Create a rainbow for the pot of gold By Randeep Wadehra

Punjabi television

“it’s not just any movie, it’s a mission… a mission to save the girl child”, Director Mukesh Gautam is emphatic as he elaborates, “Realizing how propaganda blitz often puts viewers off even the most socially relevant issues we have decided not to get preachy. Let the message sink in while people watch this entertainer Jashan Manaiye Saare.” Earnestness and confidence ooze out of his words. Although Hindi television is awash with soaps featuring girl-child related themes, and the Punjab government too has initiated a movement against female foeticide, a commercial movie tackling such an “unglamorous” subject is a first for Punjabi, if not Indian, cinema. Gautam assures us that the theme has been handled with sensitivity, keeping cinematic aesthetics in view. Even as movie buffs are expected to get full entertainment value for their money they would be returning home with something to chew over. To seamlessly weave a powerful anti-female-foeticide statement into the framework of commercial entertainer requires a deft touch – something that Mukesh Gautam possesses in ample measure. The film has been shot in Amritsar and Himachal Pradesh. The excellent camerawork promises a visual treat too. The cast has Lakhwinder Wadali and Harpreet in the lead while the thespians Gugu Gill, Nirmal Rishi and others like Rana Ranbir, Sudesh Lehri etc are in interesting supporting roles. There was a time when parallel cinema used to enrich the Bollywood corpus with its intellectual and socially relevant content. Will Mukesh Gautam’s Jashan… do the same to today’s Punjabi cinema? Well, Punjabi Cinema is certainly moving a notch higher – this movie is proof enough.
Talking of the regional cinema one cannot but cast a speculative eye on its track record on the small screen. There was a time when private television channels used to telecast Punjabi movies at least once a week if not more frequently. Today only Doordarshan Jalandhar does so, but the fare is so stale that it reeks and has become unappetizing. Flicks from 1980s and even earlier decades – with faded prints – are telecast as poor substitutes for something better. Other channels are not doing even that. Don’t they have resources for buying latest, or at least fairly recent, Punjabi flicks like the crowd pulling Jee Aayan Nu, Mehndi Wale Hath and so many others? Balwinder, a producer with Zee Punjabi, points out that the channel’s subsidiaries in the USA and UK regularly telecast Punjabi movies because they find it lucrative thanks to the Punjabi diaspora. In India, owing to the overwhelming popularity of Bollywood productions even Punjabis keep away from movies made in their mother tongue, hence no sponsors and no advertising revenue. It is sheer economics, asserts Balwinder.
That might well be true but surely channels like Zee and PTC have enough resources to come up with quality Punjabi productions? Hindi movies draw on talent from various parts of the country as well as abroad whereas Punjabi producers are unwilling to invest even on local talent. So, if the two channels decide to underwrite quality ventures then, after a reasonable gestation period, there is no reason why the audiences cannot be won back. Please remember, shoddy production values and poor storylines have been responsible for alienating up-market viewers from Punjabi movies. The only way to win back their patronage is to offer fresh plots produced imaginatively. Mere exotic locations will not do.
Today’s Punjabi television and cinema are akin to a vast canvas waiting to be painted in rainbow colours which can be achieved given the right imagination and skills. The pot at the end of such a rainbow will definitely be full of gold.
Any takers?

The Tribune

Grandmother: the institution that was By Randeep Wadehra

Dadi Nani: memories of our grandmothers edited by Subhash Mathur and Subodh Mathur
Spenta Multimedia, Mumbai. Pages: 196. Price: Rs. 495/-

For there is no friend like a grandmother
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.

(With due apologies to the late British poet Christina Rossetti)

The institution that is considered anachronistic today was a norm, nay, a sacrosanct ideal, not too long ago. Joint family was a prominent symbol of the Indian way of life. It started withering away with the onset of western influences and industrialization. By the middle of the twentieth century it disappeared from the urban India. Even in our countryside it is more or less extinct. Yet it endures in our consciousness as this volume indicates.
Imagine a huge family living under one roof out of convenience or necessity; an army of closely related persons having a common stake in each other’s wellbeing. A brood of ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ (the term ‘cousin’ had not entered our lexicon then – and when it did we Indianised it with the delightfully hyphenated “cousin-sister/brother”; such was the influence of middle-class joint family values). Although, barring Kerala, the patriarch ruled the roost it was grandma’s benign presence that had an enduring influence on the children’s psyche.
Actually, Dadi and Nani were more than a presence – they were repositories of hoary traditions; a binding force that kept families together emotionally as well as physically; the silent force that often enabled families to survive mortal crises; and above all a vital link between past and future while keeping the present in perspective; an archetypal grandmother was not the sweet-syrupy stereotype so much in vogue in our movies, or a harridan mother-in-law either. She was someone more realistic – a human being with all the frailties and strengths of a mortal with abiding love for the family that could reach the sublime heights of self-sacrifice.
In these twenty five anecdotes one comes to appreciate the resilience of women like Achchi Amma who brought up her infant children after becoming a widow at the age of 24 although she had lived as a parda-nasheen in a conservative Muslim milieu. Inspiring is the case of the brave Kumodini who, apart from early widowhood (even then she used to actively help freedom fighters while running the household), had to overcome ruin wrought by the Partition. And Thakuma whose sweet nature and devotion to the joint family helped keep the egoistic in-laws happy. Maijee is quite representative of the grandmas of those times – religious, upholders of family traditions with boundless love for children.
But not all grannies were conformists. There were rebels like the lovely Santosh who had a rather unconventional upbringing. Widowed as a young mother of two she would drive her own car, smoke and socialize; when she married a Muslim who was younger to her it created quite a ruckus in Lahore’s conservative Hindu society. Or Achamma who, undaunted by widowhood, not only looked after her large family but also set up enduring social institutions. Muthassi reveled in sharing the fruits of her progressive ideas with the society at large. You will find the contribution, Daughters of Independence, quite informative regarding women who came to terms with the post-Partition struggles. Another inspirational woman is Ujam who made education the mantra for not just women’s emancipation but also a route to prosperity for her family’s coming generations. Women like Lajwanti and Jayanthi Pakasamma set examples in attitudinal dynamism that helped them straddle the past and the future.
Remember, these women had lived in the early to mid 1900s when fundamental shifts were taking place in India’s political, economic and social scenarios; and most of them were victims of medieval practices like child brides married to much older men. Yet the barely educated Dadis and Nanis of these narratives display dollops of chutzpa, wisdom, foresight and forbearance to come up trumps against the vagaries of fate. This reminds one of what the Irish novelist Roddy Doyle had once observed, “From my experience and observation, if a family is held together in difficult circumstances, nine times out of ten it’s the woman who’s doing it...You’ll find women in their late thirties who look 50, and their husbands of the same age who look 28 or 29 – like the eldest sons. Because, in many ways, they are the eldest sons.”
Touché!

Swagat

A squirrel’s adventures By Randeep Wadehra

Zapp: the squirrel who wanted to fly by Rachit Kinger
Wisdom Tree. Pages: 115. Price: $ 7.95

It is a rare experience to come across an Indian writer living in India who gives us a top class parable that can be turned into a comic book and even a cartoon flick. Zapp, the baby squirrel, ventures out into the big bad jungle to live life on his own terms – much against the elder squirrels’ remonstrations. During his adventures he befriends Saap the snake and Baaz the eagle – otherwise its specie’s natural enemies. His encounters with the two are thrilling enough. However, he also makes friends with a rabbit and a snail. From each of his friends Zapp learns something new and useful. If the snail dwells upon high ambition’s futility then the rabbit declares, “Life is not something you have to endure”; in fact “it is basically one’s perception’s affair”. Zapp has developed a burning desire for flying and visiting distant lands by following the sun’s path. Some discourage him while others make fun of him, but Baaz inspires him to develop his own wings – which he eventually does and how!!
This is an inspirational book with doses of philosophic gravitas at one level; and on another level – thanks to its child-friendly language – it is a sheer entertainer. Kinger’s novella is destined to be a best seller.

The Tribune

The diaspora narrative By Randeep Wadehra

Life under one roof by Gurnam Gill
Unistar. Pages: 143. Price: Rs. 195/-

The spread of Indian, especially Punjabi, diaspora is often described as the revenge of the colonized. Those who migrated to UK took their language and culture with them and did a bit of cross-pollination there to leave a lasting impact on the culture-scape of what was once truly Great Britain. However, things were never easy for the early migrants to UK. Apart from linguistic and cultural alienation they had to contend with insidious as well as brazen forms of racism. This volume does not just dwell on these aspects but shows how the diaspora came to terms with the not-so-friendly socio-cultural environment, eventually taking firm roots there.

The Tribune

Tracing God’s genesis By Randeep Wadehra

The birth of God by RS Nain
Unistar. Pages: 168. Price: Rs. 295/-

The birth of God is a collection of sixteen stories. The very first one – of the same name – is actually not structured as a typical short story. It is more a story-cum-essay – an interesting innovation – in which the author has tried to convey how the need for a divine being must have arisen at the beginning of human civilization. With so many unexplained natural phenomena, and reasons behind even mundane events not understood, there was a felt need for a supernatural power that could be held responsible for such happenings. Moreover, since agriculture was not known then and food had to be either hunted or gathered from the forest – a daunting task – there were turf battles among various tribes for the same. Inter-tribal warfare for food and women was common. To ensure victory divine intervention was essential, hence the invention of local deity. Finally, the need for morality arose when struggles for women’s favours turned really nasty. Hence a moral code, wrapped in piety, became essential. The silver threads portrays a child’s bewilderment over human perfidy in matters of love. He is unable to come to terms with the manner in which Saabi changes her loyalty from her dead fiancé Sultana to his brother Ramzana. The wailing stream is a love story with paranormal touch, whereas The faith is more a satire on superstition with star-crossed conjugal love as its background. Other stories too attempt to explore and explain human nature in variegated circumstances.

The Tribune

Music in the air By Randeep Wadehra

Punjabi television

Garima Noor, the dulcet voiced lass, arrived with a sheaf of certificates testifying to her talent as singer. However, her debut music album Jazbaat (as solo singer) – which was recently released by the noted poet Sardar Anjum – is proof enough of her talent and potential, displaying her ability to essay different moods in the disc’s eleven songs; there is joy, wistfulness, longing and lighthearted banter. Noor, a young MBA graduate specializing in finance, is the winner of the 2006 Punjab Da Superstar singing competition conducted by ETC Punjabi. Then there are a clutch of first prizes won in different youth festivals she had participated in during her student days. Garima wants to dedicate herself to music in the traditional guru-shishya-parampara spirit. Consequently, she has had two gurus – one the famous Dolly Guleria, under whose tutelage she did a brief stint, and now her mother Savita Jain with whom she had cut a devotional disc Maa beti te kar kirpa some time back. Her two mentors have introduced her to the essentials of classical, light classical and folk music. She has already performed for DD1, DDJ and DD Shimla. Although she has won awards in other fields like Rangoli, dancing and theatre too, and is a professionally trained manager to boot, she says, “Music is my passion and my approach towards it is non-mercenary. I prefer to have education and professional skills in other academic fields so that I may excel in music. Unlike some who jump into the field half-baked I do my riyaaz regularly and would continue to do so because education in music never ends.” Well said.
One was bewitched by a bouquet of folk songs on DDJ’s Sur Punjabi. The rendering of Sufi songs as well as Mirza, was a treat. However, why is DDJ so miserly in highlighting the names of performers? One could catch the name of only one – Gurmit – and that too I am not sure whether I got it right.
Zee Punjabi’s Pindaan Vichon Pind is another very interesting program. It introduces us to various Punjabi singers, writers, poets etc through elaborate interviews held in simple rural surroundings. The idyllic ambience adds great value to the rich content that has immense archival value.
Lastly, but certainly the most important one, is The Masters on PTC Punjabi. Currently Barkat Sidhu is on the show. He and the preceding singer Gurmeet Bawa have been concentrating on Punjabi folk although Sufi too gets due space. One admired the veteran Bawa’s voice control and stamina – she can give any youngster the blushes. Some of the marriage songs, viz., sitthnee, ghodi and suhaag, must have made old timers quite nostalgic. Barkat Sidhu, on the other hand, did sing Sufi songs but reveled in love legends like Heer and Mirza. One little known legend of Sehti and Murad seemed to be his favourite. Sehti was Heer’s sister-in-law. Sidhu’s renderings have the quality of being timeless.
However, there are other legends that have been favourite with the folks since ages and need to be performed on quality TV shows like The Masters; to name just three: Dulla Bhatti, Jagga, and Ballo Mahiya need to be re-composed and presented to today’s’ audiences. Let us hope to see some of the future singers regale us with these.
By the time this column appears in print PTC Punjabi will have announced the date for its music awards function to be held this month. Music wafts in the salubrious March air.
PS:- On 28th February one waited for The Masters till 8.10 PM (scheduled time 7.30 PM) but all one got was mindless repetitions of commercials. Such callous arbitrariness is bound to put off up-market viewership.

THE TRIBUNE

Contemporary, crisp and rhythmic stories By Amar Nath Wadehra

Koiyee Charasaaz hota by Renu Behl
Modern Publishing House, New Delhi. Pages: 112. Price: Rs. 150/-

While reading this collection of eighteen short stories this couplet by Sahir Ludhianavi comes to one’s mind “Duniya ne tajurbato hawadis ki shakal mein jo kuchh mujhe diya hai/lauta raha hoon main.” (I am returning to the world what it has given me by way of experiences and accidents). It fits perfectly with what Renu Behl has to say in this anthology that depicts all the shades of human nature – dark, grey and bright. Indeed, Urdu fiction has been evolving with time and is very much tuned in to contemporary issues as well as literary style. Let’s take a look at some of the stories.
Masoom Gunah portrays jealousy and belated repentance. Ragini and Anandi are childhood friends – both of whom nurture the ambition of becoming doctors. The former is a brilliant student as well as an ideal daughter; she is popular among teachers as well as in the neighborhood for the qualities of her head and heart. This makes Anandi extremely jealous and plans her downfall. She knows that Ragini is an emotional fool who has a soft corner for Vikram – a neighbor. She encourages the two to consummate their affair. The gullible Ragini, ignoring her parents’ objections, abandons her ambition and marries Vikram who turns out to be an alcoholic and drug addict. When Anandi becomes doctor she gloats over her ‘victory’. Years later she realizes the enormity of her “innocent sin” of leading her friend astray and tries to make amends.
Fislan, on the other hand, ends on a happier note. Chitra comes from a conservative lower middle class family. As a fresher in college she gets friendly with Raghu – two years her senior and a craze among girls. Flattered by his attention Chitra begins to neglect her studies. One day Raghu takes her on a long drive. On the way he promises her marriage and takes her to a friend’s flat. Scales fall from her eyes when she is confronted with the scenario in the room – a half empty liquor bottle, strewn cigarette butts and voices of a couple locked in the adjoining room. She flees with tears in her eyes. Did those tears result from a broken heart or out of sheer relief?
Pasheman is the story of a repentant “other woman”. She is a government official who falls into love with her colleague Sharad – a married man and father of two. They enter into a live-in relationship as Sharad’s wife Vaishali refuses to divorce him. When Sharad dies, leaving her childless and forlorn, she realizes the pain she had inflicted upon Vaishali. She also begins to envy Vaishali for being the mother of Sharad’s children and leading a contented life in her old age. She wishes she had never got involved with Sharad, but too late.
Hum bhi kabhi insaan thhe is a ghost story with a message. A middle-aged widow and her daughter go to the river Ravi intent upon committing suicide. The widow’s sons and daughters-in-law had deprived them of their share in the property left behind by her husband. Apart from refusing to help in her daughter’s marriage they behaved cruelly with them. Just as the two women are about to enter the river an old man stops them. They are surprised that he knows everything about them. He tells them to give up the idea of suicide and face their problems boldly. Moreover, there is no guarantee that there would be peace after death. Giving his own example he narrates how he was betrayed by his son and forced to commit suicide. And, after death, the ‘other world’ did not accommodate him, forcing him to live a ghost’s unhappy life. Suicide is not a solution to one’s problems.
Renu Behl’s language is crisp and lucid. She chooses words carefully in order to bring the characters to life. The narrative’s rhythmic flow keeps the reader engrossed. She is good at exploring the human mind without resorting to unnecessary or ornate verbiage. Her stories carry positive messages without being preachy. Worthy of your bookshelf.

The Tribune