Silence In The Movie Hall

Rajan Khosas Hindi film Swara Mandal will open in cinemas across five European countries next month, but not at even one in India. So what if it won the Most Favourite Film Award (audience-voted) at the cine festival in London in November, and the Festival of Three Continents in Nantes in December? And who cares if its been nominated for the prestigious Tiger Awards, to be presented at the Rotterdam Film Festival next month? No Indian distributor is willing to take it on, with no big-name actors, an original screenplay by a debut movie director, and perhaps as Khosa continues ruefully at the premiere of the movie at the International Film Festival of India (IFFI), no violence or fight scenes...

 

It was symbolic that Khosas tall figure had to bend double to reach the microphone at the premiere his experience of getting the film to the big screen in India had him bowing constantly to the Indian film establishment. Khosa first wrote the screenplay for Swara Mandal in 1991, but spent several years traversing the offices of local film agencies, with the script in one hand, and a begging bowl in the other. He finally had to look overseas to finance most of the $1 million budget. With the help of German producer Karl Baumgartner, Khosa finally managed the funds from 12 different sources in five European countries. Thats the encouraging thing about this film, Khosa remarks, its message has been recognised as universal, even if in India, bureaucrats dont bother to make space for meaningful cinema.

It was only at the last stage of the films production that the National Film Development Corporation (NFDC) decided to chip in. Thus, Swara Mandal was screened in the Cinema of the World section at the IFFI rather than the Indian Panorama. It is a movie for my people, made with my friends from NID and FTII, and yet it wont be seen by most of the Indian public, Khosa exclaims with helpless indignation at the press conference, It is a movie showing Indian values and tradition, completely shot in Delhi and yet none of the cinema multiplexes here have place for it.

Understandably, Khosa looks a little weary when we meet amid the clamour of the media centre at Siri Fort, the venue of the film festival. Hes relieved when I suggest a cup of coffee at the neighbouring Asiad Village; his Christ-like visage and his sombre clothes suggest the hermit in him. As he strides across the lawn, he selects a low-hanging tree as the backdrop for our photograph, a perhaps unintentional clue to his philosophical bent. The spot embodies his fascination for the passing down of wisdom in the Indian tradition the focus of his beautifully crafted Swara Mandal. It is a movie about the guru-shishya relationship; the fact that in passing down the methods and knowledge of the ages, the teacher often suppresses the spontaneity of the student. A truly wise teacher, however, teaches you how to trust your own instinct and your own heart to find your own vision.

Perhaps the tree also suggests Khosas inclination towards the aesthetic he studied Visual Communication at the National Institute of Design before enrolling at Punes Film and Television Institute, and his father is a painter. Its certainly hard to miss the carefully composed imagery in the movie; almost every shot is meticulous in its balance of geometry, colour and symbolism. From the opening image of Pallavi, the protagonist, standing as a wonder-filled child in an ancient Delhi monument to the closing image of Pallavi as an adult, rediscovering the monument and her own form of expression, as the rain bursts around her.

The casting was as careful Khosa emphasises that authenticity was foremost in his mind. Kitu Gidwani adeptly plays the beautiful but vulnerable singer Pallavi; Professor B C Sanyal and Dr Kapila Vatsyayan are convincing in their roles as custodians of the guru-shishya tradition. The most remarkable is little Roshini, an eight-year-old whom Khosa discovered at a theatre workshop for street-children. At the press conference, Roshini is tongue-tied, but in the film she sparkles with mischievous abandon as Tara the urchin who helps Pallavi rediscover her individuality. The original score by Shubha Mudgal is spell-binding; even for an ear unaccustomed to classical music, the sound track is filled with magic.

Though the gurus in the movie are possessive and demanding, Khosa appears a patient guide. He reassures me that I can ask him about the film without inhibition, even though Im neither a movie critic nor a student of cinema. He confides that one of the most enjoyable people to work with on the project was the little actress Roshini, who had no experience before the camera: She was great. She did the scenes with complete spontaneity, and took my direction without any need for intellectualisation. I even wrote and re-wrote scenes specially for her.

Just as Tara teaches Pallavi to rediscover her love for music and her own true voice, it seems as if Roshini helped Khosa recapture his sense of creativity while making Swara Mandal. Not an easy task, when he had to coordinate between financiers from six countries, lawyers, technicians, stock people, distributors and so on. Im a bit like Pallavi always trying to map out things and prepare myself intellectually for battle, he says as he adjusts the fork on the tablemat. But to be a good director, you have to let things flow naturally when it comes to shooting. He leans back thoughtfully, You have to give licence to the actors, the cameramen, the set designers. Its like letting a river runs its true course; the director can only ensure that it reaches the ocean at the end.

Our time in the coffee shop is filled with Khosas thoughtful pauses. Its ironic that weve come in during the din of opening hour the screech of dragged gas cylinders, clattering cutlery and a TV cricket commentator in the background. Its clear from the movie that Khosa values silence: For my first feature film Ive tried to push the boundaries of cinema using sparse dialogue, to reflect the silence and beauty of pure music. In fact, there are moments when Khosa shows discomfort at the inadequacy of words when I ask him why the Hindi title Swara Mandal was modified to Dance of the Wind for its European release, he explains: Its not a literal translation. Its supposed to convey that metaphorical moment when one discovers a freeing in ones heart... He looks at me with furrowed brow, Does that make sense? and then breaks into a smile.

Its not long before Khosas secretary appears discreetly in the background, signalling that our meeting should end. Ive been fitted into a tight schedule; Khosa is already working on two other projects. Hes set up a production company in India called Monsoon Films to encourage cinema from local directors; and hes embarked on another feature film spanning India and the UK. The latter reflects the cultural contrasts and links hes now coming to terms with, after his marriage to Ann, an English television producer. They met while Khosa was studying at the Royal College of Arts in London.

I stammer an apology for the still-absent coffee Ive proved one more compatriot whose offering to him is inadequate. But he lives up to his earlier words: Only people who can take glory and applause with a contained heart deserve to be artists for the public. So he says now graciously, Thats all right.