shevlin's world

Italian director Simone Mariani has made an Italian documentary on the little-known but phenomenal tabla player Sanjay Kansa Banik, who plays in Europe. He grew up in a small town in West Bengal

Photos: Simone Mariani. Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram; Sanjay Kansa Banik and wife Rupa

By Shevlin Sebastian

Musician Sanjay Kansa Banik sits on his haunches in a small music shop in the town of Habra (49 kms from Kolkata). A man is tuning his tabla. After a while, he asks Banik to test it out. Banik hits the surface of the instrument with his fingers and starts playing. After a while, he closes his eyes. Then he says, “It's choking a bit. Can you loosen the bolts some more?”

Meanwhile, somebody places an earthen cup of tea on the floor. Banik sips it in evident relish.

Soon, the scene shifts to the banks of the river Hooghly, on a pleasant winter morning. Banik is playing the tabla, while being accompanied by a local musician on the harmonium. And as they play the mellifluous Hindustani classical music, two fishermen go past on a boat.

These are the opening moments of the 50-minute Italian documentary, 'A Journey on the Tabla' by director Simone Mariani. He was present in Kochi for the world premiere at the All Lights India International Film Festival in mid-November.

“I was very keen that the premiere should take place in India,” he says. “The response has been very good.”

Mariani came across Banik in Rome, when he attended a performance by the multi-ethnic Orchestra Di Piazza Vittorio. Apart from Banik, there were musicians from Senegal, Argentina, Hungary, Cuba, Ecuador, Brazil and Tunisia.

Out of all these musicians, Mariani was entranced by Banik's playing. Later, they met, and became friends. Then, one day, it occurred to Mariani that he could make a film on Banik's journey: from a small town in India, to playing all over Europe.

“I wanted to reveal the soul of Sanjay,” says Mariani. “His passion for the tabla began when he was only four years old. I felt it would be an inspiring story to tell. How the music connects with Europeans without using words. Over the years, Sanjay has collaborated with many orchestras, as well as jazz, fusion and classical musicians.”

But the documentary took three years in the making. One reason is that Mariani is a busy television and film actor. He has worked in the upcoming Hollywood film, 'Inferno', which stars Tom Hanks and Felicity Jones.

Nevertheless, Mariani travelled to Kolkata several times. All of Banik's family gave their views: his younger sister, parents, and fellow musicians, with whom he played with, before he left for Italy. In Rome, the director of the orchestra, Mario Tronco, as well as his colleagues spoke about his phenomenal talent.

Indeed, when Banik plays, he is mesmerising. As he himself says, “When I am on stage, after a certain point, I don't know where I am. The stage becomes a temple for me.”

But it is not all smooth sailing. Banik, who speaks fluent Italian, spoke about the difficulty of getting a work permit. “This suffering sometimes drives me crazy,” says Banik, who moved to Italy in 2006.

But the documentary also shows incidents of great joy, like his marriage to classical singer Rupa at Habra, in 2011. Later, when Rupa joined Banik in Rome in April, 2012, the couple gave a performance to an Italian audience at the invitation of the Alain Danielou Foundation. “They played the Raga Malkauns,” says Foundation Director Jacques Cloarec. “Both were fantastic.”

All in all, it is a documentary which reveals a diminutive man's tall ambition to make a mark abroad through hard work and determination. It helps that Banik has a great talent.

(Published in Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Businesswoman Sheela Kochuouseph and actor Sheela will be holding a joint painting exhibition at the Le Meridien, Kochi

Photo: Sheela Kochuouseph (left) with actor Sheela. By Ratheesh Sundaram

By Shevlin Sebastian

It was Asif Ali Komu, of the Aluva-based Komusons Art Gallery, who got the idea to hold a joint exhibition of two women achievers: businesswoman Sheela Kochuouseph and actor Sheela.

“I came to know that both were painters in their spare time, so I felt that I should hold an exhibition featuring the two,” he says. “In fact when I told some people about it, they were skeptical and said, ‘Can they paint?’ This exhibition is to show that they are talented artistes.”

Asif was speaking at the press meet to announce the exhibition which will begin on December 23. A host of prominent personalities, from all sections of society, including Mollywood, are expected to participate.

And the duo got together recently when they met at the Kochi home of Sheela Kochuouseph. While there, the actor asked the spelling of the businesswoman's name. “It is the same as yours,” said Sheela Kochuouseph.

Then the actor asked the full name. “Sheela Grace is my name,” said Sheela Kochuouseph.

The astonished actor said, “That is also my name. My mother was called Grace.”

A total of 100 paintings will be on display: 60 of actor Sheela and 40 of Sheela Kochuouseph. There is a mix of abstract and realistic paintings. While actor Sheela paints in the early morning, at her home in Chennai, Sheela Kochuouseph paints in the afternoon, when she comes home from office during the lunch hour. “Instead of going to sleep, I prefer to paint for one or two hours,” she says. “I feel fresh after doing this.”

As Sheela Kocuouseph is speaking, an art lover comes up and says, “I would like to buy this painting.”

The particular oil painting is called ‘Combustion’. Painted in a deep shade of red, it shows dried leaves, suffering men and women and a blazing sun above them. “In the future, there will be no trees, only sunlight,” says Sheela Kochuouseph. “All the people are sad. They want to be cool, but they cannot be. The theme is about global warming.”

Both the women say that they will use the money for charity works. However, Sheela Kochuouseph has a specific plan: “I want to use it to clean up the garbage alongside Marine Drive. I will be asking permission from the Mayor [Saumini Jain] to do it.”

(The New Indian Express, Kerala State Editions)

The projects of the architecture firm, 'Stapati', headed by Tony Joseph, have received international appreciation

Photos: Tony Joseph (centre, middle row) with members of the Stapati team; Alila Diwa in Goa; the Vythiri Resort in Wayanad, Kerala

By Shevlin Sebastian

Sometime ago, architect Tony Joseph, founder of the firm, Stapati, had gone to Singapore. While having a meeting with one of the island’s top architects, he was introduced to a group of people. When he told them that he is from Kerala, they said that they had stayed at the Kumarakom Lake Resort. “I designed it,” said Joseph. There was an instant elation among the group members who congratulated him on designing such a beautiful property. “It feels great when your work is appreciated,” says Joseph.

The Lake resort is one of 11 projects of Stapati that has been featured in a classy coffee table book called 'Timeless Resorts'. The others include the Alila Diwa in Goa, Vythiri Resort at Wayanad, Madhuban Resort and Spa in Anand, Gujarat and the Enchanted Island Resort in the Seychelles.

The photographs are stunning and jaw-dropping. For each project, there is an explanation of the reasons behind the design, as well as a map of the location, apart from the photos.

The book, priced at Rs 2600, has been published by the San Francisco-based Oro Editions. While leading architect Christopher C. Benninger has penned the foreword, the text has been written by Stapati architect Sujith GS. It was released at a function at the Crowne Plaza, Kochi, on December 21, by Alex Kuruvila, the Chief Executive of Conde Nast India, in the presence of Kochi Biennale founder Bose Krishnamachari.

“It is always an honour when a monograph is published on your works,” says Joseph. “Oro Editions are the leading publishers of international architecture books. People will get a feel of the type of work that is being done in India. Also, a lot of the projects are from Kerala, so it is a great mileage for the state.”

Indeed, when you look at this engrossing book, one is taken aback at the seamless way that the buildings have been merged into the environment.

“Our team does an extensive study of the local architecture as well as the site,” says Joseph. “In Vythiri, the project was located in an abandoned coffee estate. We did a detailed survey where every rock and tree was inspected. We made sure we did not cut a single tree. And every rock was preserved. We did the same thing at the Alila Diwa in Goa. There were a lot of old trees. We made sure the design revolved around the trees, so that there is a natural landscape.”

It seems to be the right way because all the projects are doing very well. “In Seychelles, most government functions take place at our resort,” says Joseph. “The people like it because we have retained the local character.”

Asked his philosophy, Joseph says, “When you are sincere to a project, you will make sure that the site is not disturbed. This will ensure that the end-user is happy. It is also important to keep the costs low, so that the owner is also happy. So, for me, the prime attitude is one of sincerity.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

Make-up artist Pattanam Rasheed talks about his experiences in Mollywood

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: Pattnam Rasheed applying make-up on Mohanlal for the film, 'Paradesi'; In his studio

At 4 a.m., on a cold winter's day, in 2007, superstar Mohanlal knocked on make-up artist Pattanam Rasheed's door in a hotel at Jodhpur and said, “Are you awake?”

“Yes Sir,” said Rasheed, as he opened the door.

They both had tea. Then the elaborate make-up for Mohanlal began. In PT Kunju Mohammed's film, 'Paradesi', Mohanlal plays Valiyakaththu Moosa, a Muslim who went to Pakistan, before Partition, but returns soon after, but he possesses a Pakistani passport. So he is not accepted as an Indian.

“In the film, Mohanlal's ages from 35 to 80,” says Rasheed. “For this particular shot, Mohanlal was playing an old man.” Rasheed used a prosthetic cap to make Monahlal look bald. Thereafter, he used a white beard as well as an old age stipple lotion, to indicate wrinkled skin.

At the shoot commenced, in the Thar desert, the villagers gathered around. A group of men asked Rasheed, “Who is the star?”

Rasheed pointed at Mohanlal and said, “He is.”

With a mocking look, one of them said, “How can this old man be the star?” Another man said, “You are fooling us.” They abused Rasheed and walked away.

But Rasheed felt happy. “In fact, I felt thrilled that they did not realise that it was all make-up,” he says. “The triumph of a make-up artist happens when viewers look at an actor and cannot figure out whether make-up has been used or not.”

The shoot progressed smoothly. However, the next morning, when Rasheed placed the bald cap, on Mohanlal's head, a large indentation appeared at one side. “Somehow, I could not solve the problem even after one-and-a-half hours,” he says. So Rasheed told the director if he could do a scene with Mohanlal as a middle-aged man. He promised to finish the make-up in half an hour. Kunju Mohammed agreed.

That night, when they were relaxing in the hotel, Rasheed told veteran actor Thangal, who had a small role, about the events regarding the bald cap. Thangal, who has some knowledge of healing, asked Rasheed to get a few eggs.

Then Thangal wrote something in Arabic on the shell of two eggs.

Thereafter, they went into Mohanlal's room. Thangal made the star lie down on the bed. “Then Thangal said some mantras in Arabic while moving the eggs over Mohan Lal's body,” says Rasheed. “Afterward, he threw the eggs out of the window. He did the same for me.”

Following this, there were no problems whatsoever on the film. “Thangal told me that a crew member may have given out negative vibrations,” says Rasheed. “He removed it with his mantras.”

It seemed to have worked. The film won several awards including Best Actor for Mohanlal at the Kerala State Film Awards as well as the National Award for Best Make-up Artist for Rasheed, the first time a make-up person from Mollywood has won it.

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode)

By Shevlin Sebastian

A couple of days ago, while standing near the St. Francis Church in Kakkanad, Kochi, at 7 p.m., while my daughter had gone for singing practice, I noticed a group of men milling around in front of the church. It was clear from their looks that they were from North India. They began talking among themselves. Then they looked at the church again. Finally, they walked towards three men standing around in a semi-circle and talking. They asked them something. The men nodded their heads, in typical Kerala style.

Then they took off their sandals, slippers and shoes and walked towards the entrance.

Suddenly, one man came back and took off his socks.

Then they entered the church.

I also followed them silently and stood at the entrance.

They went and sat on one of the benches.

The church was in darkness except for the light over the altar.

Like in all places of worship, where people come and say chants or prayers over a long period of time, there exists a certain spirituality.

I feel this deeply when I go to any place of worship, be it church, mosque or temple.

You will feel this when you go to the heart of the Meenakshi Temple in Madurai.

I am sure everybody feels it.

I then stepped away and stood outside.

After a while, the men came out and put on their footwear.

I resisted the urge to talk to them.

Why be a journalist all the time?

But curiosity dies hard.

The need to know gripped me.

I approached them.

I asked where they were from?

“From Meerut,” said Sachin.

So, it is the heart of Uttar Pradesh.

They had come for three months to do some repair on the main Doordarshan tower.

They had never been inside a church.

So they were curious.

So what was the experience like?

“It was nice,” said Sachin. “Can we come again?”

“Indeed, you can. Any time and all the time,” I said. “God is the same everywhere.”

They smiled.

We shook hands.

And once again, a small brick was added to the centuries-old edifice of syncretism in Kerala, and hopefully, for India also.

The award-winning Marathi film, ‘The Silence’, which was shown in Kochi recently, focuses on the damage wrought by child sex abuse

Photos: Ashwini Sidwani; a scene from the film

By Shevlin Sebastian

12-year-old Chini lives an idyllic life at a village in the Konkan region of Maharashtra. She plays with pebbles under a tree, amidst the ceaseless twitter of birds. There is a river nearby. She sits on the bank and watches her father trying to catch fish. Sometimes, she goes with a neighbourhood boy to catch cuckoos in the forest. There is a constant smile on her face. Her father, a candy seller, loves her, as well as her elder sister, Manda, unconditionally.

Manda lives in Mumbai and works as an extra in Hindi films. Their mother had died at Chini’s birth. When Chini has her first periods, her father does not know what to do. He secures the help of his brother-in-law who agrees to take Chini to live with his wife in a nearby town. Sadly, the unexpected happens. The uncle, a grain merchant, as well as a womaniser, rapes Chini.

Thereafter, things go out of control, scarring the lives of several people.

‘The Silence’ is a deeply moving Marathi film, with an enormous intensity and sincerity invested in each scene. Made by award-winning director Gajendra Ahire, it stars Raghubir Yadav as Chini’s dad andNagraj Manjule as the uncle. The story is told in flashback, with the voice-over belonging to Chini’s aunt.

The 92-minute feature film was screened in mid-November at the All Lights India International Film Festival at Kochi. Just before that, 'The Silence' became the first-ever Indian film to be shown at the Brasilia International Film Festival. In July, Ahire had won the 'German Star of India 2015, Director’s Vision' award at the Indian Film Festival in Stuttgart, Germany.

At Kochi, sitting on a low sofa at the VIP Lounge of the Cinepolis, and sipping a cup of tea, is Ashwini Sidwani, the writer of the story. She belongs to SMR Productions, which makes television serials for Doordarshan. “There was a project I was researching, with a NGO called Majlis, which is run by [activist] Flavia Agnes,” says Ashwini. “We wanted to do one-hour stories of domestic violence. It was while doing this that I came across a true story of child abuse.”

So she wrote the screenplay. But when she narrated it in the office, her colleagues suggested that it would be better to make a film, rather than a television serial, which comes and goes. So she told the story to Gajendra who said yes immediately.

In the actual story, the child, who lives in Kolhapur, mentioned the abuse to her elder sister when she came on a visit from Mumbai two months later. They filed a police complaint. “But since it was done so late, the police were unable to gather any evidence,” says Ashwini. “The uncle vanished. Whenever anything happens, you have to lodge a complaint within 24 hours or before the victim has had a bath.”

To ensure that happens, parents should keep a sharp eye on their children. “If they sense something is wrong, they should question the child,” says Ashwini. “Often, they are too young to understand what is happening.”

The film is now doing the festival circuit. Many good Marathi films are being made now, including the unforgettable ‘Court’, which was India’s entry for the Foreign Language Oscar. And Ashwini puts it down to the encouragement by the state government. “If your film is selected for any festival, they give you a subsidy of Rs 30 lakh,” says Ashwini. “It is a big boost. So many talented filmmakers are venturing to make meaningful films.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Blind football referee Elias Mastoras from Greece talks about the qualities needed to be a good professional

Photos: Elias Mastoras; members of the Indian blind football team. Pics by Ratheesh Sundaram

By Shevlin Sebastian

It was a sunny afternoon on September 17, 2008, at the Olympic Green Hockey Field during the Paralympic Games at Beijing. But the Chinese spectators were tense. In the blind football five-a-side final between China and Brazil, the score was tied 1-1. Elias Mastoras from Greece was the referee.

Suddenly, just 40 seconds from the end of the match, the Brazilians got a penalty. Marcos Felipe stepped forward, took the shot, and beat a diving goalkeeper Xia Zheng. “The goal broke Chinese hearts,” says Mastoras. Later, there was jubiliation because just three years ago, Mastoras had gone to China to introduce the game.

“Within such a short time, they were able to reach the final,” says Mastoras. “It gave a big impetus to the sport in Asia.”

Mastoras recounted this anecdote during his recent visit to Kochi, where he had come to conduct a referee and instructors seminar. Around 20 players, instructors and referees from Delhi, Rajasthan, West Bengal and Kerala took part.

“The aim was to explain the blind football rules and strategies,” says Mastoras. The course was organised by the Society for the Rehabilitation of the Visually Challenged (SRVC).

“We asked Mastoras to come because he has been the referees' official at the past few Paralympics and is also coordinating the Referee and officials selection for the Rio Paralympics in August, 2016,” says Sunil J Mathew, Secretary, SRVC, and Head Coach, Indian Blind Football Team.

Adds MC Roy, Project Head, SRVC and Indian team manager: “The idea is to build a strong referee unit in the country to strengthen the game at the grassroots.”

Apart from talks, multi-media presentations, and question-and-answer sessions, there were demonstration games held at the football ground of the Regional Sports Centre. “This gave referees the chance to officiate games, so that Mastoras could point out their mistakes,” says Roy.

The rules are simple: When a defender approaches a player, who has the ball, he has to keep shouting the Spanish word, 'Voy' (I am here). Mastoras says that most players forget to do this, “The players will tell me that they said 'voy', but nobody could hear it,” says Mastoras. “So they have to learn to say it out loudly.”

To be a good referee in blind football, you need to have experience. “In regular football, even if a referee is 10 metres away, he can control the game,” says Mastoras. “But in blind football, he has to be very close to the players, so that he can hear the 'voy'.”

The reaction to the seminar has been positive. “It was an eye-opener for us,” says National Referee K. Gokulan. “We have been introduced to a different level of sporting skills that the differently-abled possess and will look to improve their game further.”

Incidentally, the SRVC was instrumental in setting up the Indian team in 2013. Today, the country is ranked 28th in the world.

"We have been working closely with the Paralympic Committee of India and the Indian Blind Sports Association to promote the game as much as possible," says Roy.

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Shefiq Basheer Ahmmed, the winner of the 2015 Kerala State Wildlife Photography Award, talks about his experiences

Photos: Shefiq Basheer Ahmmed by Ratheesh Sundaram; a bear having a salmon at the Kronotsky State Natural Biosphere Reserve, in the Kamchatka Peninsula, Russia.

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photographer Shefiq Basheer Ahmmed, 44, was shivering. This was a surprise, because he was wearing four layers of thermal clothing, a sweater, thigh-high gum boots and a knit cap. The sky was a crystal blue on a late September morning, although the temperature was minus three degrees centigrade below zero.

Shefiq was at the Kronotsky State Natural Biosphere Reserve, in the Kamchatka Peninsula, Russia. But soon, Shefiq forgot the cold as he watched thousands of salmon fish swim into the Kurilskoye lake. “It was a stunning sight,” says Shefiq, a Kochi native, who was in the news recently for winning the 2015 Kerala State Wildlife Photography award for the second year in succession.

These fish had come for spawning all the way from the Pacific Ocean. Under the strain of laying the eggs, between 3000 to 5000, the silver-coloured fish becomes reddish and purple. Later, they all die. “The salmon is one of the few extreme cases where they put everything into reproducing just once, and then they die almost immediately,” says scientist Steve Steve Lindley, a director of the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

They die in another way, too. Around a thousand bears come from the surrounding wilderness for this annual event. They eat around 150 fishes a day.

And capturing all these events is Shefiq with his Canon EOS-1D X with a 500 mm lens. Shefiqwas the official photographer of a 14-member team from the Bangalore-based Wildlife Conservation Society of India, but his trip was sponsored by a Dubai-based company, Desco.

He has travelled to other places, too. They include Tanzania, Kenya, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, Malaysia and all over India. Apart from photographing 500 varieties of birds, he has shot leopards, elephants, wild dogs, deer, the lion-tailed macaque, brown bears, squirrels and tigers.

For Shefiq, the tiger is the most impressive. “Unlike a lion, a tiger can kill a 1500 kg wild bull on his own,” says Shefiq. “The tiger has courage, speed and power. It is the only animal who can change direction in mid-jump in order to nab a prey.”

In more than 15 years of shooting wildlife, Shefiq has never fallen prey to the animals. One reason is because he wears a green camouflage shirt, trousers and cap. He also covers his equipment with the same cloth.

And there are other reasons, too. “Whenever an animal, be it a tiger, an elephant or a leopard sees me, I always stand still,” he says. “We will exchange looks for a minute or so. I don't flinch even for a moment. In the end, they will walk away. All animals are scared of human beings. This may be a fear instilled by nature.”

Nevertheless, in the photos, the animals look relaxed, stunning and eye-catching. Many are unaware that they are being photographed. And Shefiq follows a simple method to get good images. “Whenever I go into the forest, I always show reverence to the birds and the animals,” he says. “And I have learned to be patient.”

To get a shot of a Great Hornbill bird in a forest in Kerala, he sat without moving from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Unfortunately, it was an area infested with leeches. “By the evening, my arms and legs were full of bloody scars,” he says. “But I managed to get a good photo.”

When he is not in the jungle, on most mornings, from 7 a.m. onwards, Shefiq can be seen at the open ground, near the Motor Vehicles department, at Kakkanad, a Kochi suburb. He is an inspector, who monitors driving tests for those who want licenses. But after two weeks, the urge to go to a forest arises. So, he will take one added day to his weekly leave and heads off.

“Inside a forest, there is so much of fresh oxygen that you feel refreshed,” he says. “You can walk 15 kilometres without getting tired. Whereas in the city, because of work stress and depleted levels of oxygen, you get tired a lot more easily.”

Asked about his future plans, he says, “I want to take images of the snow leopard in the Himalayas, as well as the humming bird, of which there are 51 types in Costa Rica.”

The first female Tibetan poet in English, Tsering Wangmo Dhompa, reflects on life in Tibet and outside

Photo of Tsering Wangmo Dhompa is by Albin Mathew

By Shevlin Sebastian

In 1994, Tsering Wangmo Dhompa went from Kathmandu to Nangchen in East Tibet, to meet her aunt Parchen, as well as her cousins. Her aunt had recently been freed after being imprisoned for 20 years. Her husband had been a part of the resistance movement against the Chinese. He was killed and Parchen was jailed, for being his wife.

And very often, they would do physical labour. One day, the Chinese authorities made the prisoners dig a part of a hillside. As Parchen was doing so, she saw several dogs running around. And she thought, 'How lucky the dogs are.'

“It was a moving moment for me,” says Tsering, who is the first female Tibetan poet in English. “Parchen did not feel bitter. She would laugh and sometimes cry when she recounted her experiences.”

Later, when Tsering went to the capital, Lhasa, she was taken aback by the presence of a large number of policemen and the near-total surveillance. “That feeling of always being watched is a terrifying experience,” says Tsering. “Tibet is under occupation. It remains a burning issue.”

In Lhasa, today, the Chinese now outnumber the Tibetans. The younger Tibetans have no option, but to study at Chinese universities. “Unfortunately, they feel marginalised, because they are not treated as equals,” says Tsering, whose parents fled to India in 1959. “But such experiences has helped them to develop a sense of identity.”

Later, Tsering made three more trips to Tibet, with the last one taking place in 2009. Her journeys laid the seeds for her well-received non-fiction book, 'A Home In Tibet', which was published by Penguin India in 2013. “When I was growing up, I read books on Tibet, but they were by Westerners,” she says. “I wanted to read a book by a Tibetan who lived outside, but could also be on the inside. So I thought I would write such a book targeted towards young Tibetans who are in exile.”

Here is an extract which reflects the pain of exile: ‘The flowers in Tibet were always taller, more fragrant and vivid. My mother's descriptions, imprecise but unchanging, from year to year, had led me to an inevitable acceptance that her past was unequalled by our present lives.

'She would tell me of the knee-deep fields of purple, red and white, that over time served to create an idea of her fatherland, as a riotous garden.'

Tsering had recently come to Kochi, at the invitation of the Kochi chapter of Friends of Tibet, to interact with literature students at the St. Albert's and Union Christian Colleges. She read a few of her poems, and gave them an idea of life in Tibet. “The students asked many questions, because it was so far outside their experience,” she says.

One experience which all of them did not have is to live without a country. “To be stateless is painful,” says Tsering. “Initially, when I wanted to travel to the US, I had to apply for an identity certificate.” This is not a passport, but is recognised internationally. However, an explanation has to be given to every immigration officer about it. In India, Tsering had a refugee card which is issued by the central government. “It is like an identity card,” she says.

But Tsering has no problems living in India. “I was treated very well,” she says. “In my school [Wynberg Allen school at Mussoorie], and college [Lady Shri Ram at Delhi], I have never experienced any discrimination. But the sense of not being at home is an inner feeling. This happens, regardless of where you live.”

Today, Tsering is a naturalised US citizen and stays in San Francisco. She is a doctoral candidate at the University of California, Santa Cruz. And her subject is Tibetan nationalism and identity.

Thus far, Tsering has published three books of poetry: 'Rules of the House', (a finalist for the Asian Literary Awards in 2003), 'My Rice Tastes Like the Lake', and 'In the Absent Everyday'.

“In my poetry I have always returned to the idea of place, memory and story-telling,” she says. “Stories help people, who are stateless, to experience a sense of place.”

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Veteran director Lenin Rajendran focuses on a Tibetan theme in his upcoming ‘Edavapathi’

Photos: Uthara Unni; (from left): Siddharth Lama, Manisha Koirala and Uthara Unni

By Shevlin Sebastian

Five years ago, veteran director Lenin Rajendran went to the Tibetan settlement of Bylakuppe in Karnataka. He stayed there for three days. While there he interacted with the monks and the people, and got an idea of their daily life.

But Rajendran also had a revelation. “I realized that, although they have been living in India for 57 years, their hearts are in Tibet and, more specifically, in the capital, Lhasa,” says Rajendran. “This feeling was there even among those who have never been to Tibet.”

There were many reasons for their alienation. “The Tibetans have no passport,” says Rajendran. “They cannot own property in India, or, for that matter, anywhere in the world. They cannot get jobs in the government. They are treated as foreigners. They are a people without a country.”

Another reason for their alienation is because the local people resent the presence of the Tibetans. “They feel that it is their lands which the Tibetans have occupied,” says Rajendran. “In contrast, the many Malayalis who have settled down there get along very well with them.”

Incidentally, Bylakuppe is a beautiful place. When the Tibetans first occupied the land, there was nothing there. “But they made it a wonderful area,” says Rejendran. “They do a lot of farming and earn money through the sale of their crops.”

All these varying strands became the inspiration for Rajendran to write the script for the film, ‘Edavapathi’ (Map of Tears and Blood), which is releasing in mid-January.

The priest is played by Siddharth Lama, who Malayalis remember as the cute young Nepali lad Rimpoche or ‘Unnikuttan’ in the 1992 film, ‘Yodha’, in which Mohanlal played the hero. “Yes, in a way I have taken a risk by casting Siddharth, and not a regular Mollywood actor, as the lead,” says Rajendran.

However, star power has been provided by Bollywood actor Manisha Koirala, who plays the wife of an absconding estate manager of a coffee estate, and looks after their daughter. “This daughter, played by Uthara Unni, falls in love with the priest,” says Rajendran.

Along with the main theme, there is a parallel story of the poem about Vasavadatta by legendary Malayali poet Kumara Asan. In the film, Vasvadatta, a renowned dancer, is portrayed as having a great love for wealth and sexuality. But, in her innermost self, she pines for the love of the poor monk Upagupta.

“Manisha plays the mother of Vasavadatta (again acted by Uthara Unni),” says Rajendran.

Shooting took place at Bylakuppe, Hampi, Munnar and the Rohtang Pass in Himachal Pradesh. “In fact, last month, the authorities had closed the roads because of heavy snow in the pass, but, just for us, they allowed us to shoot for one more day,” says Rajendran. “They told us to be very careful, as a single mis-step could cause us to fall 5000 ft. But thankfully everything went off smoothly.”

And Rajendran is grateful to the Tibetans as well as those in Himachal Pradesh. “They were so supportive and helpful,” he says. “And I hope the audience will enjoy the film.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

Jagadish talks about his stunt experiences in 'Vandanam' and 'Godfather'

Photos: Jagadish; Mukesh and Jagadish in a scene from 'Godfather'

By Shevlin Sini Sebastian

In the film, ‘Vandanam’, Jagadish, who plays a police inspector, is shown pedalling hard on a cycle through the streets of Chennai. He is chasing a lungi-clad Mohanlal, who is also an inspector.

Jagadish avoids cars by a hair’s breadth, and goes up the incline of a cart. He is sent flying through the air, crashes through a Bata shoe hoarding and lands on the cycle again, which had continued to move forward.

“An iron rope which was placed around my body, broke, when I went across the hoarding,” says Jagadish. “But, thankfully, when I fell, I did not get hurt.” The advantage of using an iron rope is that, in the final print, it can be erased. On the screen, it would seem as if Jagadish is, indeed, flying through the air.

The actor also rode his luck in a comic sequence in the film, ‘Godfather’ (1991). Ramabhadran (Mukesh) goes to see their classmate Malu (Kanaka) at her home late at night and is accompanied by his friend Mayin Kutty (Jagadish). There is an enmity between Ramabhadran’s and Malu’s family.

Seeing an Alsatian dog, Jagadish hurriedly climbs up a mango tree at the location shoot in Kozhikode. Thereafter, he steps on a branch, which breaks, and falls straight down.

“Like in ‘Vandanam’, the iron rope broke,” says Jagadish. “But, thankfully, it happened when I was midway. Nevertheless, I hit the ground, which was a mix of mud and stones, with great force. For about twenty seconds, I was unconscious. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by all the people on the set. They thought I was seriously injured. But, by the grace of God, nothing happened to me.”

Even though the directors Siddique-Lal offered to stop the shoot, Jagadish said that he was ready to carry on.

When the fight master complained to the Tamilian who was handling the ropes that it was of poor quality, the latter said, “How can you say that, Sir? These ropes have been used since the time of MGR [superstar MG Ramachandran].”

Looking back, Jagadish says that he has also made foolish mistakes. In the film, ‘Kunukkitta Kozhi’, in which he plays the hero, during a fight sequence, in a saw mill, three villains push his head perilously close to a circular saw blade, which was turning at high speed.

“I realise now it was a big mistake to risk my life like that,” he says. “One wrong push and my neck would have been cut. This is what I tell youngsters nowadays: don’t take too many risks. Always remember that cinema is make-believe. There is no need to attempt dangerous stunts on your own. The actor Bharatraj broke his spine because of a stunt sequence and never acted again.”

And no Malayali movie fan can forget the tragic death of Jayan. While shooting a stunt sequence for ‘Kolilakkam’ (1980), the helicopter he was travelling on crashed.

“In James Bond films, there are so many stunning action scenes, but it is always done safely,” says Jagadish. “However, the good news is that we are importing a lot of safety equipment. So, it is much safer these days than it was during the 1980 and 90’s.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Kozhikode and Thiruvananthapuram)

Sheela, Mollywood's veteran actor, showcases her first love, painting, at an exhibition in Kochi

Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram

By Shevlin Sebastian

One day, in January, 2015, actor Sheela was travelling from Chennai to Kanchipuram to buy a silk saree. At a village, she saw a large crowd standing around. Curious, she stopped the car to have a look. What was taking place was a cock fight. “The fighting was so intense, that the roosters were literally a blur of colours,” she says. “I was thinking, 'Are these cocks or just colours?'.”

Sheela felt inspired. When she returned to her home at night, the first thing she did was to draw a canvas of blurred colours.

This work is one of 66 paintings, a mix of oils, acrylic and watercolours, which were displayed at an exhibition at the Le Meridien, Kochi, in end-December. The man behind the show is Asif Ali Komu, of the Komusons Art Gallery. “When I came to know that Sheela is a visual artist, I felt that I should hold an exhibition,” he says.

The subjects include a farmer taking a large batch of hay to the market on a bullock cart, three spirited girls selling baskets of fish near a seashore, a woman washing utensils, a peacock, showing off its bright plumage, and two versions of Shakuntala: one happy and smiling, while the other is sad and morose-looking.

Asked about her inspirations, Sheela says, “It could be a thought or a feeling. Or when I read a good novel it triggers visuals in the mind. When I am travelling somewhere and see a scene, I get excited. I usually take several photographs, at first, before I recreate the image.”

But, sometimes, Sheela tries to be innovative. “When I decided to do a painting of the Last Supper, I thought to myself, 'How can I do something different?'” she says. “There is always Jesus Christ and his 12 disciples seated around a table, which has bowls and goblets. I have seen this image from my childhood. So I drew 12 bowls in a semi-circle, with one bowl in the middle, and a radiating light emerging from the centre.”

Interestingly, Sheela, who has acted in more than 500 Malayalam and Tamil films, including the classic 'Chemmeen', says that she prefers painting to acting.

“In acting, there are more than a hundred people on the set,” says Sheela. “Many may be staring at me while I am working. But, in painting, I am alone in a room. Nobody is there to disturb me. I can do what I want. It is a form of meditation.”

But Sheela says that many people are skeptical of her abilities. “When I directed my first film, 'Yakshagaanam', people said, 'Did you really direct this film? Somebody else must have done it. Or it must be Madhu [who acted in the film],” says Sheela. “There is a feeling that an actress is a good-for-nothing. Even now people ask me whether I have painted all these works.”

But, for Sheela, painting has always been a lifelong passion. When she was a child, she would always be drawing in her exercise books. “I would do this when I was supposed to do my homework,” says Sheela. “My teachers complained about me to my father. And he has beaten me for this.”

But this desire to draw continued. Whenever she had free time on the sets, she would draw something or the other. And, in between film shoots, she would do paintings at her home. When the number of canvases grew, she stored them in the garage of a flat she owned in Chennai, although she stayed at Ooty. However, two years later, when she went to her apartment to check on things, she got a shock.

“The entire garage was flooded and all the works had been spoiled,” says Sheela. “Apparently, water from a bathroom in an upper floor flat leaked through the ceiling into the garage. Everything was destroyed. I never cried so much. It was the saddest day of my life,” says Sheela. It would take another ten years before Sheela wielded the brush again.

But now, Sheela says, she will continue to do so till the end of her life. “Nothing else gives me as much pleasure,” she says.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

American film-maker Norah Shapiro's documentary focuses on a beauty pageant in Tibet and its implications

Photo of Norah Shapiro is by Ratheesh Sundaram; The Miss Tibet contestants of 2011. Lobsang Wangyal is fourth while Tenzin Khecheo is fifth from left

By Shevlin Sebastian

Director Norah Shapiro breaks out into a warm smile, when a bespectacled man comes up to her and says, “You made this film from your heart. The sincerity is evident.”

This is moments after the international premiere of the documentary, 'Miss Tibet – Beauty in Exile' at the All Lights India International Film Festival at Kochi in mid-November. She also got a similar response when it was screened at the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival on December 12.

Indeed, 'Miss Tibet' is a moving tale. Shapiro follows a 19-year-old Tibetan girl by the name of Tenzin Khecheo, from Minneapolis to New York. There, she takes part and wins The Miss Tibet North American crown. The prize is a free trip to Dharamsala. She is one of six participants of the worldwide Miss Tibet beauty pageant. The others are from India, Switzerland and Australia.

“I know six is a small number, when compared to Indian and American beauty pageants, but in the Tibetan community, a contest, with a bikini round, is a huge step forward,” says Shapiro. “It continues to be controversial, because, for many Tibetans, women are supposed to be quiet and demure.”

The former Prime Minister of the Central Tibetan Administration, Samdhong Rinpoche, who is one of the foremost scholars of Tibetan Buddhism, is also opposed to the pageant. “He said that it is un-Tibetan,” says Norah. “However, the current Prime Minister Lobsang Sangay had no problems. He just did not like the bikini round.”

Meanwhile, Western scholars read a deeper meaning into the pageant. “While the film ostensibly is about a beauty pageant, truly, it is about so much more -- personal journeys, cultural identity, and the political struggle of a nation,” says Carole McGranahan, a Colorado-based cultural anthropologist, who specialises in contemporary Tibet.

The man behind this radical idea is a charismatic impresario by the name of Lobsang Wangyal, who identifies himself as ‘the Tibetan Donald Trump’ in the film. “He is larger than life,” says Shapiro. “Lobsang promotes film festivals, concerts and multiple beauty pageants. He is a journalist, as well as a forceful campaigner for the Tibetan cause.”

For the participants, it was a chance, in the week before the event, held in October, 2011, to learn a lot more about Tibetan history, politics, art and culture. “They also tried some calligraphy,” says a smiling Norah.

But the most moving moment in the 70-minute film was the girls' meeting with freedom activist Ama Adhe, who was imprisoned by the Chinese, and spent 27 years in labour camps. As Adhe held Khecheo's hand, tears rolled down the girl’s face. “I really understood the suffering that people went through in the early years,” says Khecheo, who moved to America from India at the age of seven.

As Norah films the several rounds of the pageant, where the participants sing, dance, and give speeches, in Western and traditional dresses, there is an unexpected twist at the climax. Not everybody is happy with the result.

Later, in her hotel room, Khecheo cries, even as she is hugged by her mother, and says, “It’s not fair.”

The next day, some of the participants confront Wangyal. He defends himself by saying that points are given based on the discretion of the judges. The group is not convinced.

One of them, Ngodup Dolma, says, “You are a fraud.”

Wangyal gives an enigmatic reply, “Maybe.”

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

Director Shafi talks about his experiences in 'The Car', 'Two Countries' and ‘Marykkundoru Kunjaadu’

Photos: Director Shafi; the vehicle used in the film, "The Car'

By Shevlin Sebastian

The four friends were in a good mood. The post-production work of the film, ‘The Car’ (1997) at Chennai had just been completed. Now they were ready to take the final print back to Thiruvananthapuram. The group included associate directors Santhosh and Shafi, producer Ajit, and assistant director Sujith. They would be travelling back in the same red Maruti car that was used in the film.

But Shafi had a change of plan. Since he had to go to his hometown of Kochi, he did not want to go by car. “The thought of taking a bus or train from Thiruvananthapuram to Kochi made me opt out,” says Shafi. Since he had already bought a train ticket, his friends did not insist too much, although they did suggest that they could go via Kochi. In the end, Shafi bid his friends goodbye and went by train.

The next day when Shafi reached home he received a telephone call informing him that his colleagues had been involved in an accident at Madurai. A lorry had hit the car. “Santhosh [29] and Ajit [30] died on the spot,” says Shafi. “Sujith was in hospital.” In the end, he would take three months to recover.

Two months after the tragedy, Shafi went to Saritha theatre at Kochi to see the premiere show. “It was a difficult moment,” he says. “While the audience laughed at the many comic moments in the film, involving Jayaram and Janardhanan, I was crying inside.”

And he suffers from painful regrets ever since. “Maybe, if I went with them, we might have taken a different route, and come to Kochi,” says Shafi. “And no accident would have taken place. Or, it could be that I would have also died.”

For Shafi, there have been other distressing moments, too. During the shoot of his latest hit, ‘Two Countries’, Shafi again encountered death. One of the camera assistants, Sreejith was a young fellow with wildly growing hair, in the manner of Bollywood actor Makarand Deshpande. “All of us called him ‘Django’,” says Shafi. “But one day, he no longer came to the set.”

Later, Shafi came to know that he had committed suicide. In fact, just before Sreejith killed himself, he had posted messages on Whatsapp and Facebook stating that his life was coming to an end. “It seemed a love affair did not work out,” says Shafi. “All of us on the set felt very sad about what had happened.”

Apart from deaths, there have been accidents, too. During the shoot of ‘Marykkundoru Kunjaadu’ at Thodupuzha, in October, 2010, there is a scene where Biju Menon is abducted and taken in a van. In the van, there is a fight between him and the villain. While this is going on, the van is supposed to veer from left to right and back again. The shoot was done on a road beside a canal.

“It was a long shot,” says Shafi. However, when the van was steered to the right, the driver lost control. The van did two somersaults before it landed in the water. Thankfully, there were no major injuries.

When the film was released, many people called Shafi and asked him why he hd done such a realistic stunt using the van. “I said this was not planned,” says Shafi. “An actual accident had taken place. Many were shocked when they heard this.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode)

The Dubai-based Anjaly Thomas has started a campaign, initially, in Africa, to donate bras to poor women

Photos: Anjaly Thomas with the women of Uganda

By Shevlin Sebastian

Anjaly Thomas has had an enduring love affair with Africa. “The animals, the wildness, the rawness,” says the Dubai-based writer/traveller, who is from Sulthan Bathery. “Everything is so strange even though I have visited Africa more than a dozen times. It is such a different continent from Asia. That is what makes travelling so interesting.”

But it was during these travels, over several years, that Anjaly noticed something that upset her. Most of the women, especially in the rural areas, did not wear any bras. “In many parts of Africa, the women cannot afford it,” says Anjaly. “There might be worldwide debates on the subject of 'not wearing a bra' for various reasons, but in Africa, not wearing one subjects them to molestation and rape. If you wear one, it improves a woman’s social status and gives her the self-confidence to deal with untoward incidents.”

Because of these benefits, Anjaly is trying to do her bit. Through her ‪#‎emBRAce‬ campaign, undertaken as part of Travel and Relief that she started three years ago, bras are being distributed to poor people. Recenly, Anjaly flew to Uganda and distributed 400 bras.

Asked her reason to select Uganda, Anjaly says, “It just happened that I was scheduled to travel there. Having been to the country before, I was aware of the situation in the rural areas. The need of a woman in Uganda is the same as that of one in Kenya. This campaign is not limited to one country alone.”

But, for the time being, Anjaly is concentrating on Africa. “It is my most favourite place in the world,” she says. “So I know about the plight of the women there. I will be concentrating my efforts in the eastern African countries like Uganda, Tanzania and Kenya.”

(The New Indian Express, Kerala State editions)

At an exhibition at Fort Kochi, three artists highlight India’s contribution to the First World War

Photos: Surekha by Ratheesh Sundaram; Sarnath Banerjee. Ayisha Abraham. By Nagesh Polali

By Shevlin Sebastian

On the afternoon of January 2, the Bangalore-based artist Surekha is carefully installing sepia-tinted metallic photographs onto slots along a long and narrow table at the Pepper House, Fort Kochi. These are images of the Madras Engineering Sappers Group (MEG) taken during their campaign in the First World War (1914-1918).

This exhibit was part of the show, 'Digging Deep, Crossing Far'. It was curated by the Berlin-based Elke Falat and Juliet Tieke and organised by the Kochi Biennale Foundation along with the Goethe Institut. It highlights India's contribution to the first world war through the works of three Indian artists: Ayisha Abraham, Sarnath Banerjee and Surekha.

Surekha focuses on the contribution of the Bangalore-based MEG. In her research, she was astonished to discover that 92,340 people had gone from the MEG to serve in places like Greece, France, Belgium, Iraq and Africa. There were several communities involved: Mussalmans, Tamils, Parayans, Christians, Moplahs, Telugus, Nayars, and Coorgs. Overall, about 15 lakh people, from all over India, took part in the war.

“The primary incentive was the good salaries,” says Surekha. “The remuneration was Rs 11 a month. For the lower ranks, it was Rs 7. At that time, this was a high salary. Some families did not hesitate to send all their adult male members to the war.” They became members of the infantry, laundry men, cooks and lettermen, among other jobs. But tragically, by the end of the four-year conflict, about 60,000 Indians lost their lives.

However, not many know that the Sappers had a singular achievement. The MEG engineers had invented the Bangalore Torpedo. It is a simple instrument that could blast barbed-wire obstacles from a distance. “In those times wire-cutters took a long time,” says Surekha. “And you risked getting shot when you went close to the wire. The Torpedo was later used in the second World War and other wars.” Incidentally, this discovery by MEG put Bangalore on the world map of war inventions.

Invention or no invention, during the war, the Indians had a difficult relationship with their white superiors. Lt. General Sir Clarence Bird related that a Naik (corporal) told him, “This is a rotten war.” On being asked why, he said, “Who are the people who get killed? Only the young and newly-joined sappers. No subedar or jamedar (junior commissioned officer) is ever killed.”

Meanwhile, the political leadership had hoped that, pleased by India’s participation, Britain would give self-rule at the conclusion of the war. “As a bargaining chip, India gave 8 billion pounds [in today’s value] as a one-time war contribution and kept paying 2.4 billion pounds every year in cash,” says artist Sarnath Banerjee.

Banerjee has done black and white drawings of the sepoys based on his reading of the book, 'If I Die Here, Who Will Remember Me?' (India and the First World War) by London-based author Vedica Kant. In one drawing, he draws a trio of soldiers blowing bagpipes and hitting a drum, but an uninterested British superior looks away from them. In another, he draws four soldiers standing next to each other looking morose and dejected.

“After the war, the Indian soldiers were decommissioned by the British army,” says Sarnath. “However, they were unacknowledged and unsung in their native India. The war did not bring any glory for them. Britain never gave India the promised self-rule. Instead, they promulgated the Rowlatt’s act that led to the further suppression of civil liberties. The British also established special courts which made detention possible without the need for a trial.”

As for the third artist, Ayisha Abraham, one day, a few years ago, at her grandmother's home in Bangalore, she came across a photo of her grandfather, Iswariah Andrews. He was sitting on a bench along with a group of army men. But, through a digital process, Ayisha took another photo but without the faces. “I wanted to draw attention to the construction of a typical group picture taken by an army regiment,” she says. “The hierarchy is very evident.”

However, Ayisha does not know much about the story behind the photo. “My grandfather put a cross beneath the seat where he is sitting, for those back home to identify him,” she says. Andrews, who was a journalist in Mumbai, had served in Mesopotamia for the British Army.

Incidentally, in the 19th century, there were quite a few conversions to Christianity by Indians. Which probably explains the unusual name of Ayisha's grandfather.

All in all, the exhibition gives an insightful look at India’s largely unknown role in the First World War.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

G. Prabha's film, 'Ishti', based on the Namboodiri community, has been made in Sanskrit

Photos: G. Prabha by Ratheesh Sundaram. A scene from 'Ishti'

By Shevlin Sebastian

One morning, in October, 2015, film-maker G. Prabha went, with a sinking heart, to the Perumthrikkovil Siva Temple, on the banks of the Muvattupuzha river in Kerala. It had rained heavily the previous night. And, as he feared, the set was flooded. “The scene was a fire ritual,” says Prabha. “We used buckets to remove the water. But the scene could not be shot in the way that I wanted.”

The film, 'Ishti' (Search for the self), will be released in end-January. And the most unusual aspect is that it is a Sanskrit film. That is because Prabha has a deep love for the language. For more than 20 years, he was a teacher of Sanskrit, as well as the Head of Department, Oriental Languages, at Loyola College, Chennai.

“Till now, the few Sanskrit films that have been made have been religion-based,” says Prabha. “So, I wanted to do a story with a social theme. I felt that this would be more acceptable to the Malayali audience.”

Prabha was inspired by the works of V. T. Bhattathiripad, a critic, whose books highlighted the regressive customs of the Namboodiri community for hundreds of years. Here are some rules: Only the eldest Namboodiri male could marry. In fact, he could have three or four marriages.

“The other brothers could not marry at all,” says Prabha. “They also had no rights to property or wealth. In fact, Bhattathiripad once said that it is better to be born as a dog or a cat than as a second or third brother.”

In the film, set in Kerala, during the 1940s, one of Mollywood's much-respected veterans, Nedumudi Venu plays a Vedic scholar by the name of Ramavikraman Namboodiri, 71.

According to Venu, Ramavikraman's primary desire is to be regarded as a top Namboodiri by doing all the rituals. “He is ready to spoil his relationship with anybody to achieve this,” says Venu.

Ramavikraman's third wife, Sreedevi, 17, is rebellious. She has learnt to read and write, and teaches Raman, the eldest son of Ramavikraman. “This does not go down well with Ramavikraman, who suspects they are having an affair,” says Venu.

A group of Vedic scholars question Raman and Sreedevi and finds cause for suspicion. Thereafter Ramavikraman sends his son out of the house. In response, Sreedevi tells the scholars, “Learning Vedic hymns and wearing the sacred thread are meaningless. First, you should be a human being. It is only then that you can practise truth and righteousness." Following that, she too leaves the house.

Asked why he decided to take up the role, Venu says, “In my early years, I had acted in a Sanskrit play by [the great playwright] Kavalam Narayana Panicker. I am not fluent in the language, but I am familiar with it. 'Ishti' is a rare attempt to do a film in Sanskrit. So, I wanted to be a part of it.”

But there is scepticism about whether a Malayali audience would be able to accept a Sanskrit film. “When the viewers hear the language, along with the visuals, they will be able to understand it,” says Venu. Prabha feels that ‘Ishti’ will attract Sanskrit-lovers in India and abroad.

So, the director is preparing to send his film to various international film festivals all over the globe.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Lakshmi Sreedhar makes such wonderful designer fondant cakes that customers are reluctant to cut it, let alone eat it

Photos by Ratheesh Sundaram

By Shevlin Sebastian

On a cloudy day in March, 2015, Lakshmi Sreedhar sat, along with her husband and two assistants, in a tempo, her heart beating at express speed. Beside her, covered in plastic and tarpaulin, was her largest creation: a 5' 8” cake. The driver, as instructed, drove the vehicle at the speed of a tortoise. The distance to the hotel from her production unit was eight kilometres. The road was full of potholes, dust, gravel, and, not to forget, speeding cars, buses and lorries.

Thankfully, they made it without a mishap. The cake was in the form of an off-the-shoulder wedding gown. The order was given by a Muscat-based couple for the wedding of their daughter Bhavana Ashok.

From the head till the hip, there were two layers each of chocolate, orange, strawberry and pista. From the hip downwards, there was only icing.

Expectedly, the guests looked dazed. And, more so, the bride. “As soon as I saw the cake, while I was walking down the aisle, I told my mom, 'It's mind-blowing!',” says Bhavana. “Questions ran through my mind: 'Is it possible for someone to create a cake this big and beautiful?'”

But it was not easy to make. Through Whatsapp, the parents sent the photos of their daughter's wedding dress to Lakshmi. She needed the help of two assistants, and her brother, Ram Mohan, but even then it took around 75 hours.

In the end, Bhavana cut a piece from the shoulder and ate it. “It was yummy,” she says.

However, not every order is smooth sailing. Once, Lakshmi was transporting a three-tier 50th anniversary cake from Kochi to Palakkad, a distance of 145 kms in a car. On the highway, her husband, Sreedhar, had to apply the brakes suddenly.

As a result, the top tier just toppled over. “I got a shock,” says Lakshmi. However, she managed to set things right in such a way that nobody, except the customer, noticed anything amiss.

Lakshmi’s speciality is fondant designer cakes. “A designer cake should look good, taste well, and match the desires of the customers,” she says. Most of the parents of children usually opt for Disney figures like Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. “Recently, parents have started asking for characters from [Hollywood hit animation films] 'Minions' and 'Frozen',” says Lakshmi

She has celebrity customers, too. One of them is Mollywood star Jayasurya.

For the promotion of a film called 'Aadu' (Goat), he ordered a cake, which Lakshmi made in the shape of a goat. Says Saritha, Jayasurya’s wife: “It was a 3D cake, flavoured with butterscotch and loaded with crunchy praline. It was so realistic that we did not want to cut it (this happens every time Lakshmi bakes a cake for us). The entire crew was so excited on seeing the cake. And the taste turned out to be delicious. I must say Lakshmi has blessed hands.”

Asked whether she feels sad when a cake is cut, after so much of work, Lakshmi says, “What compensates is the joy in the eyes of the people who eat it.” Her cakes range in price from Rs 4500 to Rs 1 lakh.

Lakshmi puts a lot of emphasis on quality. “I use the best ingredients,” she says. For colours, she imports it from abroad. Her favourites are Americolours and Kopy Kake.

“The problem with Indian edible colours is that there are all types of chemicals in it,” says Lakshmi. “And even if we use a detergent to wash our hands, it will not go off. However, for foreign colours, all you have to do is to wash your hands.”

Undoubtedly, Lakshmi is in the grip of a passion. Her life changed, when, one day, she went looking for a cake for her son Arjun's first birthday. But she could not find any good ones. That was when she decided to make one on her own. And never stopped. In December, 2014, with the support of her husband, and family members, she set up a shop called 'Bakers Walk' in Kochi.

And today, Lakshmi is revelling in the creative work that she does. “It is far more enjoyable than working in a bank, which I did for a few years,” she says.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Best-selling author Preeti Shenoy deals with emotions in relationships in her latest book, 'Why We Love The Way We Do'

By Shevlin Sebastian

At a book signing event, in Chennai, a young girl came up and gave best-selling author PreetiShenoy a gift. “I put it in my bag and forgot about it,” says Preeti. “My mind was focused on signing books and meeting people.”

However, three days later when Preeti opened her bag, she got a shock. The gift was a gold-plated Ganesha. “I was overwhelmed,” she says. Somehow, she managed to trace the young girl on Facebook and conveyed her thanks.

Apart from gifts, Preeti receives thousands of e-mails every month. And they are from people who ask the author for advice on how to go about having relationships. They feel that Preeti is an expert because she has written in detail on this subject in five novels and two non-fiction books, all of which have been best-sellers.

In fact, her just-released book, 'Why we love the way we do', published by Westland, reached No 4 in the best-seller charts within a short while.

It is a collection of her column articles, which she continues to write for a national newspaper. With an average length of 700-800 words, it talks about a wide variety of subjects: finding love, dating, marriage, break-ups, gender differences, communication, infidelity and sex.

So, Preeti is well placed to talk about the trends in middle-class society in India. “The very young are disillusioned about marriage,” says Preeti. “In fact, most youngsters do not want to get married. Because they feel that what they can get from a marriage, they are getting without. Pre-marital sex has become widespread.”

So how do parents react? “Some turn a blind eye,” says Preeti. “Others impose restrictions. But that does not work because children will find 15 other ways to do what they want. The best method is to have an open and healthy friendship with their children. That will enable the children to open up and talk on all subjects, including sex. In fact, a parent can advise their children that it is always better to have sex at 21, when they are mature enough, and not at 15, which is what is happening now.”

As for adults, it has become so much more easy to have an affair. “Today, because of technology, you can sit in India and begin an affair with a person in Japan. The very fact that there were lakhs of Indians on the Ashley Madison [adultery] web site shows that there is an active desire for extra-marital affairs.”

The Bangalore-based Preeti talked about all this on a recent visit to Kochi for a book signing and surprised people when she spoke in fluent Malayalam. “Both my parents grew up in Kerala,” she says. “But I lived outside. But, as children, we would come often to Kerala during our vacations.”

A Goud Saraswat Brahmin, Preeti's life changed in 2006 when her father, KVJ Kamath, passed away, suddenly, at age 66 through a cardiac arrest. “I felt numb because I was very close to my dad and would speak to him every day,” she says. “He was my hero.”

To get over the shock, Preeti began a blog. This turned out to be popular, and thereafter, her writing career took off. Asked to analyse her popularity, Preeti says, “Readers tell me that my style is simple, easy to read, and touches the heart. They have also told me that when they start reading my book, before they realise it, it is over.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

Scriptwriter/director Rafi talks about his experiences in the films, 'Romeo', ''Ringmaster' and 'Aniyan Bava Chettan Bava'

Photos: Scriptwriter/Director Rafi; Dileep in 'Ringmaster'

By Shevlin Sebastian

One day, in 2007, scriptwriter Rafi was on the sets of the film, 'Romeo', at Ottapallam. Suddenly, an unit hand came up to him and said that a young man wanted to meet him. So Rafi called him over.

Anish (name changed) shook Rafi's hand and said, “Sir, when I saw Punjabi House [directed by Rafi-Mecartin, 1998] and saw the financial difficulties of Dileep, I had laughed a lot.”

In the film, Dileep had a small notebook that he kept in his pocket, which contained the details of all the debts that he has to pay back. However, a few years later, Anish was in the same position. “Like Dileep, I also carry a notebook,” said Anish. He then took it out and showed Rafi the money he owed to various people, because of a failed business.

“I can no longer stay at my home, at Kozhikode,” said Anish. “My family is going through a lot of trouble, because the creditors are harassing them. Now, at night, I sleep at railway stations, temples, or bus stands. However, like in 'Punjabi House', I hope to find a benefactor and, who knows, maybe, somebody to fall in love and marry.”

Rafi tapped Anish consolingly on his shoulders and was about to take out his purse. But Anish quickly said, “Sir, I owe in lakhs, so what you give will not make a difference. But when I heard that you were shooting in the vicinity, I just wanted to tell you about all this.”

Like Anish, on another location, at Pollachi, for the film Ringmaster (2014), director Rafi was facing problems. Dileep plays a dog trainer. A Mumbai-based trainer Pradeep (name changed) had come with a dog. However, when the dog was in a naughty mood, he would not obey Pradeep. Three days went past. The dog remained disobedient. No shooting could be done. Rafi, as well as Pradeep, began to feel tense because of the wasted time.

And then, suddenly, Rafi got an idea, to solve the problem. “In the film, there is a film director who is supposed to shoot Dileep and the tricks done by the dog,” says Rafi. “Instead, I changed it and decided the focus would be on a disobedient animal, just like in real life. So the director would say, 'Please make the dog urinate,' and Dileep, despite his best efforts, was not able to do so. This section turned out to be one of the the most humorous moments in the film.”

There have been times when Rafi has felt nervous, just like Pradeep. This was during the shoot, at the Aluva Government Guest House, of 'Aniyan Bava Chettan Bava' (1995) directed by Rajasenan. Rafi and Mecartin had written the script. Soon Rafi heard that the late Narendra Prasad, who was playing Chettan Bava, wanted to see him, after reading the script. “I knew he was a writer and scholar,” says Rafi. “I thought he wanted to scold me for writing an all-out comedy.”

So, Rafi stayed away whenever Prasad's takes were being done. But, one day, by accident, they both came face to face. Prasad said, “For the past few days I have been asking about you.”

Rafi remained silent. “It is a nice script,” said Prasad. “But I have a suggestion to make. When you wrote about the olden times, you spoke about people spending one or two rupees. But in that era, it was one-fourth and one-half of an anna. Would you have any objection if we changed that?”

Rafi agreed immediately. “Prasad Sir never treated me that I was lesser than him,” says Rafi. “I will always have the deepest respect for him.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode)

An European Sojourn

A Meeting of Sheela and Sheela

Places of Beauty and Charm

Banishing Away the Bad Omens

A Christmas Story

Into the Darkness

Keeping an Eye on the Game

Capturing Wildlife in All its Glory

The State Of Being Stateless

A Love Across Cultures

Flying Through The Air

A Heartfelt Expression

Personal Journeys and Cultural Identities

The End Of Life

Instilling Confidence in Women

Doing Their Bit

Using a Not Much-Used Language

A Blessed Pair of Hands

The Ups and Downs of the Human Heart

Unexpected Twists and Turns