Silent Waters

'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.

Perhaps the first south Asian film that has had such a lasting impression on me, Khamosh Pani has hardly received the glory it truly deserves. Watching the film leaves you senseless for about half an hour and then it knocks all the wind out of you.

Khamosh Pani takes the viewer to a small village in Pakistan where life evolves. Specifically it focuses on Ayesha and her son Saleem and their relationship. Ayesha never goes to the village well to draw water while Saleem gets seduced by Islamic fundamentalists and transforms from a love sick puppy to the man he thinks he wants to be.

Sabiha Sumar, perhaps one of the best directors in the subcontinent, tells us the story of a small village in Pakistan. With perhaps one of the most powerful issues to deal with, Sumar displays true genius by making everything seem so subtle and hauntingly real. Perhaps, the greatest strength lies in convincing the audience that the statement need not be made in black and white and in this respect Sumar shines.

To say that the acting performances were excellent would be the understatement of the century. One watches in amazement at how real and authentic each character is. The mind knows that what it sees are actors and yet it refuses to believe what it knows. Every single character, from an extra to the leads adds to the tremendous energy that the film brings with it. Kirron Kher as Ayesha/Veero is stunning, so much so that one cannot imagine her as anyone else. Aamir Ali Malik is another actor who plays with the audience, seducing them and disturbing them through the course of the film As an Indian separated from the partition by two generations I can't really say that I feel the pain that my mother does when she sees a film such as this, I have heard stories of my grand aunt who was attacked and mutilated by a mob in Lahore when my mothers family had to leave for India. Perhaps my lack of sentimental attachment makes me see it a little more objectively. Khamosh Pani has exposed me to some of this pain and while it may not be my own I can feel it. But the question that arose in my mind is that those that were around when this bloodshed (on both sides) occurred have mostly died or are dying, will we succeeding generations ever know this pain? The pain of leaving behind a wife, killing your own daughter, leaving her to be raped, Living in another country when that which was once a part of you lives somewhere else. How can I fight for this when I don't know what its like? Khamosh Pani made me feel this pain for a few days; perhaps we need more reminders such as these so that we can experience the pain to forget.

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.

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.

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.