Song of the Little Road



It's been more than 50 years since this movie is released. It has won countless international awards, hailed as the new face of Indian cienema and considered as one of the massive debuts in the film history. Outlook celebrated it's 50th year with a cover story. In a small measure, my friends and I did a screening of this movie on its anniversary day.

From Roger Ebert to Amitav Ghosh have written about it. But somehow, I always felt what is written about Pather Panchali is just not enough. So I decided to go with my single cent.

The motivation to write came when my Bhavan's classmate wanted to know 'Who the hell is this Ray' and I gave him the DVD. He sat on it for a few days before developing the courage to watch it. And once watched, he was spellbound. The movie swept him off and he was so mesmerised that he is still talking and messaging me about it. And now he has begun ransacking my Ray collection. Precisely at this juncture, I thought I must write about it.

Ebert used the word 'magical'. I guess that's about describes the film. Sadly, Pather Panchali stands far above the rest of the Indian trash that gets packaged as 'movies'. There's only one thing Pather Panchali failed to do. Inspire the rest of India to follow suit. If the rest of India, especially the Bollywood and the influential southern industries had travelled in the little road laid by Ray, Indian film industry would have become the most influential one in the world. Perhaps Satyajit Ray has set a huge quality parameter for the rest to scale.

But then such masters aren't born every year. Even in Bengal, the works of talented directors such as Rituparno or Gautam Ghosh hasn't reached even the surface of Ray's range.

The movie ran for 36 weeks in New York and was the longest running foriegn film there. From Ebert to Sridhar everyone could identify Harihar, Indir Takrun and the most energetic and enterprising, Durga. Yet, the movie is very Bengal and the spirit is very Indian. The poverty of Harihars never affects the joy and the playfulness of Durga and Apu. And there's never before in the Indian movie history one has seen a performance of Indir Takrun's magnitude. The ultra-thin sensitivity Ray so carefully weaves around the characters is so touching that you simply sit with an approving smile on your lips and (ironically) tears flowing in your eyes.

My favorite scene is where the Aunt Indir returns to Sarbajya's house after being abandoned by other cousin and Sarbajya, while having her lunch, yells at her to leave the house. When Indir requests that she drinks a litlle water before leaving, quietly ignores her presence while the Aunt fetches water from the pot. The empathy, anger, poverty, helplessness and old age is so intense and yet so sensitive that you pinch yourself to believe that you're watching an Indian film. Even in that moment of despair and hopelessness, Indir never forgets to water her favourite plant. That's movie making at its best.

Ravi Shankar's music, except interrupting immensely when Durga dies, is very subdued and very original. Considering that he composed the flute theme without even having seen the rushes speaks volumes of Ray's conviction.

Fifty years on, the film's magic has not waned. In my opinion, Pather Panchali, which means The Song of the Little Road, easily takes the No. 1 slot in the Indian top ten to become the greatest Indian movie ever made. Although I have not seen much of other Indian movies, I'm sure the movie justifies my arrogance.

If you're a film buff and have not yet seen Pather Panchali, you're missing something.

Metro Shining

Recently my friend applied for a car loan. He is from a village in Karnataka and his parents own land and mango farms there. He lives in Chennai and works for an IT firm.

His loan application was rejected. That might come as a surprise to many of you considering the amount of spam calls you get from various banks. He wasn't given the loan because he didn't have residence proof. When he explained that he is actually not a native of Chennai, they asked him to add his father as a co-applicant. He travelled to his village, gathered the necessary documents, completed the formalities and submitted it back to the bank.

The loan is still not approved. The bank was confused about the fact that he is from a village. (I don't like using exclamations, but this statement deserves one) They don't have banking network in that place so they can't conduct the verification. It's been almost a month since he applied for the loan and is still waiting frustratingly.

That brings me to this thought. Aren't people in rural areas not eligible for loans? Recall those talks about loan formalities being made easy by the banks, hoardings screaming in your face about 'Spot Approval in Ten Minutes' and those endless, irritating phone calls you receive from the bank associates during month ends. They are perhaps only for the people living Chennai, Bangalore, Mumbai and Kolkata. The multinational banks and the wannabe Indian private banks consider that a trainee programmer in an IT company is more imporant than a farmer owning mango farms. If you're from Nalgonda, Perumanam, or Athikunte, you are not eligible for any loans even if you own a house or farm or land there. All you need is a 650 sqft flat in Indira Nagar and it'll be valued more than two acres in Thenali.

So in a nutshell, the reforms and capitalization is not for the rural India. Those much debated and sought-after FDI inflows are meant only to populate the metros making them more affluent and in turn widening the chasm between the urban and rural India.

Sometime I wonder how is it that the rural India resists that terrible urge to revolt.

Water and Indian small towns

Two separate news pieces offered fodder for this piece.

This requires certain background. Chennai has been facing water scarcity for the past six years. There's no rain and our waterbeds have been drying up due to public sucking up the ground water.

The first news:

The government recently announced a plan of sourcing water from a not-so-far township-village called Veeranam for Chennai. Then came huge protests from the farmers of Veeranam and all the nearby villages. Since sourcing water from these villages will greatly affect the agriculture, they termed it as Chennai drinking the blood of the farmers.

Then came the chief minister's announcement that she's dropping the project. She is respecting the sentiments of the farmers and vox populi vox Dei. But there'll be lot of alternate arrangements made for Chennai so the Chennai people don't have to relocate during summer.

The second news:

The same farmers held a protest rally and meeting a week before this announcement, in which one farmer leader suggested the need to reduce the water requirement for Chennai. There a floating population of 15 lakh in Chennai. Like shifting high court, why not implement other measures?

The news ends and the views begin.

If you've noticed, the farmer and the CM spoke from two distinctly different angles. The CM didn't want people relocating in Summer whereas the farmer wanted Chennai population reduced.

I agree with the farmer. For a long time, I have been holding this view that the governments should stop focusing on state capitals and work on developing other districts and small towns. Chennai beach gets beautification drive, metro railways, six lane highway, and Nokia manufacturing unit.

So what happens? Trichy, Madurai, Dindigul, and various other unknown district headquarters get nothing. They remain poor with dusty, pot-holed roads. People from these places continue to relocate to Chennai, making the city more crowded and water-starved, and the rest of Tamil Nadu, further impoverished.

This applies to entire India. If you have seen Bangalore, you may not want to see Hubi, Dharwad, Bellary and Hospet. In case, you were wondering, these are the other districts of Karnataka. Bellary is a district headquarters and steel town (Jindal), still doesn't even have a covered bus stand. Hyderabad which is angling for an F1 track, cannot boast of a decent Warangal, Cuddappa, Thenali, and Nalgonda. Most of Cuddappa doesn't even have tarred roads.

My question. Why not shift secretariat out of Chennai, Hyderabad and Bangalore and install it in a nearby small town? If Nokia wants to come to Tamil Nadu, why not ask them to set up in Coimbatore and offer sops if they do? After all, coimbatore does have some decent engineering colleges for Nokia to source. There are lots of Coimbatoreans working in various IT companies. Hold talks with Infosys, CTS, and others to encourage them to set up bases in Comibatore. I'm sure the Coimbatoreans in Infosys will be happy to relocate to their native land if they can retain their job.

In a very short span, the urban population can be reduced considerably thereby reducing their water and other infrastructural needs and in turn encouraging the other small towns to grow.

Vox Populi any one?

Poverty and the multiplex movies

Before reading this piece, please read Swati's response to my previous blog. I'm not going to argue with Swati in this blog. I've never argued with her. Apart from admiring how beautifully she puts across her ideas, I have a few addendums.

I was not drawing any conclusions with Hindu's new design. But this has been my nagging question for a long time. The answer is perhaps what Swati has suggested somewhere inside her reply. Poverty has taken out the sense of beauty and leisure from our lives. We seem to be quite busy earning our dhal and chaval. In Maslow's hierarchy of needs, there's a three layer of gap between physiological and congnitive needs. Congnitivity is where the appreciation of novelty falls under. That's quite a distance to bridge.

That tendency is perhaps what is reflecting in our dirty pavements, torn, metal pieces hanging out of public transports, apathetic education system, graceless, insensitive movies, and drab, sexist novels.

Interestingly, to support this phenomena, any slick movie with a designer presentation is quickly termed as 'multiplex movie'. This is to indicate that such flicks are meant for people who have enough money to worry about gay relationships and the problem of the party culture in the cities.

The Great Indian Chaos

Controversy is becoming the middle name of this blog. Anything I happen to state affirmatively stirs up a fresh war of words. That's nice to know because that indicates that people have their own strong convictions.

Coming to today's topic, people from South India who subscribe to The Hindu must have seen the new layout design the 126 year old newpapers flaunts. Starting 14th April, The Hindu sports a new look and feel designed by Mario Garcia, an internationally acclaimed newspaper designer.

Garcia and his staff worked for months to come out with a design that focuses on whitespaces, functionalism, pastel shades and sans serif fonts. The result is a liberated, free flowing format that's not only pleasing to the eyes, but also to the soul.

Well, the idea of this blog is not just to share this news. I liked the new look to the extent that I was eagerly looking forward to the next day's edition. If you keep April 13th and 14th editions together, you will know what Garcia has done and appreciate his 'pure design' principles. Today, Hindu truly has an international outlook.

This brings me to my the nagging question. Are Indians not good in design at all? Do we need an 'international designer' to come and spruce up a century old newspaper? I know I'm courting controversies by saying this and before you minimize this window and begin tapping angry words from your inbox, please take a deep breadth. I'm not saying we are not good. Recenly I went to Fab India and was awed at the designs that are distinctly Indian. But the legacy of ethnicity cannot be boasted as the evolution in our design tastes. For instance, barring the Indian master Ray, our movies and books still sport western design attributes. A pleasing, coherent design attempts seem to be rare to come by.

Why should Hindu hire a western designer to spruce up its looks? I know because our designers could never have performed the Garcia feat. As a nation, we seem to lack a coherent identity. For instance, our streets don't have a consistent look and feel. Even in the upmarket urban India, the houses in a single street look quite botched up.

To explain this further, the pavements in a broad road are not continuous and suddenly become quite narrow or even vanish. What has the designer of the pavement thought will happen to people walking on it when it narrows or vanishes? Will people start walking on the road? If yes, then why have pavement in some parts and why not do away with them completely? I've seen and walked on the pavements of developed countries where the pavements never abruptly end. They guide you right through the end. In TV, I was watching a star night falicititating a veteran film director. There were dances, songs and speeches by famous film personalities. People goofed up in group choreographed sequences, singers lost meter, drummers went faster and glibly slowed down to catch up with the singers, speakers who were given two minutes took twenty. Nobody stopped them because 'he is a big personality'. Interestingly nobody bothered.

Being consistent, meticulous and quality conscious is what perhaps our schools need to train our children on. Above all, the need to be original in thoughts and deeds comes along, then we can expect something substantial from our future generations.

That's the point and now let the mails and comments roll! I'm already ducking spotting a rotten tomato being hurled by Devika!

Business of creativity

Since there's nothing to write about, and the pressure is building for me to write something, I'll write about writing.

Actually it's not just about writing but generally about creativity. I've just put down Michael Crichton's State of Fear in the middle. There's a pun in the term 'put down' because paperbacks are supposed to be 'unputdownable'. Michael Crichton usually comes to his main theme in less than five pages. In 'State of Fear', I couldn't figure out where he was heading even after 75 pages except knowing that the book is somewhat about global warming.

Another Michael Crichton fan told me that perhaps he was under pressure to write something. It's been quite a while since he did 'Prey' so the agent and the publisher must be putting on a lot of pressure.

I can compare it to the pressure that's on Jayakanthan. For non-Tamils reading this, Jayakanthan is a celebrated Tamil writer who recently won Gyanapeeth Award, the highest literary award in India. Jayakanthan stopped writing some years ago but there was a lot of pressure on him to write. So he wrote -after some eight years- a novel. Now critics are tearing it apart saying 'Not in the vintage Jayakanthan mould'!

I see the same thing happening the world over. If not for the pressure, I feel Jackson would not have done the Invincible that turned invisible. Bacchan wouldn't have done Mruthyudada that killed his career before he turned a phoenix.

Everywhere, the urge to be creative is being overridden by the commercial need to meet the expectations of agents, fans, publishers and the sellers. I read recently that when he made Kanchanjunga, Satyajit Ray heard comments that its very 'un-Rayish'.

Who's to define these things and why shouldn't the creators breach them? I find these pressures on creators very unfair and sad. We have become so used to project management in our workplace that we consider even composing a symphony as 'a project'. Alternatively, we see lesser creators churning out assembly line products (such as Varma and Kamal) and we expect the same from others.

I felt very sad that Crichton succumbed (if he did) to pressure from the publishers. But I'm surprised to see it being touted as the bestseller and now won't be surprised if Warner Bros films it, encouring him to write another.

And is this what we call the vicious cycle that these creators fall into when they become famous?

Plagiarism, Redefined

Niharika, one of the regular followers of this blog, wrote to me confronting my views on Mani Ratnam and Co. She said Mani Ratnam actually 'did' a favour by bringing Amorres Perros to Andipatti. How else would people have known about such movies, is what she had to say.

Since many people with whom I hold this discussion seem to feel the same way, I thought it's time I clarified my stand. Here I go.

To begin with, for the uninitiated, Amorres Perros is the Latin American, Oscar nominated original of Ayudha Ezhuthu aka Yuva.

I have no problem in Mani Ratnam taking Amorres Perros to Andipatti provided he 'tells' them that Ayudha Ezhuthu 'is' Amorres Perros. He doesn't. The movie is still 'Written and Directed by Mani Ratnam'. Nobody knew 'Anbe Sivam' is 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles'. I didn't know till Siddharth told me. So what are we talking about taking things to Andipatti? It's like me grabbing your car, driving my girlfriend around and telling her that I bought it. It's not only stealing, it's a despicable behaviour.

Hollywood does the same but differently. They buy the rights, give the necessary credits and then use the idea. If Ju-on does well in Japan, it gets remade as 'The Grudge' directed by Takashi Shimishu! If Amorres Perros does well, the director is given a Hollywood film to do (21 Grams). When you buy the rights, you give credits to that person and hence the creator gets his money and the world recognizes him as the original brain. Such a practice creates a very health society where a lot of ideas and knowledge flourish.

Lots of ideas and knowledge flourish in Hollywood because they give that credit. A healthy society is where the original talent is recognized and respected. In such a society everyone aspires to creativity. In such an environment, actually both good and bad ideas thrive. But I'd say a scenario of good and bad original ideas are better than only good but stolen ideas. We always lead a second-hand life because as a society, we don't appreciate originality.

That's my point.

Breaking News

For those who wonder, here's the news. The script for the short film is almost ready and we're onto the casting now. We are thinking of a not-so-novel idea of putting up a poster at Landmark and asking the aspiring actors to email.

Some sneak-in info for the gossip-hunger ears. The short-film is 15 minute long and is titled 'Fear'. Precisely 'Bayam' in Tamil. And yes, it's a Tamil film with English sub-titles. It explores some unfounded fear we once-in-a-while experience out of our own imaginations. The point is, what if your imagination is real?

The happy news is the name for our production banner is ready. It's called Down To Moon Productions. I let you folks derive the meaning for this. If not, I'll explain it in the next blog.

As of now, the logo cration for the production banner is in progress.

The deadline for the film is May 17th. That's the last date for the Las Angeles Film Festival.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Enforced Writing

I receive mails from the readers of my blog that I write regularly. While this is quite a overwhelming feeling that people look forward to what I write, it has certain practical constraints. I don't blog for a living, though I'd love to. And I do not consider blog as my diary the way most blogs are treated. I hardly write about my life or my friends. It took some time for me to realise that writing about what is happening in my life is of no concern to others.

On the other hand, my reflections on what feel about certain life events made sense. That coupled with my opinions on various things from movies to books to current affairs is what I see blogging is all about. While I assure some of my readers that I'll strive to write everyday, I request them not to be upset if I can't post something on certain mornings.

Nevertheless, please keep sending feedback, as mails, as comments or coffee sessions.

Bharatiya Nari

This one ranks at the top among the many mind-numbing cliches that Indians are fond of. I recently read a cover story about how the Indian women perform exceedingly well in all the fields from arts, science, communication technology, education and what have you. They are asserting themselves firmly, demanding their space and last but not the least, are equally demanding in their sex life.

I differ. What or in which part of India this survey or the cover story based on I may not know. Perhaps some select pockets of Mumbai may suit that specific journalist's appropriation. The rest of India? Well, even in the Indian urban scenario, (I'm talking about Delhi, Bangalore, Hyderabad, et al) the Indian woman has to struggle to gain her space. Worse still, categorically refused the space.

Let me explain. As Shaila, my friend accuses me, I'm quite fond of examples. When was the last time you saw a woman-oriented movie? I don't know much about TV soups but all I hear is about women's domestic problems being portrayed in a heart-wrenching drama. In the workplace, a career woman is still frowned upon and some of my own friends wear their male-chauvinism in their sleeves.

That a woman is still a glamour object in the movies, that a women magazine talks more about cocconut soufle recipe, that a woman still quits her job and follows her husband, that most of our workplaces still lack day-care centers talk volumes about our attitude towards women.

Virginity is still worshipped. widow-marriage is still a taboo in our movies. The weight of divorce falls more on women. Still a woman can't smoke in public places (Bangalore and Mumbai an exception). The rape cases are still talked in hushed tones, if they're ever talked at all. Most of the guys can't conceive of a female boss (My friend Mahesh hates this idea with relish). Still strangely and almost in medieval style, our heroes in the movies talk at length about the duty and responsibility of a woman in upholding our culture, by wearing traditional attires, by worshipping the mangalsutra, by obeying her husband, by giving birth to and bringing up his children.

Some emancipation this.

Million Dollar Baby

Cast: Clint Eastwood, Hilary Swank, Morgan Freeman Direction: Clint Eastwood Music: Clint Eastwood

By talking anything about it, I run into a danger of revealing the plot of the movie and I sincerely dislike that idea. Four Academy awards, innumerable rave reviews, 173 on 190 positive reviews from Rotten Tomatoes and Roger Ebert calling it the 'best movie of the year' in its premier evening. Your expectations are bound to soar. More importantly, despite my pre-conceived hatred towards this movie, I must grudgingly accept that it's a very well made film.

Clint Eastwood found his niche in his 24th film (Mystic River) and has used it to maximum in the 25th offering (Million Dollar Baby). A very deliberate underplay of emotions and matter-of-factly depiction of some of the crucial and often cruel twists in the movie. In Mystic River, that the life of those three kids are changed forever is depicted with the play of shadows behind the window curtain. You know that the scar will never leave them. In Million Dollar Baby, however, you know that the stool inside the ring has some significance in the early stages of the movie itself. For instance, recall the Frankie and Scrap conversation about Scrap's socks holes is a classic example. A not so exciting life style of Frankie and Scrap gets interwoven very casually with that of Maggie and you realise that in future their life is going to be inevitably changed. And that change is going to be through the boxing game. You somehow prepare yourself for a grand finale where Maggie wins sort of a championship final or something.

Eastwood knows better not to drive you into yet another boring, in-your-face underdog-emerges-winner finale. And strangely, in the initial matches where Maggie wins tournament after tournament, some sort of an unease engulfs you. Those who know Eastwood's style of film making and the nature of his themes can't help wonder that such juggernaut is not going to last.

As he takes you through that gripping and inevitable climax, though you the plot gets a bit predictable, you uneasily squirm in your seat and hoping for Eastwood to bring in a twist. You don't mind even if it'll look unreal or melodramatic. You just don't care. Such a disturbing ultra-thin sensitivity that Eastwood dabbled with Tim Robbins character in Mystic River reaches its peak towards the climax of Million Dollar Baby.

When Scrap says 'Get a shot at your life' and confronts Frankie for not having given him that 'shot at life', in a very existentialistic way, Frankie makes up his mind. And only Eastwood can give you such a story twist so nonchalantly.

I saw a few people walking out of the movie hall towards the end, and I know because they were getting uncomfortable. I was told that a middle-aged lady in US, fainted in the movie hall. I can perfectly understand that. The movie doesn't have anything gory or vulgar or blood oozing out. It simply unsettles you. Makes you ask a lot of questions. The questions you don't want to confront.

I will never forgive Clint Eastwood for making such a good movie in the same year my favorite director Marc Froster made Neverland.