[Reader-list] Potu Das and Khasi cinema

[Ravikant]

Dear All,

Cinema fascinates everyone. Some are brave enough to even make it. Here is 
one such tale. Enjoy

ravikant


A SHORT AND INCOMPLETE GUIDE TO KHASI CINEMA
an essay by
Daisy Hasan & Tarun Bhartiya

The imaginary is that which tends to become real	
--André Breton

1989 or 1991. Pomu Das is not quite sure of the dates. But he remembers the 
story...
Grand Hotel. Calcutta. A video trade conference organized by Bambino/ Magnum 
video distributors. Pomu Das, a small town video parlour wallah and 
representative for the Northeast is having a tough time describing the place 
he comes from. Is it Ceylon? Oh Shillong - that beautiful place where 
'tribals' dwell. "Do they wear clothes  there?", an NRI type character 
lecherously quips. Pomu Das a second generation Shillong Bengali wedded to 
Mrs. Marjina Kurbah, a Khasi, can barely fulminate his disagreement.
It is none other than Mithun Da who rushes to his rescue. "Arre kya Dada apka 
picture victure nahin banta kya? Ek picture toh banao phir maloom ho ga ... 
Khasi expose hoga...( "Arre Dada don't you make films? Make a picture-then 
Khasis will get exposed...")
Except that highlighting a people in the Bollywoodian mould,  as suggested by 
Mithun Da and embarked upon by Pomu Das with Ka Mon Ba Jwat, ( roughly 
translated as the determination to overcome obstacles) is an idea that evokes 
ridicule from the 'obscure' peoples themselves-
"Khasi film!!! Ki beit ne... Pagal hai kya?"
To many, the phrase 'Khasi film' brings only one kind of endeavor to mind. 
Manik Rytong. This 1984 national award winning film directed by Ardhendu 
Bhattacharya and, more importantly,  produced by Rishan Rapsang, one of the 
few indigenous entrepreneurs, relates an ancient and popular legend about  a 
young woman forced into marriage with the Syiem or chief even though she 
loves Manik, the flutist. She eventually chooses the funeral pyre of her 
lover over the luxuries of the palace. 
Classic national award winning fare. Especially if it is the first film 
produced in a 'marginal' language highlighting 'marginal' myths.
As Rapsang admits, " we had two ideas-Manik Rytong and Tirot Singh." Tirot 
Singh being an anti-British war hero. Manik Rytong proved to be the more 
appealing of the two. It could avoid the controversy that biographical films 
tend to stir. It was at the same time a subject easy to identify with and 
project as a defining mythological landmark a community could point to with 
pride Perhaps this is why our queries into  Khasi  films met with either a 
self assured "Manik Rytong" or an embarrassed 'Ka Mon Ba Jwat'.
The embarrassment is about being unable to reconcile oneself to the Bombaiya 
idiom in which Pomu Das chooses to image Shillong. The embarrassment is also 
about Sonu Nigam's poor rendition of Khasi lyrics. The embarrassment is 
eventually about finding secret longings for  things 'Indian' in the 
spotlight that has so long focussed on graffitti like 
We are Khasis by blood. Indians by accident.
This accident occurs everyday in the street life of Shillong. It occurs in 
its newly founded Cricket tournaments and Khasi songs, thinly disguised in 
bombaiya tunes, blaring out of its taxis. Herein, perhaps, lurks the danger 
of a numerically insignificant community getting absorbed in a Pan-Indian 
homogeneity. A fact that, in our politically correct moments, we would also 
possibly lament. But the sheer unembarrassed cinematic kitsch of KMBJ 
explodes this monochromatic cultural pessimism. For Pomu Das then, making the 
Khasi block buster, with an impossible all-india-release ambition lurking 
within its larger than life posters, was more about leaving a stamp on a 
society that simultaneously absorbs and alienates the 'outsider'. 
Mithun Da's exhortations corroborated Pomu Das's intuition. The script was 
not a problem. Pomu Das, who carries childhood memories of 'mainland'  film 
crews coming to town , and evenings spent at Anjali cinema hall could just 
dip his mug into this rich vat of memory and extract possible plots. The 
story simulates the ephemeral trajectory of the masala movie with all the 
elements of love, lust and longing intact. It therefore projects an 
uncomplicated view of things with occasional concessions to local flavors. 
These local touches are what give KBJW its punch. Like khun ka ksew (son of a 
dog) a pungent abuse spewed back and forth by the town's riff-raff, the kind 
who saw the film more than once, and got hooked onto the Filmi Father's 
favorite crutch. The plot of KMBJ hinges around constants like the village 
boy, the sick mother, the haughty rich girl and her class conscious father. 
All this against Shillong's locations which came largely free.
The funds were procured by mortgaging land and the director came in the form 
of a  son, Pradeep Kurbah. Pradeep brings to KMBJ the unique inflexions of 
the masala movie because of his prolonged stint in the Bombay film industry. 
Last heard of, Pradeep was part the Raju Chacha crew and managed to transport 
the filmi (hot) dog back home to Pomu Das.
Technically, therefore, the film follows contemporary trends in commercial 
movie making. It boasts of a refinement rarely seen in commercial films from 
the region which often content themselves with unimaginative technique thanks 
to shoestring budgets.
Pomu Das however thought he had it all worked out. Armed with an assurance 
from the then government that matters of entertainment tax could be 
negotiated, once he managed to finish the film, Pomu Das wasn't making any 
compromises. The  film crew came from Bombay as did the choreographer and the 
expensive HMI lights. Common (film) sense might baulk at such extravagance. 
But for Pomu Das this do or die venture was about making the 'ultimate' Khasi 
blockbuster. The one that would leave its stamp in the collective memory of 
the town as the 'exiled' insider's emphatic parting shot. 
When the locations didn't come free, like the time the crew landed in Bombay 
for the desi phareng (foreign) locale, the guerilla producer duped the Bombay 
Municipal Corporation, (which charges 65000 per shift) and shot freely within 
the city. The trespassing camera was concealed inside a  vehicle and the crew 
drove away with Bombay's magic hour beaches. 
With the film in the cans (with minor over budgeting of just 10 lakhs, 
amounting to a total cost of 42 lakhs)  Pomu Das was finally the small town 
Movie Mughal. But life in the films is never a 'bed of roses'. The government 
went back on its assurance. "Yeh log pehla samja ki yeh fool hai...yeh 
picture victure kuch nahin banaiga..."( the government thought I am a fool. I 
would never make the film.)  
Despite the fact that the theatres demanded thrice the amount they normally 
charge for screenings, Pomu Das managed a three month, 'house full'  running 
of the film in 1998, braving  extortionate rentals and a sabotaged 
soundtrack. This last hit where it hurts, Pomu Das having trekked all the way 
to Bombay for the dubbing and mixing of the soundtrack.
It is now almost three years since KMBJ was released... Some claim to have 
watched it ten to fifteen times. Some hum the songs. Some still feel 
embarrassed at having enjoyed it's pulp. Some who missed the initial run of 
KMBJ or want to relive the experience  still  throng the town's  non-toxic 
video parlours in search of VHS/VCDs of the film But Pomu Das is zealously 
guarding the film from video pirates. He wants a re-release hoping that the 
government will come around despite a growing suspicion that the obstacles 
are intentional and have something to do with the complicated nature of his 
roots. 
No state or national award, therefore, seems to be in sight for our auteur 
although a Garo  video film, having acquired a state award, was recently 
honored with a television broadcast.  Exemption from the entertainment tax 
also seems elusive but Pomu Das shrugs off the tragic hero's mantle.
Khasi picture kyon banaya...hum bola apna dekhne ka liya banaya... hum toh 
picture daily dekhta hai...kabhi kabhi raat mein neend khulne se dekha ta 
hai...hum toh film bana diya...yeh toh khatam nahin hoga... ( I made the film 
for my own pleasure. I watch it during sleepless nights. The film is made. No 
one can change that.) Khun ka ksew!

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Daisy Hasan and Tarun Bhartiya are members of the splitENDS media co-op. 
splitENDS is engaged in a long - term documentation of Shillong's urbanity.