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Turbulence in still waters
Bagging four prizes, including the Best Feature Film, at the 56th Locarno International Film Festival, 2003, Khamosh Pani or Still Waters, a Pakistan-French-German co-production has already created ripples in its two showings. Although its recent second exhibition was only before a select audience in Karachi, there is no doubt that if awards had been handed out that night, Sabiha Sumar, the director of the film, would have walked off with quite a few. Sumar’s debut feature film is a brilliant effort in every sense of the word.
The story line is bold and has been dealt with sensitively. Set in Pakistan under General Zia-ul-Haq’s martial law, the plot revolves around the simple village life and relationships of three people – Saleem (Aamir Malik), a gentle youth in love with Zubeida (Shilpa Shukla), a focused, clear-thinking young girl who reciprocates his love and Ayesha (Kirron Kher), Saleem’s widowed mother. The film traces the subtle transformation in their relationships following Saleem’s growing involvement with a state-funded extremist group that comes to the village under the patronage of its Chaudhry (Abid Ali), to the point that it takes control of their lives.
‘Khamosh Pani’ is powerful. It is an incisive commentary on how a tolerant and moderate Islam is being systematically hijacked by extremist elements
Saleem grows apart from both his mother, whom he now sees as an infidel because of her teachings of a just and tolerant Islam and his ladylove, who is looked down upon by his new friends as a permissive woman. Eventually, when a group of Sikhs arrive in the village to visit their shrine, Saleem discovers that his mother was a Sikh, who had lived in the village with her family before Partition. In the aftermath of the Partition violence, when women were being abducted and raped, Ayesha, or Veero as she was called then, had refused to commit suicide by jumping into a well – a destiny that most women had been forced to accept in order to protect their family honour. Her abductor, Afsaan (Rehan Sheikh) marries her and she becomes a devout Muslim, giving Quran lessons. However, the discovery of her past draws suspicion on her and she begins to be shunned by her near and dear ones, until, ironically, she is driven to jump into a well and end her life.
The film is powerful. It is an incisive commentary on how a tolerant and moderate Islam is being systematically hijacked by extremist elements. At the same time, people like Mahboob (Arshad Mahmood) the barber, Zubeida and Ayesha have been used successfully to portray to the world the face of Islam that is just, loving and kind – in marked contrast to the hatred and intolerance advocated by the ‘outsiders.’ Although broadly based on historical facts, one wondered if Sumar had also drawn on real people and incidents for her story.
“The characters are all fictitious, but I had heard about how government views had been popularized in those days through the state machinery. As a matter of fact, that is a process that happens in any movement, so although I have fictionalized events to meet the requirements of my movie, I have not projected an unusual concept,” says the director.
The script is not the only strength of the film. The acting is also par excellence. All the key characters fit into their roles like the proverbial glove. And with good reason: each was selected by Sumar with a conviction that the role could be done by no other.
“I knew Kirron would be perfect for the role as I wanted an authentic Sikh to play the part. Similarly, I was keen to get Abid Ali for the role of the chaudhry, and Arshad Mehmood for the barber’s part. I worked hard to cast them. Aamir, on the other hand, was admittedly a complete fluke and although he was terrible at the audition, I could make out there was real talent in him, if properly honed. Sure enough, after training he was superb. He is a sensitive actor, has true potential and is very sincere. He was amazing to work with,” says Sumar.
Aamir himself is understandably very excited at having been provided the opportunity to work in an international production. He claims to have learnt a lot, both technically and as an actor, through his involvement in the film. Having worked in only one serial before (from Quetta), he admits this was a major breakthrough for him. When quizzed about his feelings at having to kiss the heroine full on the mouth, he replies coyly, “My reaction was the same as any boy’s when he kisses a girl. I wasn’t uncomfortable — itt’s a part of reality — and I was trained to do my part as realistically as possible.”
Aamir was in fact not the only member to receive on-the-ground training. Navtej Johar, playing the role of Jaswant, Veero’s brother who comes to the village as part of the pilgrimage, is not an actor by profession, although he has played a couple of small parts in films. A professional dancer, Johar was selected because he is a Sikh, and along with the other Sikhs and villagers portrayed in the film – none of whom are professional actors – was trained to act in three-month long pre-production workshops.
So why did Sumar opt to work with untrained actors from India for the Sikhs’ roles, rather than bank entirely on our own talent?
“We didn’t have the budget for three hours of make-up per actor, nor do we have the expertise in the country to project authentic-looking Sikhs. If you were able to see that the hair was not real or that the turban was not worn properly — no one here knows how to tie a turban properly – then what impact would the film have made? I would never have been able to get the close-ups or show the Sikhs in their private moments, with their hair loose, as I have done in the film, all of which has contributed greatly to the authenticity of the movie. The problem is that the technical standard in Pakistan has become so low that we don’t even know how to appreciate someone who wants to make a perfect product, with the result that I have been criticized for having too many ‘nakhras’!” replies Sumar.
One can undoubtedly detect the professionalism with which the film has been made, in spite of the amateurs that were used in it, particularly in the many crowd scenes.
“We didn’t mind teaching complete raw hands, as long as they were willing to learn and were good at catching on quickly. Our objective is to provide professional training as much as possible through workshops and we hope to continue to do so in the future as well. Of course, when we conduct workshops, they are part of the process of working towards a particular film, so whatever people learn, in terms of acting, lighting, camerawork, costumes and make-up is relevant basically to the project they are working on,” says Sumar.
Not surprisingly, then, the costumes, lighting, cinematography and make-up are very relevant to the film. And the direction is superb. Every scene fulfils a purpose and often an important development in the plot is driven home by a mere shot, without any dialogue – like the mother and son eating a meal in stony silence, depicting the deterioration in their close relationship.
Sabiha Sumar is already thinking about her next feature film.
“I have another story in mind but I haven’t started working on it yet. It will have something to do with women but the plot is not yet well defined,” she says.
One is sure, judging by her past performance – her seven documentaries prior to the feature film have all been well received internationally — that she will come up with another impressive venture.
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