How many of us read newspaper reports when a riot or a catastrophe happens? (Lets leave 26/11 aside, there was a time factor invloved over there, at least for me, two days in a row I woke up thinking it would be over now, and the fact that it wasn’t, got my attention. Sensitive, me? Yeah right!!!)
Anyways... most of us generally ignore the dark tidings, preferring to talk about stock market, films, cartoon strips et al... preferring to brush everything under the carpet... Close your eyes, and pretend all is well... My mind at times feels like a mess. I hate watching such movies, and yet, there’s an imperceptible pull, a strange psychotic attraction towards the manic song...
Gujarat Riots, for that matter, riots anywhere, happened. State sponsored or not, they happened. Finally, sense prevailed, peace prevailed. But what about healing? A month has passed, and still human beings have not started living like humans. They are living like animals, afraid, ready to run at the slightest pretext. A Muslim auto-rickshaw driver and his wife, learn that their house is burnt.
They want to know who did that to their house. A mixed religious couple (Hindu –Muslim) wants to flee, after their showroom was looted in the riots. A Hindu housewife wants to get rid of her guilt for she had shut the door on a helpless Muslim woman, begging her to save her life. An ailing Muslim musician, who’s defeated in his search for strength to endure inevitable hatred for the other, and his man-Friday who is shielding the musician from the same. A Muslim boy wants to search for his father, who he believes is the only surviving member of his family, massacred in the riots. But what do they really want?
What is their quest, what is their Firaaq? And then, there is a Hindu, who, while contemptuously watching the television coverage of the destitute and the displaced, smirks that had a similar pogrom been unleashed against the Hindu majority, no one would be speaking up about it, and because it’s a minority group that’s bearing the brunt, the liberal world is bristling with outrage. What is his quest? His Firaaq?
This is not a typical review from my side, for actors like Naseer, Shahana, Deepti, Paresh, Sanjay and all dont need any recommendations. I am not going to talk about cinematography, direction, though Nandita does belong to that rare class of actors who successfully make the transition to behind the camera. I am again, not going to talk about any flaws, or cliches (there are one or two, specially how Samir’s track ends, too cliched, but thats also ok). I am going to lapse into my favorite form of catharsis... what the movie did to my psyche... and while I am thinking of how to vent my feelings, there’s a voice inside my head which is saying how useless it is.. but write I must, so write I will.
Firaaq has been aptly titled “a work of fiction, based on a thousand true stories” . We see an adorably wide-eyed Mohsin, played by Mohammad Samad, who doesn’t realise he’s been orphaned in the riots. We see Hindu cops callously kicking over water drums filled to the brim by Muslims in order to douse the fires they fear will be set off by torch-bearing mobs. A young girl cribs about the riots ruining her wedding celebrations, and you actually wonder, what would you do if you were in her place, and there was somekind of a calamity which stalled your wedding. Its like a slap in the face, when you realise that all of us do have clay feet, and its very easy to be holier than thou.
And yet, Firaaq is no judgement, it is not a sob story. It just is... It just talks about ordinary people, some who were victims, some perpetrators, and some who chose to be mute, silent spectators, watching from the sidelines, and yet, not realising that their lives, too, were not going to be the same. And last but not the least, Firaaq is just an appeal to let people heal, to let them mourn, to acknowledge that there is a wound, for without admission of a wound, no salve can be applied.
The visuals which have stayed with me, two days post having seen the movie are those of Dipti inflicting bodily pain on herself to forget the pain of her cowardice, her own inability to escape the mob in her own life. Shades of Shakespeare maybe? When I saw Naseeruddin Shah’s faith and optimism break down in the film after seeing the horrifying images of the aftermath of the riots on television, I was heartbroken. Generally while watching a movie, I start getting ideas about what I will write...but here, I was feeling like a part of the mob, and at the same time, the victim as well.
A riot or any catastrophe, any mishap for that matter is the most perplexing for the very young and the very old.. the kids have the misfortune of their childhood being snatched from them, and the old are bewildered by the break down of what they considered normalcy, what was for them, a way of life, while the youth, with its cocksure arrogance and assurance bounces back, the young are the ones who are truly resilient. But the old, how will they rebuild their lives in a world that is no longer familiar, but hostile? And the kids, will they ever be able to enjoy that pure period in one’s life, a carefree childhood? And what kind of a world are we living in, that we hesitate before uttering the words Hindu or Muslim?
*Watch Firaaq. Not for the fact that it is an excellent movie, but for the frank mirror to society and the prayer for sanity that it holds. Watch it, not to evaluate it, but to experience and absorb it.