Eau dormante

There is a side to Pakistan most of us are blind to. At least visually.

Director Sabiha Sumar presents that side to us -- a desolate, barren Pakistan, a magnificent, sprawling wasteland worthy of a Sergio Leone classic. For someone used to the congested streets of an Indian metropolis, seeing this grand, hilly Pakistani village, full of whispered secrets and echoed threats holds a surreal poignancy.

In the Charkhi village of Punjab in Pakistan, life is quirky, quaint, and increasingly foreboding. The setting itself presents a paradox: there are fortresses available for youngsters to romantically rendezvous, but no place for a kafir (non-Muslim) to hide.

Khamosh Pani revolves around the life of a simple, middle-aged woman, Ayesha, played by Kirron Kher. She seems normal enough, a typical Pakistani lady, living the placid life of a widow, supporting her family by giving Quran lessons to neighbourhood children. As the film builds slowly into its plot, we begin to suspect the central protagonist is actually her wistful son, Saleem.

Saleem, played by Aamir Malik, looks exactly in the Jimmy Mistry (The Guru, East Is East) mold, just floppier, lazy, and intensely likable. With a boyish grin firmly in place, he is smitten with girl-next-door, the no-nonsense Zubeida, who's trying to goad him into getting a job.

As the two murmur besotted secrets to each other across the roofs of conveniently empty minarets, Saleem realises that Zubeidaa's dreams of going to college and fashioning her career and her own riches far outweigh his own. In fact, he doesn't have any dream at all, just shuffling through life listlessly. He needs a vocation, a higher cause to believe in.

At this crucial juncture in his youth, Charkhi's naïveté is shattered by the arrival of Islamic fundamentalists. We suddenly realize that the year is 1979, and we're told emotionally that Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto has just been hanged.

There is ample scope for over-dramatisation, but the scene has been handled with wonderful restraint -- a postman stands by his bicycle, seemingly lost. When Ayesha repeatedly asks him what's wrong, he just shakes his head and shows her the paper, muttering in disbelief that the prime minister has been hanged. Immediately, we're framed into uncannily familiar perspective:

General Zia's period of marshal law has begun.

As the Sikhs are allowed to cross the border and revisit their native places of worship, dissent and fundamentalism sets in deeper. Saleem is now one of them, a misguided boy strongly hanging on to a deluded version of Allah.

The film turns darker and more sombre as an important issue comes evocatively to the fore. A gentle visiting Sikh alludes to the prospect of some female relatives being left behind during Partition, but is silenced vehemently by those around him. It is an issue of pride, and we are awakened to the nightmare that families actually killed their own, sacrificing them brutally to avoid dishonor at the hands of the enemy.

The irony is painfully simple: the womanfolk were actually safer in the hands of the very enemy, whose attempt at dishonor was probably preferable to the slaughter their own families put them through.

Zubair (Navtej Johar), however, is a Sikh determined to find his long-lost elder sister, and is sure she lived around these parts. The film is based on true incidents of the time, and as we shuttle through flashback and the present, Khamosh Pani confronts us with information many of us are unaware of.

The film is subtle, and refreshingly free of hysteria, enough to make it one of the best films in the increasingly crowded Partition genre, and reminds us that the subject still has so much to explore. It's a film striking in its simplicity, unlike most recent attempts that usually peter off into melodrama or pander to clichés and even propaganda.

Most directors, with an eye on the festival circuit, try to exaggerate their viewpoints, and show off cinematic abilities. Mira Nair is a case in point. Here, the debutante filmmaker has made a commendable first effort, with visible sincerity. Her lead actress, Kher, has done an overwhelming job, underplayed but truly a wonderfully written role.

This is the first Pakistani film I've ever watched; Sabiha Sumar has made sure it won't be the last.

I am at a loss of words after watching this one which is more than a film, it is an experience therefore, the only words in which this masterpiece can be described are adjectives-mind blowing, shocking, great in narrative and style, simple and subtle, poignant, brilliant exposition. Here is finally a movie, that shocks you, surprises you, questions you, slaps you, make you cry, shows you a mirror-to sum up evoke strong responses. The film finally succeeds in speaking a universal language. Here No sides are taken but just roots you to the middle of the premise. It touched the epic proportions of earlier masterpieces Garam Hawa and Tamas, based on partition issues. Though an influence of Iranian new wave cinema is seen on film maker sabiha sumer yet it is an original piece. A superior product, a touching tale, a classic world cinema, indeed.. "Jinhe naaz hai Black par wo kahan hain".

This is an outstanding movie, illustrating life in rural Punjab in Pakistan and how the ugly scepter of religious fundamentalism raises its head and disrupts the peaceful flow of village life under General Zia. At the every end, it refers to the current version of an old story under yet another General, Musharaf.

The central story is about Ayesha, a Sikh girl abducted and left behind during the Partition, who has made a new life for herself in Pakistan, being forced to take on a new identity, marrying one of her abductors, and raising a son she dotes upon. The return of her long lost brother as a pilgrim and the taking over of the village by fanatics ends up destroying the life she had created. Kirron Kher in the lead role is very good and all the actors do a great job.

My only concern is that viewers without a close understanding of the India Pakistan Partition may miss out some of the subtleties. That however did not stop the judges at a European film festival from awarding the best actress prize to Kirron Kher.

Nothing prepares you for the subtlety and searing honesty of this film. There is something ennobling about watching it. The director gives us vignettes of life in Pakistan, circa 1980 and 1999, and paints the portrait of a country in the grip of a ruinous Islamization. General Zia-ul-Haq took the country backward by several years through his repressive policies and Sabiha Sumar shows us glimpse of what he did to the country.

In a film so subtly wrought, it is unusual to be struck particularly by acting performances but for Shilpa Shukla is a revelation. It is a splendidly understated performance and I must say her sensuality stirred me too.

Khamosh Pani will go down in Pakistani history as the most important work of art and politic since the country's inception. The story documents the era (1979) of the CIA-assisted killing of the democratically elected prime minister Bhutto and the installation of fundamentalist dictator General Zia ul-Haq. The film chronicles the death of love and the birth of hate as part of a continuing cycle of violence that has besieged that part of the world. Religious intolerance, bigotry and ignorance are the fierce villains of the movie. The film has managed to humanize the tragedy of the Pakistani people's struggle with fanaticism and imported agendas. What I particularly love about this film, besides the fact that it is technically remarkable, is the fact that it does not glorify death or killing. This is not a Bollywood or Lollywood melodrama. Beautiful punjabi language script adds to the authenticity of this true-to-life cinema representation of the people of the land. This film is brave to acknowledge the atrocities of displacement; of the violence against Sikhs and against women that was part of the partition of India and Pakistan. Well acted, well written and extremely well directed. Bravo!