This week I share another first section of a chapter from the larger project that I am working on. As I shared in one of the previous posts, this project collates memories from childhood, mostly told through movies that we watched.
What else can you expect from someone who not only loves movies but grew up in the land of movies? India has eleven film industries. Did you know that? Its not all Bollywood. Bollywood is the hindi language movie industry based in Mumbai, formally known as Bombay, and hence the name. You get no points for guessing where ‘wood’ comes from, considering there may not be many ‘woods’ in the thriving metropolis of present Mumbai, which is often likened to New York, in its cultural diversity and economic significance to the country. I blame My father, an avid movie lover for my love of movies. I hold him responsible for me trying to see the world in images, words and sounds. Not just because we went to watch movies together or had marathon runs of three movies at a go on VCR during summer vacations, but because how I saw his face alter with emotions as he watched. How often I heard him quote verbatim from movies and how many details he knew about directors’ choices during movie making, and books that many movies were based on.
That was one reason for me to study media. If I am honest, I have regretted it often. Today one does not need to go to school to learn film making or movie making. From my little experience of making short films on my iPhone or JVC, movie making is quite intuitive. But more importantly, it requires manpower, money power and time. Those who have it control the ‘public mind’.
Being a media critic is always a loosing battle. A Professor who taught us writing for media, during MS in communication put it succinctly, ‘A critic is a parasite.’
Critics do not (cannot) create.
We are surrounded by screens and sounds.
Looking at the state of media today, new inspiring media content is what we need. Criticism does not bring about change, especially when reigns of media production are in limited hands. Much of ‘small media’ is either a spin off or too personalised (Tik Tok, Instagram etc.).
We are surrounded by screens and sounds.
I could not help but think about this movie, which was about silence. It juxtaposes life of those live in silence with those who take sound and words for granted. As a result often do not understand the power of ‘spoken word’ let alone a ‘thought-thought.’
That is why the focus on meditation these days. It is in the depth of silence we hold the seed to be creative.
For the next few months I intend on posting once a month. Around the third week of the month. I have several posts in progress, but they require some research and information check before I can post them.
Thanks for reading.
Hope you enjoy this snippet!
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There are only two things I remember from the first time I watched the movie.
I remember Daddy by my side at the Ravindra Rangshala, the neighborhood amphitheater. I remember being more interested in the shakar-pare that we had brought with us, than the movie.
If there was a wedding in the neighborhood, we were sure to get a box of sweets from the ‘prosperous and celebrating’ household. Not only that, if you had merely attended the wedding of a close relative, even in another state, it was a tradition to bring sweets for some close families in the neighborhood. That exchange of energy, in forms of sweets and gifts is crucial to any sustained community.
The most common sweet shakarpare-- fried shortbread dipped in colored syrup, were every child’s favorite. Soft yet crispy. Somewhat bland interior and sweet exterior, usually pink or brown. I preferred the ones dipped in jaggery as opposed to sugar. Jaggery is softer and yet has a caramelized taste. Someone in the neighborhood had dropped a box a day ago. I continued to munch on them without understanding much in the movie.
Strange film.
There was no dancing. The leads, both male and female, did not say a word. Instead, they exchanged handwritten notes, which I was too young to read. Hari, the man, and Aarti the woman, did make some unintelligible sounds throughout the movie and used their hands and facial expressions more than necessary.
Koshish, meaning effort, was a remake of the Japanese film ‘Happiness of Us Alone’, about a young couple who is deaf and dumb. Like in the Japanese film, even in the Indian film, the man was born that way, but the woman became deaf and mute after a tragedy. The tragedy in the original was post Hiroshima bombing. In the Indian version it was merely sudden fever and illness. But the impact on the couple is the same.
A life of silence.
The story depicts how they fall in love and raise a family as differently abled. In their life journey they also befriend a police officer who was blinded in an accident. The three of them become kin to each other as they complement each other’s abilities.
Years later when I re-watched the movie, as a teenager, it would have a deep impact on me.
The movie beautifully depicts how three people related by love and not blood, come together and strengthen each other despite their handicap. It sure seemed a bit contrived, but that was Bollywood of the 1970s. Cinema was meant to give a message. The movie, indicative of its time, is a bit simplistic, but poetically renders the couple’s struggles as they try to make an honest life in a world of people can who see, hear, and talk.
On their wedding night they pass notes to each other, expressing their love and asking forgiveness for transgressions during their courtship. During the soundless conversation they have their first argument as a married couple, about having children. She does not want to birth a deaf and dumb child. He insists they will be parents. Their parents were healthy. Their parents’ grandchildren would be ‘complete’ as well.
Human ability to speak has caused only miscommunication in the world
Then, turning the mood light, he gestures that he can hear. She is surprised. He gestures that he can hear his heartbeat. She giggles and gestures that she can hear hers too.
We know they are in love.
Later in the movie, their only surviving son Amit, who is pursuing a Masters of Arts in literature tells his friend, ‘Human ability to speak has caused only miscommunication in the world. I was raised by three people. My deaf and dumb parents and their blind friend. Their handicap never hindered communication between them. Their love was enough to translate their emotions.’
Maybe their handicap gave them a deeper understanding of purpose of a human life.
Words can be heavy. Between family members, feelings should be read.
Connecting, bonding, understanding, caring, loving, listening.
Saying with love and listening with the heart.
We know that despite their struggles, Hari and Aarti have raised a sensitive young man. Until later.
When in the movie we learn that Hari’s Boss has a deaf and dumb daughter and wishes to offer her hand to Amit in marriage.
The instant Amit hears it, the young sensitive man gets upsets and declines the offer. Hari, the man who carried himself with pride through the years at his earnestness and hard work is ashamed and dejected.
Back home Hari orders his son to leave his house. He turns towards the bookshelf in the room, picks up each book, thumps it and gestures, ‘What good are these books? What have you learnt? Then throws each book away.
Indian movies, especially BW is notorious for long monologues meant as sermons for the audience. Most of the wisdom nuggets, rooted in Indian culture were reinforced through the movies. These culturally accepted teachings were unspoken but always agreed paths to a good society. Parents are to be revered. Homes are sacred. Marriage is forever. Kindness, integrity, honesty, and hard work are to be honored. Only villains use swear words. And, a happy family is a prize of a lifetime.
Hari’s final monologue in Koshish, is impactful because it is wordless. Words can be heavy. Between family members, feelings should be read.
The movie also slid in a very important message.
Physical disabilities do not discriminate. Your financial or social status is not an immunity.
By making a rich man, also the father of a deaf and dumb girl the writers underlined the impartiality of disability and disease. A reminder for the need to be humble.
The film ends with an aesthetically crude, but thoughtfully bold slide that states,
‘Koshish, and the effort continues’.
The Effort.
To integrate the differently abled into a society, to give them a semblance of life that most of us take for granted. The effort to urge ‘us’, the normal people, to understand their world and to learn their language. To be able to see the world as they see it.
This is one movie that Daddy did not talk much about. But there were so many times that he demonstrated the ‘effort’ to treat people with dignity and guided my path towards it.
A scene without words from ‘Happiness of Us’ alone.
Hi, Charu! I am not familiar with either of these movies but I can appreciate the need to look past any disability and see the person behind it. I had a good friend in my school days who was raised by deaf parents. Mike and I used to amuse each other in boring school assemblies by signing to one another. Perhaps because of his homelife, Mike was a sensitive soul who startled easier at loud noises and crowds. In 2021, a film came out in the United States called "CODA." Children of Deaf Adults. The main character, a hearing girl, reminded me of Mike and the responsibility he needed to take on to become the translator for his family, not unlike the roles many of my ESL students play in their families where they are the only ones who speak English.
I was really struck by this line in your post: : It is in the depth of silence we hold the seed to be creative.
We are indeed surrounded by sounds and screens and often, even if we are not on the autism spectrum, like my son, the world is just too noisy and busy. We need a silent place. Often, for me, that is a space I create within my soul. For Allen, it is--as he describes it--a big blank screen he constructs in his mind, blocking out all images and sounds.
Best of luck as you continue to write your memoir. It's not easy! Substack is such a great tool for us to use as we hone our craft!