As an
ardent film buff that was raised in a family of film buffs and a film podcast
host myself, I found cinema fascinating right from the word go. Any type, any
genre, anything would fit my palate. My ever generous older sibling calls me a
true connoisseur.
But, given
the kind of diverse cinema I have watched, enjoyed and put behind, “The Kashmir
Files” still rings as a watershed. Vivek
Agnihotri, with this last of his trilogy, has finally hit home in storytelling
of lost identities and demographics of the Kashmiri Pandits. His previous
films, “Buddha in a Traffic Jam” and “The Tashkent Files” were powerful, but
went cold at the box office. Agnihotri’s latest has not only made up for the
lukewarm response to the previous ones, but is well on its way to creating history
at the box office – a new after years.
I would
like to laud Vivek Agnihotri for intelligent filmmaking. By that I mean,
adeptly adopting a different lens in building the stories he wishes to tell. Let
me explain the context a little more: Since times immemorial, we have seen Indian
movies taking a particular narrative position for any situation. Be it the
class war, caste war classics or the escapist entertainers of the 1950-80s or
the parallel cinema of the 1970s and ‘80s, the narrative was loud and clear:
the angry young man or woman will rise above the system or will be totally
perished by the evil system. This demonization of the system or the
establishment was so ingrained into the cine-goer conscience that nothing else
seemed to register. We invariably walked into the theatres waiting for the
annihilation of the demonic politician, or chastening of the avaricious
capitalist. From Nargis’s anguish as the farmer in “Mother India” to
Chitrangadha’s idealist in Sudhir Mishra’s classic, “Hazaaron Khwaaishen Aisi”
– the romantic dogma of cultural and social revolution had spilled into public
consciousness.
Now, what
makes Vivek Agnihotri’s stories interesting is the important fact that he and
his actor wife, Pallavi Joshi have emerged from the heart of this school of
thought. Pallavi’s long tryst with
parallel cinema and some of her outstanding performances in the films of Shyam
Benegal, Govind Nihalani and Amol
Palekar are public knowledge. It is here that their journey makes for
commentary – they chose to digress, dig deep and tell the world an alternative
narrative which exposes the ecosystem that they were possibly a part of.
Their storytelling is fairly entrenched in the milieu, and adopts an almost voyeuristic insider approach
to the people it talks about – this fluid, non-judgmental manner of leading the course of the movie can leave audiences a little confused as to what the filmmaker is actually trying to get at, till the plot thickens turn towards the message. For instance, “Buddha in a Traffic Jam” for the first hour and half promises to be any other movie about the Naxal movement and then provides a twist uncovering the pitfalls and the ugly truth behind the Red in the jungles of Bastar. The idea of engaging the audiences to soak in the “maahaaul” (the milieu) is uniquely Vivek’s style as I have observed in both Buddha and in TKF.The
characterization of Anupam Kher in Buddha and Pallavi in TKF is quite
unmissable – they are both eminent academicians who have sway and considerable
influence over their students and they choose to abuse this position with what
their favourite students – Vikram and Krishna – discover to be consummately woven
falsehoods.
I would
place my bets post TKF, there would be fewer souls who would not give a second
thought before they hummed Faiz’s “Hum Dekhenge” to the ramifications of the
cost of the “Azaadi” and what it really stands for. And that, I believe, is the
success and importance of Vivek Agnihotri’s brand of cinema, his brand of
storytelling – he has very ably managed to a degree, to disrupt the hitherto
held notion by many about Kashmir’s Azaadi - as a romantic, fair ideal to that of
it possibly being a downhill journey to irreparable civilizational damage. The
power of a movie is quite evident when it can showcase the flipside so
authentically to shake even the disbelievers.
Having said
that, let me say, TKF is not without its flaws. Neither is Vivek Agnihotri’s
brand of film making perfect. There are imperfections, as one could see them
clearly as a cine-goer and reviewer.
Accusations
of TKF being a propaganda movie, and that of Vivek and Pallavi zealously
milking into the success of a genocide story notwithstanding; it is still a
very important movie. It is a movie to make you smell the coffee, and smell it
fast – as an audience, as a community, as a nation - I meant this
metaphorically.