Waiting is a wonderful example of the so called ‘Hindie’ development in Indian film production – films made mainly in Hindi but not as part of mainstream Bollywood or specifically as art films. Instead they are ‘Hindi Independent films’. However, as I’ve indicated in the title of this post, the language of Waiting is officially registered by the Central Board of Film Certification as ‘Hinglish’. This means that the dialogue between the central characters is usually conducted in the English used by educated middle-class Indians punctuated by phrases from Hindi that are slipped in almost unconsciously. Some of the minor characters speak Hindi. Even though the action is mainly located in Kerala, nobody (that I noticed) speaks in Malayalam – but there is a joke about a character’s refusal to do so and about North v. South speech patterns generally. I was slightly disappointed that we don’t see much of Kerala apart from a couple of scenes by the backwaters – Kochi (Cochin) is one of the main tourist destinations in India. It wouldn’t be appropriate to have too many beautiful landscapes/waterscapes in this film. It’s mainly an internal narrative for the two central characters. The setting in Kerala is important for a narrative that is built around binaries – in this case the the calmer, more academic/intellectual tone of middle class Kerala and the more brash, materialistic world of Mumbai. Further binaries are associated with age/generation and with the backgrounds of the film’s two stars. Naseeruddin Shah has been a leading actor in India for more than forty years, going back to the parallel cinema of the 1970s/80s as well as later appearing in Bollywood and international films. Kalki Koechlin had a first major role only in 2009 but quickly established herself in the new world of ‘Hindie’ films, becoming something of a ‘poster girl’ for this new type of Indian film. When this couple come together there are many opportunities for narrative development.
The two stars play characters who meet at the very swish new hospital in Kochi (Cochin) where their respective spouses have been admitted, each in a comatose state. Shah’s character Shiv is a retired professor whose wife has been supported for some time on a ventilator and it seems unlikely that she will ever wake up. The cost of her care is steadily bankrupting Shiv after the medical insurance benefits have run out, but still he hopes for a recovery. Koechlin’s character Tara has just flown in from Mumbai after hearing that her new husband has been in a serious road accident during a business trip and she will face decisions about major operations that she must sanction knowing they carry significant risks – but also that they are needed if he is to recover at all. This sounds like it could be a distressing narrative or that it might turn into a sentimental Hollywood type of film. Instead it becomes a deeply humanist film about two people who develop a relationship in very difficult circumstances. Very importantly, there are no contrived endings for either character. The drama – and the comedy – in the film develops from the situations in which the characters find themselves and how they react differently and still try to support each other.
The comedy comes from the clash between Shiv’s fairly austere and cultured academic and Tara’s modern young woman enmeshed in social media. It is also there in the behaviour of minor characters of the young man representing Tara’s husband’s company and Shiv’s neighbour’s maid who brings him home-cooked food. These are polite young Keralites bemused by both Shiv and Tara. The narrative also has a kind of ‘pantomime villain’ in the shape of the doctor/consultant Malhotra looking after both medical cases. He’s played by actor-writer-director Rajat Kapoor, another major figure from independent cinema in India. It’s a difficult role and the film gently satirises Malhotra as appearing like a ‘company man’ mouthing platitudes and dealing with the economics of the care as much as the medical prognosis. Yet Dr Malhotra has difficult decisions to make just like everyone else. In a flashback we do see Shiv’s life with his wife who is played by Suhasini, the partner of Tamil director Mani Ratnam. This flashback is balanced in the narrative in structural terms by the arrival of Tara’s best friend Ishita who provides advice and support, some of it helpful, some of it not. But the final decisions must remain with Tara and Shiv.
Waiting is written and directed by Anu Menon, making it part of the celebration of ‘Women in Global Cinema’ at HOME in Manchester during 2019 (the film shoot also had a primarily female crew). Anu Menon is from a South Indian background but she grew up in Delhi, gained a degree at a prestigious technical university and then began to work in advertising. Eventually she realised that selling soap and soft drinks was not what she wanted to do and she enrolled at the London Film School. Waiting is her second fiction feature. The film was shot by Neha Parti Matiyani who is one of the few experienced women in the Hindi film industry.
When I screened this film for an audience the first time, I remember one person suggesting that it wasn’t very ‘Indian’ – in fact it could have been set anywhere. I was reminded of that comment this week when I have been working on the film Timbuktu and watching interviews with its director Abderrahmane Sissako. His view seems to be that stories are usually about people and that people everywhere face similar problems, only the context and how we view them and their problems changes. This is I think one of the tenets of the humanism that has informed many of the most successful ‘global filmmakers’ since 1945. Waiting is a humanist film that just happens to involve the educated middle-class. It does make me wonder, however, what is happening in private hospitals like this during the coronavirus pandemic in India. Waiting seems to have been well received by critics in India but its box office results arguably don’t match the appreciation that most critics and audiences expressed. I don’t think the film received a UK release and these Hindie films still struggle to get a release in the UK unless they are acquired by a UK arthouse distributor. The film has been compared to films like The Lunchbox (2013), which did well in the UK through Curzon, and I would recommend Waiting. It can be found online and on DVD in the UK.
It’s become clear in the last few years that Indian Independent films or ‘Hindies’ – as well as what might be called ‘New Bollywood’ films – still struggle to find the best way to get onto the international film festival circuit and to interest buyers in overseas territories. Mainstream commercial pictures from the larger Indian language cinemas generally have their own overseas distribution systems. My local multiplex regularly shows Tamil, Malayalam, Punjabi and Urdu films alongside Bollywood, but I have much less chance to see the indies. Occasionally one or two pop up in UK festivals and when I spotted Bhonsle in the Glasgow programme, I was determined to get to see it.
Writer-director Devashish Makhija and the film’s star Manoj Bajpayee first made a short film together a few years ago while trying to find the funding to make Bhonsle which now appears as produced by Indie Muviz, although I’m fairly sure the credits suggested that Bajpayee himself had a production input. Makhija’s first two features were both very well received.
The film begins with a long title sequence in which we see the construction and painting/dressing of a clay Ganesha idol for the local celebration of Ganesh Chaturthi – something which formed the centrepiece of Manjeet Singh’s Mumbai Kings (India 2012). In Bhonsle, the preparations are intercut with a sequence in which a police officer gradually strips himself of his uniform and emerges in simple white clothes. We also see a farewell that marks the moment of his retirement from the police force, but we get the sense that his retirement is not something he really wants and he asks for consideration of an extension to his employment. There is clearly meant to be a link between the religious celebration and this man’s retirement. This is a film that generally shows rather than tells and over the next two hours plus we have to work out some things for ourselves. Reading the film requires some knowledge of Indian geography and culture and some of the (limited) commentary on the film from non-Indians seems to get a few things wrong. I’m not sure I understand everything, so please correct me if I’m wrong.
Eventually we realise that the retired police officer is ‘Bhonsle’. In fact he is ‘Ganpati Bhonsle’. Ganpatai is another name for Ganesha. I’m not sure if Bhonsle actually carries this as a family name or whether it is simply a name to link him to Ganesha. Either way, he is the oldest man in the ‘Churchill Chawl’, one of small housing blocks in Mubai, and he is in some ways the respected elder although he now keeps himself much to himself and is gently mocked by some of the younger men. The chawl is not a peaceful place. Mumbai has long been the land of dreams for migrants from across India and now Biharis from North East India are coming to live in some of the cramped rooms. A local hothead Vilas (Santosh Juvekar), a taxi driver, has been recruited by a local politician of a Marathi Nationalist Party to stir up trouble among the Marathi youth (i.e. the local population from Maharashtra). Bhonsle ignores this at first but then discovers he has new neighbours, a Bihari woman Sita (Ipshita Chakraborty Singh) and her young brother Lalu. Bhonsle finds himself, reluctantly at first, standing up for these two against Vilas and the main part of the narrative involves these four characters leading to a chilling climax. All four gibve strong performances and Santosh Juvekar reminded me very much of Nawazuddin Siddiqi in appearance.
The Glasgow programme suggests that this drama is about India’s ‘class structures and racial divides’ and I’ve seen other comments that is about ‘caste differences’. But I think it is simply about prejudice against ‘outsiders’ and something whipped up by India’s current populist politics which in other cases are indeed nationalist/regionalist or religious/communal. Biharis are a sizeable minority in Maharashtra, as are many other groups who have migrated to Mumbai from other parts of India. Sita is a nurse and in terms of social class presumably on a par with Bhonsle.
The first part of the film in particular has a very slow pace. We spend quite a long time watching Bhonsle come to terms with what it is going to be like getting old and decrepit and lonely in his cramped room. At one point we are offered a dream sequence, in effect a series of images of the room falling into decrepitude. The cinematography by Jingmet Wangchuck a graduate from the Film and TV Institute of India in 2011 is one of the important elements of the film’s look alongside the soundtrack by Mangesh Dhakde and editing by Shweta Vengkat (who has worked on several notable ‘Hindies’ such as Newton and Gangs of Wasseypur).
The pacing speeds up for the remainder of the narrative once the interaction with Sita and Lalu begins. I enjoyed the film and I was always engaged. The ending is shocking with a brutal scene brilliantly photographed in an enclosed space. I do wonder though about whether the narrative is stretched out too far. 132 minutes, though not long by Indian standards, could be tightened up a little to attract international buyers. Others disagree I know.
Here is an excellent interview (in English) with the director Devashish Makhija at the Busan International Film Festival in South Korea in which he explains his personal reasons for making Bhonsle.
Rajat Kapoor is known in the UK as an actor (having appeared in more than 40 films) across mainstream Hindi and independent features. But in India he is also recognised as a director of low budget independent films. This busy actor-filmmaker made the trip to the North of England to make appearances at both Sheffield Showroom and HOME in Manchester as part of ‘Not Just Bollywood’. He accompanied his most recent feature as director (and supporting actor), introducing his film and staying on for a Q&A after the screening. Ankhon Dekhi is a remarkable film. I left the screening intrigued, slightly bemused and realising I needed to think more about it.
The film’s title translates roughly as ‘Seeing with your own eyes’. It only dawned on me later that ‘dekko’ is another Hindi loan word that no doubt crept into English usage during the colonial era– as in “Have a dekko at this”. The central character Bauji, a fifty-something man living with his extended family in old Delhi, decides to follow the philosophical position of believing only what he can see with his own eyes as closely as possible and in doing so turns upside down his own family and his group of friends in the local community. Everything kicks off with an event both shocking and mundane at the same time. The whole of Bauji’s extended family overreacts when it is revealed that Bauji’s daughter is seeing a young man who is assumed to be a ‘bad lot’ and certainly not appropriate as husband and son-in-law. But is he that bad? Or indeed not bad at all? Bauji is not convinced that the young man is a villain, but at first his daughter’s life takes a back seat as Bauji himself becomes known as a philosopher, giving up his job and acquiring a circle of followers, mainly from the local barber’s shop where men gather (a link to African-American culture I hadn’t thought of before).
Some time after the screening, I had a revelation about what Ankhon Dekhi might be reminding me of when I read a viewer’s comment on IMDb: “Rajat Kapoor’s refreshingly eccentric yet gimmick-less (even hype-less) Ankhon Dekhi is kind of a déja vu of Malgudi Days. The film revolves around Bauji who lives in his own ideological world and believes in the inherent goodness of people” (‘rangdetumpy’ from India). I came across the charming and beautifully written novels (in English) of R. K. Narayan around forty years ago. Narayan, a southern writer born in Madras, invented his own fictional town of Malgudi. His stories deal with everyday and mainly inconsequential events which reveal everything about a small community of characters. There is definitely a link between Bauji and Narayan’s world. Ankhon Dekhi is set in Old Delhi and Rajat Kapoor told us that finding the particular dwelling with its interconnected rooms and communal spaces to serve as the film’s central location was one of the most important aspects of the film’s production. The extended family includes Bauji’s brother (Rajat Kapoor) and his family and the closeness – which has benefits and disbenefits – becomes another factor. Ankhon Dekhi works because it is both specific in its Old Dehli milieu and ‘universal’ as a family comedy melodrama. It also suggests another Indian genre – that concerned with the ‘guru’ or ‘pandit’. Bauji attracts followers and it isn’t too difficult to see that both guru and followers are ripe for some form of gentle satire. Alternatively, perhaps his philosophy works and we are the ones to be gently mocked? Again, Narayan had a similar story, The Guide (1958) which follows a character, a tour guide, who will eventually become seen as some kind of spiritual guide by his followers. Like Narayan, Rajat Kapoor ends his narrative with an open question about Bauji’s status and whether he can survive the journey he seems to be making.
Ankhon Dekhi is a lovely film with a great ensemble cast who present scenes about life in their neighbourhood that allow us to reflect on love and friendship and the fascination of daily life. Rajat Kapoor explained that he grew up in this kind of family in a similar part of Old Delhi. It is clearly a film that ‘Not Just Bollywood’ curator Omar Ahmed holds very dear, as was apparent in the Q&A that followed the screening. Omar asked questions which referred back to his own earlier presentation on the ‘Hindies’ phenomenon and Rajat Kapoor explained how, seemingly ‘out of the blue’, someone appeared who was prepared to find the half a million dollars required to make the film. This was Manish Mundra. Ankhon Dekhi was the first production for Drishyam Films, the company Mundra set up. Four years and several other productions later (including Newton (2017)). Mundra was able to announce a $20 million fund to finance 8-10 new Indian independent films. This development promises new films but how these films will be distributed and how they will find audiences remains an issue. Rajat Kapoor told us that Ankhon Dekhi has still not covered its production costs. But he also suggested that the new possibilities offered by Netflix and other streaming services might help indie films to be seen outside the big metros (a question from the audience queried whether this would mean that films like Ankhon Dekhi would never get into cinemas). At the moment, a film like Ankhon Dekhi is still likely to be seen mainly at film festivals (in India and abroad) – and not in local cinemas on release. Rajat suggested that it doesn’t really matter if Netflix don’t allow films they produce to get into cinemas if it means that audiences can still see small independent films on their TV sets or online. He admitted that the biggest success of Ankhon Dekhi, for him, was that every day somebody new would see his film on the various outlets and that he could feel the love for the film when people stopped him on the street to congratulate him.
Ankhon Dekhi won awards in India but Rajat Kapoor is still struggling to fund one of the four new scripts he has completed. His next film will try for crowd-funding and we were all invited to contribute. In a final response to a question by Omar Ahmed about the potential for this new ‘wave’ of Indian independents, Rajat Kapoor was not optimistic. “There are perhaps 5 films each year that are interesting independents – and we make 1500 films a year.” I’m not sure I agree that only 5 are examples of new ideas, but Rajat did finally relent by agreeing that, slowly Indians are getting more access to ‘world cinema’ and tastes are changing. Let’s hope so if we are going to get more films like Ankhon Dekhi. Rajat himself is a link to the ‘New Cinema’ of the 1970s and 1980s since he was inspired by two of the directors of the period, Mani Kaul and Kumar Shahani, while he was at the Film Institute in Pune and they are both acknowledged at the end of Ankhon Dekhi.
A short interview with Rajat Kapoor has been posted on HOME’s website: