Festival Diary. Day Two-Jan 21, 2023

The second day of the 9th Kolkata People’s Film Festival opened with the documentary “No Way Out”, directed by Shekh Al Mamun.

The film delves into the horrors confronted by three migrant workers who move to Korea from Nepal and Bangladesh in search of livelihood. It sheds light on the gruesome atrocities, verbal, mental and physical abuse that these migrants are subject to in a foreign land. The legal systems and institutions in Korea meant to safeguard their interests fail to address their repeated cries for help. Framed around their narratives, the film provides a glimpse of the plight of the foreign migrant workers arriving with a non-professional employment visa i.e., E-9 visa under the Employee Permit Scheme of Korea.

On their arrival in the country, workers find themselves at the mercy of their employers. The jobs undertaken are highly precarious, with several of the workers not receiving even the minimum wage. The terms of recruitment are sometimes dubious and they find it very difficult to switch jobs. Dealing with such traumatic experiences, while staying miles away from home, is daunting. With their families dependent on them for survival, they find themselves stuck in this cycle of continuous exploitation and oppression. A worker who was contemplating suicide at one point mentioned that he asked himself ‘why should I die for a visa?’ It gives us a hint of the extent to which they are dehumanized.

In all, this film documents these instances of everyday mental and physical abuse that migrant workers in Korea are subject to and opens our eyes to their lived reality. We also witness workers’ solidarity in organized protests resisting the ongoing oppression prevailing under the Employment Permit Scheme.

NRC or the National Register for Citizens is a massive administrative exercise that has, ever since its inception, dedicated enormous funds and personnel to find ‘illegal foreigners’ living in Assam. 24th March 1971 which is the cut-off date for NRC is exactly two days prior to the Bangladeshi liberation war. This war saw the influx of millions of refugees from Bangladesh to India, many of whom never went back.

“Noor Islam” directed by Devshree Nath begins with a man offering reassurance to a disheartened individual who doesn’t find his name on the NRC list. He can be heard saying ‘Don’t be tensed at all. You are a genuine Indian. You don’t have to leave your country’. It is heartbreaking to watch the man, flip tattered pages of documents to provide evidence of him being an Indian just like those whose names made it to the gruesome NRC list. In the film, we catch glimpses of what otherwise might seem to be an ordinary day in the man’s life, and yet not so. People in the house are engaged in mundane routine activities, utensils lie neatly arranged in the kitchen, a bed sits in the corner of the house, and outside there are grasslands overlooking the lake. Through these visual elements, the director compels us to look into the horrors of the ordinary. A constant lingering fear of loss – loss of all that we see in the frame and perhaps much more. We watch the man struggle to make ends meet as he now also has to incur expenses to fight a court case. One that will hopefully attest him to be a ‘genuine Indian’.

In one of the scenes in the film when the individual isn’t sure of certain details inquired for by the NRC official, he is mockingly asked– ‘Are you sure you are an Indian?’.This question compels us to imagine the plight of being called a “ghuspaithi” (a term often used by the fascist government to describe the Bengali-speaking migrants in Assam) or intruder in our own home. The desperate plea for recognition as a citizen of India by those ousted from the NRC list is an ongoing and painful reminder of unspeakable violence by the State. As such, families declared as D voters live in constant fear of statelessness.
The film makes us ponder if we really have an undisputed definition of what can be considered as indigenous to Assam or even India for that matter? It ends with this beautiful but heart-wrenching song.

Oh dear!
I have left behind my home
Stepped into an unknown boat
I am drenched in my own tears

‘Everything will be gone. This is the last chance. Take photos of everything. Preserve history through them. You won’t find these lanes again’ says a man as the city of Varanasi is engulfed in dust and rubbles as lanes and houses are being torn down in light of the recent Kashi Vishwanath Corridor development project. The film “Galiyon ka Sheher” (City of Lanes) directed by Modak KS and Ragini Rao Munjulari weaves narratives of the residents of Varanasi in understanding the implications that this ongoing developmental project has for everyone who lives in these lanes.

The quote above echoes the sentiments of the residents of Varanasi at large. For them, these iconic winding lanes are the heart and soul of Varanasi. Ever since the project was announced several properties in the area have been purchased by the government and have been demolished for the construction of a pathway leading to the temple that attracts thousands of pilgrims and visitors. According to the government, this would make the visits convenient for tourists. The residents of Varanasi question this idea of development proposed by the government. For instance, one person says that this development is for those who are rich and the government is settling them here and displacing the poor. The existing notions of modernity are challenged when a resident mentions that according to the government, development involves the beautification of the city of Varanasi. The man then questions – If you carry out demolition will it really remain Kashi? Audiences watching the film burst into laughter when another resident noted – This government said that there would be development for all. I did not know that in saying that he meant that there would be destruction for all. Thus, highlighting the empty promises made by the ruling government.

The eviction notices thrust down the throat of people living in the city for decades speaks volumes about the current social and political climate in the city of Varanasi. This commercialization which seems to benefit the wealthy few while displacing the poor and marginalized makes us question the notions of development and we are compelled to ask what is the point of development when the city loses its very essence and when its citizens feel that their identities have been snatched. Development for whom?

What happens to the land and people when corporations finish extractions and leave wastelands? “Rat Trap”, directed by Rupesh Kumar Sahu, gives us insights into how people then undertake highly precarious work doing rat-hole coal mining in these wastelands in order to eke out a living. “Rat Trap” documents how Adivasi lives are displaced not once, but many times over, by corporate greed. The work is life-threatening with cases of tuberculosis, accidents and deaths being lived reality of the coal miners. If any activity has caused the most deaths–it is the collapse of mines. Even deaths are not recorded. Who will tell who is buried? And to whom?

Drawing on archival footage in the villages of Nirsa in Dhanbad and Parej in Hazaribagh, the director shows not much has changed for the poor coal miners living in the rich land. The miners constantly put their lives at risk in order to earn livelihoods. They live in deplorable conditions surviving on meagre daily wages. We witness how bonded labour and exploitation of miners by the coal mafia are rampant in the state. Women and children as young as seven work in these mines, willing to put their lives at risk because of the dearth of alternative opportunities for livelihoods in these districts of Jharkhand.

During an audience interaction, Rupesh Kumar Sahu spoke of how coal miners are often considered illegal labourers by the state. Talking about the number of deaths and accidents resulting from mining activities he emphasized how these figures continue to be heavily underreported. Sahu added that the state remains complicit in creating and preserving life-threatening worlds.

“Mahasatta” (Superpower), is a critical commentary on contemporary, unequal India. It reveals how postcolonial India has been marked by decades of prosperity and excess for a few and an unbroken history of death and dearth for many, with the promises made on the eve of independence remaining unfulfilled. In “Mahasatta” such exhibitions of stark inequities expose the two contradictory worlds coexisting in the prevailing neoliberal India. Two antithetical, interwoven narratives develop synchronously in the movie. On the one hand, a painful tale unfolds in the rural parts of Nanded, where a family struggles to survive. The poignant story demonstrates the hardships of a man, his wife and his father as they all labour to make ends meet. The story culminates with the man’s death from a snake bite. However, as the movie shows, the cause of his death is not a snake bite. The absence of critical medical facilities in rural areas, poor roads, and lack of transport facilities are responsible for his death. The family grieves the untimely, avoidable loss of a loved one. His funeral pyre is lit, with the slogan, ‘sab ka saath, sab ka vikas’ plastered on the crumbling wall right behind the pyre – a symbolic comment on the empty promises made by the state. On the other hand, a parallel tale unfolds. It is the story of our political figures discussing the possibility of India becoming a Mahasatta soon. The discussion plays on an old radio, always in the background. As our politicians debate the possibility of India becoming a superpower, the sorrowful tale of the struggling family in rural Nanded makes us question the agonising disjuncture that erupts daily in this vast nation. Why does India need to be a superpower? What is the point of India becoming a superpower if the masses here die so swiftly of snake bites?

“Dusky Voyage” (Dhusharjatra), screened as a part of the category New Southasian Fiction, is directed by Mashud Sumon. The pandemic affected the world in ways that cannot be imagined. Countries have not recovered; the people are still grappling with the fallout. Dusky Voyage brings us the story of one man, still living with a deep love for his wife, who passed on, years ago. He keeps a doll, almost lifelike—in her memory, speaking to her, sharing his day-to-day. Sobhan washes dead bodies, sending them on a final journey with dignity and care, which was not afforded his wife. Like the rest of the world, the pandemic also reaches him. Life around him comes to a standstill. He goes about his work washing the bodies of those who have passed due to COVID, gently and with respect, despite the fact that he has been given almost minimal protective gear. The virus catches up with him and in a moment of deep pathos, his own passage is without the ritualistic cleansing.

“Dusky Voyage” is a film that ties together the inherent politics that played out through the pandemic and the class privileges that became so extremely evident in the two years—with the focal point being a man, so overcome with sorrow, yet moving forward with his larger purpose.

In the conversation that followed, Mashud Sumon spoke of his transition from theatre to film and how he had wanted to, through the visuals, depict the flow of life.

In the winter of 2019, students at Aligarh Muslim University protested peacefully against the draconian Citizenship Amendment Act. Universities across India had taken up these protests. Students at Jamia Milia University were lathi-charged, and their campus broken into by the Delhi police. Almost immediately after, violence broke out in AMU. The state-sponsored atrocities, the incredible violence and the brave protests at various educational institutes across the country—JNU, Hyderabad Central University, Jamia Milia and Aligarh Muslim University to name some—have been somehow moving in and out of public consciousness. Images are imprinted and then, over a passage of time, somehow fade. Public memory is a fickle being.

“In a Dissent Manner” takes us back to 2019, and in such a brave manner. Directed by Ehraz Asmaduz Zaman, it brings together footage from the night when police entered the gates of AMU, pelting stones and firing tear gas shells at students. The interviews of those who were witnesses to that night are direct and brutally honest. Shoving a bed against the door to prevent the RAF and police from breaking into hostel rooms, memory loss and trauma, blood and brutal injuries. An amputation. AMU had turned into a war zone.

Educational Institutes across India have been turned into war zones.

The students at AMU are still fighting false charges that were lodged against them. FIRs listing over twenty-five charges-including attempts to murder. Clear cases of anti-minority action. Courts have dismissed petitions filed against police action, saying that students who enter such institutes must not engage in such actions.

‘ Nothing survives in these petitions’ said the courts.

Students, protesting peacefully against a fascist regime and draconian laws designed to work against minorities were told that their petitions were null and void.

Zaman spoke about the film being an effort to bring back the discussion about how that night, the days and years that followed have affected students. In the conversation with the audience, he spoke about how this was their lived reality and how a numbness had set in.

‘ The projected dream and the reality-how the film starts, really impacted me.’
– member of the audience

Social media. Love it or hate it, one simply cannot escape it. Social media plays a huge role in the vitriol that is a part and parcel of our lives now—the fake profiles spreading messages of hate on Twitter, propaganda, pictures being morphed. Body shaming, hate speech, photoshop, catfishing. Dating online is a risky game, beautiful photos on Instagram- a thing of the past, because reels are ‘in’ and well, are the photos even real?
After a break for tea, “Viral”, directed by Shreyas Dasharathe and Jamshed Irani was screened. A beautiful story of a friendship between an egg seller in Karachi and two teenagers in Mumbai, “Viral” left me with a smile on my face. The bond created across borders—shows the power that social media can have, for affecting some real change, none of the hate, none of the shame. Hammad, in Karachi, creates viral dance videos, an identity that is known to no one in his neighbourhood. Shiny and Bandu, in Mumbai—are fans. Together, the bond that is created takes all three to a place in their lives that they had not imagined. While the outcome may have been small in the larger scheme of things, the difference was huge. I wanted to cheer.

Teesta Setalvad delivered the Festival Keynote address for the 9th Kolkata People’s Film Festival to a packed hall. PFC has hosted Teesta in previous years, and we welcomed her back in love, camaraderie and solidarity this year. Teesta’s address covered a range of socio-political, economic, and cultural issues that have plagued the country for decades now, but specifically since 2004. A common underlying thread amidst these seemingly divergent issues was the question of justice and the constitution.

Teesta powerfully asked whether we have a democracy or a democracy that is ‘managed’ at multiple levels – whether the electoral institutions, the corporatized media, non-transparent financial institutions and to some extent, the judiciary. Indeed, the parliament is being used to demolish the constitution, brick by brick. Reminding us of the history of repressive laws such as the Rowlatt Act, she asked why a democratically elected country should need laws like the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA). She inferred that only when the state is so fragile and aware of its discriminatory laws that it needs the police to implement its rule. Leaning on Ambedkar, Teesta asked, can you have a politically viable democracy if a socially viable democracy is not working?

Teesta foregrounded the work of her collective, the Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP) initiative that defends the constitutional rights of Dalits, Adivasis, farmers, workers, religious, ethnic and sexual minorities, women and children. Since the draconian Citizenship Amendment Act, CJP has been working in various geographies including in Assam, where lakhs of people now live under the dreaded shadow of the CAA-National Registry of Citizens. Among the most vulnerable populations are the Namasudras, Gorkhas, Santhals, and Bengali Muslims.

Nevertheless, there is dissent in the country – powerfully emphasized by the anti-CAA NRC protests and the farmer’s movement at Delhi’s borders. She asked the audience to consider engaging closely with the prison system, wherein initiating prison visit programs at the district level could nudge prison reform. by sending letters to prisoners, or rethinking the idea of prison visits, which was prevalent a few decades again. She noted that initiatives like the People’s Film Collective are reminders that there are necessary spaces of dissent. She concluded on the note that “the tide must turn!”

Often we do things just like that, without giving much thought. And the consequences—whether born out of the action or a mere juxtaposition of time and space—are difficult to grapple with.

“Just Like That” by Kislay is set in Allahabad at a time when the city is in transition to be a ‘smart city’. The protagonist, Ms. Sharma, has recently lost her husband. But instead of cocooning herself, she develops habits which the other members of the family find difficult to digest. Going to the parlour, taking embroidery lessons from, and befriending a Muslim tailor, skipping yoga class and going to the mall for ice cream. Her son, a contractual voice artist who is having a difficult time in office with the announcement of a change in payment terms, finds it difficult to convince her to shift to the next floor with them so that they can rent out her floor. Her daughter-in-law is the quintessential housewife. She doesn’t have enough content to post on her ‘would be’ Facebook profile using her ‘would be’ smartphone. She works day and night without expectation and cries in solitude. Her grandson is the symbol of new age hyper-masculine Indian who drinks while bunking classes and tortures his elder sister. All of these culminate in an irreversible situation leading to Ms. Sharma leaving her home.

Kislay addresses a lot of issues plaguing the country. The Hindu-Muslim divide, Brahminical exclusivity, oppression in the name of development, growing distance between neighbours and within a family. The tensions between the members of the family is palpable. ‘Social reality is so complex’, said Kislay, in the conversation with the audience. Even though the narrative follows Ms. Sharma, the story pauses at the other characters and the different moments. There is a strong presence of patriarchy, handed down from one generation to another.

Engaging conversations, an inspiring call to action from Teesta Setalvad, and films that lay the foundation for creating the space for debate, discussion and collectivising. For me, the day ended on an uplifting note. The energy in the hall was evident, even at 9 at night!

Report: Devi, Kunal, Paroma, and Shalini
Photos: Animesh, Arkoprovo, Aniruddha and Nivedita