Eau dormante

'Silent Waters'is consciously designed to be an issue-based movie. The subject seemed to follow a certain pattern in which women took the center stage in the narrative. Though, there were parallel tracks as well, but it was a perception developed out of simple observation, and not because there was any particular ideology to propound.

The film is based on actual events that took place when the Indian sub-continent was partitioned in 1947 into two new states - India and Pakistan. It was a time of intense violence. In pre-partition Punjab, Muslims and Sikhs had lived side-by-side, but during the partition men from both sides of the religious divide slaughtered each other. Each looted the other's property, which included their respective women: little distinction was made between robbing cattle and abducting women. Muslim men abducted Sikh women while Sikh men abducted Muslim women. The women were raped, bought, sold and, sometimes, murdered; some ended up marrying their abductors.

This film has a definite Punjabi feel, set on the borders of Pakistan in 1979 - the year that president Zia Ul-Haq introduced Islamic laws into what was meant to be a secular country.

Silent Waters is chillingly humane drama that will stay with you for a long time.

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.

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.

This amazing picture is undoubtedly a statement on the never-ending religious war that has become a sad but integral part of history. Terrible to see how people are not allowed to live their life in peace, so much that some of them are forced to change their primary identity in order to survive. This story takes place in 1979 in the village of Charkhi, Pakistani Punjab, where middle-aged widow Ayesha lives a poor lifestyle with her 18-year-old son Saleem. She makes a living from her late husband's pension and by teaching the Quran to young girls. Her son Saleem is a handsome, simple and likable guy who is in love with a young girl named Zubeida. But soon starts the trouble, when Saleem suddenly gets involved with a group of Islamists. He breaks up from Zubeidaa, and Ayesha is frightened to see her son turning into an extremist, as this brings her past back and reminds her of a secret which has haunted her for years, a secret of which even Saleem is unaware. Painful flashbacks to the violent Partition hint, with a woman standing on the well's edge, are heartbreaking. One brave woman chose to live, but now circumstances take her back to this very damned well, to complete the uncompleted.

Khamosh Pani is a film evidently made with passion and sincerity. It is brilliantly directed and acted. The story is one of its kind, and the execution is superb. The dialogues are very well-written and the film is benefited by a wonderful background score. Sabiha Sumar skillfully captures the dim atmosphere of the Pakistani Punjab, and the quiet, sombre narrative style effectively symbolises the silent waters it deals with. The power of this film seems to come not only from the realistic way in which it was depicted and the honesty with which its issue was handled, but equally from the roundly excellent acting. Sumar's cast, which consists mainly of Indian actors, is led by one of the finest actresses in India, Kirron Kher. Kher is outstanding as the struggling, strong and tormented Ayesha, and infuses her role with depth and pathos very few actresses would be able to. Aamir Malik is convincing as Saleem, and his character's transformation from a carefree romantic fool to a decisive Islamist is well done. Shilpa Shukla is lovely as Zubeidaa but she mostly shines in the film's last scene.

To sum it up, Khamosh Pani is one exceptional piece of art. The many ironies it conveys are horrifying but simple. The film's last few sequences are deeply moving and touching. One scene (you will know what I am talking about) is really poignant. I highly recommend you to see this film.

Every now and then you are suddenly hit by a movie that leaves an impression on you. This movie has the potential for the same.

If I ever to describe the movie in one word - that would be "moving". It indeed moved me. After the movie my only response was silence. I just didn't know how to react. It was an experience - though a very real one. It was as if you are witness to the events and you feel so frustrated that there is nothing you can do about it.

I could write about the story of the movie, however a part of the fun in the movie is the way the story unfolds itself. So I better keep mum on that. I would just mention that the story is set in Rawalpindi area of Pakistan and its the story about a mother and a son living there. Though its not a social statement, it touches upon the issues of religion, partition, coexistence, terrorism besides being an emotional and philosophical drama.

On the movie making, I think its a brilliantly written script. A dialogue that I still remember from the film is when the mother says - "If the son is not mine then who in the world is." It is a painful acceptance of the solitude and the loneliness of each and everyone of us.

The acting is almost perfect. In fact it seems that there are no actors in the movie. Its as if real people are living those lives. I wonder how the director found such actors. Kiron Kher, in her central role as the mother, has outperformed herself. Her silence is so expressive, that she doesn't need any dialogues.

On the whole I think the movie deserves great credit. I am terribly disappointed at the (current) 6.8 rating at IMDb. I realize that its a non-populist movie but I would have felt that anybody who ended up seeing the movie would be affected by it. As for me, I give it a perfect 10.