film review

My daughters warned that the film has too much violence. But perhaps they are yet to know how a journalist's mind works. Fulfilling a curiosity is the karma of my tribe. Since Imtiaz Ali-directed “Main Vaapas Ayunga” (I will return) has created a fair amount of curiosity and I saw many friends pontificating on this movie, I had to see it. I decided to go alone. So, on a recent rain-swept evening, I found myself occupying an aisle seat of a South Mumbai theatre with just a dozen or so movie buffs around. A journey of ‘feelings’ If films are meant to transport you to a different era, give you goosebumps, make you feel a certain vulnerability and allow you to escape your worries for a few hours, this film achieves all of these purposes. Set in the tumultuous times of partition and based on love, longing and fractured memories of 95-year-old Keenu (Naseeruddin Shah) on his deathbed battling dementia, the romantic drama depicts not just one of the biggest horrors in human history, but also sets a benchmark on how to make a done and dusted story gripping and interesting. Unlike many propaganda films trying to cash in on the current majoritarian itch to blame a particular community for many crimes committed in the past and some of the contemporary sins, this film avoids falling into that trap. Keenu (a Sikh boy) falls in love with his college friend Jiya or Afsana (Shravani). I recently found out that Shravani is the granddaughter of former Maharashtra CM Manohar Joshi. They meet, let love blossom, laugh and promise to stay together no matter how strong a storm threatens to torpedo their love. Of romance, belonging and separation Irshad Kamil's romantic songs and AR Rahman's haunting compositions help lift the script, which is steeped in romance, pathos, belonging, and separation. This is not the first film depicting partition trauma. And this will not be the last one in this genre. Those of us who have read Khushwant Singh's “Train to Pakistan” or the short stories of Saadat Hasan Manto will find flashes of the tragic tale these legendary writers captured through their powerful pen. Since the Radcliffe line tore apart not just homes and hearts but also centuries of shared living, Keenu and Jiya never got reunited. Keenu carries a sense of guilt, a heavy burden on his heart, of not finding closure to his love for Jiya. Enter Nirvair Singh (brilliantly played by Diljit Dosanjh), Keenu's grandson, who is not just the old man's caregiver but also a close confidante. He tries to decipher the source of his grandpa's agony. He finds that it is Keenu's beloved Jiya left behind in Sargodha (Pakistan) at the partition. She must be reached out to give closure to grandpa's pain. Does the grandson succeed in his mission to locate the haveli in Sargodha where Jiya lived, 78 years after the holocaust of partition? Watch the movie to find it. Much water has flowed down the five rivers of Punjab (punj means five and aab means water in Persian), the rich land cruelly divided by a British official mandated to draw the dividing line even if he had neither inclination nor time to understand the geography of the land he divided. Using history, poetry, nostalgic feelings and an initiative to help partition-caused dislocated families find their lost relatives and friends, the story keeps you engaged and involved. A matter of Urdu Personally, I despair a couple of times while watching it, including when Nirvair, Keenu's grandson and caregiver, regrets that he cannot read the lines the old man scribbles on a page or the old tattoo he carries on his forearm because they are in "Urdu." This is a tragedy, something reminiscent of the common complaints in families that crossed the border. I have come across several Punjabis and Sindhis who say this: "My grandparents knew Urdu very well, but unfortunately I could not learn it. " Urdu became the biggest casualty of the partition. We abandoned a beautiful language because someone made it the national language. Urdu became in India what late poet Nida Fazli would often lament, "Musalman." By denying our children opportunities to learn and appreciate Urdu, its poetry and prose, in its own script, we have bulldozed a part of our syncretic ethos. It is never too late to salvage something useful from the wreckage caused by bigotry, indifference and propaganda. Start learning Urdu if you do not know it already. Expose your children to its bewitchingly beautiful prose and poetry. “Main Vaapas Ayunga” comes after a long, painful spell of drought. Of good, meaningful cinema. It feels like a big relief. Like Mumbai's current torrential rains on the long, parched, thirsty landscape. And yes, I recommend this film to my children and to all the youngsters and seniors out there.

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