized by India Social Forum, New Delhi.

4. National Competition section at MIFF 2006 (Mumbai International Film Festival)

5. Focus India section of Signs 2005, a festival of documentaries organized by Federation of Film Societies of India.

You can see the film online at: 

http://www.buzz18.com/videos/videos/kinjal/6002

When Anjali met Rahul...it rained

It was simply the mad love for the common Indian person's cinema that I started working with groups of girls in urban slums. I thought that if I speak the language of cinema to talk about development, it'll make sense. And I was glad that it did. All of us got together each afternoon and wrote to our heart's content. We followed no logic, no social norms nothing. Our stories were born free.  16yr old Rukhsana's Anjali could fall in love with Rahul and run away from home and live in the hills. 12yr old Rajjo's pink lace frock could make her fly and help disabled kids. The dirty dishes they do everyday, the sneering eyes of the neighbours, the eve-teasers on way to school, nothing, nothing stopped their imagination when they thought of writing a film story. About 30 girls got together and wrote about 11 stories and Abhi Kahaan was born.

 

In the film, Babli runs away from home on the day that the the prospective groom’s family is expected to come and meet her. The family is disgraced. The neighbours talk ill about her character. The local news channel, ‘Khadar Khabrein’ is abuzz with Pinky Reporter giving minute-by-minute account of the goings on. Babli returns only to meet the parent’s wrath at home. But she is determined to have her way- complete her education, get a job and prove herself to the world.

 

It currently awaits distribution by UNFPA, India.

P.S.: Nikheel designed this poster, Nitisha did the 'Khadar Khabrein' logos, DDS designed the end credits and Chris animated them.

Streaming....cinema

I can't remember when, how and where I started this not so secret love affair with the moving image...My choice of films as a kid would not be acceptable today as respectful film viewing by any standards in any film school (unless of course Govinda, Mandakini, Kimi Katkar, Anil Kapoor, Madhuri Dixit, Jackie Shroff, Meenakshi Sheshadri, Amitabh Bachhan, Dharmendra, Manmohan Shetty and Ramesh Sippy decide to start a film school!!!) The 80' s were a fun time in cinema, when no logic prevailed and every scene was a separate item that had not connect to the other and that is when I got addicted to it. For reasons that I can't remember now, I loved it. I used to copy designs of frilly dresses of actresses in my sketchbook and ask my granny to make them for me!

Watching a film with me and dad used to be quite a torture for the rest of the clan because we would always keep pronouncing the next shot, the next dialogue, the next line in the song. It became a lot of fun slowly because we got the hang of getting it right...really, it doesn't take much to guess what comes after dil, pyaar, iqraar, beqarar, tanhayi, parchhayi, sanam, kasam,  jaaneman-jaane-jigar and the rest!

Of course it took a lot of courage to say that out loud in film class.  I was glad that my fiction teacher, Arun Gupta said that he did like 'Main Hoon Na', otherwise I would kill myself everynight, trying to like the works of international greats like Tarkovsky, Fellini, etc...Not saying that I disapprove of them or something, but to be honest it took sometime to get over my bollywood-ness and love the 'other'. 

Now, I am glad I did.

But would I call myself a convert....hmmm....

Think thank thunk

It was many years ago that my dad made me believe (to humour himself of course!!) that it is not 'good, better, best'. The reality is simpler than what they teach you at school. In real life though - you  progress as - 'good, gooder, goodest'. And to this I said - well, then what about - 'think, thank and thunk'. My proud father said - 'well there you go, you got it!'

I lost a few marks in my English test. My mother wasn't amused. Dad and I still can't stop laughing at it. And I always thunk that I should thank him for the think.

Staring at the ceiling and thinking they say is such a fruitless thing that only jobless people engage in.

Hmm...interesting this joblessness...I must say...fertile...the tile under my feet is powder blue...a bubble just crept out of it and stepped on my toe...weightless...hmm...the world reminds me - jobless...pointless? another one steps on top of it and slowly I find myself floating inside a bubble of powder blue bubbles...the powder blue tile would've been the magic floating carpet under the bubbles..I think...is this magic real? the magicest moments wait for another pointless pointer that points to the pointest to think a thunk that they can thank for being so really magical...