It only seems like yesterday when I sat in a jam-packed Chandan cinema at Juhu with every single individual around me screaming at the top of his or her voice and cheering on Bhuvan’s Eleven, in their quest to render their land tax-free for the next 3 years. The words “Ghupach le Baagha” still resonate in my ears and memories.
In stark contradiction to that ambience, Swades, director Ashutosh Gowariker’s latest offering after 3 years, witnessed pin-drop silence from the audience. No incessantly exasperating jokes, no guesses as to who did what or why, no cross-talk between giggly girls; in fact, after the first few minutes, even an infant gave up crying out loud. Swades gave me goose bumps, tugged at my heartstrings, made me smile from ear to ear and nearly moved me to tears at different moments, all in 3 and a half hours. If that isn’t why we go to the cinema, what is?
Swades starts with Mohan Bhargava, a NASA project manager’s longing to go back to India to meet Kaveriamma, his childhood nanny. He feels guilt at not having been there for her in her time of need, and from where he stands today, he believes he has everything that could allow him to give her the kind of life that she deserves. Gowariker gets to this point very quickly, using the death anniversary of Bhargava’s parents as the catalyst to speedup his decision of going home. Having obtained a 2-week leave from an unsmiling boss, who seems like he waits only for his cue word before saying his line, and does not really listen to anything said before it, Bhargava starts his voyage homewards.
Once base shifts to India, the movie picks up a great deal of flair, color and interest. Take for example, the first encounter between Bhargava and Gita, later to become his idealistic rival and also the transformation agent for his character. While Gowariker and writer K.P. Saxena employ the oldest known trick in the book, (that of dropping them) to break the ice. He keeps Bhargava’s character as an on-looker though, who gets smitten by the beautiful, yet self-effacing Gita. Next, Bhargava drives a borrowed caravan (one wonders just how much time he took to adapt from 12 years of left-hand driving to right-hand driving a caravan into the kachcha roads into India’s interiors, completely unknown to him and something that locals shy away from). But I guess NASA allays all those apprehensions, though the right-hand drive factor still remains quite unexplained, assuming of course that he holds an international driving license, but then again, who’s going to stop and ask for one in the villages right?
Makarand Deshpande, a typical bucolic godly man, who shoots off philosophical statements woven into the situation to drive home a point, serves as Bhargava’s path-finder. Alas, he only offers a special appearance in one of the better timed songs in the movie.
Once Bhargava touches base at Charanpur, the film elevates to a different level. No, it is not reminiscent of Lagaan, though a friend aptly pointed out that the movie deals essentially with the same issues that Lagaan did, which is more of a revelation to the little progress we have made as a society, than as a comparison of the two films.
There’s laughter, there’s the initial NRI oddness to Indian doings or misdoings, which we have now witnessed in many precedent films, thanks largely to Nagesh Kukunoor. But writer and director both stay clear of falling victim to the clichés; they come up with new situations and new treatments, example: the kids, the postmaster, the self-proclaimed cook Melaram (though we never see him cooking anything through the length of the movie) and their antics. One strikingly subtle funny moment in the film comes at the end of the first Panchayat meeting when Kaveriamma proudly shows off her Mohan, and when the village elders inquire about what he does in the US, Mohan mumbles and fumbles in vain, and ends up saying “Haan, main bilkul yehi kaam karta hoon” to the upward looking rainfall forecast (literally) of a simpleton.
The most endearing moments come from the interactions between Mohan, Gita and Kaveriamma. The nanny-son bond is dealt with very well, and so is the relationship build-up between Gita and Bhargava. Bhargava does not weave his way into the hearts of people, he does not revolutionize the way things work, he doesn’t care enough, he knows he’s there for a very specific purpose: to take Kaveriamma back to the US.
However, one thing leads to another, and he ends up staying his return, getting involved in the daily affairs of the people he lives with, and eventually falling for Gita. In frequent phone conversations with Vinod, his colleague at NASA, we are brought to witness Bhargava’s growing affection for his people, his involvement with his land, and ultimately, his woman, or should I say women (Gita and Kaveriamma).
But duty beckons and Bhargava has to give up all that he has created in his Swades, including a love relationship with Gita, and return to NASA for the launch of his Global Precipitation Satellite. But while the mind works for Pardes, the heart years for Swades. The title song playing in the background adds at least two notches of emotion to the visually torn Bhargava, who after the successful launch of the GPS makes up his mind to go back home. The icing on the cake really comes with a line delivered by his boss, “Alright, Mr. Bhargava, go light your bulb.” Midas touch!
Swades is as thoughtful, as it is thought provoking. It not just meant for the NRI audiences. It is a film each urban Indian can relate to, and ideally should. We must be the change that we wish to see in the world, the man in the mirror.
Thoughtful films are not a film genre, they are an ideology. They are a quality that makes those films linger in our memories, and more importantly in our hearts.
- Kartic Sitaraman
23rd December, 2004.