The Written Word

Why do the ‘masters’ of Malayalam film fail spectacularly?

2012-01-30T17:51:00.001+03:00

So this week, another of the so-called ‘masters’ ofMalayalam cinema found himself at the receiving end of filmgoer ire.

Apparently, director Lal Jose’s Spanish Masala has turned out to be a damp squib (though, as withanything in Kerala, the opinion is divided).

The reviewers, now dime a dozen especially with the adventof social media, are having a happy time ripping apart the credentials of Lal.

The unkindest cut among these views is that he is just another script-writer’sdirector. Give Lal a watertight script, and he can bring in some visual gloss, is their contention.

In the past one year, we saw several of the stalwart directorsof Malayalam cinema, who have given some all-time hits, deliver one dud afteranother, proving how much they have been sucked into their own vortex of clichés. They warrant some pity for the main reason that these are the guys who helped Malayalam cinema tocome out of the Sasikumar, Joshy, Baby, Sajan trap.

We have the new Padma Shri-coronate Priyadarshan, whounfailingly recycles himself, and in the process takes viewers for a hapless ride.How long can the man - who must be given due credit for ‘Malayalising’ Hollywoodfilms - reinvent himself?

He lies in that puddle from where his pals Mohanlal and Mukesh,in their 50s and then some, must work their charm, often to little effect. Priyan has his crop of second-rung artists, a few pretty faces, some of those ManiRatnam-style songs of yore, and there you go – the hotchpotch is ready for massconsumption.

Fazil’s fall from grace must be the hardest; if Priyadarshancan still bring in initials with his buffoonery called cinema, the man who gaveus Mohanlal and fathered one of the finest and most underrated actors, Fahad, seriouslychallenges viewer patience and also courts box office disasters.

Fazil, for all practical purposes, can take some claim forhaving understood the pulse of the middle class Malayalis – well, that was wayback in the 80s, unfortunately.

Much like Venu Nagavally who got the Trivandrum lifestyle toa perfect T, Fazil was a good observer of the follies of our middle class. Theclassic example is Sukumari asking Mohanlal in Nokkethatdoorathu Kannum Nattu – ‘Is it Abbaji?’ – to a rock musicstreaming up from his room.

Following Fazil in the ‘I have lost it’ game are our ownSathyan Anthikadu (whose films are so saccharine sweet they remind of MoralScience lessons) and Sibi Malayil. They are stuck in grooves of possibleno-return.

Why do these directors fail so spectacularly? Unlike inTamil cinema, the culture of directors being script-writers is still an alienconcept, largely, in Malayalam cinema. If you take out geniuses like MTVasudevan Nair and Padmarajan out of the picture, that is.

Perhaps, our film makers have been so spoiled by giftedwriters like MT, Lohitadas and Sreenivasan that they never really realized theirown skills slipping away. Not writing one’s films is no crime; in fact, it islargely the norm in Bollywood and Hollywood.

But we see directors in Hollywood and Bollywood, even whenthey depend on others’ scripts, maturing with time. There is that inevitablefatigue but they always attempt a further refinement of craft as wizards likeSteven Spielberg prove, most recently, with the adventures of Tintin.

Or is it because we as a society have been fragmented and polarizedinto many different watertight compartments that no writer can really gauge thepopular pulse and our directors cannot translate it on screen?

Or is it because Malayalam audiences have become too style-centric?So much that suddenly ad filmmakers, who come with their fanciful (and oftenripped off) shots and so-called stylisations, are in demand.

VK Prakash, Ashiq Abu, Rajesh Pillai, Amal Neerad – well –their movies (or their marketing) are largely about stylization than real content.To give fair credit to the Malayali viewers, style alone seldom works, a lessonthat Neerad must have learnt the hard way.

So would you expect these directors to take Malayalam filmforward? I would grudgingly bet on them knowing fully well how little theshelf-life of their movies would be.

My strong wager would still be on the likes of Renjith, Shyamaprasad and Blessy(the latter, increasingly becoming a victim of self-indulgence).

I also wish a truly parallel movement that translated as the‘multiplex’ culture in Bollywood takes roots in Malayalam cinema. There aregreen shoots galore, but most often, they fall into the ‘style over substance’trap.

However, I would still hope that the war horses in the guiseof Lal Jose, Sibi, Fazil and Sathyan, won’t fall down on the way.

After all, I would still watch some of their older moviesagain than endure the new breed of Malayalam films that glitters but is fake.

Spanish Masala image from Kottaka.com

When Bollywood bulldozes Malayalam cinema

2012-01-08T13:12:00.003+03:00

As an award ceremony that aims at promoting excellence inMalayalam cinema, one would have expected that the stars of the night wouldhave been Kerala’s own actors.

A Dubai event proved otherwise: The one-man entertainment army, Shah Rukh Khan,simply stole the show, leaving behind baffled big Ms and the lesser heroes,wondering what typhoon hit them, wrecking their carefully built halos.

If their male counterparts were dumbstruck at the effortlessgrace and genuine charisma of Shah Rukh Khan, the pretty, big, rotund and thensome - that motley group which makes for Malayalam’s own heroines - behavedlike a bunch of lost school girls, as videos show.

As sheer entertainment goes, I simply don’t care if RimaKallingal goes all ogle-eyed in the company of Khan, or if she (out ofexcitement no doubt) nudges at her neighbour, looks around utterly lost, andfinally does to get her two-bit fame of ‘I danced with SRK.’ Or if another ofthose girls takes her mobile phone on stage and starts clicking away merrily.

Our gals were pathetic, any way – they simply couldn’t getinto the groove of SRK.

Only minutes earlier (or later), SRK had lifted “thelightest lightest lady” (in his own words) ever in the form of Rimi Tomy - (also 'the most beautiful woman who could have sung this song for me,' again in SRK's words). The video hasgone viral.

All in good fun, all in the spirit of the biggest ‘Malayalam filmindustry’ show on earth. Bless the girl, she was in tears! Genuine adulation,no doubt.

The trouble is that with all the SRK blitzkrieg, an entire industry ofseasoned actors felt sold out to Bollywood, as an actor (a huge starnevertheless) meekly commented.

And our stars have only themselves to blame for that.

At one of the film festivals, when Mammootty was a guest ofhonour along with Amitabh Bachchan, he complained to the Malayalam media abouthow they acquiesce before Bollywood.

His exact words (which no one printed) were: “How can youexpect the others to value us when our own media doesn’t respect us?”

Anyone would agree that Malayalam cinema is at its roughestpatch now. Our films are ignored (largely because they are bad in the firstplace) even as we rush to watch Don 2and dubbed versions of Tamil and Telugu films.

Not many years ago, Bollywood and Tamil would bow in respectbefore Malayalam cinema. And those Tamil youngsters (Sasikumar, Cheran, amongothers) who took their lessons from our legendary directors, watching theirmovies from far, went on to redefine Tamil cinema.

Today, our own business houses need Tamil and Hindi stars tosell their gold and fashion wear.

Do you really believe there is logic in opening a so-called‘seven star hotel’ with SRK, when your guests are going to come from Europe? Oras a hotel, are you eyeing the North Indian tourists? Makes sense then, butdon’t say you are contributing to our state’s ‘foreign tourism.’

We have run short of brand ambassadors from our cinema andwe need to import them. As the mimicry folks say, we have an actor who sells usbooze, gold, mortgage, stocks and even fresh air. One lady specialises in anythingfrom pickles to slippers.

So we need a Madhavan or Vijay; we need a Vikram; we need aSharath Kumar; we need an SRK. It is their movies that we prefer to watch, and itmakes business sense to have these icons to peddle your ware.

The trouble is that Malayalam cinema and media now celebratemediocrity with relish – anything from an ok-watch ‘Salt N Pepper’ to where-is-the-logic Traffic gets elevated as the next best thing to happen in Malayalamcinema.

With our stars on air round the clock, they have nothing newto say, and we have nothing new to ask. So when MG Sreekumar sings his plagiarized version of a film song, our presenter doesn’t bat an eyelid, nordoes she challenge his cheekiness – she almost sings along and goes ‘wah wah.’

On the other hand, people who stand up for themselves arehunted down with a vengeance, while others who revel in unabashed plagiarismget elevated as the new breed of intellectuals, who would even whine and cryon social media that their movies are being ‘targeted.’

And those who we believe would stand up for a cause, ourcause, would let you down, perhaps lured by money.How can you deny a state award in Kerala because ‘the dam will burst’ but canreceive it in Dubai – because you are far from the dam’s spill over? To givecredit to the man, he makes good movies, and had a kind word for theyoungsters.

A minister, who has been/is in cinema, is cleaning upKerala’s film theatres. He might as well as start with the industry. But howcan he? He has given the broom to a man who rolled out the red carpet to theshallow world of Bollywood so they could come and sell their mediocrity to us.

Kerala lives in a big bubble of a reality show. We dance andplay like puppets. The puppeteer is our television honchos. They make or marmovies; they promote or dump talent. They are led by TRPs and advertisingrevenues. They must make money for political parties, and for people who makethe ‘news of the world.’

Perhaps, we must shake them up before we lose our lastvestiges of self-respect.

Better still, perhaps, our stars must take a break. Stopgiving interviews. Stop doing these viral on air interviews to self-promoteyour movies (anyway, we know you are lying). Stop being brand ambassadors. Cultivate a distance. Keepaway from the media. Focus on your work. Read. Make good novels into cinema.Invest your money in making good movies. Haven’t you made enough for tengenerations anyway?

Or easier still, take a lesson from SRK – and entertain usmind-numbingly.

That then would make sense. As it is, you are justentertainers – nothing more, nothing less.

At least you wouldn’t complain about Bollywood stealing yourthunder.

What Joffy told me

2011-12-28T20:52:00.001+03:00

As deaths go, this too was a shocker.
An explosion in a fireworks unit in Trichur should normally get a customary glance, a sigh and a shrug.
Reading through the story, first in Deepika, and spotting the name Joffy (wrongly mentioned as Josy in the ToI link), sent a slight shiver down the spine. Could this be Joffy? Our Joffy? The man, who smiles always, whom we (Rajan - now a news photographer in Qatar, and I) chased down for a story for the Dubai Shopping Festival way back in 2004?
Then, as I read that his father Devassy was among the injured, it sunk in. This is Joffy.

Here is what Joffy told us when we met him when he was preparing for the razzle-dazzling fireworks that have come to become a part of DSF now.

The headline of the story was: :"Explosives... make good pillows.'

The stand-first was: "Joffy Devassi, a technician of Zarco, which oversees the DSF fireworks displays, recounts the experiences of the ear-shattering festive splash of colours at Thrisshur Pooram, regarded as the festival of festivals of Kerala.

The story:

"As memories go, Joffy Devassi's first image of his father ED Devassi, is of the man sleeping amidst a pile of fire-crackers.
"My heart would go out to him," says Joffy, sitting in the gallery at Dubai Creek Park, where he would soon enthrall the assembled audience with a fireworks display that is efficiently interlaced into the brilliantly conceived water-laser-mutlimedia show, the Aqua Fantasia.
"My father used to say that explosives are most trustworthy. If you trust them and know how to handle them, you can make them your pillows," says the 24-year-old.
Joffy completed schooling only to join his father in a third-generation way of living - making fireworks, designing new effects and executing gala displays.
He accompanied his father, who has to his credit the independent execution of 14 of the famous Thrisshur Poorams, a high-profile cultural and tourism event hosted annually in Kerala.
Earlier, Devassi had been associated with another renowned fire-display worker in the state, Karerakattil Joseph, and assisted him in 12 Thrisshur Poorams.
Devassi develops new fire display effects every year and his ingenuity has naturally rubbed off on Joffy, who has worked on such illustrious poorams as those at Nenmara and Uthralikavu, and more recently lit up the sky of Kochi with a breathtaking array of colours as part of film actor Mohanlal's '25 years in cinema celebration.'
Joffy's brother-in-law William Gomes and close relative Francis Kurian have all worked on the Thrisshur Pooram. For the last seven years, however, they have been working under the supervision of William Prentice, operations manager, Event Manager, Zarco in Dubai.

They travel wherever Zarco's contract takes them. But come Thrisshur Pooram time, and they all want to rush home. They have missed the last two years because Devassi's licence had been stalled following an accident at the workplace.
"This year, the litigation will be over, and we are hopeful of taking part in the next Pooram," says Joffy, who has two licences to operate firework displays in the state.
Joffy is also known for his experimental streak, and had introduced several styles including Jurassic and Umbrellas in Trisshur. In Dubai, having worked with the electric firing board, Joffy now has plans to export the concept to Kerala, where manual firing is still the practice.
"We have sent across most of the equipment needed and also did a trial run over a playground using electric ignition. It worked very well," he says.
No matter his vast experience in firework execution, if there is one thing Joffy never fails to do before every display is to say a silent prayer in his mind.
"Fear will get you nowhere, you need to trust," he says.
It is a blind trust: In one's instincts and in a power beyond..."

Today, Joffy's worst fears happened - and he doesn't live to tell the tale.
Rest in peace Joffy; you made us look up in awe.

(The story was published on January 29, 2004, in Time Out of The Gulf Today)

Alice in (sort of) wonderland - Karama Sutra II

2011-11-25T20:07:00.001+03:00

Alice is one of the many faces in Karama that are usually recognised by the world only in the dim light of the bars. I mean, I have known Alice (name changed or not) for many years now, and honestly I might hardly recognise her if she walks by me in any other dress than the traditional Kasavu sari that she wears to work.

A kasavu sari is something you will see in Kerala on the first day of every Malayalam calendar month, or at Guruvayur, when God's own damsels go praying to temples. Our women also fish out these handwoven saris - exquisite works of art indeed - on Nov. 1, when Kerala celebrates its 'State Formation Day.'

In Dubai, it works best, apparently in a bar. Whoever that introduced the kasavu sari as the uniform of female serving staff at the Kerala themed bars in Karama had that brainwave of brilliance, for sure. It is all about knowing your customer, you see.

The 'bachelor' crowd that comes to the bars need their kicks - and what better than a bit of old world nostaglia.

It is a lethal concoction - wine, lust, romance and nostalgia. I haven't been to dance bars in Karama, but at the places I have been to in Bur Dubai, I have come across drunken sods, chucking money at the girls who move to the most monotonous take on the Tamil song Suttum Vizhi.

It is sad - not just that one-step forward, one-step backward dance routine or the sly glances that the girls give to those who patronise them with money. The forelorn look of the men who sit and watch the girls - their minds, am sure, mired in A-rated excesses - indeed reeks of sadness.

I claim no moral high ground here - but to my defence, I was always with friends and we used to create such ruckus that we have been asked to shut up by our peer-drunkards.

We have also finalised many an aborted scripts of movies based on the lives of bar girls. Ask Pradeep. We once had a script ready down to the last cast. It was called 'Sin City;' its one-liner was written on the back of tissue papers, and it starred Dileep as a journalist. Eeeksss!!!
The bars of Karama are where lives take a different dimension altogether.

Here, people rest their day's worries; here they come to celebrate their little victories.

They come from all walks of life. During my solitary outings - as a routine and bar courtesy, I always turn to the stranger next to me to toast the drink. That often leads to my hope of a slowly nourished drink thoroughly crushed, to be replaced by marvellous human interest stories pouring out in emotional gushes.

The Tamil engineer, who slogs inside some hot tank at work in Fujairah and talked to me of his family in Chennai; the auditor who says his boss 'knows shit,' - I have had some pretty oddball encounters at Karama bars.

But the true story of Karama bars is in the girls who are hired to serve the liquor. Initially, I used to have this moral outburst of a girl serving me a drink, and in a kasavu sari to boot. Like the many ideals that I have lost along the way, these days, I might miss if they are not out there with their coy smiles.

For all the occupational hazards they might face - imagine, standing amongst tens of drunken Malayalis (the operative words here being Malayalis and drunken, in that order), these women always surprise me with their surprising personal dignity.

They might be reeling within but they put such a show of confidence that not one 'drunken Malayali' will dare to do an inappropriate thing, despite being drunk.

Over the years, I have struck long conversations with these women, who simply do their job as any other 9 to 5 routine.

Some have told me their life stories; Alice, whom I once had a massive crush on, talking of her son (and I remember asking her for the boy's address in Kerala so I could send him a cake; of course, I forgot all about it the next morning) before starting a huge discourse on Biblical morals - she, appartently, is pentacost; R, a widow, who has three kids back in Kochi; M, whose family in Kerala doesn't know she works in a bar; K, who had to go on a family emergency (and is now back in a bar in Bur Dubai, according to R)....

I have often wondered what made them take up the job - I don't mean to demean the restaurant staff's role - but our Mallu psyche has this set notions, you see.

None of them has ever given me a direct answer. So I would make my own conclusions of families in penury, of lovers doing a run leaving them stranded in Mumbai et al (you know, the filmy themes)...

But I tell you, they do laugh a lot - at the antics of some of the customers; at the 20-something nouveau-bold Malayali girls, who come and drink like a fish before falling on to the shoulders of even-younger hunks (damn, they give you a complex and make you feel like a relic).

Their saris are gilt-laced; their lives aren't. Yet, I believe, they have learnt to laugh at life ... merrilly, fully, totally, completely, almost like the intense philosophy of the Savage Garden song, Affirmation.

"I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye"

(Karama Sutra is a compilation of tales from Karama, my neighbourhood and home in Dubai for the past 12 years)

Karama Sutra 1 - The Home That Never Is

2011-10-08T08:49:00.000+03:00

Introduction to Karama Sutra

Karama is the capital of the Malayali-Filipino Diaspora in the Gulf. It is the Kesavadasapuram of Dubai - not bang in the heart of the city's posh dynamics; not far removed to be called a suburb.

In fact that begs a question: Where is Dubai? You know that point where a milestone must say 'Dubai - 0 Kilometre.' Guess that applies to every city.

Thiruvananthapuram is not Thampanoor; Kochi isn't Ravipuram. Every city and town and village, has its micro-hubs, which put together forms what we call Dubai or Abu Dhabi or Thiruvananthapuram.

Karama is a mega-Kerala, a slightly smaller Manila, a smaller Pakistan, a mini-Iran-Maghreb-Levant, a lesser Tamil Nadu, a micro-Hyderabad, a wee bit bigger Maharashtra and and an extreme-micro UAE, plus some of Singapore and Jakarta thrown in for good measure.

Karama isn't really fussed about the West; it just sells Calvin Karamas to unsuspecting tourists from Germany, UK and France who marvel at the Diors and Burberrys - all got for a bargain.

But then, the heydays of fake trade is long over; the Karama shopping centre (not to be confused with a purpose built shopping complex by the same name), which was the Kunnamkulam of Dubai with arguably the largest collection of Calvin Kelins, Hujo Boss, Carter, Barberry and the like, have been forced to toe the line, and supposedly sell us originals. Well, give or take some.

After all, in this city original branded perfumes sell in the malls at one price while stand-alone outlets in Karama offer the same at a fraction of the price (even with original wrappers) and I can't figure out how this works.

Here in Karama, life has a rhythm; yes, it is a wee bit predictable:

Malayalis line-up (happily providing their names to a bouncer-like restaurant staff, who will then call it out loud when a seat vacants) at one of those popular eateries that attract diners from Sharjah to Abu Dhabi (my personal opinion of the outlet not very complimentary)
Filipinos run to G-Mart for their share of pork slices.
'We-are-from-Thiruvalla' groups clamour for the freshest mutton legs at Sunsrise Supermarket
The whole of north India in Dubai make the biggest of their usual self-important ruckus around Bombay Chowpatti
Devout-looking Karnatakites look all so solemn as they bite into veggies at Sukh Sagar
The fast-food lovers throng our KFC
And yes, it is always crowded at the LuLus - and there are four of them here selling everything under the sun

These shops only define a little of what Karama stands for; there is so much more to this place that is home and yet never home. Unlike the freehold communities elsewhere in New Dubai, Karama is for a floating population, people who somehow have gone on to live here for decades together.

And here, we find the stereotypes:

Malayalis driving cars with the small elephant caparison - a handicraft most likely to have been picked from Guruvayoor
Filipinas who can be distinguished for their wealth by the number of gold bangles and trinkets
Iranians who sit in front of car batteries and stacks of tyres
Pakistanis who put up their face on barber shop hoardings
And yes a lot more..

They mark the journey of Karama Sutra -to be unfolded - right from the lusty musty dark corridors of bar hotels to the gossip addas of barber shops.

This is the start of my tribute to a place that I call home away from home.

(pic of handicraft from thrissur.olx.in)

Oscars: For now, Salim Kumar needs prayers not money

2011-09-28T08:27:00.001+03:00

For my query to write an earlier blog (read it here), the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences responded on the short-listing process for the Best Foreign Language Film Award to which Malayalam film Adaminte Makan Abu has been nominated by India.

And here is how it works:

Entries from around the world pour in for the Awards. These submissions are then evaluated by the Academy's Foreign Language Film Award Committee (s). They short-list five films, which are then voted upon by all Academy members for the Oscar Award.

Technically, for Adaminte Makan Abu to make it to the Oscar short-list, what it now needs is not the INR2 crores that the team says is imperative for a marketing blitzkreig.

The film only need to impress the Foreign Language Film Award Committee (s) members, who could be anyone from Colin Firth to Mike Leigh to Bryan Adams.

And there is very little room to influence them, simply because the Academy imposes its heavily guarded confidentiality on such matters. It would also be absurd at this point even to try to influence the 6,000 plus Academy members hoping that some of them could be in the concerned Committee (s).

In an emailed statement to this blogger, the Academy said that the number of voters in the Committee(s) "varies from year to year."

As for the number of voters who will eventually seal the fate of the movie, this is what the Academy has to say: "We do not release that number in any case."

"The nominees (for various Awards including the Foreing Language Film Award) are chosen by several different committees," said the statement. "After the nominees are chosen, every Academy member who sees all five nominees may vote to choose the winner."

For now, actor Salim Kumar and director Salim Ahmed must pray ardently that the committee members - whatever be their number - will love their movie.

Honestly, AMA stands a fair chance.

Films that touch a chord in the minds of viewers -and feel-good movies depicting the triumpho of the underdogs - always works with the members (Forrest Gump, The King's Speech... and in Foreign Language Awards, Three Men and a Cradle - yes the mother of Thoovalsparsham; Amores Perros, Paradise Now, Yesterday, Joyueux Noel, Amelie and Life is Beautiful, among others.)

AMA might not have money for overseas marketing adventures; but it definitely has the support of some 30 million Malayalis.

We have the Beemapalli, Palayam Palli and Guruvayoor - no other country has such a diversity of potential providential influence and intereference.

So pray that the film impresses the Committee.

Until then, here is what Salim Kumar could do: Don't give glib TV soundbites. You don't have to exude sarcasm and venom just because you feel you are a comedian and you have not been respected enough. Kerala, truly, loves you Mr Salim Kumar. Show confidence in yourself.

(Photograph of Salim Kumar from The Hindu online; no copyright violation intended)

The Oscar dreams of 'Adaminte Makan Abu'

2011-09-27T11:15:00.000+03:00

Congrats to 'Rajat Kamal' Salim Kumar and director Salim Ahmed on their award-winning movie, Adaminte Makan Abu being selected as India's entry to the '84th Annual Academy Awards of Merit for Achievements during 2011' in the category of 'Best Foreign Language Film' - or in short, for the 84th Oscars.

The nomination, as is the norm, has been made by a 14-member jury of the Film Federation of India (FFI), which has a lofty list of objectives that make you want to shout 'BULLSHIT BINGO.'

In a way the decision by FFI to nominate 'Adaminte Makan Abu (AMA)' is almost like a repentance and might perhaps purge them of yesteryear sins - of forwarding Jeans, Devdas, Saagar and Ekalavya, among other crap over the years.

To be fair, FFI has nominated some worthy contenders such as The World of Apu, Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, Shwaas, Shatranj Ke Khilari, Salaam Bombay and Bandit Queen, too. Please find the full list here.

Since 1957, one year after the Best Foreign Language Film Award was instituted, FFI has nominated an Indian entry except in 1964, 70, 75, 76 and 1981 to 83 (the reasons for which, I am still Google-ing and am sure will make a great story).

India made it to the short-list alias Oscar Nomination - reserved for just five - only thrice - for Mother India in the very first year of nomination, 1957; Salaam Bombay! in 1988 and Lagaan in 2001.

The 6000-plus Academy Award members (who according to the Academy 'bring the magic of the movies to life. They are the men and women who transport audiences to galaxies far away and to worlds long ago and who create the previously unimagined for the big screen') vote and choose the winner from the final five - and we have never gotten there yet!

AMA is the second-ever time that a Malayalam film is winning the FFI nomination, the first being for Rajiv Anchal's Mohanlal-starrer Guru in 1987, although another Malayali director also enjoys the claim of directing an FFI-nominee - Bharathan for Kamal Hassan's Thevar Magan in 1992.

(And what the heck, if Mira Nair likes to give some due to her hubby Nair's roots, let us make it the fourth Malayali connection at the Foreign Language Oscars).

Okie, okie - let me cut to the chase; and not dwell on this Google aggregation show-off bit.

Here are what take my goat:

1. The Malayala Manorama story (the link of which I can't get for nuts) - where the writer comes up with some very contrived and melodramatic arguments on the arduous task ahead

2. The full-blare whining by Salim Kumar and Salim Ahmed about how they are so poor and they need Rs 2 crores to market the film

3. The over the top dialogues of Salim Kumar (Sir, be gracious in your ascent; if so, you will have many hands to hold your bums even if you take a hard fall.)

On to the MM story and the 'we are poor whining' - honestly, it is totally premature to talk of it at this stage because AMA must make it to the Final 5, which could be announced by Jan 2012.

This is what the Academy says of the selection:

A. All submissions sent to the Academy will be screened by the Academy’s Foreign Language Film Award Committee(s). After the screenings, the committee(s) will vote by secret ballot to nominate five foreign language motion pictures for this award.

The Academy doesn't reveal how many members are in this Committee; are they the entire 6,000 plus members? ~~(A mail to clarify it to the Academy is still unanswered)~~ Here is the response to the email query, where the Academy says the number of voters is never revealed

Now, assuming that AMA makes it to the final five, read this:

B. Final voting for the Foreign Language Film award shall be restricted to active and life Academy members who have attended Academy screenings, or other exhibition, of all five motion pictures films nominated for the award.

Now, look at the underlined; votes by Academy members who watch all the five films only will count.

In some convoluted way, I believe (as I have always believed since I started following the Foreign Language Awards in 1992) that the less the number of voters who see your film, the more your chances are, provided all those who watch your film, definitely vote for you. (Yeah, I know, it is a bit skewed)

AMA also has a very uphill task this year. The film is virtually unknown, while among the contenders are some stalwart movies that have grabbed global headlines already.

Here is a sample pick:

· The Albanian entry 'The Forgiveness of Blood' won the Silver Bear at this year's Berlin International Film Fest.

· The Greek entry Attenberg was nominated for the Golden Lion at Venice Fest.

· The Hong Kong entry A Simple Life won Deanie Ip the Best Actress Award at Venice, and is a critic favourite already.

· The Hungarian drama The Turin Horse won the Jury Grand Prix at Berlin fest.

· Iran's Nader and Simin, A Separation, received the Golden Bear for Best Film and Silver Bear for Best Actor and Best Actress at Berlin

· And Lebanon's Where Do We Go Now? by Middle East's most dynamic filmmaker Nadine Labaki, won the Cadillac People's Choice Award at Tornoto fest.

For AMA, it will take more than 2 crores to overcome the international PR that these films have already earned.

I pray, though, that Adaminte Makan Abu clinches the nomination and eventually the award.

In the era of superstars and pretenders, the tribe of Abu and the Salims must increase! (Recall this poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt - Abou Ben Adhem - it was a textbook lesson many moons ago)

And what does my gut say? I think, the winner is going to be A Separation or Where Do We Go Now? It is politically right now to honour the Middle East.

ENDS

The Oscar nominations have now been announced and the short-listed films are:
Bullhead (Belgium); Footnote (Israel); In Darkness (Poland); Monsieur Lazhar (Canada) and yes, A Separation (Iran), which has already won the Golden Globe.

(No copyright violations intended with the use of the photograhs above)

Why we love to hate Prithviraj

2011-09-21T18:50:00.003+03:00

South Indian actor Prithviraj doesn't deserve the scalping he is now taking on Youtube and Facebook.

It is simply unfair, and more than anything, another clear instance of the double standards and hypocrisy of Malayalis. I would have loved to use the word Mallus but apparently it is derogatory, according to whom and for what, don't ask.

When you stick out your head for Prithviraj, it also becomes imperative to underline that I am no fan of the young actor. As an individual, he has largely whipped up two extreme reactions - love and hate, and since I am generally not the indifferent kind, I would say, I belong to the 'haters' list.

So, why do I feel the need to defend Prithviraj?

The trigger was this interview of the actor, which as I write this, has fetched some 48,000 hits, while the original 'Prithvirajappan' - has clocked over 450,000 and counting.

The Asianet interview is now doing its round on Facebook, with practically every 'friend' of mine posting it as his/her status message. Really? This man's interview is your status? The argument is that the Youtube clip shows Prithviraj as stumbling and fumbling when asked about a book/author he likes. (Secretly, I would salute anyone who swears by Ayn Rand and The Fountainhead – that novel is the ultimate tribute to individualism and objectivity.)

I have no idea how these Prithvi-bashers missed the fumbling and stumbling of the interviewer; do we have two yardsticks to judge people simply because some are 'media idols?'

Ok, let me not make this into another bashing session on how our television interviewers behave on the idiot box (more so because I have a bad history of being bashed by the Youtube crowd for an AR Rahman interview - if you are interested in its print version, read it here - where I gesticulate and ahems through it - oh yeah - am pretty bad at this; I break into sweat and shiver and all that; cameras scare the shit out of me).

But why do we hate Prithviraj? Because he is arrogant? Because he tends to speak his mind? Because he tends to exaggerate his claims of his movies? Because he sounds disrespectful to his peers and seniors?

Show me one Malayali who doesn’t do all this! We are the biggest of bitchers/whiners. We revel in crushing idols, demeaning anyone (like my stab at the interviewer above), and we sincerely believe that as individuals each one of us is the best, the rest be damned.

Just a case of one of my theories, that we refuse to acknowledge the asshole within ourselves but see the ass in everyone else.

Now, honestly, what has Prithviraj done to irritate us? He has been extremely successful - for his age. And the boy speaks like a dream; his diction and command of languages - both Malayalam and English - is flawless. He has good looks. He exudes confidence. He is as much at ease in front of Asianet as in front of a London media.

For a young actor, he has taken the best risks and challenges - that even the veterans have not ventured. I hated Urumi but I loved his guts to take on history and give it a twist by the tail.

And let me remind you of the lost battle he waged - he was perhaps the only one to stand up against the Big guns during the Vinayan debate.

He stuck to his conviction and did movies with a director who was practically an outcaste (for all his obstinacy and stupidity and lack of skills, Vinayan's original sin was to cast a Mohanlal-look alike in his debut - the star, apparently, didn't pardon him then, or now.)

Where were actors like Dileep who had enjoyed the benevolence of Vinayan when he fell into troubled times? At least Prithviraj stood up for him.

We need boys and men like Prithviraj. You can't hate him because he didn't invite the whole of Kerala to his wedding or because he 'lied' to Vanitha (isn't this a women's magazine - why does it need cinema stars to stay ‘as the largest circulated women’s magazine’ in the market?)

I was sure Prithviraj would have laughed this all away; but no, he looks affected - anyone would be - and it shows in his reactions.

My request to Prithviraj would be to cease to react or to bother; this is not about a 'barking dogs' syndrome.

This is because I believe we need more men who stand up for their conviction -for good or bad.

I have always believed that the 'inferiorty complex' which the Srinivasan-Mohanlal combo inflicted on our generation is why we became the 'lost generation.' Look at any of those glorified movies of the twosome – the heroes are great loveable men (like us in the 40s, lol), but what the heck, they are such losers!

I read this today by chance: "Those who create enterprises from nothing are by nature egotists; impressing their vision of a new undertaking upon the world. The truly humble would never be able to carry out a task like that' - (A crisis is the only way to test your value - by Luke Johnson, writining in FT)

Prithvi, be the egotist; create something new.

And for heaven’s sake, give more Malayalam television interviews.

Just give it to them, though!

(Tailender: Don't give me the suckup award; I am not planning a movie with Prithvi)

Prithviraj's picture from Keralabuzz.com; no copyright violation intended

Bonding over Smirnoff and tales from the woods

2011-09-15T11:04:00.000+03:00

Every journey, apparently, begins with a phone call.

The original plan was a trek to any forest where there is no 'mobile range.' It was initially Santosh (hereafter referred to as Puni) and yours truly, planning out our annual 'green pilgrimage' that we have been meticulously upkeeping for the past seven odd years.

In the past, we have trekked down Silent Valley; gaped at Malliswaran Mudi which inspired Malayatoor Ramakrishnan; traced back on river Periyar; explored the heart of the Chalakudy River; braved a really angry elephant on course to Valparai (where Upman, Bobby and Sanjai gave us the warmest of welcomes); did the Chembra in Wayanad; and had many a philosophical discourse over stale rum at a Pattambi bar, and then, en route to the daily grind, watched the hill where Naranath Bhranthan taught us the futility of it all.

For us, every journey was a discovery; part-self, part the rhythm of nature. I believe that we have learnt a lot more than we ordinarily would have, simply because the silence of the forests took us in wholly and unconditionally.

I remember the absolute stillness of the Pookode Lake, and the sheer steep of the Chembra Peak, which Puni skipped halfway through due to personal reasons.

There were these moments when it was just you, the blue or overcast sky -as the day turns out to be - and the always untarnished, unblemished greenery.

I also learnt while scaling up Chembra that no matter where you go, if your heart is not at peace, if you harbour even the slightest of resentment against anyone, anything - any paradise can be hellish.

Any journey, truly, is a journey into your self; it digs up dirt that you perhaps never realised existed in you, and perhaps cleanses you – a little by little.

This year, the call of the wild, once again, was the starting point. The surprise factor came from Sunil and Sudeep (both doing some amazing trapeze acts involving family and work to join us).

There was a point when we all back-pedalled - except Puni. Even before we started, the chicken for our dinner was being arranged to be transported to where we were to stay - right in the middle of nowhere. Moral of the story: When you plan a trip with Puni, consider it done.

We drove from Alwaye, where Sudeep had come; picked up Puni from Angamaly and drove to Nedumbassery where Sunil joined us, and off we headed. A veg breakfast of steaming hot idli from Annapoorna Perumbavoor, and straight to Adimali, where it was whiskey time. The little store that sold us glasses had dates from Saudi Arabia - the woman's husband apparently works in Jeddah.

Munnar is an over-written travel destination. Of course, nature here stuns you with its splendour. But I have always felt that Munnar is a town on libido - the mist that envelopes it, hides the passion brewing beneath the bedsheets inside its slope-roofed hotels.

All hill stations, I believe, have a common identity. There is also peculiar air of brisk business-like arrogance for every town that is the last stop before you embark on the hillstation climb. Take Mettupalayam. Or Adivaram. Or Adimali. Or Agali.

Then the hill stations almost always descend on you with rash suddenness - people in their sweaters and shawls; carrots by the roadside; the ironically hectic pace that everyone seems to have to get to their homes before darkness that descends early.

Like in all journeys with Puni, our travels start where the popular tourist destinations end.

Munnar was only the starting point for us; The Eravikulam National Park and wayside waterfalls- other tourist attractions - again just necessary distractions.

This detour from the beaten path takes us to unexpected sights and experiences. That is how we ended up meeting 'Padayappa' - the lonely elephant, who doesn't have a history of violence, but comes down to human settlements, does some mandatory grazing and pushes off with unchallenged majesty. His trademark - a gracefully long tusk.

We drove through it all to our nest - a small hut, built in 1941, set around the hills and tea plantations. Here, over coffee flavoured Smirnoff, freshly made scrambled eggs, chicken curry and cigars, we laughed through the night.

Some journeys must be made to re-discover the magic of friendship.

ENDS

Those tiring Malayalam cinema cliches....

2011-09-13T09:07:00.000+03:00

In no order, and simply being fed into the Blogger Post as they reveal themselves, here are some of the most dreary film cliches - in abundance in Malayalam cinema.

Take this experiment to Bollywood and you will need a whole new server to list them all:

1. That jaded visual of the Mallu woman coming out of the bathroom with a wet towel around her head; heading to a biiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggggggggggg pooja room with a biiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggg Krishna (thanks Sree - for this) - The heroines have thankfully stopped buttoning the heros (a la Srividya and Madhu)

2. The housefly that hovers around any close up of the dead body (around which director Priyadarshan made a whole movie - Thalavattam - where the hero loses his marbles after seeing a housefly hover around his fiancee's body)

3. The villian (either Sai Kumar or Siddique) with the most absurd of wigs (or bald) listening to Hindustani music

4. That all-forgiving 'plastic' mother - must have to be Kaviyoor Ponnamma - and a 50-year-old son sleeping on her lap

5. The long winding dialogue that Suresh Gopi to Mammootty to Prithviraj makes before he shoots - high time they took a leaf from 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly'

6. That never-ending wait before someone just tells the damn truth - such as, the money was stolen for treating a sick sister; that the girl is none other than dad's extra-sown seed etc etc - and all it takes is a stupid phone call to clear the mess that drags for two hours

7. That 'karyasthan' who must invariably say this line 'Enikku ninte manassu kaanam;enthinanu nee venthurukkunnathu etc etc' (I can read your mind blah blah)

8. In new ones - the heroine who drowns a beer, gets drunk, buys a condom and calls her lover 'eda, poda' (yeeeeksssssssss)

9. The cracking of passwords - just like that - to more recently the laughable shot of a Wikipedia page on 'poison' with the hero nodding like Archimedes/Issac Newton etc

10. And the wonders that never cease to be - why is the investigating officer seldom a Muslim? Why is the brave supporting officer always shot to bits? How do heroes just escape the bullets? How come cars that collide on the highways with such brutal force keep running? Why do villians invariably run into cellars with booze bottles and explosives or climb up under-construction buildings?

And the show goes on... (with more updates to the cliches to follow)

(The August 15 still from Indiaterminal.com; no copyright violations intended)

The Malabar Nayars and the Emirati Muhairis

2011-09-01T13:31:00.002+03:00

The Nayars of Malabar are my newest fascination. It is not a newfound spirit to discover my roots; it is part of a bigger story, which demands reading nothing less than the original accounts by anyone from CA Innes to F Fawcett to good old William Logan.

It has been a delighting and insightful journey so far; the often debatable and definitely inconclusive anthropological and historical anecdotes opening up new vistas for new thoughts, stirring an urge to know more - a desire I thought had died in me, exactly five years back, when I switched from working at newspapers to the backmost yard of a public relations firm.

That bit of work-bitching aside, I believe the 'Nayars of Malabar' has been an intensely personal pursuit. I have fallen into a regimen of reading, not the fast-paced page-turner pulp reading, but the slow, laboured, trudging from one page to another.

Perhaps as an offshoot, or quite by coincidence, since the early notes on Malabar also touch through the era of Vasco da Gama and 'The Pychy Raja,' the reading also kindled an active interest in Kerala's own period films (which surprisingly are very few, barring the loud Udaya/Navodaya creations) - from the most -recent Urumi to Pazhassi Raja and the older 1921. Believe me, I even watched 'Padayottam' to get a history high.

'Urumi,' which the makers conveniently describe as 'historical fantasy,' I felt, made a mockery of Kerala's history - not least with its alarmingly long stretches of creative liberty but also with the blasphemous historical aberrations. Why call it historical on the first place?

I was pleasently surprised to note how the master writer MT Vasudevan Nair based his script of Pazhassi Raja almost dotting every i and crossing every t with such faithfulness to Malabar's history as narrated by CA Innes, who served in various capacities in the 'District of Malabar' under the British Indian Administration.

While the effort to be 'religiously' correct is glaring in '1921,' a film directed by IV Sasi based on the script by T Damodaran, to give total credit, Mr Damodaran too follows the Innes narrative to its spirit. The two however differ in the reason for the Mappilla outbreaks.

Innes writes: "The Mappilla outbreaks may be attributed to three main causes, poverty, agrarian discontent and fanaticism, of which the last is probably the chief." Mr Damodaran largely attributes it to the first two.

The historial fascinations aside, it was new learning for me that probably Malabar was the name given by Arabs - pardon them, therefore when they calls us Malabaris.

Apparently, an Egyptian merchant, Cosmas Indicopleustes, who travelled our land much earlier than Al Biruni (970 to 1039 AD), mentions of the north of Kerala as 'Male' which could have led to the name 'Malabar.' For Marco Polo, it was 'Melibar.'

As for Nayars themselves, the mentions of the tribe (or is it community?) go as old as Malabar itself and very conclusively so, as the 'Nareae' referred to in Pliny's (that is 23 to 79AD) accounts, and much later in 'The Lusaid,' by Luis de Camoens, who writes:

"Polias the labouring lower clans are named;

By the proud Nayres the noble rank is claimed..."

Nobility be damned.

What definitely endears me to the Nayar culture is the untainted ammorality that our foremothers practiced. Much before Malayalis in general were forced to wear the guilt induced by a foreign moral code propagated by the missionaries, the Nayars set and lived to their own code - sexual and material.

On the flip side, that lands every Nayar from Malabar with an unenvied dilemma: We can never trace back our lineage. Our family tree will never go beyond a few grandmothers. And then we get stuck at this scenario, described eloquently by Innes:

Describing the ancient marriage customs of Nayar women, where the mother must go begging to young men to 'deflower the girl,' he notes: "And when she is pretty, three or four Nayars join together and agree to maintain her and to live with her; the more she has the more she is esteemed; and each man has his appointed day from midday to the next day at the same hour when the other comes, and so she passes her time without anyone thinking ill of it."

The result: Children grow up in their uncle's care due to the unique matrilineal wealth distribution. For better or worse, they never ever know who their biological father is. (Is it a bad thing after all? Steve Jobs, reportedly, was born to a Syrian, whom he hasn't met to this day.)

Yes, a bit of bastardisation there.

But there was a reason to it: "The Kings made this law in order that the Nayars should not be covetous and should not abandon the King's service."

The Nayars of today are a bit docile; but perhaps in their docility there is a fierce and latent blood of loyalty - a trait that apparently is shared by the Muhairis of the UAE.

Both Muhairis and the Nayars, coincidentally, serve the rulers - to this day, as trusted lieutenants.

(Nayars and Muhairis are but footnotes to the book, 'A Malabar Sepoy,' that I dream to write one day.)

(Picture of Pazhassi Raja from MSN.com; no copyright violation intended)

(For the Muhairi connection, my gratitude to my friend Giri Nair)

I am corrupt; Anna, tie me up

2011-08-25T13:00:00.004+03:00

For good or bad, India has polarised - not around politics but around the axis of a social cause, corruption.

This polarisation of views - one 'for' Team Anna' and the other 'not for' (mind you, not against) Team Anna - has now assumed a disturbing moral proposition.

Apparently, the 'for' team are the Messiahs of modern India, the so-called morally outraged crusaders, who are dedicated to clean up the country, and usher in a new era of corruption-free administration and thus, a healthy society that will bring in equality, promote the middle class aspirations of an honest living etc etc.

They are cocksure about the efficacy of their version of the Lokpal Bill (which they conveniently call Jan Lokpal Bill - when it should now ideally be referred to as Team Anna Lokpal Bill - because, what if I have my own version of the Bill, which I believe will make India an even more honest country?)

I have no intention of reducing the protestors to caricatures; nor do I question their right to be indignant about governmental nepotism and inaction. After all, the past two years have exposed the extremely vulgar side of the Indian politician-businessman nexus.

I wouldn't contend either the fact that the support brigade of Team Anna is predominantly the youth - those, as Nazeem Beegum wrote are "who have only text-book knowledge about freedom struggle and other civil rights movements in the country."

Look at the picture here (reproduced from The Hindu with no copyright violations intended); this is not the dreary 'freedom struggle' snapshots that we are familiar with; this is a bunch of young, sprightly Indians, their conviction writ large - almost with a picnic-like zeal, albeit.

Enough has been written by the 'not for' team - with the flagbearer mantle now, perhaps unwittingly, falling on the much hated (and loved to be hated) Arundhati Roy, whose 'I'd Rather Not be Anna' has generated unprecedented hate mail for the Booker Prize winner. And we have this absolutely brilliant piece by Prabhat Patnaik, 'Messianism versus democracy.'

It is not coincidental that both articles have been published by The Hindu and not rags such as Times of India that make news a commodity. One purpose of journalism is to stir debate - which The Hindu continues to uphold.

I am not alarmed that Anna will challenge the great Indian democracy and bring it down; we survived Indira Gandhi and we are learning to live through Sonia and Rahul; our democracy is not feeble to be threatened by a frail, 74-year-old man. In fact, it is the sheer strength of our democratic pillars that Team Anna can step up, raise their voice and influence millions to follow their path.

What is disturbing is the stubborn streak that permeates through the campaign, and its 'we the good' versus the 'rest all bad' moral high ground.

That I do not support Team Anna does not make me anti-Indian or corrupt.

But can I cross my heart and say I have never been corrupt in my life? From bribing Ticket Examiners in our trains to tipping government officials, I have been equally guilty of corruption -where the onus is on the giver and the taker.

The thousands who swamp the protest ground will eventually go back to their grind. But when it comes to the crunch, will they have the power to raise their voice against - not just the bribe-takers but also the givers?

If they do, India can be a less corrupt place. As Neena Sharma writes, corruption is not external.

But more than the threat of corruption, I am concerned about the authoritarianism that comes with Team Anna.

This is a man who invested his savings in building a temple as the first step to correcting a society; apparently, the punishments he meted out include being tied to the trees until repentance dawned.

So what can we expect of a Jan Lokpal Bill from Team Anna that eventually also plans to include our honourable judges and the Prime Minister?

The sight of countless Indians tied to trees, as Team Anna walks the streets, whips flagelatting, beaming smiles of conquest trumpeting the end of corruption?

I can live with corruption.

But do we want an India where we take away the last vestiges of human dignity?

Do we want authoritarinism in the guise of moral policing?

Do we need to live in a state of fear?

A bit of Bond and... book cricket

2011-06-16T14:25:00.000+03:00

Uneventful, it indeed, had been over the past days. Reading restricted to the dailies - and nothing really catching my fancy. The National brought out their glossy 'Ultratravel' - felt it was a little sister imitation of FT's 'How to Spend it.' Even the design.

Reading on travel is now getting wearisome - may it is time we got back to good ol' Eric Newby. Oh yes, there is always, Tim Mackintosh-Smith to fall back on. Those who have missed 'The Hall of a Thousand Columns,' it is a must read. Will especially appeal to Malayalis, as he gives profound insights on Kerala's history.

Amongst all the clamour of support for the Allied intervention in Libya, this story was a refreshing read; it provided a sane perspective.

****

For a quick read, it was Ian Fleming's 'The Living Daylights.' Stunning, page-turner.

It is hard to believe how the murder of one person could have caused such jittery for the establishment (fictional, of course), when now the UK goes about in utter glee bombing Libya, not having learnt from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Perhaps in the 60s, the world had a better and more introspective moral code.

***

The best came from Suresh Menon, who wrote about 'book cricket' in this Tehelka column.

Took me straight to my own book cricket days with a dog-eared Oxford dictionary. Suresh's fav included Gundappa Vishwanath. My own favourite combo was Gavaskar and Chetan Chauhan.

Like the author, I cheated too - Chauhan invariably got limited opportunities to be at the crease; the last ball of the over invariably ended in a single (in book cricket, the page number corresponding to 8) and Gavaskar volleyed the balls for 4's, 6's and an occasional single to give Chauhan a batting life.

(Pic: From Hinduonline; no copyright violations intended)

Aadu Jeevitham and then some...

2011-06-16T14:23:00.000+03:00

Long-delayed, yes, but finally finished Benyamin's 'Aadu Jeevitham' recently. My biggest issue in reading the book was with film director Blessey, who had announced he is making the novel a film with Prithviraj in the lead.

I simply couldn't shake Prithviraj off my head as I tried to identify with the protagonist Najeeb, who happens to live for three years and some, virtually confined in a remote (as remote as the world ever could be) farmhouse.

For some reason, I see Prithviraj as a gross misfit to play Najeeb. Najeeb, to me, is one of those countless (faceless) Malayalis who are forced to slog for a living in the Gulf. They cannot be this flamboyant young actor, who (again personally speaking) seems to have just a permanent scowl on his face than anything else. (Well, happy to be proved wrong).

Once I cast aside Prithviraj, and gave Najeeb the face I fancied (a wiry man with a thick moustache and curly hair; dark brown and short), the reading was easier.

Yet, the novel, somehow didn't work for me to the extent I expected. Maybe my expectations were sky-high, having read Benyamin's brilliant interview in Mathrubhumi weekly (that floored me and made my a slavish fan of the author). Perhaps I expected the magic of an Alchemist in 'Aadujeevitham.'

For me 'Aadujeevitham' was an extended reportage - with some powerful visual elements (the snake procession in the desert, for example). In the intial pages, it was author over protagonist. But yes, a must read for all Gulf Malayalis.

Incidentally, the other day, spoke to a Malayali taxi driver in Dubai, who told me of coming across several such 'goatherders' in Saudi Arabia. The driver used to supply materials for a farm, not much different from the settings of Najeeb.

I asked him about 'Aadujeevitham.' He wasn't interested at all. "Oh there are hundreds like him in Saudi Arabia," he said. But yes, it took one Benyamin to bring that tale to our midst.

****

Also read this spectacular obit on Warren Christopher, in FT.

It concludes:

"'My task, he wrote, 'has been the serve as the steward, not the proprietor, of extraordinary public trust.'"

Nice one, that!

Growing with Rahman (Revisiting the Sharjah Concert)

2008-04-19T15:46:00.004+03:00

AR Rahman's concert in Sharjah on April 18, 2008 - his third in the UAE - had all the flavour and flourish one expects from the Indian music composer.

Leading a team of talented singers includng Hariharan, KS Chitra, Sadhana Sargam, Karthik, Blaaze and Naresh Iyer, among others, the concert - for a change - started on time. Well, given the stretchable time standards of Indian stage-shows in the UAE, call it absolute relief.

The true pulse of the concert, obviously, was in the Gallery and the Prime Standing area. Considering that the chunk of VIP and VVIP tickets are 'freebies,' there are sharper expectations from that cross-section of the spectators which pays for their tryst with Rahman. These are the true music-lovers. Imagine, shelling out Dhs100 from the lean-mean monthly pay of Dhs1000 and then some. That is the sort of adulation Rahman earns: Pay, if you must, but do not miss the man on his return to the UAE after four years.

At the risk of digressing, must say, the Prime Standing Area was one happy picnic. Picture this: People reclining on the grass, on a bed of newspapers (nothing less than The National, UAE's newest paper); families munching into hot samosas; tots treading out of their prams... and the red-uniformed Security with their machismo and 'beware-we-are-here' attitude. The festive mood was nothing short of what awaits a temple fair in India, where families and youngsters congregate for unabashed fun.

The stage looked much smaller than Rahman's previous concert at the Al Ahli Football Stadium in Dubai. The lay-out looked impressive, though.

What would Rahman start off with? My contention was: "Oruvan oruvan Muthalali' from Muthu, though I knew it was a far shot. I just thought it was well, sooooo egalitarian. I was happy to be wrong.

Rahman kicked off with Jaage Hain (Guru); it was vintage Rahman - a man in control. The close-ups on screen showed a man, eyes closed, engrossed in the music. Jumping ahead, must say, one of the most delectable experiences of the concert was watching Rahman watch his singers sing - he listens intently, smiles and just gives them the space to be...!

Well, it is futile going into the repertoire for the evening - I didn't take notes, and all I did was dance, and sing along with Rahman. I sang through his heavenly humming for the song Kabhi Neem Neem (Yuva) and irritated Varmaji (my partner for the night - add his son Vishnu to the team; thanks to him, the average age of the trio was diminished by a few decades.)

But some eight songs into the concert, despite Rubaroo (Rang De Basanti) too being sung, we felt deprived. The energy simply was lacking. We know: Without SPB or Shankar Mahadevan to anchor the show, it is hard to charge the air. Hariharan tried but there is only so much he can go.

I think that also answered a part of the question, which I had posed to Rahman a week before during an interview. I had asked Rahman who was more important to a song - the singer or composer. He ascribed some of the song's success to fate. But I (and Varmaji agreed with me on that) feel there is an added dimension that singers like Yesudas and SPB give to songs. Call it energy, if you may.

And then the Rahman magic erupted. He belted out a few of his foot-tapping numbers in quick succession (don't ask which ones - I am amneisic in the sheer delirium of being there), and the Concert was back on track. The momentum was taken forward by Shivamani, who discovers rhythm in everything he knocks on... and he passed on those infectious beats to us. Hats off, Shivamani. You are one of a kind!

The visuals that played on the screens to highlight the songs were good. The choreography (particularly Maiyya Maiyya) was excellent, and Hariharan knows what it takes to endear himself to the audience with his indefatigable energy (singing Chanda Re to the moon).

With Blaaze encouraging the spectators to lift up their mobile phones creating several thousand star-like brilliance on ground, the stage was set for Rahman to sing to us, Pray for me Brother - an absolute stunner.

There were several Rahmanesque moments: What more can a composer ask for when with the first note of his song, a whole stadium of people erupt to cheers and even get to start singing!

But undisputedly the song of the night was Khwaja Mere Khwaja. Rahman had the spectators in a trance - the trance that perhaps he personally was in, while singing. The song was defining for another reason. It showed the growth of Rahman - as a person, a singer and composer. That stamp of maturity was the take-home quotient of the Concert.

In another five years, you might not go to a Rahman concert for a Mukkkabla or Chaiyya Chaiyya. Sure enough, these songs would be there - but Rahman will give you an extra-high that truly marks his evolution as a musical genius.

That perhaps is the single biggest contribution of Rahman: With his growth, he also elevated our own musical appreciation. He lifted us and we grow with Rahman.

Rahman thanked us. No Sir, we thank you.

AR Rahman Interview: Rebel with a cause

2008-04-19T14:47:00.000+03:00

BY RAJEEV NAIR

Gentleness is the word one associates with A.R. Rahman, the Indian musical genius, who enjoys international fame through his musicals and contribution to Hollywood films. But when it comes to music, there is a rebel in him - one who will go against the establishment, defy conventions and be true to himself.

FOUR YEARS ago, on a misty, star-lit January night, it rained in Dubai. A. R. Rahman, the musical wizard described as the John Williams of the Indian film industry, was on stage at Al Ahli Stadium… singing, eyes closed, in the sublime ecstasy of bonding with melody, of binding with the Spiritual One…

It was a drizzle, yes, but then, what an evening it was!

Transcending genres, switching languages, bringing in electrifying rhythms and captivating melody, the young musician proved to a multicultural audience that music is a vast, frontier-less One-ness.

Four years later, as A. R. Rahman and his team ready for another Dubai concert today at the Sharjah Cricket Stadium, the 42-year-old has traveled much further — musically and spiritually.

He is the only Indian in the list of one of the world’s top 25 all-time top selling recording artists; the OST for his debut movie Roja was listed in Time magazines ‘Top 10 Movie Soundtracks of All Time;’ he co-composed with Craig Armstrong for the Cate Blanchett-starrer, Elizabeth: The Golden Age; he worked with Finnish band Varttina to compose music for the stage version of The Lords of the Rings; he set the score for the Chinese period action film, Warriors of Heaven and Earth, and Spike Lee picked one of Rahman’s soundtracks for Inside Man.

Rahman was only building further on the international acclaim for his first stage composition for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Bombay Dreams and a piece for Vanessa Mae’s album Choreography.

Spiritually, the journey was further inward.

He meditates — to gain a fresher perspective for his own music — and he has instituted the KM Music Conservatory in Chennai, India, which will not only strive to be a repository for world music but also be the training ground for Indian musicians where they can “invest in melody and harmony so they do not go against their conscience.”

He cut the album, Pray for me Brother, as an anthem for the United Nations Millennium Development Goal of eradicating poverty; and was appointed as Global Ambassador of the Stop TB Partnership, a project of World Health Organisation.

Rahman comes to the Sharjah concert with a new repertoire — one that has defined the evolution of his musical genius and enthralled millions of hearts through OSTs for Indian films such as Rang De Basanti, Guru, Jodha Akbar and Shivaji: The Boss.

Rahman, just as he was four years back, continues to be the man at peace with himself. There is a polite firmness to Rahman that puts you at a distance yet doesn’t ruffle you.

He smiles often, and is self-assured but modest. He appears to pick and choose his words. This is a man who might as well let his music do the talking.

But Rahman is also the person who talks when he must. He puts his foot down, where he should. Actor Shah Rukh Khan would know. Rahman backed out of the Indian superstar’s film Om Shanti Om because the producers would not agree on the music publishing rights.

Rahman stood his ground. He can afford to give a miss to Shah Rukh Khan but Rahman will not easily let go the publishing rights to his music. After all, he sees the flip side every day — in a plagiarism-ridden Indian film music industry, the work of musicians being trampled upon for easy money. Rahman’s integrity, indeed, is his biggest wealth.

For a man, who rushes to wrap up press conferences, 15 minutes of interview talk-time is a lot. Excerpts from the exclusive chat .

Do you revisit your songs and the films you compose for?

No, I finish them and go to the next one. You work so much and so long that you need a relief from it.

Which was the last film you watched?

Once (the Academy Award winning Irish musical, which also fetched the Independent Spirit Award for best foreign film)

Is it easy to cut off from your works?

I give it to the people; it is like giving your daughter in marriage.

It is said there is music in you in every waking minute. What is the music in you now, today?

When I am making music, there is a lot of music in me. Then I come out of it. I stay away from music though it is difficult. What happens is that when you meditate, you go to that stage – like a Samadhi (a high level of concentrated meditation) – It helps me to rejuvenate.

Do you meditate every day?

I try to.

How long do you meditate?

I follow what my Sufi master taught me. It helps me to go back to music with a fresher perspective. Otherwise, when you are constantly on to one thing, you do not realise the worth or flaws of it. It needs a fresher state of mind to see everything and judge it better.

Is this why your songs lately have a strong Sufi influence?

I don’t know whether it is so. There has been only one song with a Sufi influence – in Jodha Akbar.

In Guru too, there is a touch of Oriental. There is Maiya Maiya, the words that you picked up from Saudi Arabia on your pilgrimage…

Sounds fascinate me.

So when you are in a new place, do you pick up the music of the place… perhaps subconsciously?

I love to see what is happening in each new place. I was pretty surprised when I went to Jeddah and Beirut, how they make a difference to Arabic music. Arabic music has evolved in a nice way with quality in production yet maintaining that traditional touch.

Do you deliberately try to bring in new elements to your songs? Or is the choice largely dictated by the film’s director?

It is mostly by the director. But if there is something good, I ask them to listen to it. If they embrace it, I use it. If not, I keep it for myself.

The Lord of the Rings theatre production, Warriors of Heaven & Earth, Hollywood movies…. You are truly going international. Is this something you aspired for? What does it mean to you to be internationally recognised?

When I make music, say, for a Tamil film, it is as respectful to me as working for a Hollywood production. I don’t think I am doing a Tamil film, so let me do a shoddy job. I give my fullest to it.

It is the team I work with that makes a difference – the concept and visualisation. I treat everyone equally – whether it is an American or Indian audience – which is one of the reasons why it (the music) kind of transcends audiences.

Having worked with several Western orchestras, what is one similarity or difference you have experienced compared to working with their Indian counterparts?

In India, I work with known musicians. I just have to give a start; they will end it for me, taking the music further. In the West, I have to write everything – I can’t write it in my mind and pull it off. There is a full process of orchestration.

Is it more challenging?

It is not the challenge. There are several more steps towards it (the execution). In India, I wake up in the afternoon and I can have my orchestra ready. In the West, I need to book three months in advance.

Do you agree to the observation that Indian musicians are less dedicated than musicians in the West?

I don’t agree to a generalisation on dedicated and non-dedicated. Those who are dedicated are dedicated in a very different way; they are unique. The infrastructure in the West is built in such a way that it is more organised there. In India, there is a lack of unity and we have suffered a bit because of that. Now, hopefully things will be better.

Is your KM Music Conservatory a step towards that?

Definitely. We needed that one step of organising and help to have the infrastructure where our musicians can play any kind of music. It is one step ahead for them to go to the international arena.

Do you plan to bring Western sounds and music to India through the Conservatory?

It is vice versa. I also want our musicians to attain more perfection and passion for music, and gain more jobs.

The KM Music Conservatory trains in all Indian musical instruments. Considering that you have been accused of bringing in an overt dependence on technology, is this sort of repentance?

(Smiles)… Not repentance – it is a way of life. We came up the hard way. When our musicians are provided more education, they can see more music. People have only accused – they never thought of educating people in the right way. Only the rich could go to Europe or America for studying music…

So you are paying back to the society…?

(Smiles)… I have my selfish reasons.

What is that?

I will be writing for my own orchestra in five years or three years or ten years. The seed had to be sown; this had to be done.

How do you respond to the allegation on your dependence on technology?

I don’t think it is an allegation; it arises sometimes from ignorance or sometimes from a lack of understanding of what they say. Technology is progress. If I make good music with the technology, it is progress. There is good and bad in everything; you have to filter it. In every area there is mediocrity; technology is not a shortcut to creativity.

Is mediocrity what irritates you the most?

Definitely… it irritates all of us. That is the reason behind KM Music Conservatory. Once people invest in melody and harmony, they will never go against their conscience; they will take the music further.

You have once said that the Indian music industry lacks a powerful male voice. Do you still hold to that?

Well, there was a time when people used to love this tenor kind of voice. The last person in that league is Yesudas and… probably Jagjit Singh.

But you hardly use these singers… You are more known for bringing in newcomers…

I do only experimental stuff, never mainstream stuff. I am a rebel in my own way. I want to do things that excite me and take me to another spectrum of music that is not explored.

That makes you a rebel with a cause. What is your cause?

(Smiles)… My cause is to give people something interesting to sing. I want to make music that is interesting to listen to…

But a lot of people make interesting music. Is music something on a higher plane — even spiritual — for you?

Yes, without any blessings I will be nothing. (With the music) I am making peace out of chaos.

How personal then was the song Pray for me Brother?

That song did haunt me because ‘Pray for me’ is the only thing that we tell to people – to our friends. We say, ‘I am suffering. Pray for me.’ It is not about money, it is about wishing someone good.

You did it for UN as a campaign against poverty. Do you think music can really make a difference to such causes?

People have noticed the song; in the corner of their heart, a seed has been laid. They might think twice before spending money unnecessarily. I wanted the song to be an inspiration not a solution. In that respect, the song has made a difference.

Do you ever go back to your pre-Roja days, when you were struggling?

I don’t.

Because you don’t have to…?

Not because of that. I think of the future. In the past if there is something bad, thinking about it brings back the venom and bad memories. That is what is happening to the country… to the whole world. It is pointless to think about the past. I remember the good things and I am grateful for that. The bad things, I forget.

Have you ever felt handicapped that you aren’t too well-versed in Carnatic or Hindustani music?

I don’t think so. If I were fully into one (stream of) music, I couldn’t have embraced the other kinds. This way I can explore different musical landscapes, and since my understanding is from a very different point of view, I can get away with it.

You bring in so many new talents. You pick people like Naresh Iyer and make them stars. What do you see in a new singer that makes you feel this is potential star material?

I can never make a person a star. They have it in them. I try them out and if they have it in them, the brilliance just comes out.

Who must be credited for a successful song – the composer or the singer?

All of us are instruments. We just do what we have to do. God is the one in control.

Isn’t that very fatalistic a statement?

I believe that things are put together. I believe in good things and that things come together. You can’t dictate anything.

What is one song you will want to be remembered by?

I don’t know. Each person has a different favourite. I respect them and let them decide.

And with it Rahman moves on…

(Published in Weekend magazine of Khaleej Times on April 18, 2008)
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Charity for Life

2008-02-01T17:43:00.000+03:00

RAJEEV NAIR

Illustration: Sudeep Chaudhuri

AT THE NEWSPAPER I USED to work at, the canteen contractor had a way of keeping the administrative staff in good humour.

His boys would slide a tomato dressing over the fish fry or sneak in a boiled egg under the rice served to the P & A staff — the true caretakers of the canteen. It irked us to no end. After all, in a newspaper hierarchy, shouldn’t reporters figure above the P & A?

If respect doesn’t begin at home, is there anything to be expected of the public? We had the audacity to raise the issue at nothing less than an editorial conference.

A silly move!

We were assured an “ego massage” and no eggs or tomato dressing. So we — a small group of entry-level reporters and subs — decided to boycott the canteen and even the 10 paisa tea that was supplied at our desk. It was war with the contractor — as if he cared.

Years later, I was in Dubai when a former colleague wrote to tell me the sad end of the otherwise rebellious story. The canteen contracto

r had died. “It took his death to break our resolve [of not stepping into the canteen],” he wrote. Suddenly, it didn’t matter whether we were fighting for a “cause.” Our action looked mean, immature and egoistic. It was a reminder that only till death do us fight. After that every shred of hatred, every grudge loses its edge. Living, we can hold them out. But death evens it out .

Right now, how many people don’t we love to hate? Whom we will happily envelope in scorn? Whom we feel we can live without? One, a few, a handful, an awful lot? But we know we can get away with an apology, a nod, a kind word at some point in time. If not today, tomorrow for sure. With death, we blow all chances.

A recent story from Kerala made headlines. A man, the father of five children, all from a single delivery, ended his life because he could no longer take the anguish of his long struggle against poverty. He left behind the five little girls in the care of an ailing mother. The news threw open all the doors of charity. Poets, social workers, government representatives, politicians, neighbours all flocked to the family with support. Funds were set up for the children’s welfare; hospitals rushed in with care for the mother.

A sad man’s death finally served the purpose his living life could not.

Why has death opened the doors of kindness when life couldn’t? Why did a man have to pay with his life for a little humanity? Had he, the living he, approached the very same poets, social workers with his story of persistent suffering and total penury, would the response have been the same?

In a country the size of India, at least one-tenth of its population mired in a life of misery, how many deaths do we need for true acts of charity to take their course? Are we doomed to mark the genesis of charity at the altar of the ultimate — death?

From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 5, Dated Feb 9, 2008

http://www.tehelka.com/story_main37.asp?filename=Op090208culturevulture.asp

Cancer Ward

2007-12-22T19:07:00.000+03:00

Every day in an Oncology ward, even as a bystander, reminds you that people dying or on its verge, fight the gravest battle…, and from them can be learnt the ultimate lesson in hope for the living — that to live is to take each day as it comes.

PALLIATIVE: One of the words we read sub-consciously as we hurry past white on blue hospital signages. A word so distant, it simply seems to complement its predecessor — PAIN.
But that day, ‘Palliative’ sinks in for what it means: PROLONG.
Is it fair? Prolonging the pain?
One never knows.
One never chooses in those moments. Between life and death, there is only one fair choice to make — there’s no choosing, mind you...
So it is that the week began. A week in an oncology ward — where cancer is the reality and ironically, the only life around you.
Here, more than anywhere, medicines leave a nauseating stench – especially when administered in cocktails that can be potentially lethal on a ‘normal’ body.
Like walking through clouds — that from far you thought you could hold in your hands — the unseen vapours of a chemotherapy session escape through the narrow gaps of in-patient wards and envelope you.
In every breath. In every stride.
Eventually, you try not to shake them off.
Like the painful whimpers that you thought you heard on sleepless nights, the vapours too become part of a routine.
The final battles of life, any life, are startlingly unsentimental. There is no emotional overload, no melodrama. Just the truth. Stark. Black.
A bystander in an oncology ward is expected to be stoic. The reality has to be understood, even appreciated. That is what prompts doctors to open up. To cut aside the medical-ese and talk in terms that needs no interpretation.
Acceptance of the inevitable can sink in easily. Then, there is no room for pretentions. The ‘how is her’ queries can be met with honest answers. The most subtle of which could be: ‘Taking each day as it comes.’
The bridge between an oncology ward and an Intensive Care Unit is not too distant as ‘condition’ changes with discomforting, appalling regularity. Stabilised. Critical. Emergency. Words that you learn to take in, and live with…
Life-saving ICUs also need the safety net of ‘security’ guards. Securing against what? Intruding relatives? Concerned brethren? Can they secure the inmates from the inevitable arms of death?
Security, here, is only against the living. So that we don’t step in to disturb the chilling calm of the ICUs, and its unmindful, unknowing inmates.
WAITING OUTSIDE the ICU, vulnerably alone, amongst several faces that defy scrutiny, the outside world, and its daily worries that you couldn’t dare to face in the ‘normal’ yesterdays, is a distant place.
Interrupting the steely cold silence is the occasional — and irritating — chirping of a cell phone. Heavy low-decibel sounds, in tones that are always the same – leaden with the weight of concern.
Occasionally, the door will fling open as frantically paced hospital attenders wheel in another ‘emergency,’ another ‘case.’ You can hear it coming. The sound of metal wheels on cement, a reminder of another life struggling to cling on — often, to unwilling bodies. An oxygen mask over the face, drip bottle held up, a bandaged head, drops of blood-red, a man or woman or child rushed in…
The bystanders stand up. You can’t resist but staring. Does an awful thought cross your mind? That it is not you there; not you, knocked down by a speeding bus; not you, who on the way to work broke into sweat and a seething pain that ran through the shoulders up through the neck to your feeble heart; not you, who took a deep breath and slumped back unconscious; not you, who has simply surrendered to age; not you, who decided that life is not worth the trouble…?
Well, those thoughts would come later. Now, in this moment, as you watch another person’s life in the balance, precariously tipped towards death, there is only a detached pity – and a fleeting thought that at death’s doorsteps, every one is the same.
But life in the ICUs has its routines too. There are playful nurses, who sifting around drugged patients, dream about their future. About flying to the US, that job in Saudi… Sometimes peals of laughter erupt as they pull the leg of a graduating house-surgeon with his baby-face looks and apologetic, ‘still-learning’ attitude.
Outside, awaiting news, the ICUs are a world of worry. When allowed to enter, and now looking back, it is only green that you recall. The green of bedsheets, curtains, the doctor’s robes… and the constant humming of machines — like the chatter of the incessant rain outside.
Finally, when the battle is over, another life passes away…
There is the emptiness, and the routine — of death certificates, the steel stretchers giving way to aluminium caskets, and the eerie calm of the night.
Then the realisation sinks in… that gone from your life are a thousand irreplaceable prayers.
Every mother is that — the prayers in our life.

(Rajeev Nair is an editor with Asda’a, a public relations consultancy in Dubai.)

Published in the Weekend magazine of Khaleej Times
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Rain and Rhetoric

2007-09-04T15:35:00.000+03:00

The rains and political rhetoric are loud in Kerala. The rains run off into the sea; the rhetoric floods minds with the emptiness of it all

IN God's Own Country, two things rule: cell phones and politics. Mobile phone chatter has grabbed the soul and psyche of the south Indian state of Kerala with a vengeance. Not much of a surprise there. Here is a state that prides on words - the meaning and meaninglessness of them all.
Which is why, there is so much of empty rhetoric parading as hard news in Kerala, now. Here, hard news means political statements. Mr A whines about Mr V, Mr V moans about Mr O and Mr A and the media, unable to decide who is friend and who is foe, who is right and who is wrong, dances to a tune that is their own making.
So we have otherwise aggressive journalists playing smart cards of silence - perhaps to appease political masters. Indeed, newsmakers are making news in Kerala, like never before. Sadly, it doesn't make a pretty sight.
This monsoon-rich state was once a must-go itinerary for the world's true travelers and documented with awe by the likes of the famed Arab traveller from the Tangiers, Ibn Battuta.
Those travelers came uninvited, discovered the riches of Malabar, and also took home some. Today's travellers are the weary backpackers who do a backwater, a Kochi on foot and catch the next flight to Goa or Mumbai. For them, the state presents caparisoned elephants and floral competitions, perhaps unaware that tourists cannot be lured by gimmicks.
Despite boasting no other economic rider today other than Gulf money and tourism, Kerala continues to thrive on a self-defeating, dispirited nonchalance to modern day realities. That comes as no surprise, again. Here, everything is decided by the colours of political ideology - or the lack of it.
Where is the land for anything at all, one may ask.
Indeed, where is the land? The state cannot feed on its own any more. Farm lands are fast shrinking, the alleged real estate mafia is sitting on prime land around proposed development projects, and everyone is talking of 'shopping complexes.'
Four single shutter shops make a complex, and name it after one of the long-deceased forefathers, and you have a 'memorial complex' that doubles as a commercial entity.
Seasons have gone for a toss. People say, Kerala now has nine months of uninterrupted rains. Once, you could predict the change of seasons watching nature. The bright yellow Cassia flowers heralded spring - today, they flower and wither by end of February.
Rains are playing havoc with agricultural crop cycles and farmers tend to take the easy way out - stop farming. What once used to be rich and prime agricultural land, today, it stands water-sodden and weed-infested. No one cares. It makes sense not to.
The Indian railways sit on prime land - as governmental authorities tend to do all over India. Much of the rest of prime land has been grabbed, recovered partially by the state, or awaits judicial verdict.
The roads are potholes and needed the interference of the court, again, for routine repairs. Fever is rampant, and they come in all types. On the flip side, this fever is a sure guarantee to weight-loss - that is, if you survive the joint pains and burning temperature.
For people, the relief continues to be movies - crass ones, mostly - and gold. Jewellery hoardings have taken up much of Kerala's air-space. Beating them for visibility are mobile phone transmission towers.
Somehow, with so much of negativity to be imbibed from around you, it doesn't surprise that Kerala celebrates 'spirituality' to the extreme.
There is political spirituality, where logic and common sense are defied if only to stay aligned to the whims of political masters. There is spirituality, as defined by the Books, and thousands congregate for quick-fix solutions from haloed masters.
And then there is the spirituality of the masses, where the operative word is 'spirit.'
Serpentine queues form before shops that sell 'the highs' and the smile on the face of those who clinch the priced booty wrapped in a piece of black plastic cover, and walking triumphantly away, does make room for some much-wanted comic relief.
But for all the negatives, there are little mercies.
The absolute green that washes the state, the heartening sight of children diving into water bodies, the goats and cows that laze around in utter contentment, the jostling of school children down the roads....
Yes, Kerala is poor, damp and its walls algae-ridden.
Yes, Kerala thrives on the perils of petty politics.
Yet, it is hard not to love this land.
'Gulf' connection
RAJESH IS from Tamil Nadu, the neighbouring state that could easily serve as a role model for Kerala on many counts.
For several people like Rajesh, Kerala is the 'Gulf' that the Arabian Gulf is for most Keralites. This is the land to their riches and dreams.
Rajesh has a dream. He needs about Rs2 lakhs (Dh20,000) to make his way into the police force. For that, he works as a marble polisher in Kerala. He receives more than double the wages he can make in his own state.
Like the 'Gulf Malayalis', he too returns to his home on vacations - smaller ones that last at most a week.
For him, Kerala is paradise - on several counts. The state earns him a livelihood, for one. He knows that perhaps if he meets the right people, can afford the right money to spare, he too can get to the actual 'Gulf'. After all, he sees the flourish of 'Dubai money' around him.
He turns to ask: 'What do you do?'
'I write for a living,' I say, but do not add, 'in the Gulf.'Somehow, there is a fleeting sense of guilt. And I know the reason why.

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A Bridge to Beijing

2007-03-18T11:52:00.000+03:00

16 March 2007

Away from the high-wattage glitz and glamour of Hollywood and Bollywood, an Indian vernacular cinema is making an unsung cross-over - it picks an untested Chinese expatriate in Dubai for the lead role for a film on the bittersweet aftermath of self-imposed expatriation

Scene 1

CHANG SHU MIN wakes up to yet another day in her life in the UAE. She is a Beijing girl who studied English at the Tian Jin Industrial College hoping that some day she can travel beyond the vastness of her monolithic country and explore the world, far and wide, further and further.

Like thousands from her country, she found the gateway to riches in Dubai. She worked in a hotel for two years, polished her English skills, and then joined an office in Ras Al Khaimah, where she guides the new wave of Chinese visitors seeking a new life in the UAE.

Scene 2

LAL JOSE, a successful Indian director, wakes up to a new morning in Dubai.

In his earlier days, before he had cut his teeth in cinema, he had aspired to come to this city, to earn a living and merge into the crowd of thousands of ‘Gulf Indians’ alias NRIs, who earn in dirhams, cold-count in rupees and save in gold and real estate.

Today, with several super-hit films in his kitty, he is in town to scout for a fresh face – a search that had earlier led him to an established Chinese actress, who didn’t have dates for the film that Lal had planned to shoot almost entirely in Dubai.

He needs a fresh face – and no, a Filipina won’t do; it has to be Chinese, an authentic one at that.

Scene 3

DR IQBAL KUTTIPURRAM, a film scenarist and homeopathic doctor – not necessarily in that order – sits chatting in his consultation room with a friend, who seems to know all about the Chinese ‘invasion’ in Dubai.

Iqbal mentions about the talent-hunt for a Chinese girl, who anchors the tale he has woven around expatriate life in Dubai.

The friend, providentially, has the answer.

Scene 4

LAL JOSE and Dr Iqbal drive down to Ras Al Khaimah.

Shu Min wouldn’t know it then, but that day, her life will take a detour. She will become an actress.

She will speak a language she hardly understands. She will lip-sync to tongue-twisting lyrics and she will emote before the camera.

Cut!

Arabikatha (Arabian Tale) is being born.

Destination Dubai

RICHARD GERE loves Dubai. Morgan Freeman wishes for a home in The Palms. Laurence Fishburne would have loved to film The Alchemist here (but no, its author Paulo Coelho apparently didn’t fall for it; the movie attempt, that is).

Shah Rukh Khan has booked his home in Dubai. Amitabh Bachchan is a frequent visitor. He even shot a full-length film, Boom, in the city. Sadly, it mightily flopped. Salman Khan causes a ruckus every time he sets foot here.

With a film festival that is fast gaining ground for its judicious mix of high art and haute couture, Dubai is already billed as a destination for films and filmmaking.

But, and as is natural, only Hollywood’s dalliances make mighty headlines. And Bollywood’s love for Dubai is largely confined to those dreamy song and dance sequences shot with alarming lack of creativity, always by Shaikh Zayed Road or by the Dubai Creek.

Post-Syriana, George Clooney’s much-talked about but little understood film that was partly shot in Dubai, the beeline that Hollywood was supposed to make to the city hasn’t really taken off in a big way.

True, the initiatives of Dubai Studio City and of countless film enthusiasts who spread the word of Dubai is creating a flutter but that is yet to be converted into celebrity-studded reality.

While the wait continues, Dubai’s own filmmakers are pushing ahead. Several UAE filmmakers are working on dream projects – at least one of which is billed to hit the theatres later this year.

But it takes a small budget film from the green, monsoon rich coastal state of Kerala to make a leaping cross-over in film-making.

Crossing over to reality

Arabikatha is a fanciful title, alright. But thematically, it is set in the bittersweet realities of expatriation. No, it is not about life in labour camps, as is widely believed. Nor is it about the ‘isms’ and beliefs that pit individual aspirations vis-à-vis the society.

It is about the schisms in every day life – about the big divide between hope and despair; laughter and tears; riches and poverty; dreams and reality.

On the face of it, the film is about an Indian expatriate, a cafeteria worker, who had devoted his life for a political cause he believes in, only to be constantly reminded of his need to eke out his living in a city that rides on the glory of money-driven triumphs.

Srinivasan, a writer-director and actor, plays the hero Cuba Mukundan. He has a rare predicament: All his life, Mukundan had battled the multinational cola companies that deprived his village of drinking water. In his new avatar, where political beliefs are best confined to one-off personal discussions, he must serve colas to demanding customers.

The turmoil of cola war is but a minor distraction in the constant battle that he wages in his mind. Which is why he is attracted to a Chinese girl, Shu Min (for convenience, the film unit decided to name the character after the artist) who peddles film CDs.

Is love in the air? Iqbal Kuttippuram, who runs his own homeopath practice in Karama, doesn’t reveal much. All he would say is that the relationship has a bigger canvas, where Mukundan sees Shu Min from the perspective of an Indian political worker seeking a kindred soul in a Chinese girl.

For Indian cinema, which had all along attempted to cross over to the West – eyeing recognition and money – Arabikatha comes as a straight leap to Beijing.

Via Dubai, an Indian film unit is now bridging itself with neighbouring China, a breathtaking country that is largely ‘forbidden’ to practical filmmaking.

Lal Jose plans to take his unit to China too, where he hopes to shoot five per cent of the film. About 65 per cent of Arabikatha will be canned in Dubai and the rest in India.

Chinese connection

When Dr Iqbal started work on the film, he wasn’t too skeptical about clinching a Chinese heroine for the film. The search however was much more tedious than he ever expected.

Lal and Dr Iqbal looked for three qualities in their heroine: Good looks, command over the English language and talent.

After several failed attempts, they were in Shu Min’s office to meet another potential candidate. A friendly girl, Shu Min took commendable interest in introducing them to other Chinese girls. Eventually, she became their interpreter of sorts, even narrating situations for acting tests.

With every failed attempt, the search started narrowing down to Shu Min, who eventually agreed to do a screen test. It was a simple scene: She had to pick the phone up, call her sick lover back in China and act worried about his condition.

While the emoting did pass muster, what impressed the filmmakers was her spontaneous reaction to the scene. “Don’t worry about the money, you take care of your health – this is what Shu Min had spoken over the phone, totally unprompted,” recalls Dr Iqbal. “That note of familial bonding, which Indians easily understand, perfectly gelled with the character of our heroine.”

Lal Jose says Shu Min is a brilliant actress. He should know: He has taken several novices and turned them into superstars. Making Shu Min act is the least of his headaches. “I have banged my head against the wall trying to make heroines from other parts of India act. I don’t see that trouble with Shu Min,” he says.“The best part of Shu Min is that she understands exactly what is required of a scene, and moreover, she has features that Indians would like.”

He leaves the discovery to fate. It is almost Coelho-esque, if you may: “Every one comes into your life for a reason.”

Lal observes: “Maybe she is destined to become an actress – a big actress in China, and our film becomes a tool towards that destiny.”

On her part, Shu Min, who speaks English with a pronounced Chinese accent, says she had no inkling that fate would fetch her the heroine’s role in a Malayalam film. The 24-year-old feels this is a good experience and is willing to take up acting if the right chances come along in future.

In the UAE for almost three years, Shu Min says she simply reacted to the situation that the director had narrated to her during the screen test. With no previous acting experience to her credit, she is slightly worried about facing the camera.

But she takes the challenge in her stride and has already learnt an entire Malayalam song and perfectly lip-syncs with the consonant-rich lyrics.

She also watched a number of Malayalam films, which she finds colourful, music-rich and thoroughly entertaining.

Shu Min’s parents were initially skeptical about their daughter’s decision to act in a film, shot in far-flung Dubai, and Indian to boot.

“I insisted: I told them, I am here, I know the people, and I trust them. Eventually, they consented,” she says.

Dubai, she says, helped her to grow as a person. “I was the childish sort and my parents would say I will always remain immature. The first time I went on vacation from Dubai, their impression about me has changed: they regard me as grown-up now.”

Overcoming challenges

ONE of the challenges of shooting Arabikatha in Dubai is to suit the film to budget. There are several other considerations too: The film unit has to respect the local sensitivities; the prevailing traffic condition must be accommodated to stick to the film schedules and most importantly, the time-frame of the shoot has to be meticulously followed.

Lal Jose, however, is impressed by the swift single window clearance that aided in rolling out the shooting in Dubai. “One must adopt a Hollywood-style approach in planning the film here. Every shot and schedule has to be previously planned and one must not leave any room for ad hoc decisions. From our part, our responsibility is to respect the laws, regulations and culture of the city.”

Arabikatha’s producer Sainullabdeen Hussein is not the average film producer. An IT entrepreneur based in Qatar, he has been a long-time fan of actor Srinivasan’s television show, noted for its incisive wit and straight talk.

“In one of the episodes, Srinivasan observed that one of the reasons for the crisis in the Malayalam film industry is that several Gulf Indians, who have no clue about film-making turn to production attracted by the glamour and fame,” says Hussein. “That was a very pertinent observation, which is a reality check for all aspiring producers.”

He adds: “This is not a big-budget film and to date, we have been fortunate to stick to our estimates.”

Hussein is not overtly bothered about the returns either. “I like the story and I like the fact that I am working with some of the seasoned professionals in the industry. I do not interfere with the film-making process and leave it to the discretion of Lal Jose.”

From life to screen…

Dr Iqbal says his life in Dubai has a telling impact on the structure and characterization of the film. “There could be several characters and situations I had witnessed or experienced,” he says.

Significantly, therefore, there are several Dubai residents who play key roles in the film and also work behind the camera – as associate cameramen to on-line editors. Arabikatha, thus, becomes as a stepping stone to the limelight for people from various walks of life – from media to entrepreneurs, and star-aspirants to plain movie buffs.

And beyond!

“I have never considered doing a film outside the mis-en-scene demanded by the story,” says Lal Jose. “But doing a film based in Dubai has been an idea that was perhaps always in the back of my mind. This is a city that rewards hard work and there are several people here who made it big on their own. This is a global village and my effort – not deliberately though - is to capture the multicultural identity of the city.”

However, Arabikatha, he says, does not fit into clichéd milieus already attempted several times.

While the toil of labour and the pain of separation do make for poignant tales, Lal Jose has just a simple message with his film, which is as relevant in Dubai as in any village or city: “This film is about people who care for the next person. You don’t have to be rich to be helpful. You don’t have to accomplish your dreams to be kind to your neighbours. This film is about the essential goodness of humanity, wherever they are, and our innate ability to look beyond ourselves and make an imprint in another person’s heart – Indian, Chinese or Arab.”

An avid film festival buff who has frequented the Berlin fest, Lal Jose hasn’t been to the Dubai International Film Festival yet. He hopes to make it this year - with Arabikatha shot in Dubai, about Dubai and of the several thousand people who also contribute to the pulse beats of this fast-growing city.

(Published in Khaleej Times)
http://www.khaleejtimes.com/DisplayArticleNew.asp?xfile=data/weekend/2007/March/weekend_March56.xml§ion=weekend&col=

Lal Jose interview

2007-02-22T15:24:00.000+03:00

Frames from the past

By Rajeev Nair

Director Lal Jose has dipped into his own experiences on the campus for his film Classmates. Can one small-budget film with B-grade actors, no hype, less spectacle and zero technical gimmicks gain a cult following? Can one little film touch so many hearts - that of teenyboppers and 70-year-olds - with equal ease? Classmates, has managed to achieve just that.
The film's rights have already been bought over for remakes in other south Indian languages. It is smashing box-office records and is firmly positioned to become one of Malayalam cinema's biggest hits. Director Lal Jose isn't surprised. Though he did not expect the film to gain this sort of a dream run, he knew that it would appeal to viewers and make them return to theatres. Repeat audiences, indeed, have been one reason for the film's rock-steady collections.
Classmates, says Jose, is his best crafted film. It is also one that he holds close to his heart, having always wanted to make a campus-based film. Assisting veteran directors such as Kamal, Jose turned independent director with Chandranudikkunna Dikkil, a social film noted for its rich visual imagery. He sustained the winning streak with Meesha Madhavan and Chanthupottu - the first catapulting actor Dileep to stardom and the second underscoring his acting ability. Jose's repertoire also includes Oru Maravathur Kanavu, Randam Bhaavam, Pattalam, Rasikan and Achanurangatha Veedu. While he continued his affinity for intense imagery in all these films, Jose was careful not to be stereotyped. "I have been particular that no matter what the box office fate of my films, years later, when people revisit the films, they must recognise the distinctive craft and narrative structure I had followed," says the director.
Jose dipped into the experiences he amassed from his own campus life for Classmates. "Several characters in the film have my personal elements; many others are shaped after some of my friends," he says. Unlike earlier campus films in Malayalam that either focussed on the romance of the rich or the boorishness of pseudo-intellectuals, Classmates showcases several true-to-life moments. For one, the film celebrates the culture of campus politics - an inimitable mix of petty rivalry and clashing ideologies - prevalent in Kerala. "I lived through many of the situations that happen in the film," says Jose. Many viewers should be able to identify with Jose's experiences. While Classmates remains his most personal film, Jose says it is Achanurangatha Veedu - a biting commentary on the disturbing trend of atrocities against women in Kerala - that is emotionally closer to him. "I did that film with a heavy heart," he says.
That film employed several scene scrambles and was a testing ground for Jose. "I utilised scene scrambling techniques in Classmates more liberally, and it has worked well."
Jose is also working on a new film to be shot in Dubai as well as a documentary for the Qatar government. But for now, he is enjoying the sweet success of Classmates. After all, he created the film's canvas from his own life experiences. What could appeal better to human minds than honest thoughts communicated with conviction.
His next project
Jose is on a visit to Dubai to scout locations for his next film based on a script by Dr Iqbal Kuttippuram, a well-known homeopathic doctor in Dubai, who is most known for his mega hit 4 The People.
"I know people from the different economic strata that make up the Indian expatriate community here. My new film will be closer to the aspirations of those who are unable to enjoy the luxuries offered by the rich cities," says Jose.
With actor Sreenivasan as the hero, the film will have an underlying trace of humour.

http://archive.gulfnews.com/articles/06/11/22/10084404.html

Stories from silences - An Interview with MT Vasudevan Nair

2006-12-20T15:51:00.000+03:00

Celebrated Jnanpith Award winning writer from Kerala portrays changes in a society, Archie Nair writes

Ernest Hemingway, they say, peppered his tales with silences – things unsaid that made readers think and seek the soul of the story. India’s literary icon MT Vasudevan Nair explores the silences in life, in the folk tales of forgotten heroes and in the legends of warriors from epics forever retold.
MT, as Vasudevan Nair is more popularly known, makes heroes out of villains and winners out of losers. Yet, in some curious twist to most of his tales, his heroic winners are often but sad, and sometimes villainous, losers. That, simply said, is the melancholic charm of reading MT.
The author is recuperating from a surgery. While his mind continues to weave stories, his fingers haven’t been lending much support. But he will write - within him are stories articulated from and in silences.
MT was in Dubai recently. No social historian or writer from Kerala - the green, monsoon-rich coastal state in India where MT was born and lives - can ignore the lasting influence of “Gulf money.” MT has written about the willful expatriation of Malayalis to the Gulf and elsewhere; he has also written about their eventual homecoming – often as battered souls rich only in money.
Today, MT sees a different ‘Gulf.’ The sheer sense of despair that enveloped expatriate Indians living in labour camps and crammed rooms, he witnesses, is not the total story anymore. The Gulf Malayali demography has an added layer – one comprising affluent youngsters who love to flaunt their new wealth.
He also sees a different Kerala – where people nonchalantly watch a man being killed and a television crew shoots the incident to later air the murder with all the hype that befits a blockbuster film.
Earlier, MT’s catharsis to such internal anguish was through his works. “I brought out my anger through my characters,” he says.
Now, he knows, it is not enough. The writer is already a social activist who didn’t hesitate to protest against the police violence on a tribal population. At 73, when he must be sitting back in contentment, MT continues to be the angry man – the anger that underpinned the individuality of his heroes.
“Contentment is relative,” says MT. “Earlier we didn’t have enough money but even then, I never glorified poverty. It was part of the system – it wasn’t personal. But now a lot of things happen that do not conform to our values. There is a disgruntlement within… that you are helpless in the face of such tragedies. I am disturbed and I speak about it – what more can I do?”
In the face of changing values, Malayalis also lost some of their camaraderie. “We had large circles of friends and we needed that. Thakazhi (Shivasankara Pillai, author) would criticise my writing but he was also genuinely concerned about my welfare as he was about his peers. That is the sort of concern which we no longer have – not for friends, not even for our family members,” says MT.
These observations could be the cornerstones of a new work – a travelogue through the history of his village, Koodallur. “Writing is all about experience,” says MT. “My experiences in Koodallur, where I was born and brought up, are my assets, my storehouse. I have written much from it but some are left. Every one has a geographical area to their lives and what I am planning to write is a travelogue of experiences, of traveling from one side to the other of my village.”
MT is also working on a novel based on the life of a legendary character in his village and tracing his life – and thus placing a mirror on the society – from 1923 to the late 90s.
For now, though, he must finalise the script for an Indo-Japanese film directed by Bharat Bala (who visualised Vande Mataram for music composer AR Rahman and directed the award-winning film Hari Om). The film tracks a Samurai warrior who seeks the roots of martial arts in Kerala, to the sixth-century monk Bodhidharma, referred to as the ‘Blue Prince’ from India who due to his skin colour was alleged to bring misfortune on this people. The boy left his village and eventually reached China and Japan, where after intense meditation, he laid bare the first lessons in martial arts. “Martial arts wasn’t a physical warfare then,” says MT. “It was an ashram (a spiritual hermitage)… it was part of meditation.”
With the film, MT is chasing one of his all-time loves – Japanese literature - and he is writing, for the first time ever, a script in English.
But then, the English are already awed by the master storyteller. Oxford University is publishing a 50-th year edition of his seminal work, Nalukkettu, this year. However, revisiting his novel does not prompt him to make changes to it. “Every book has its existence, entity and you cannot think of changing it. After all, how can you rewrite your life?”
The popularity of the novel – based again on the life he knows and lived – gladdens the writer in him. Nalukkettu has already sold 3 to 400,000 copies in the most conservative of accounts. “It satisfies me (as a writer) that some of my oldest works, the ones that I wrote when I was in my 20s, are still in print,” says MT. “My reprints sustain me and when a book goes into a reprint, it means another generation is reading the book. I am thankful to them and I must satisfy them because they feed me. I have a commitment to them. Even if I go wrong, they may have hope in me as a writer. It is this unseen force that makes you realise your responsibilities as a writer… that is your strength too…”
MT admits that now it is harder to write. “When you are in your 20s and 30s, you write fast. Now you start judging the merit of what you write and feel it is not worth it – that is a problem with all writers,” he says. “Readers have expectations of your writing and if you can’t satisfy them, there is no existence for the writer.”
MT reiterates that he will never write an autobiography. “Many elements from my life have already come into my works in bits and pieces. In fact, I haven’t even camouflaged the identities of some of them. What then is the point in repeating them? Anyway, it is not possible to write an autobiography without being honest and that might hurt some people. We simply cannot write bluntly and fearlessly as, say, Pablo Neruda.”
Good writing is about experience and observation, says MT. “And then, there is the magic of words that come from an obsession for writing.”
The winner of India’s most celebrated literary honour, the Jnanpith Award, says in the long run, awards mean nothing. “More important is your readers, their encouragement, their satisfaction… and there is no greater joy than knowing that your words have touched a few souls.”
The man who sourced stories in silences agrees that his tales will leave behind silences too.
Maybe years later, maybe, another boy who loved words, who sneaked through folded newspapers to read, might step in… but there wouldn’t be a Nila river to inspire him, nor the goodness of a village.
But there would be new experiences, new observations and perhaps a new obsession to recreate the magic that master-writers like MT wove into our psyches.

Do you know this man?

2006-05-21T14:11:00.000+03:00

On International Workers Day, City Tribune salutes the resilience of workers and captures the man beneath the “worker”

BY RAJEEV NAIR

HE IS PART OF A COLLECTIVE noun, a faceless man in a sea of humanity. He doesn’t work — he labours. He doesn’t return home from work — he goes back to a camp. He will build hotels where he will never dine; he will green and shade parks where his children will not play.
We know him by his blue overall and soiled boots — never by his face. We look through him when he crosses our paths — the ones he laid — and hope he is not staring at our wives.
We step into fancy cars that are never big enough to satiate our fancies and he is herded into a truck that should carry animals, not men.
We need him but we do not want him. He is out there balancing his life on tricky scaffoldings to erect our world but we do not have him in our lives.
He is inevitable.
He is dispensable.
And if he is lucky, he will be well fed and paid on time. If not, we will hear of “unrests” and we will look for a conspiracy theory to rest the blame. Or we will write it off as “stress” and forget the pain of an orphaned family as we flip on to the entertainment pages.
But today, we must salute him — for being the unsung hero who builds our smiles…, for the lesson in resilience he proves with his life…
Today is International Workers Day, a concept that would have more scope and meaning as the winds of change breeze through the GCC workplace. Yet, today will be no different for many thousands, who would have sweated a day’s perspiration before you finish your first cup of tea.
Space is everything
It is surprising (but is it, really?) that the cloistered cubicle of a make-shift room can be home to six people. Bunker beds bring economy of space, as dreams and sighs of two individuals interlock in less than an arm’s distance. A thin blanket, a bed and a steel cabinet — that is his world. For the man on the bunker bed above, even a slipper-space of floor is luxury.
Every inch of space must be economised and strategised. God, too, has His place. It is organised chaos – and they have found their rhythm amidst it all, even when intrusive iron beams support fragile roofs that spew plaster on their heads.
Space is precious even in the trucks that carry them to the workplace. The driver is licenced to carry only 12; there would be as many on the floor alone.
A high-ranking official called to rein in a labour dispute in a GCC country wasn’t amused when complaints of “poor quality food” reached his ears. A day later he told a news reporter: “I can eat that food.”
Would he, if fed on two slices of bread and weak lentil curry every day for breakfast? Would he, if fed on bland helpings of rice and tasteless curries for lunch and dinner?
Some of the “workers” can't, which is why they resort to catching crabs at the nearby beach and cooking them, away from their camp, to have a filling that satisfies the grumbling stomach. Others slice onion and green chilies finely — a shared bowl would help take away the monotony of their dreary meal.
Oh yes, you could always say they are lucky to have their fill. But does the meal justify the hard work they do?
There are other stark realities they put up with — dark dining halls that reek, leaking pipes and washrooms that need an urgent wash…
Yet, when they stand across a carom board, or look up from a round of cards, how do they manage to smile?
As they dash across the road to the truck that is impatiently honking and moves even before they are seated, how can they still laugh, their moment’s mission accomplished?
And where did they learn to cling to the simpler pleasures of life — like a song from the transistor radio, a collective reading of many days old newspaper…?

Respect Movement
Bahrain is the first country in the region to have a Migrant Workers Protection Society and also serves as a role model for others by allowing the participation of expatriates in the trade union movement, observes Faisal Fulad, regional and international director of Bahrain Human Rights Watch Society.
Trade union is still a boardroom concept for most other GCC countries. They now feel the pressure to initiate labour unions if they want to enjoy the perks of the US Free Trade Agreement. Alongside are reports of labour unrest spilling over to the streets and causing damage to property.
Fulad isn’t surprised. He says it is a reflection of the workers becoming more aware of their rights as well as that of NGOs and civil society organisations gaining ground in the Gulf.
From today, the society's “Respect Movement” is focusing its attention on migrant workers with the aim of protecting their rights.
Fulad, a human rights activist for over 30 years, says living conditions in some of the camps are “bad.” His solution is that workers, the private sector and the government must work hand-in-hand. No strategy that sidelines any one of the three sectors will deliver desired results, he adds.

Awareness holds the key
Worker welfare demands a wider perspective, observes social worker R. K. Nair, who is general secretary of Surya Charitable and Cultural Association. Nair says it is a misnomer to describe the workers' right to stop work for non-payment of dues as “strike.”
“The labour law states that if a worker is delayed his payment by 15 days, he has the right to stop work, and we have instances where workers have not been paid for 10 months. What do you expect them to do?” he asks.
He says living conditions in many labour camps “have improved” and only periodic meetings between representatives of the employees, the Ministry of Labour and the concerned embassy can ensure a smooth work environment.
Nair is aghast at the current trend of transporting workers “as if they are animals” in trucks. And stress related issues of expatriate workers can be addressed only if they have the facility to visit their homes at least every two years, he adds.
But it is easier said than done. Many workers fall prey to visa scams, observes social worker K Ashok Kumar. He lists out several instances where social workers have teamed up to help those who have been cheated by scheming visa traders. The most rampant con game now is to dupe workers by offering visit visas in place of job visas.
“It is only after three months that they realise they have been duped,” says Ashok Kumar. “They will then have no other alternative but to be at the mercy of their sponsor or to abscond.”
Add to it the issue of “free visas” where a worker pays some BD800 to BD1000 for a work permit. To renew the agreement after two years, the sponsor demands the same money, and when he cannot pay it, the worker absconds.
Nair suggests that workers leaving their country must possess a valid work arrangement attested by the Indian mission abroad irrespective of their emigration clearance status. Every worker must register with the embassy on arrival, and the employer must report to the embassy if the worker absconds. “If labour problems are solved, the suicide rate will also come down,” he adds.
Visa scams happen because of the ignorance of workers, points out S Padalingam, a social worker, who works on his own and has decided not be officially associated with any association any more.
He works at his own pace, visiting the Immigration Office, meeting people in need and lending a helping hand to those at the Asry Detention Centre. “Most Indian workers from Tamil Nadu, who are cheated, are from Kallakurichi and Viluppuram. Similarly, those from Andhra Pradesh hail from Karim Nagar or Nizamabad. What that shows is the need to have focused awareness campaigns in these places.”
He also suggests that every community association in Bahrain — and there are many of them — must set aside a social fund and have a social service secretary. “If every association can take care of the problems of those in at least their own community, half the problems will be solved.”

Money, money, money
But why do workers opt even for a low-paid job in the Gulf, for which they pay hefty amounts? Some of the workers at a labour camp had paid anything from BD300 to BD1,000 for a job that fetches them just over BD50 a month.
Mathew (name changed) was earning over Rs6,000 (BD60) in India, when he left behind his two sons and wife to work in a construction firm. He rues the decision but now he is sucked into the rut. He must repay a loan taken at cut-throat interest rates to pay the recruiting agent, and also tend to his family.
Mathew is one of many thousands. Now, put in his place, people like Prabhu Narayan, N Karuppaiah, Rajaiah, Abdul Rahman Badardin, Sher Nawab Khan, Prasanna Kumar and Juripothla Sailu, all among 27 workers in a labour camp in West Eker. They have been jobless and penniless for many months now.
Money isn't everything, but for those who have sacrificed a life close to their heart, there is no substitute for money.
Nasser (name changed) says the only time his colleagues and he take a break from routine is on a weekly trip to Manama. “But I think twice before I even buy a softdrink – I think of it as 100 fils from BD50, which is ten rupees or a kilo of rice back home.”
These men, they will toil on; the least you can do is pay them for their work, and spare them a little respect.
And perhaps we could learn from them a lesson – to count our blessings and not to take our comforts for granted.

PHOTOS: NOOR MOHAMED

Oh! Bahrain!

2006-04-09T08:53:00.000+03:00

You can take them out of Bahrain. But you can’t take Bahrain out of the Bahrain Buddies in Dubai (BBD), an informal gathering of former Bahrain residents now living in the UAE

By Rajeev Nair

Intense feelings elicit intense reactions. Which is why Roshni Raimalwala, on her vacation to Bahrain from Dubai, stepped out of the flight and nearly kissed the soil and surely shouted loud: “I am in Bahrain, I am in Bahrain…”
Bahrain is home for Roshni. Well, almost. She had lived close to two decades here, and had shifted to Dubai only two years back. Her sons grew up here, she met and made her friends here, and she had been a formidable presence in the societal interaction fostered and nurtured under the aegis of the Indian Ladies Association.
It is hard to take Bahrain out of her.
As it is with the 125 members of the Bahrain Buddies in Dubai, an informal association formed in October 2005 by Roshni, Kalpana Sharma, Vinod Somal and Anita Gupta, all formal residents, and all “household names in Bahrain.”
That quote is by Ramesh Mahalingam, and for many Bahraini residents, the name should ring a bell. He was senior vice president of Taib Bank, active in the social circuit, and has now moved to Dubai as CFO of Ajman Sewerage Private Limited.
Roshni had followed her husband Viraf Raimalwala, who was general manger of Mothercare Group (now, Al Rashid Group) and is now GM of Homes R Us in Dubai. The Raimalwalas were visiting the Mahalingams (Ramesh and his wife Jaya, and their children Seshadri and Ramya) at their residence on Sheikh Zayed Road in Dubai, and the two families might as well have been in Bahrain.
Reliving the many years of camaraderie they fostered in Bahrain, the Raimalwalas and Mahalingams stand for what Bahrain Buddies in Dubai strives to do: Sustain the bonding that had its genesis in Bahrain through the days of the cold, impersonal rush that characterises living in Dubai.
They have relocated well to Dubai, as most expatriates do, but they miss the warmth of Bahrain. And they are not being diplomatic or extra-nice, for the sake of it.
Otherwise would they have bothered to come up with BBD? Wouldn’t they have easily assimilated into the club culture of Dubai and relived happy memories of Bahrain in the comforts of their own homes?
“After living in Bahrain for 18 years, we felt lonely and depressed in Dubai,” recalls Roshni. “Bahrain was so close-knit and we had many friends there. Unless you know somebody in the clubs in Dubai, you would feel lost. So instead of joining one of the existing associations, we thought, why not have one only for former Bahraini families?”
“If you can’t join them, create them,” adds Mahalingam, with a smile.
Currently, there are some 125 members in the BBD mailing list, and they meet, as of now, once a month. The first was a get-together at the Umm Sequim Park and the second was a dhow trip down Dubai Creek. There is no membership fee and the members meet, share the expenses and recall the happy moments of living in Bahrain. “Maybe, we would look into charity soon,” adds Roshni.
Most members are Indians and they include people who had left Bahrain some 20 years back to the nascent Dubai-ites who are in the city for just two months. “Any one who has been in Bahrain for even one month can join us,” says Roshni.
That one month would be more than sufficient to enjoy the warmth and hospitality offered by Bahrain, she says. “You have a sense of belonging in Bahrain; every body knows every body else,” and that is what she misses most about the country.
BBD members miss Bahrain for different reasons but yes, the single important take-away factor of Bahrain for all of them is the “warmth of the place,” and the fact that “Bahrainis are a friendly people, highly educated, full of manners, cultured…”
“Bahrain is a small, cosy place,” adds Mahalingam. “There is not much traffic; distances are short. I used to drive some four kilometres to work; now it is 40. And the most important thing is that expatriate Indians and Bahrainis share a strong bonding; you integrate well into the country.”
That has rubbed off well in Mahalingam. “After my Bahraini stint, after meeting and interacting with the Bahrainis, I feel the distance in my mind between the Arabs and Indians has grown shorter.” Happily, for him, he sees the same happening in Dubai. “I think English language has broken down much of such barriers.”
“When you go for a walk, generally, you are stopped every few yards by friends,” says Mahalingam. That warmth hasn’t decreased over the years, adds Roshni.
Seshadri, a school student, too feels the vibes. “It is more relaxed and calm in Bahrain; people tend to set aside time for you.”
Kaizad and Arzan, sons of Viraf and Roshni, regard Bahrain as their “home town,” while Viraf misses his “Toastmaster friends.”
“Bahrain Born Desis,” is how Arzan refers to BBD.
In Bahrain, get-togethers are not confined to weekends, says Mahalingam. “There is time for people rather than products.”
And it is three times less expensive (living in Bahrain), observes Roshni. “In Dubai, it is more posh. Out in Bahrain, you could walk around in slippers and nobody bothers. It is like home over there.”
Then there are the sweet extras. “The Lahore biryani, Juma Sweets, Century Restaurant, Vrindavan, Nafoora… you know, the waiters know each one of our preferences.”
With such longing and nostalgia for Bahrain, why did they move out on the first hand? “Careers, opportunities…” chorus Mahalingam and Raimalwala. “Dubai offers a better prospective for the business and professional community.”
An ideal world would therefore be one that “has the opportunity of Dubai and the mindset of Bahrain; the coziness of Bahrain with the wealth of Dubai,” says Mahalingam. For now, therefore, Raimalwala would like to work in Dubai and vacation in Bahrain.
There are other concerns too: “Unemployment, security issues…you have to lock the cars while you drive,” says Roshni.
“But then, things could have improved by now,” cuts in Viraf. “It is like living in an Indian city which has these extreme cross-sections of rich and poor people,” concludes Mahalingam.
The creases of worry in their face quickly fade out. For them, Bahrain has been one happy place to live in. And they miss it.
Jaya Mahalingam, however, sounds more objective about the switch. “I try not to miss any place. Yes, Bahrain is laid-back and Dubai is fast-paced. But depending on what you want from life at any particular point in life, you try to adapt (to the world around you).”
But she has one parting note to make: “The personal touch of Bahrain is what Dubai could learn.”

(BBD members can be contacted in Dubai at: Roshni: 00-971-050-8585903; Anita Gupta – 050-6858163; Kalpana Sharma – 050-2575865 or Vinod – 050-7989940)

Santosh Sivan (Indian Cinematographer)

2006-01-06T16:56:00.000+03:00

Visual wizardry

Santosh Sivan, acclaimed cinematographer and director, pans his camera onto a mythical folklore rooted in Kerala with his new film Ananthabhadram. Rajeev Nair writes

Mention Santosh Sivan, and the name brings a burst of colours into your mind. Blue, yellow, red, orange, green — the man works magic with hues through his camera.
Having worked with some of India's highly acclaimed cinematographers and won a clutch of laurels, he also takes a break from the routine by directing his kind of films — mostly niche productions that are self-financed.
Sivan recently worked on the Aishwarya Rai-starrer Mistress of Spices after wrapping up Navarasa, film on the third gender that he directed.
He once again donned his director's cap and panned his camera on the rustic roots of Kerala with a folkloric Ananthabhadram.
Excerpts from an interview:

After such realistic pictures as The Terrorist and Navarasa, why a fantasy? What drew you into the story?
I liked the story, an award-winning one by Sunil Parameshwaran. It had the possibility of being made into a film out of a tale that one's grandmother used to tell. It was full of mystic and adventure and I liked the idea of it being real. Further, to recreate the mood, we have treated the film as a folklore rooted in Kerala - even in terms of its visuals and music - but set in today. And like all grandma's tales, there is a beautiful love story and the eventual triumph of the good over bad.

You did Ananthabhadram after wrapping up the Mistress of Spices. How different was the experience? What did you learn from your international outing that put you in a better stead to do your first Malayalam film?
Sticking to our own roots is what makes us special to other cultures, more so when we have reached into our rich culture and draw on from visual arts and literature. In foreign productions, there is tremendous respect for labour and people's time and not just for the stars. When I did Ananthabhadram, we had made sure we would have eight-hour shifts and there would be proper rest for everyone in the unit. It was all so well pre-planned that we knew the last shot of the film will be on the 44th day evening, and we religiously followed it. It surprised every one.

You have picturised a song entirely on Ravi Varma paintings? What was the challenge in doing so? And why choose on Ravi Varma paintings?
That is just recreating a flavour of Raja Ravi Varma. It is difficult to do his entire works in a romantic song since he is known for his paintings of gods and goddesses. The song simply tries to pay tribute to the influences his paintings had on my visual language.

Navarasa has been greatly appreciated though some critics say it has a documentary feel. Was it deliberate? What prompted you to pick on the tale of eunuchs?
I love the idea of making films that reflect our times. They need not have commercial potential but could be for a niche audience and made on low budgets. I seldom approach professional financing and often put in my own resources. And while making these films, I often find myself embarking on a unique journey.

As a filmmaker, what lures you into a story? Do you regard its cinematography possibilities — are they that grab you into making a film?
I like the idea of making a film that I can connect to; often it must have some personal identification. Since I have been dealing with the visual language, it is only natural that I try to tell a story visual, which is the way I am and, I guess, will be.

What next?
I am directing a film, not yet titled, in Munnar, Kerala. Shooting starts on Jan. 2, 2006. It is an English film with and English cast and is produced by Echolake Productions, Los Angeles. I liked the idea of an English film set in Kerala in the 1940s. It is partly a fascination of mine to show to the world where the Malayalis come from. Sometimes I really feel happy when people say with awe: "Oh, you are from Kerala...?" I have also directed all the films for Kerala Tourism's 'God's Own Country' campaign.

Opening doors to world cinema

2005-12-07T17:36:00.000+03:00

Dr Amina Al Rustamani, project director, Dubai Studio City, and a key management team-member of Dubai International Film Festival, says Diff facilitates the emergence of Dubai as a destination for filmmakers from around the world. Rajeev Nair met her

There are three inspirational photographs on the walls of Dr Amina Al Rustamani's office at Dubai Media City. Coincidentally, all three could apply to her current role as a key management team-member of Dubai International Film Festival (Diff).
The first reads: "The most important lesson is learn which bridges in life to use and which ones to break off."
In Diff parlance, Dr Amina must use films as a bridge to bring together different cultures.
The second reads: "The great thing about inspiration is in leaving footprints for others to follow."
Cut to Diff: Dubai's film festival has a whole different dimension in its vision. Unlike being a mere celebration of cinema, it inspires a meeting of minds through films.
The third caption reads: "What happens, happens for a reason."
Hasn't Diff been reason enough for the emergence of a new breed of young Emarati filmmakers, whose works are being showcased at Diff 2005?
Dr Amina is an acknowledged authority in wireless technologies. She received her BS, MS and DSc degrees in electrical engineering from the George Washington University, Washington DC, and had joined the Dubai Technology and Media Free Zone as project engineer for Samacom, the satellite communication services provider of the Dubai Holding Group; and was later DMC's director of broadcasting.
She played a major role in designing and implementing the satellite TV broadcasting and video encoding facilities for broadcasters in Dubai Media City and elsewhere in the region.
Currently involved in developing Dubai Studio City as a regional hub for filmmaking, she has played a strategic role in shaping Diff 2005, especially in highlighting the works of talented Emarati filmmakers.
Excerpts from an interview:

You are associating with Diff hands-on for the first time. What are your expectations from the event?
I expect different things of different dimensions. First of all, I expect people to enjoy watching the films. I guess we have already accomplished what we have been preaching through our festival-objective of Building Cultures, Meeting Minds. With the film festival, people get to study different cultures and understand the backgrounds and the issues they face, which will ultimately bring them closer. In terms of business, I expect Diff to host filmmakers who can see first hand what Dubai has to offer and establish a better relationship to explore future opportunities.

What is your evaluation of Diff 2004?
It was a huge success. There have been a number of enquiries from Europe, the Middle East, America and Asia. People have started talking about Diff, and the film industry is looking at Dubai in a different light. They seem to realise that if we have a film festival, naturally we would also be promoting Dubai as a location for shooting and production.

Is it possible to outline your specific involvement in strategising for Diff 2005?
I have been very much involved in encouraging local talent in the Diff roster. We have 38 Arab films and five are by UAE film-makers. It makes me feel proud that these talented youngsters can start a film career right here. All they need is a big push and guidance. And this year, we are also finalising a panel discussion on Syrian filmmaker Moustapha Akkad (who died in the recent bomb blast in Jordan).

From your interaction with the world film community, what do you think is their impression of Diff?
Honestly, I have been receiving very positive feedback. In fact, it surprised me that people know of it and talk about it. That is how you measure the success of a film festival.

According to you, what is the defining character of Diff?
In the Arab map, Diff would fit as being really a home for new young talent. On a world level, what we always talk about as a strategy for 'Building Cultures, Meeting Minds' makes Diff hugely different from other similar events. That aspect also reflects on what and how Dubai is. Diff focuses on bringing films and content that appeal to all communities in Dubai.

Do you think, Diff also puts a spotlight on Dubai as a tourist destination?
Yes, definitely. There are a lot of linkages between tourism and filmmaking, and we already have a remarkable synergy between Diff, Dubai Media City and Dubai Studio City — all of which opens doors for filmmakers to Dubai.

As project director of Dubai Studio City, do you see any tangible achievements in filmmaking in Dubai?
Since we launched Dubai Studio City, we have a got a number of enquiries for shooing in Dubai. We already have a Location Approvals Services under DSC, which is an important service for all filmmakers and television production companies. It is a single-window service, wherein we liaise with other government entities — the Dubai Municipality, Dubai Police and Ministry of Information — to facilitate filmmaking here. Since July, we have approved 70 projects — including commercials, television productions and films. International production companies cannot afford to waste time; they need to get their approvals as fast as possible.
That is what I expect out of Diff too — to increase the number of film productions here. Simultaneously, we are also putting in the necessary infrastructure in place, which is not a simple task.

What is Dubai's advantage as a film destination?
The locations, obviously. Secondly, we are putting in place the infrastructure; we are fast and efficient with our services and people are impressed with the way we conduct business and the high levels of service we provide. I have been visiting the world's major film production centres — India, USA, Canada. We want to understand their strengths and deliver the goodness of all of these centres, here in Dubai.

Aesthetics in feminism

2005-12-07T17:24:00.000+03:00

Director Sharada Ramanathan's debut feature film Sringaram – Dance of Love makes its world premiere at the Dubai International Film Festival. She says the film is an exploration of feminism as a fun, romantic and aesthetic experience. Rajeev Nair has the details

Sharada Ramanathan recalls that Sringaram — Dance of Love was seeded while returning from a seminar on feminism. As a socio-cultural activist who has worked with Spic-Macay, CRY and the Ford Foundation, and steered the founding of the Indian Foundation for Arts, Sharada was disturbed by the notion of feminism as an intellectual import from the West.
To her, feminism also could be a "fun, romantic and aesthetic experience." That brand of feminism propounded by the singers, dancers and writers of yore seemed jettisoned with modernity. It was largely replaced by an essentially alien "concept" — as against an organic human response — of affirmative action and conflict resolution.
Moving away from the clichés of "cross-over cinema" and the brow-beaten formula of Bollywood, she realised that in film-making "ethnic audio-visuals hold greater promise in capturing the imagination of local and international markets, festivals and audiences."
Sringaram, thus, found its core in south India, in the lives of devadasis or temple dancers. Akin to the geishas of Japan, devadasis were the repositories of traditional arts. They even presided over temple rituals and the local governance. When the Devadasi system was abolished, the traditional arts they patronised too were disenfranchised.
The devadasis faced a peculiar dilemma: In art they were regarded as auspicious and in the social space they were degraded to the lower caste. They addressed this dichotomy of living through her instrument of expression — sringaram (poetic love).
The film, which makes its world premiere at Dubai International Film Festival, has a dream crew. Accomplished classicist Lalgudi Jayaraman composes the music for the film; Madhu Ambat, who has worked with directors from Mani Ratnam to Manoj Night Shyamalan, wields the camera and is also the film's executive producer; Sreekar Prasad, one of the most sought after technicians in India is the editor; art director Thotta Tharani recreates the days of yore; and Saroj Khan, associated with many Bollywood productions including Devdas, is the choreographer.
Sringaram, ultimately, meets the core message of Diff — Bridging Cultures. Meeting Minds — by looking within, and exploring an "aesthetic and history that has universal resonance."
"Sringaram has a connection with global audiences since the story could have happened anywhere, anytime — only the context would change," says Sharada Ramanathan.
Here, she gives an insight into the making of the film:

Why did you choose the subject of devadasis for the film? Considering the period flavour of the theme, do you feel your film can connect to contemporary audiences? And have you built the theme to reflect contemporary realities?
The Devadasi embodies three wonderful dimensions of life — womanhood, art and social challenge. In Sringaram, the Devadasi is a woman, an artist and is from a "lower" social strata of society. A combination of these three realities in her life make her a very interesting narrative.
Also, I think there is a general movement in world cinema towards historical scripts. This maybe because, on the one hand, we want to reflect on those aspects of history that still influence us today. But on the other hand also because I think we actually see the aesthetics of the past as superior to the environment which we make for ourselves today.
I am a contemporary woman looking back on an exciting time of history, so if I can connect with Sringaram, then so can contemporary audiences. Sringaram also has a connection with global audiences since the story could have happened anywhere, anytime — only the context would change. It is like the Geishas of Japan. Looking back also tells what our progressions and regressions are, in a universal sort of way. I also think that India is most noticed for its cultural life, more than anything else. International audiences are enthusiastic about a genuine Indian cultural experience.
As a modern woman making a period film, it is natural for me to only take those elements which are relevant to me today. What I don't have from the past, what I don't want to have, what I am missing and yearning for — all of that.

What was the toughest part in executing-conceptualising the film?
The toughest part was determining a body language, style for the film. There are innumerable research and textual materials of this period but very little audio-visual. And I had only been exposed to Indian cinema which was either distinctly commercial with theatrical dramatics or reality-based art cinema. I was cautious not to adopt a modern here-and-now style or a 1940s and 1950s style, when Indian cinema was still somewhat virginal. The only way out was to help each actor to internalise their characters, get to the soul of their characters and then emerge with natural performances. In fact, the music is completely unplugged. No synthesizer, no electronics.

You have an A-list of technicians working on the film. From Madhu Ambat to Lalgudi Jayaraman, the crew list reads like the best in the field. Wasn't it tough pooling them together? Do you recall how you went approaching them, and why them?
Frankly, I think this shows that if you put your idea above yourself, people rally around it. I first approached Lalgudi mama who had already refused scores of offers including the likes of Sivaji Ganesan. We had three sittings and several months of waiting before he yielded. After that, I knew that only Madhu Ambat could shoot a film like this. He loved the idea, he said yes, but of course there was Lalgudi's involvement to bait him with! Then I called up Saroj Khan, Thota Tharani and Rukmini Krishnan and even the lyricist Swati VAR who was willing to work in harmony with Lalgudi. I told them that I had no choice but to work with them if this film had to be made. Take Saroj Khan for example. She is the only choreographer in Indian cinema who has worked across three-and-a-half generations and even choreographed for Kamala when she was "Baby" Kamala. Who else could replace her in a film like Sringaram? It was the same with the others too.

You have a mix of known and unknown names in the cast; what did you look for in your performers, say Manoj K Jayan, Aditi and Hamsa?
I was obviously looking for the right "fit." I knew that all of them, seasoned actors or otherwise would be alien to the subject and its treatment, since we still make historical and mythological films with the synthesiser groove. But I was looking for potential that I could work with. Aditi has that fresh, beautiful personality and Hamsa has the mysterious, slightly seductive persona. Both of them are trained dancers. So that was a criterion. Manoj has a Malayalam cinema orientation and can be a brash princely landlord without hamming it. Even a world famous comedian like Y Gee Mahendra fitted perfectly into the mystical mood of the film.

Why did you choose Dubai to premiere your film? Does your film reflect the tagline of the festival, Building Cultures, Meeting Minds?
Well, of course, the tag line did fit, so that was easy. But Diff has gained a presence in the map of world festivals in just a year, so I think that whatever the middle east does, it does with élan. Also, Diff has struck an instant chord with filmmakers, critics, professionals and cinema-goers too. It has the right touch of everything a festival should have, an of course, its close enough home.

Do you think films like Sringaram is India's true answer to cross-over cinema — especially in a scenario where Bollywood is regarded as Indian cinema overseas?
I think that true crossing over through cinema has always happened only through culturally honest cinema and not culturally dishonest or confused cinema. If this was not true, international film festivals would not be such sought after spaces for legitimacy even by the so-called Bollywood cinema. I think this trend is now only gaining strength. Audiences are tiring of formula films made in a cultural vacuum. I don't think Bollywood has made any serious cross. Raj Kapoor is more the exception than the rule. Bollywood caters to a large non-resident Indian audience abroad, which is looking for nostalgic light entertainment. But even Indian audiences are looking for different cinema now, perhaps a whole new genre — they want to be surprised in an intelligent sort of way!

Most directors try to make a statement with their first films. And they choose a period theme for it. Do you think you have been sticking to that dictum? What next for you?
Are you kidding me? Most first time feature directors are making movies that will get them a second commercial film. Now I don't know if that succeeds all the time or not. In my case, I go with the idea. I have been feeling this urge for a long time to explore a time where there was great art, great social challenge, great audio-visuals, and great feminine feminism. The idea has to dictate everything else including its medium. Perhaps with another idea I would have written a book...

Are you bothered about the commercial success of your film? Do you feel Indian audiences, the masses, are ready for films like Sringaram?
The response so far has been extremely positive. I am a so-called commercial audience myself, and I must be honest enough to make what I would look for, don't you think? And yes, this is a great time to make great changes when the audiences are thirsting for change. I hope the distributors are listening.

Box:

Sringaram — Dance of Love
Cast: Aditi Rao Hyderi, Hamsa Moily, Manju Bhargavi, Manoj K. Jayan, Shashikumar, Chandrasekhar, Aishwarya, YG Mahendran
Script and screenplay: Indira Sounderrajan
Cinematography: Madhu Ambat
Art direction: Thotta Tharani
Choreography: Saroj Khan
Costumes: Rukmini Krishnan
Editing: Sreekar Prasad
Lyrics: Swati VAR
Music: Lalgudi G Jayaraman
Director: Sharada Ramanathan

Candid takes of everyday life

2005-12-07T16:35:00.000+03:00

Tonnit Thomas exhibits a selection of his travel photographs at BurJuman centre Dubai through Dec. 10. The photographs are insightful sketches of every day life, candid to the core. Rajeev Nair has the details

Tonnit Thomas dates his photographs. That is an organisational hangover from his art director vocation. He is a hobby-photographer, one who walks around with a small digital camera and clicks life, the way he sees it but from the vantage perspective of an artist.
Creative head of an advertising agency in Dubai, Tonnit, an Indian, regards photography as a diversionary outlet from the 24-hour commitment his job demands. Shooting pictures thus becomes a venting out of creative frustration wherein a constantly occupied mind bangs itself against the walls of creative briefs, layout options and client deadlines.
With his photographs, Tonnit becomes the client. His instinct gives the brief, his mind frames the layout and his aesthetics approves the result.
To put it without frills, there’s something about Tonnit’s photographs that awes you. Perhaps it is in the eclectic showcase of subjects — from weddings to rains and lions to sunsets. It could be the locations — from as nearby as Sharjah to the banks of the Pamba river in Kerala to Chapman’s Peak in Cape Town. It also ought to be the subjects he frames — a junk-metal vendor in Syria, an orthodox matriarch in Kerala, or well, a child, his daughter Olivia, who wakes up to a new morning and a feeding bottle of milk.
Quite obviously, Tonnit sees what most other eyes miss. He sees the sun firing red the trunk of coconut trees that frill a paddy field; he also sees a crow that rests on the wooden electricity pole nearby. He sees seriousness in the playful sport of children as they dive into the depths of river Pamba; he sees water-drops on a vehicle’s glass playing hide and seek with the every day stock of a grocery; he sees the magical rhythm and sense of harmony in a wedding dance in Jordan. Yes, in short, he sees life and the unspoken beauty of all things mundane.
And yet, photography will remain his hobby. In leaving it so, he gets his creative freedom to shoot with his digital camera rather discreetly, and never ever with the flashes on. He feels that the moment you pose the camera against the subject, you lose the spontaneity of the moment.

Photography could have been his profession. While he was a student of applied arts at the prestigious College of Fine Arts in Kerala, he was commissioned by an American company to do their calendar with wildlife photographs. He toured the forests of south India for a month.
But after completing his degree and an advanced course in animation from the National Institute of Design, he took up a job as trainee visualiser with an advertising agency in Bangalore, India. In Dubai, since the last three-and-a-half years, Tonnit has been pursuing his longtime hobby while he travelled to various countries mostly for work-related shoots.
His own passion for fine arts was ignited by his mentally challenged brother, who died at the age of 34 years. Encouragement also came from his father, who died while Tonnit was 17. And a third inspiration, especially his rain photographs, came from studying the photographs of an Indian photo-journalist Victor George, who had a passion for chasing the monsoon with his lens and died while on an assignment covering a landslide.

Self-taught in photography, Tonnit feels his art director’s eyes gives his photographs the difference. “I am an art director and I choose pictures for the layouts. I guess my photographs have an art director’s point of view; they are very instinctive in that sense,” he explains.
He studies photographs by international professionals and also finds a creative resonance to his hobby from the war movies and documentaries that he loves to watch. Involuntarily, these external insights make his photographs very live. “It is how you see the world around you,” he adds.
To be candid with his photographs, he has to be unseen with his camera. “I just walk around and shoot. Nobody knows I am shooting, and that gives a difference to the composition.”

Sure enough, Tonnit sees the same world we see, and yet shares with the rest of us a different perspective — which makes the works of a hobby-photographer relevant to our times.

Cinema for solidarity

2005-12-07T16:32:00.000+03:00

One common thread runs through the 98 films pooled in from 46 countries to be screened under 12 segments at the second edition of Dubai International Film Festival: They celebrate the essential oneness of humanity, and conform to the unique tagline of Diff — 'Bridging Cultures. Meeting Minds.' Rajeev Nair writes

Often, the simplest of statements, cliched as they may sound, can move minds. That is what 'Bridging Cultures. Meeting Minds' has been doing for the Dubai International Film Festival.
It is a unique tagline for a film festival. It doesn't preach glamour, it doesn't endorse glitz, it doesn't even talk films per se. And yet, it works. Which explains the inclusion of 98 films from 46 countries in the second edition of Diff.
It also explains why an actor of Morgan Freeman's stature should declare his willingness to attend the festival a second time round. That could be a pointer as to why Bob Geldof, the singer, song-writer, actor, social activist, agrees to attend a gala event to raise funds for the Nelson Mandela Foundation.
Indeed, the world's film community is coming down to Dubai to endorse the essential solidarity that cinema — as a creative expression — brings about on audiences, anywhere in the world.
While the second edition of Diff has the "strongest collection of Arab cinema in the entire world," it does not dilute its core of opening a forum for dialogue through cinema. "We are using cinema from around the world to bring people together," says Neil Stephenson, director, Diff.
Hannah Fisher, co-programmer of the Operation Cultural Bridge segment, says "Diff looks at films that show the basic humanity of all people — no matter the culture, colour, creed or nationality. We have selected films that show we are all the same."

Having attended Cannes and Rotterdam, among other film showcases, Fisher says Diff is "very well received abroad. They are very impressed with how it has been organised."
Operation Cultural Bridge, this year, features some landmark films:
* Ron Fricke's Baraka, a film that takes viewers through 24 countries
* Being Osama, directed by Mahmoud Kaabour and Tim Schwab that offers intimate glimpses into the lives of a group of men who share the first name Osama
* Irish director Gerry Nelson's Kosovo: The Hand of Friendship, filmed over three months in Kosovo and the UAE
* Director Dominic Savage's passionate love story of a British Pakistani Muslim girl and "a local white thug," Love + Hate
* Marilyn Agrelo's exuberant documentary of a group of boys and girls learning ballroom dancing, Mad Hot Ballroom
* Ruba Nadda's Sabah that draws two delineated cultures — the North American world and that of an Arab woman living in the West
* Director Arsi Sandel's musical-comedy West Bank Story of an Israeli soldier falling in love with a Palestinian girl
and the much-awaited Hollywood premiere of Albert Brooks' Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World.
"The very fact that Brooks is coming with his film to Diff is marvellous," says Fisher. "His intention (with the film) is to break down barriers. The film bridges cultures and helps develop ties where people get to know more about one another."
She says Looking for Comedy is a "fascinating film" and underscores the Operation Cultural Bridge's objective of "making people understand that there are so many misconceptions about this part of the world amongst people in the West."
Diff asserts it message of cultural bonding with the opening gala Paradise Now, which won the Blue Angel Award for Best European Film at Berlin International Film Festival 2005. The film by Hany Abu-Assad is about two Palestinian friends who are asked by the commander of a guerrilla organisation to carry out a suicide attack in Tel Aviv.
Masoud Amralla Al Ali, programmer, Arabian Nights, says the selection was made after careful deliberation. "We went through a struggle in choosing this film," he recalls. "The synopsis might sound controversial but it is a beautiful film that is also very neutral. It explores the mindset of suicide bombers — why does he do it, is his vision correct?"
Ali says the difficult part about choosing the Arab films was to find sufficient numbers of film productions. "The pool is small and you do not have a wide range to select from. The alternative is to find other pools of films — that have been made by Arab directors in different countries."
At Diff 2005, Arab films are highlighted in four segments: Arabian Nights, Arabian Shorts, Dubai Discoveries and Emerging Emaratis.
In choosing films for Arabian Nights, Ali observes that the aim was not to pick films that made overt political statements or speeches. "Instead, the selected films, present not just political concerns but also cultural conflicts and moral dilemmas — all rooted in human stories, no rhetoric."
In Arabian Shorts segment, women dominate in several of the choices — thematically and behind the camera — including Women in Struggle by Palestinian filmmaker Buthina Canaan Khoury about Palestinian film-makers in Israeli jails; and Yasmin's Song, a love story by Palestinian Najwa Najjar.
Dubai Discoveries, a new segment, is deigned to provide a platform for young Arab filmmakers to showcase their "determination to establish cinematic forms that diver from the commercial mainstream," observes Ziad Al Khuzai, programmer.
Moroccan director Yasmine Kessari's The Sleeping Child, Abdellatif Kechiche's The Dodge, Iraqi director Oday Rasheed's Underexposure, Bader Ben Hirsi's A New Day in Old Sana'a, Nour-Eddine Lakhmari's The Gaze and Nidal Al-Dibs' Under the Ceiling are the selections.
Emerging Emaratis showcase five films by UAE filmmakers: Abdullah Hassan Ahmed's Ameen; Ali F. Mostafa's Under the Sun, Omar Ibrahim's An Ordinary Day, Saeed Salmeen Al Murry's Hoboob and Nada Mohammed Alkarimi's Dying for Fun.

Yo factor

2005-12-07T16:15:00.000+03:00

Bold, intelligent and aspirational — that is how Zee Network defines its latest offering, Zee Arabiya, a channel bred in, and for, the Middle East

Photographs: Kamal Qassim

Hot is how they want it to be and hot is how they are serving it. Breathing heat and fire from every pore, Zee Arabiya, Zee Network's first Middle East-bred channel is defining a new niche.
And that is all about being young, youthful and very "yo."
Less than a month since the free-to-air channel replaced the television network's music-focused Zee Music from the UAE, Zee Arabiya has hit the right note, according to Manoj A. Mathew, vice president, Marketing and Corporate Communications, Real Media, which takes care of all interests of Zee Network in the Middle East.
The result of one year of elaborate preparation, including abundant ground work, Zee Arabiya has the unique identity of bringing "relevant Arabic, Asian and Western content in one platform," explains Mathew.
It is this three-pronged approach underscored by a desire to showcase Arabia and its music to the rest of the world that sets apart the channel.
The launch of the channel coincides with another landmark announcement from the Zee Network stable: Its investment to the tune of $50 million to set up Zee Towers in Dubai Media City.
Zee Towers will serve as the network's regional headquarters — a relocation from Singapore, which gives greater content management. "The power to manage content with locally produced programmes, commercials and packaging is much more than doing a remote operation," explains Mathew.
Zee Network Chairman Subhash Chandra said the project, to house all regional offices and studio operations, will have over 100,000 sq ft of leasable space across five floors. Construction is set to begin in December with completion scheduled in February 2007.
Meanwhile, the network is going full steam with plans to further strengthen Zee Arabiya. On the pipeline are more live and interactive programmes.
Mathew says the Asian programming content of the channel is not restricted to Bollywood. "If there is a hit content from other parts of the region, it will be featured. As of now it appears to have a Bollywood flavour because that is one of our core strengths."
Zee Arabiya has two spoken languages: English and Arabic, not Hindi, reminds Mathew. "And it is not a Dubai-centric channel; it is Middle East-centric."
Translating that into actual content means having more lifestyle features not just from the UAE but also from other parts of the region. Many programmes are subtitled in Arabic or English, as the need may be, to communicate better to the young and young at heart in the region.
The youth factor, indeed, is the mantra that Zee Arabiya's programming head, Kalyana Sundaram, stresses on. With experience spanning Warner, EMI, Virgin, Sony, MTV, B4U International and Disney, Sundaram defines the channel as one that is bold and intelligent. With a multicultural mix of VJs — a true representation of Dubai's cosmopolitan nature — Zee Arabiya seeks to be aspirational; as the one channel youngsters can tune in to identify common grounds.
Sundaram, who is credited with Indianising MTV's content for the country, says there is no other channel in the region that understands the pulse of the youth.
His brief to his VJs was, not surprisingly, to be "bold not vulgar, intelligent, confident and aspirational." That is a strategy that works with youth in any part of the world, he says. "Know what you want, present it differently and do not preach. You got to be them (the youngsters) to understand them."
While music is indeed a prime driver of Zee Arabiya, Sundaram has also shaped an equally strong lifestyle segment which focuses on the core interests of youngsters — cars, fashion, films, adventure, fun...
That is what VJ Simon does. A known face to Dubai audiences, this former VJ of Channel 7 to 9 and ARY Digital, a former RJ of Dubai 92 and the hero of the UAE's first English film production, Chamale, says he brings to the channel his wacky personality that delivers a touch of hilarity to the proceedings. He presents three shows: H-Factor, a show on Hollywood films; Garage, one on cars; and a first-of-its-kind programme that highlights the world-renowned DJs visiting Dubai.
A random selection of the programming content includes music, request shows, celebrity interviews, trailers from the latest blockbusters and lifestyle features from the region including fashion, motoring, travel, extreme sports and fitness.
Ideally addressing the 15- to 34-year-olds, Zee Arabiya's eclectic nature reflects the varied tastes of the youngsters, for whom language is no barrier when it comes to music and entertainment, says Yogesh Radhakrishnan, director and CEO, Real Media. "The music mix and attitude of the channel is for all the young and trendy at heart."
— RN

Paintings from within

2005-12-07T15:55:00.000+03:00

New York-based Alexander Charriol holds his first exhibition in Dubai of 18 paintings at ArtSpace gallery. He says that art is still a mystery to him, a weird process of self-discovery, and that his works bring to Dubai an element of shock value. Rajeev Nair met him

Not surprisingly, what Alexander Charriol isn’t also makes news. But that is not what the 26-year-old would want to read on the intro of his story. Discover him as the artist first, and then, as a footnote, he would add the Charriol connection — his father is Philippe Charriol, the world-renowned French watchmaker.
“That is not my business,” says Alexander, “that is totally different.” But he doesn’t disown it nor does he rule out the possibility of stepping into the entrepreneur’s garb on a later day.
For now, though, it is he, his art and his world of creative freedom. “I have never counted myself out of the business. I am still young, I can do both. But so far, so good (being an artist),” he says.
Alexander is in Dubai to exhibit his paintings at ArtSpace, the contemporary art gallery on the ninth floor of Fairmont Dubai. The exhibition will run through Dec. 21.
To be in Dubai is “be at home” for Alexander, who wears a casual air, unkempt hair complementing the observant eyes of an artist. He has been to the city thrice and most of his good friends are based here.
Alexander is candid enough to acknowledge how being born into comfort has helped him chase his dreams. “Art is still a luxury and I was privileged to have the opportunity, supported by the openness of my parents, to venture off to be an artist without any so-called financial problems. Now I am older, and I am on my own. It seems to be working.”
Alexander says he is in art because painting was his alternative to writing. “I was never good in school. I started to paint, every one said it was good and so I never stopped. I have only got good things out of it.”
He had formal art education at the American Parson School of Design, New York, and Tufts Boston Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. The art school gives a few technical skills and helps you get freer lines, he says, “but in the end, it (art) is within you.”
Though he is described as a New York-based artist, Alexander says “it doesn’t matter where you are. New York gives you an edge and credibility, of course, and it is like a passport to the art world but what is important is to find the artist within you and express.”

It is this process of self-discovery that binds Alexander to art. “Art is a mystery; being an artist is an odd job. The more you do it, the more you can understand yourself and know what it means to be an artist. But, you know, it is weird.” He paints to balance himself out, to get to neutral. “It is my job now and if I don’t do it, I feel useless.”
Alexander works on mixed media, which he says, “is the new medium of today. The key is never to have one comfortable medium. You have to push yourself. Once you are comfortable with a medium, you have to go to the next. And anyway, how far can you go with oil or acrylic alone? The more you push yourself the more original your works become. It is good to mix up the media and try to find something new out of it.”
Naturally, his inspirations have been varied. Through the fierce energy of Jean-Michel Basquiat to the vivid colours of Henri Matisse and Andy Warhol’s commodifications, Alexander explores himself further afield.
His palette, too, evolves. It was blue a few years back. Now his starting point is gold. “I splash some gold and work from there.” However, he finds it hard to explain what attracts him to specific colours at various points in time. It is all part of his evolution.
“Right now, I have found one style that seems to be more elevated and mature for my viewers and myself. It is much looser, I show my lines more, paint less and finish them less. It is a good balance between drawing and painting and that has a good feel to it.”
In the 18 paintings exhibited at ArtSpace, Alexander brings “a little shock value” to Dubai. The paintings, according to him, are “funky, young, energetic and cutting-edge... — far removed from the decorative art people are used to here. I don’t think art is still taken very seriously here. It is like a new medium and my paintings are very in your face.”
As bottom lines go, his paintings too are about life, about the world he takes in sub-consciously. “They (the paintings) are pretty simple. It is the job of the viewer to get a feeling or emotion out of it — they can leave with a sense of uplifted spirit or even disgust, any sort of emotion.”
His recent paintings have a lot guns and there are many “peace paintings” too. “I paint happy things but they always end up being influenced by what you see without even thinking about it. My best paintings come when I don’t think.”
Ironically, he paints “depressed pieces” when he is happy, and “happy pieces” when he goes through the blues.
As a youngster and representative of tomorrow’s artists, Alexander feels that he can give to art works that transcend time. “That is what good art does, and it takes a lot of work and self-discover.”
That precisely is what Alexander does now.

Interview - Richard Quest

2005-12-07T15:47:00.000+03:00

Quest for facts

Be interested in the news, follow the story but do not fixate on what you believe is right or wrong. That's Richard Quest's take on journalism. CNN's high-profile anchor was in Dubai for the Leaders in Dubai summit. Rajeev Nair met him

If you could take a little of Richard Quest with you, that would be his indefatigable enthusiasm. Come on, who else can you think of, who makes a weather bulletin interesting?
Perhaps that is one reason why Quest has as many blog-sites and on-line forums that befit a Hollywood star. People seem to love him... or hate him, in equal measure. From being voted the "funniest new man" to winning on-line love notes and marriage proposals, Quest elicits reactions.
And he can't understand why. "I am nothing more than a face in a light in a box in the corner of the room." So shut him off with your remote, if you hate him.
For every 50 emails that say he is brilliant, it is that one message that spews hatred that he remembers. "Half the people like me, and half hate me. If you do a web search on me... (your will discover) there are some horrible things people want to do to me. I've got a mother. My poor mother will have to read all that..."
Seriously though... the man who also hosts a monthly interview show Quest and a feature programme CNN Business Traveller, however, isn't rattled. After all, he has a job to do, and that is to "leave your opinions with your hat and coat on the door," and just follow the news.
He has been doing that for the last 20 years starting as BBC news trainee, moving on to become its North American business correspondent, and then joining CNN in 2001.
He has covered a vast range of topics — from anchoring CNN's London coverage of the Iraq war in 2003 to reporting on the Queen Mother's funeral and the launch of the Euro in Frankfurt. He covered the death and funeral of Yasser Arafat and travelled around the US speaking to voters in a run-up to the elections.
Hard business news to breaking general stories, interviews to weather takes, Quest, a law graduate from Leeds University, has done it all. Excerpts from an interview:

What is your evaluation of the journalistic standards in the UAE?
I would say that anyone reading the papers shall read between the lines. The stories are there, but you can tell when the punch has been pulled at the last minute. In the world of censorship, most of us would agree that, the worst form of censorship is self-censorship, where you know you can't go too far, where you know the limits. But I have not come here to say this is right or wrong. Look at what is happening in my own country concerning the Official Secrets Act and the famous "memo" between Bush and Blair... I hear the prime minister using the pathetic excuse, "it is all subjudice" and can't be discussed. I hope it is going to disappear. Journalists from the UK do not come here with clean hands but I think the worst form of censorship is self-censorship. When you start to self-censor, your opponents have you to do the work for them.

What is your take on the news report that US President George Bush had planned to bomb the Doha-headquarters of Al Jazeera television?
What would I like to know is what the memo (purportedly leaked by a Cabinet Office civil servant) said... If it was a joke, it was in extremely bad taste. If it wasn't a joke, then I think there are questions to be answered. But I don't think it can be swept under the carpet in some sort of a 'we can't talk about this' fashion. The cat is out of the bag with this one, the horses are up and running, the dog has seen the rabbit — choose whichever metaphor you want to use... I do believe that questions are to be answered.

But with a predominantly pro-Bush Western press, do you think you get far?
I have heard this for a long time, about this supposed to be pro-Bush media. If the media was so Pro-Bush, as you claim, why is the president's ratings amongst the lowest in his presidency? If the media is so pro-Bush why did it excoriate the administration over Hurricane Katrina? If the media is so pro-Bush why did it lead to the whole row over Judith Miller?

Yet, at the end of the day, Bush has his way...
Oh, oh, oh... remember that we, as journalists, are observers, not participants. I covered the last election. As you travel around, it may seem inconceivable to you that people could vote for the president or prime minister. But when you meet the voters, there are as many people out there who like the president as those who don't. That is the beauty of the whole system. You meet both sides of the argument and the net effect is what makes politics such fun...

And journalism too...?
Yes. I always remember an old professor, my mentor, who said when you enter this profession, you must leave your opinions with your hat and your coat on the door. The very nature of what we do is to question authority, I have no problem with that. When it comes to BBC or CNN, governments of both left and right don't like you. because you are constantly questioning what they do...

And yet you have different shades of journalism, the sort of embedded journalists still being obsequious to authorities?
No, no, no.. (it is that) you just don't like the results. You don't like the way the story has fallen. I speak to a lot of journalism students, and I say that it is not for us to tell the listener, the viewer, the reader, what to think. Here is our story, you make your line of judgment. (To give opinions), there are columnists and commentators. For the like of me, it is not to tell what is right or wrong.

From your interaction with others in Dubai, what did you read between the lines?
What fascinates me in Dubai is the way in which there is such phenomenal growth and yet there is open discussion whether it is the right growth. I find that very uplifting. There is a honest debate going on....

As some one who has travelled virtually the whole world, exploring business stories, what is your observation of Dubai?
I was out last night at a restaurant here that frankly could have been in any part of the world. It was lively, buzzing and happenings..., but it wasn't Dubai. On that point, I question how the old going to mix with the new. It makes me question what the end-result will be. The end-result is to build an economy that is self-sustainable once oil revenues decrease. That is the goal. But will you reach it? I don't know.

If you were to feature Dubai on the Quest show what would you look for?
I don't know. I have to think about that. We did the Business Traveller here two years ago. Since then what has changed? More buildings? No, that is more of the same. But yes, property is more expensive, there is the issue of immigrant workers, and the question of nationality for those who have been here for 20 years... these are issues that Dubai must face. What I do see happening now and what I saw two years ago is the pressure of economic growth building fast. Dubai has to let the steam out, slowly. Otherwise there will be a societal explosion. Dubai's big challenge is in managing its growth. And everybody I have met seems to realise that. They are not blind to the problem.

Do you feel that television makes news look frivolous?
Where it does or not, it makes no difference. We are here and we aren't going anywhere. But (to answer the question), no, it doesn't. Television brings a different dimension. People are going to use newspapers to find what has happened overnight and to read commentaries and articles. They are going to use television and web to keep up-to-date.

Five years down the line, what change do you foresee in television?
It will become interactive. It will have the ability for viewers to choose which story they want to see. We are already seeing that in many digital networks. I know we (CNN) are working on it.

What frustrates you as a journalist?
It makes you frustrated as a journalist when you can't get to the story, when you hit the wall of bureaucracy and intransigence, you hit the wall with somebody saying, 'We are not discussing that...' But that is what people want to know. As a journalist, we will be doing a terrible disservice if we don't report.

But do you feel journalists, the world over, are losing respect through many issues including tabloid-isation of news?
Yes, of course. But if you regard the high-point in journalism as Watergate, don't forget that before it became obvious, the reporters working on it were pilloried and castigated by the other media and the administration.

Such high-points happen very rarely. Does that bother you?
That's the nature of life. Look the majority of what we do is keeping the picture on screen, and what you do is putting black ink on white paper and in getting that out, every now and again, a day will come along when you feel 'ah, that was good,' but most days are 'wasn't bad...'

Who, according to you, is the toughest to interview?
Bill Clinton. Why? Because he is brilliant. While interviewing him, there is a feeling that this man is going to realise that you are an idiot. After all, he has negotiated with the best in the world.... Bill Gates too is hard to interview because he is so focused on Microsoft that it is very difficult to take him off the subject. Politicians are usually difficult because they know what you are asking and they know what you want them to say.

What has doing Business Traveller (with its tag 'Doing Business in Different Cultures') taught you?
That we all want to succeed. People make a lot of noise of how you have to shake hands with both hands in some cultures, you have to present your business card with both hands... it is all humbug. When money is to be made, every body will happily forget the cultural differences.

What would your advice be to budding journalists?
Well, that's easy. Be interested in news and leave your opinion with your hat and coat on the front door. Go into the story and follow the story. Have an idea of what the story is about but do not fixate on what you believe is right or wrong.

Extinction, revival and then some

2005-11-26T18:03:00.000+03:00

Under a Desert Sun, a documentary created by Dubai Media City-based Ocean World Productions will be screened in the Destination Documentary segment of Diff. Culled from some 100 hours of footage, the one-hour documentary gives an overview of how wildlife can adapt to life under harsh conditions

The Arabian oryx, did you know, does not drink water? It gets all the water it needs from desert vegetation.
The Arabian oryx, did you know, was on the verge of extinction and through captive breeding was brought back to nature?
Today, despite the huge effort that went into saving the animal from extinction, the oryx is one again becoming endangered as poachers disrupt the animal population for private collection.
These and other harsh realities faced by the wild animals in Arabia form the content of Under a Desert Sun, a documentary produced by Dubai Media City-based Ocean World Productions to be screened at Dubai International Film Festival 2005.
“We are showing how certain species are able to survive and adapt to the harsh desert conditions,” explains Jonathan Ali Khan, chief executive officer, Ocean World Productions, who led a team of six through the deserts of Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Oman to shoot the documentary. They had over 100 hours of footage from which was culled the one hour documentary. Jonathan feels he would have made it into three hours and still there would have been much more to share. The documentary raises the question of whether Arabia's conservation measures are doing enough.
Under a Desert Sun is part of a continuum of wildlife documentation that Jonathan has been undertaking for a few years now. Apart from three films on National Geographic channel and television programmes for BBC World, Star TV, Star Sports and Channel 33, he has to his credit the region's first natural history TV series, Arabia – Cycle of Life, a project sponsored by Jeep. “It was a 12-part series on the mountains, wadis and deserts and the coastal and marine environment,” says Jonathan. They were televised on Al Arabiya and Showtime, and now have been picked by Animal Planet.
Cycle of Life is perhaps the first conscious effort to document the natural and wildlife history of Arabia. Jonathan had been working over the years to create an awareness of the natural environment. In his 19 years in the Gulf, he has seen many changes and was also surprised to see a lot of work going on vis-à-vis environmental awareness. But he realized that much of it was undocumented.
He sees a lot more open approach to environmental concerns here, of late, as against in the earlier days, when decision makers had to pass through the environment versus development dilemma. “The kind of work we do today was not perhaps possible five years ago,” he adds.
The first series of Cycle of Life dealt with the natural history of Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Kuwait and the UAE. For the second series, Jonathan is moving to the west of Abu Dhabi and then to Qatar, Kuwait and Bahrain, to be followed by another expedition across Yemen.

Interview: Lucia Rikaki, programmer, Diff

2005-11-26T18:00:00.000+03:00

Frames for a cause

The Destination Documentary segment of Dubai International Film Festival is a no-frills, no-nonsense showcase of facts. The selection pans through the Arabian desert to the way of life of Mongolian nomads to the exploitation of factory workers in China. Rajeev Nair has the details

Alongside The Motorcycle Diaries, Hamburg Cell and Control Room, there was a selection of productions at Dubai International Film Festival’s first edition that brought about animated post-screening discussions. These, including The Corporation and Super Size Me, reinforced the impact of well-made documentaries on the human mind.
That trend of informed discussion is poised to continue this year with Diff 2005’s Destination Documentary segment. The issues it addresses are varied: From environmental protection to employee exploitation, the current year’s selection also becomes relevant in the light of the march documentaries seem to be making over feature films at the box office the world over.
This is a seminal year, when penguins took a triumphant lead over gun-trotting heroes, aliens and the usual Hollywood potboiler ingredients. This is one year that takes forward the trend of successful documentaries kick-started by Michael Moore with his Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 9/11.
Naturally, it wasn’t an easy task for Lucia Rikaki, the programmer for Destination Documentaries to arrive at the film selection. Interacting with The Gulf Today from Thessalniki, Greece, where she screens her film at the film festival, Rikaki had to pen her thoughts on the Diff selection five times over, after snow-induced power cuts disrupted her computer connection. The Thessalniki Film Festival is on its forty-sixth year now, and Rikaki’s film, The Other, has been short-listed for the National Film Awards.
The artistic director of EcoCinema Festival, Rikaki was president of the European Producers Network and a member of the governing boards of Euro Aim, Documentary and Map TV; a member of the governing board of the Greek Film Directors and Producers Union; and cinema co-ordinator for the third World Summit on Media for Children. Rikaki is also a member of the Greek Ministry of Culture’s Advisory Board on Cinema.
Here are excerpts:

How do you look back on the response to the Destination Documentary segment at Diff 2004? What are the learnings from last year that you used to choose the documentaries for this year?
The reaction to last year’s programming was overwhelming and much better than what we had expected. What has been particularly amazing for me was the fact that I discovered the multicultural social landscape of Dubai. I was very pleased with the Q&A sessions we had and so were all the directors we had invited last year. These discussions and the response of the audience, which resulted to full houses in almost every screening, proved that Dubai has a very eager audience who appreciated the initiative of Diff and wishes to discover alternative suggestions to the material proposed each day by the television screen.
This response also encouraged our vision to offer the best daring independent documentaries from around the world and generate a vivid dialogue with the audience and filmmakers.
I believe that an art form like the documentary, which generates creative and critical dialogue, is absolutely necessary in rapidly changing environments as the one in Dubai. It offers a basis for long-term reflections on the issues of development that goes beyond the accumulation of wealth but may also suggest the notion of accumulating other values in one’s life.

Though environment is one of the bottom lines in selecting the documentaries, the selection this year, just as during Diff 2004, are largely rooted on socio-economic realities. Is there a clash of interests here?
Definitely not. I think there is a great amount of hypocrisy in claiming nature protection and at the same time supporting the war or neglecting main social causes. Green parties around the world and the ecology movements in general have realised this, and have thus included it in their agenda and their policies in order to cater for these major issues.
Inevitably, daring independent directors from around the world are responding to these issues or often generating through the themes of their films, the necessary dialogue centred on these issues. Our suggested selection reflects exactly this development. I believe that a socially aware viewer who is not satisfied by simply consuming items or accumulating wealth but also does care about other values is a person who will not harm the natural environment.
The role of an international film festival on the scale of Diff is imperative in this direction. We see all these issues, suggested by our films in our programming, as directly inter-related with the notion of a creative and thinking citizen. There is no sustainable development without sensitive citizens.

What were your criteria in choosing the current selection? Were there any titles that you had to drop because of logistical or other reasons but really wanted to bring in?
Out of the hundreds of very good documentaries produced internationally each year, of course, we had to limit our selection to just six. We do leave out many good options. Sometimes issues of availability of prints, directors and other international commitments may hinder us from being able to offer a film to the Dubai audience.
However, this is very rare for the documentary section because our choice is vast and we do not have many alternatives. I am just hoping that with the support of the Diff audience, this section may grow so that we can offer a few more good films from around the world and also include daring Arab filmmakers who suggest important films highlighting issues from their own countries.

Year 2005 is landmark for documentaries, especially, with the phenomenal box-office success of the March of the Penguins. Do you see documentaries finally moving out of the closet and standing up to the ‘big brother’ – films?
The past years have been very good for documentaries worldwide as they do finally gain their part in the international cinema landscape. Many documentaries get theatrical release and the role of film festivals worldwide has been imperative towards this development. I definitely see the documentary genre acquiring a much more important role every year as long as the distribution circuit will also take some necessary risks that I am sure will pay back.
Documentary films do deserve this development as they defend very important issues of the society and they represent our “other” demanding self — in the absolutely necessary dialogue with our selves and our societies — to demand more beauty and quality in our lives.
In fact, we did want to programme The March of the Penguins for Diff but we found that it got a theatrical release in the UAE. We welcomed this development and we just hope that Diff will act as a platform in order to generate eventual distribution contacts for the other fine films the festival is proposing in its different sections.
Personally I would be very pleased if some of our documentaries will get released in the UAE as a result of their Diff exposure and word of mouth with the audience.
I am also happy to discover that there are some independent distributors in Dubai looking into the independent film sector and enriching their catalogues with films outside the usual mainstream Hollywood catalogue. The success of last year’s Dubai festival has proved that there is a very eager audience in this country for alternative quality film programming and distributors are the natural partners who should benefit and follow up this development.

What according to you is the difficult part of being the programmer for documentaries? Do you feel the pressure to be politically correct?
The challenge for me is to be able to offer a wide variety of themes, film formats, aesthetic approaches and generate a creative dialogue as a result of our screenings. I believe that despite some particularities in each society that may impose some rules of what is and what is not allowed or socially accepted in public screenings, there are always ways of addressing important issues through alternative routes. This is the role of art and filmmakers all over the world. They have been trained to use metaphors, subtle arguments and take their points across without suggesting the first level brutality of voyeurism and image consumption, which is suggested by some electronic media.
Being a filmmaker myself I completely oppose to this way of seeing things and I strongly believe that the viewer is intelligent and thirsty for quality works of art that go into the depth of our issues. But we are all vulnerable to habits and what seem on-the-surface, effortless solutions.
My approach is that I should be aesthetically correct with the values that matter to myself as an artist and as a thinking citizen of this world. If political correctness in its initial concept falls within this approach, then fine. It is true that political correctness has also been misinterpreted in order to serve for other forms of disguised discrimination. At the end of the day I feel the choice offered by a curator in any form of festival is absolutely related to his or her own ethics more than anything else and these develop a taste which makes this programming relevant to a particular audience. Thus, new alternatives and trends can be eventually created. Film festivals have always been great platforms for that.

Do you feel Diff 2004 has triggered a new wave of interest in documentaries in the region? Is the inclusion of Under a Desert Sun (an entry from the UAE) a reflection of this trend?
I believe that Diff has played its role and contributed to this development, as indeed other events and of course the Emirates Film Competition too, which welcomes and encourages local production. It is great that UAE filmmakers have now some platforms to present their work. However, I believe they should also be open to an aesthetic dialogue and try to see how film is developed in other countries and thus be able to suggest films from the UAE that may compete in the international circuit This may take a while but it is certainly worthwhile.

Profile: Nestor Torres

2005-11-26T17:56:00.000+03:00

To serve with music

Jazz flautist and Latin Grammy award winner Nestor Torres says he serves people with his music, which is his response to what he takes in from the world around him. Torres was in Dubai for the Seeds of Change exhibition, which focused on education for a sustainable future. Rajeev Nair met him

If music is indeed divine, then musicians, its proponents, must be philosophers by default. That is one impression Latin Grammy award winner Nestor Torres leaves on you. Though he was initiated into the art and craft of music in the noisy dancefloors of Puerto Rico, there is a sense of the sublime in his person and bearing, which he earned through his devotion to music.
Torres won his Latin Grammy for This Side of Paradise, a take on the underprivileged in his hometown, on a day the world mourned: Sept. 11, 2001. The sheer tragedy of the day also gave him a different perspective to life, which he propounds today. He looks at the moment as a “call to take a stand and use my talent to touch people’s lives and refresh their spirit.”
That could be one reason why he travelled down to Dubai, when he should have been repairing his home in Miami, ravaged by Hurricane Wilma. He also ought to have been finishing his new CD scheduled to be out in April 2006.
But Seeds of Change: The Earth Charter and Human Potential, an exhibition initially created by Soka Gakkai International (SGI) and the Earth Charter Initiative for the 2002 World Summit on Sustainable Development, was an event he couldn’t resist. More so because he was invited by Dr Akash Keiji Ouchi, general director, SGI-Dubai, to attend the opening of the exhibition’s first venue in the Middle East – Dubai.
“If I am allowed to be candid, coming from the West, I had a bit of concern in our perception — which is rather limited — of this part of the world. That is why I see great relevance in this invitation,” says Torres.
He has been traveling to various parts of the world, of late, in cultural exchange programmes. That is his contribution to the process of cultural integration — through music. “This could sound trite... but music has such power to open people’s lives and hearts. It is a universal way of communicating.”
Torres was mildly surprised that he felt “at home” in Dubai, despite this being his first visit to the Middle East. “The cultural differences are remarkable but at the same time, my physical appearance looks Arab or Indian. In that sense, I feel at home because I look around and see all these people who could be my relatives.”
Torres says he serves people with his music. “I am a musician, an artist, but the bottom line is that as a human being, I simply do what I feel happy doing, and I share my experiences through my music. All I do is show up and do what I do as an offering to the people.”
Torres’ musical accomplishments come from the most unconventional of instruments especially when it is pitted in a conventional jazz, hip-hop or pop milieu — the flute.
In essence, he rediscovered the flute, which caught his fancy simply because it was different. His father was an accomplished musician and his cousins were playing drums for him. But when he went to one of the free music schools in Puerto Rico, he did not want to stick to drums. He saw a photograph of the flute on the wall, and the decision was made.
Looking back, he feels there was a meaning to it. “The flute is a voice that allows me to express myself, and it is a very universal instrument. It shows in all major cultures of the world — Japan, Latin America, here, India…” He is awed by the Indian maestro, Hari Prasad Chaurasia, and looks forward to exchanging music with him.
Though the world describes him as a jazz flautist, Torres says he doesn’t consider himself one. “My style transcends the jazz genre to include Latin jazz and even popular music.” He remembers that his choice of flute did not make his father happy. “Yet, I made a living out of it,” he says.
There was a streak of providence at work too. In the mid-70s, just as Torres was evolving as a flautist, Charanga, a kind of Cuban music featuring the flute was a rage. “I was there at the right place at the right time.”
He integrated the melody and rhythm of Charanga into his music, and to this day, the two define his style. He experiments and improvises, but Torres would “rather touch people’s lives than impress them.”
However, Torres has found his space among jazz purists too. “Jazz, today, has taken a broader meaning. In as much as you are playing instrumental music... and there is an improvisation, it is jazz already. It is a wonderful artform and I move well within it.” Only recently, he played with jazz greats, including Nathan Davis, at the University of Pittsburgh Jazz Festival.
He continues to transcend genres. His recent album, Sin Palabras (Without Words) sees him shedding inhibitions and taking to hip-hop beats. “It whetted my appetite to go and explore those styles further while at the same time retain the use of my classical background.”
Next could be a Middle Eastern flavour. “The influence of Middle Eastern music is worldwide and finds a correlation with Latin music. It is filtering through global sounds,” he explains. During his Dubai visit, he tried to collaborate with a few local musicians for new sounds on his next album.
Torres had been through a phase of utter hopelessness. Just after one year of hitting it big-time with his first album Morning Ride, Torres had an accident at a celebrity boat race. It left him with “18 fractured ribs, two broken clavicles and a collapsed lung.” His personal life too was in doldrums and it seemed like Torres was over.
He got over the trauma by aligning himself with the philosophy that one should “appreciate everything — positive and negative, and realise a state of mind, wherein you are unshaken by anything.”
He realised that despite the seemingly hopeless situation he was in, “the core of my life was okay and I must deal with it.”
Today, he sees music as his outlet — a process of dialogue, which Torres says is fundamental to any development. “I try to listen to people’s lives and heart and respond to what they have to say.”
That way his music is inextricably linked to others.

Flag bearers of cinema tomorrow

2005-11-26T17:53:00.000+03:00

They could be the future of UAE cinema. A few years down the line, you might get to watch, at UAE theatres, full-length films directed by this bunch of locally-honed talented youngsters. Meet the first group of film-driven students of the American University of Sharjah, who unveiled their filmmaking capabilities at a special screening of their short films in Dubai. Rajeev Nair has the details

Photographs: Prashanth Mukundan

Faced with the situations given below, spell out in one word your true feeling:
1. Your favourite oh-so-cut teddy suddenly assumes supernatural power and starts knocking dead your friends one by one before training a gun on you: (Intrigue?)
2. You are a girl trapped in an elevator with one oddball of a boy; you start finding common ground and before long you don’t mind going out with him on a date. Alas, but for the realisation that the elevator-trouble was actually engineered… (That’s wicked fun!)
3. A gang bursts into a professor’s home, ties him up, thrusts a gun on his head and forces him to rattle out information — well, answers actually, to the class test (Wacky?)
4. You are in a never-ending queue to register your name for whatever, and when your turn comes after many grueling days, you realize that the closing time is over (Funny life, this one!)
5. A mother races against time to rescue her children from bulldozers that are leveling down her home (Sadness, pity, helplessness?)
Intrigue, hopelessness, sheer fun, rib-tickling comedy, chilling scare, love, lust, greed – every emotion worth its name was tackled in a selection of short films screened under the banner, Through a Different Lens screened by the students of the American University of Sharjah recently.
Conceptualised and executed to the last cut by the students themselves, these shorts were a pointer to the future of UAE cinema. Here is a bunch of film enthusiasts, who have learnt their craft and medium, arriving to roll out their turf.
The shorts also reflected what they had been taught by Kim Bigelow, professor of Media Studies at AUS: Tell a story but not the whole story, tell a story that moves you as an individual.
Bigelow must be credited with building a film programme at AUS, without having one in its strict sense. He brought together students from various faculties — but mostly from the department of mass studies — initiated them into the world of cinema, groomed them by screening classics, helped them out with the nitty-gritty of films and goaded them to make and shoot their films, their own way.
The result was for all to see, and if the applause generated at the screening of the shorts at Grand Cineplex in Dubai was anything to go by, sure enough, there is enough resonance in the corridors of AUS that complement the vision behind such endeavors as the Dubai Studio City and the Dubai International Film Festival (Diff).
Diff continues its tradition of providing a platform for students to interact with filmmakers and discuss films threadbare. This year, the event will find synergy in the filmmaking sensibilities of this bunch of youngsters from AUS.
The 16 films screened as part of Through a Different Lens covered an eclectic range of issues and topics. Some celebrated the great story-telling tradition of Arabia with an O Henry-esque twist to the tale (Searching for Subaira by Khalid Al Subaihi); The Robbery by Sami Safadi was a homage to Quentin Tarantino; My World My Pitch by Taryam and Khalid Al Subaihi was a sublime tale of the dreams of a wheel-chair bound boy who discovers in the desert and hills his football pitch; A Mother in Palestine by Neda Ahmed could have stood for any region ravaged by strife; Close Your Eyes by Ahmed Bolooki scared the wits out of the viewers with sheer, classic horror…
And that is just a random pick.
Recognition and applause for the films haven’t been restricted to the UAE. These films were screened before students and faculty at the University of Southern California. Bigelow recalls the professors there admitting that the quality of the productions embarrassed them. They had expected amateur student works.
The cinema-loving professor with a personal collection of some of the world’s all-time classics painstakingly built over five years, however, sees the success of the films in a different context: “These students, they learnt how to work together. The reaction (to the film screening) is a result of their extraordinary hard work.”
He adds: “We are looking at the UAE becoming a world class center for films but to bring in a film culture, you can’t just import talent from outside. The one thing that is extremely difficult about films is that you can’t learn the craft by watching some one else do it. It is very do-it-yourself. What I have tried here is to bring a film culture to the university and groom students for the Middle East.”
The 25-odd students who will graduate out with various degrees but a burning passion for films in their hearts will be his first-generation team. “They seem to have embraced the idea that there is a real career opportunity out there, and I hope it is true.”
Bigelow had begun out of practically nothing. There were little facilities and there isn’t a film programme. All they have is a bunch of film courses. But over the last three years, Bigelow, with the support of the university, built a state-of-the-art studio in the campus, which has features, some of them not found anywhere else in the Middle East.
Now, he would like the same sort of growth, a quicker paced one, if you may, in the real world out here too. “There was a desperate need here to groom local talent in the film business. That has happened. My students have shown their talent and potential. But where do they go now?”
They need a berth to utilise their skills, not play second-fiddle to people who might not have the exposure they have already earned at college. “When they go out, they will know more than their bosses, and that is a problem. They want an environment to grow,” says Bigelow. What is currently lacking in the UAE, according to him, are the “tools or expertise of the big league.”
He says a broad-based film programme of international standards will go a long in earning the trust of global studio houses. They will be confident of coming down to the UAE rest assured that they can pick in professional talent from here and not see their budgets go haywire.
The students echo the sentiment. “When I go out, I want to be at a place that is equivalent to this (AUS) not where I can’t use my skills and end up producing videos or advertising commercials,” says Reem Al Alieh, an Emarati student. “I want to make feature films.”
The students have seen what big-time filmmaking is all about, says Bigelow. They have been to Warner Bros, met with Academy Award winning directors and writers… “How do you give them less when they have seen where they ought to be?” he asks.
Bigelow says there is tremendous potential locally. “These students are extraordinarily talented and above all, you are dealing with one of the greatest storytelling cultures in the world. The Arab world is one of the few story-telling traditions left in the world. You put that and then you have these talented youngsters, and the end-result is what you saw (the films showcased in Through A Different Lens).”
His own advice to students was to follow an open creativity. “Pick any story, choose any subject matter but tell the stories from your cultural point of view,” says Bigelow. It was this new cultural perspective that fetched the films applause at the University of Southern California.
He feels that the students have developed their own film language, which is truly international. “We are producing some 200 films every year and what were screened were the top 15,” says Bigelow. “Every semester we see a higher percentage of better films. The students have become teachers (in terms of understanding the craft) and that is how you get the generational improvement.”
Saman Hamidi and Nadia Nubani, who worked with Reem Alieh on Out of Order, the film about two students trapped in the elevator, say the AUS films have transcended socio-cultural barriers. “It is easy to make films that your group understands but you must take your films outside. The kind of films we make are understood all around the world because we try to make films for an international audience,” says Hamidi, who is an expert in working on the multiple-camera switcher, the only one of its kind in the Middle East, at the AUS studio.
The AUS studio, previously a16 mm screening room, had fetched a $1 million overhaul to replicate advanced features found in an American studio. It has a 21 ft sweep, the tallest in the country; double rail curtains; and the UAE’s only breakaway set with movable walls ideal for shooting sitcoms. This particular set, Bigelow informs, was built through funds donated by students and their parents.
Four custom-built cameras, wide screen monitors, the UAE’s only wide-screen switcher that delivers images just like in a cinema, 32 channel digital audio system — with these feature and more, the simulated studio environment is indeed world-class.
Hamidi dreams to be a filmmaker, and nothing less. Bigelow feels it would be a criminal waste if students like Hamidi will not be able to take up their dream vocation because of poor infrastructural support. “With the right support these students will be the future filmmakers of the country,” he asserts.
With the kind of enthusiasm about films doing the rounds, currently, that future which the students and Bigelow dream couldn’t be far away.

Coelho tugs at Dubai’s heartstrings

2005-11-23T17:44:00.000+03:00

Photograph: Prashanth Mukundan

ONE Wednesday evening, Paulo Coelho walked into the emotional and spiritual consciousness of Dubai’s residents. And he hoped that they would share their souls with him because that is what he does with his writing.
He said the solution to the Iraq crisis “will not come from politicians or the military but from people like us. Look at Mahatma Gandhi. Without belonging to the classic political system, he used a unique process to bring about change. What I do (as an author) is to share my soul. What I hope others will do with me is share their souls. We are part of the divine light and we have a reason to be here.”
Denying any political inclinations, he said even silence could be construed as a political attitude. “If you speak you are taking a political attitude. If not, again, there is a political attitude. What you must then do is go back to discuss things and take decisions based on discussions. You cannot do anything without being political.”
The best-selling author of The Alchemist and most recently, The Zahir, Coelho is in Dubai on a private visit. He took time out to do a book signing session on Wednesday evening at Virgin Megastore, Mercato Mall, and also to meet the Dubai press on Thursday.
Coelho said he sensed a sense of identification after meeting with his readers (and fans) in the UAE. “At the signing session, I met people from the Emirates, Iran, Saudi Arabia... Some of them had travelled all the way to make an eye-contact with the author. I could read in their eyes the enthusiasm… that we are in the same boat.”
The author, whose works have been translated in some 60 languages, said he does not seek to inspire people. “I don’t think I give anything. It is not my intention to teach anyone. Who am I to teach? What I try to do is share (my experiences) because I am obliged to share. Every single person on earth who wants to live his or her full human condition has to share something. When I do that, I feel I am not alone, as I saw (at the book signing). Don’t think I am the one who knows the answers.”
“My first visit to Arabia is not this physical one,” said Coelho. “My soul came here first. I visited Arabia through my imagination, through the books. The Alchemist, my most famous book, is based in Islam. Let’s see what the outcome of this visit will be. At the end of the day, it is about people – whom you meet, talk and share opinions.”
Dressed in black, with one pony-tail of white hair on otherwise baldness, Coelho spoke his mind with the intellectual honesty of “I don’t knows” to why his works are universally popular, what his inspirations are and when and how he puts the title to his books. He says imagination, inspiration and experience go together in his writings.
Coelho said he has still not understood himself. “The moment I understand myself, I am dead. The confrontation that you have in your soul is what makes life interesting. You are always a surprise to yourself.”
Quoting Rene Descartes, he said: “I still have my doubts, therefore I think, and so I exist.”
He said every book of his has to be written in his soul before typing it out. And that process could take many years – it took almost a decade for his work, Eleven Minutes.
Coelho said the day one sees his name in the screenplay credits of a film, “remember that it is the end of my career.” He does not see films as downgrading. He cited Once Upon a Time in the West and Matrix as two powerful scripts. “I am not skilled in doing this (screenplay writing). I see many writers doing this change from books to screenplays. It is a very dangerous step because the structure is totally different. It is like a violin player playing a piano. Of course, you can do both but if your soul is in violin, you can never play a piano as you play a violin.”
Coelho writes “short stories every week to keep him writing” (he only writes a book every two years; he will release his next book next year based on the weekly writings). He said there are no rules as to what it takes to be a writer. Some authors used imagination; some banked on experience. “You have to know how to express your thoughts. That makes you a good writer.”
He said the question every one asks him is why his books are so popular. “I can give you a fake and honest answer. The honest answer is: ‘I don’t know.’ I write in Portuguese and I have to overcome so many barriers (to reach to the English-reading audience). When I write a book I try to forget that I have sold some 80 million copies. If you have three people reading a book, that is 240 million readers. If you start thinking about that, then you can’t write. So I go back to my inner sense and try to express my soul. Then it is up to the reader.”
He said readers will not forget or forgive if authors try to find a formula to write. “They will read the first or second book but never the third.” Coelho said, therefore, he did not want to know what makes his books sell. “The moment I understand that I will be tempted to follow the formula and I will lose my innocence.”

The Coelho effect

Paulo Coelho said his book signing in Dubai was a “magical moment.” Though he has signed for seven to eight hours in London and France, the response in Dubai surprised him.
It could not have been without reason. He involves his readers emotionally apart from helping them embark on a sublime spiritual quest.
That was more than evident at the book signing ceremony at Virgin Megastore. Long queues had formed at the store much before the author arrived, a little after 6 pm. He continued signing three books per person (sometimes even more) later than the scheduled two hours, taking only a short break in between. In between the signing sessions he also obliged fans with quick photo sessions.
Coelho’s readers in Dubai – a true slice of the city’s multicultural crowd - let their guard down when it came to displaying the emotions of meeting with the author. Faces would beam in triumphant smile when some got their books signed. A woman broke into tears in front of Coelho. Women in wheelchair and children pushed ahead in prams (one mother had an Eleven Minutes placed on the pram) jostled to meet and greet the author.
Coelho meant differently for different people. Rabih Choucair, an account manager, had come to the signing ceremony to get a book signed for his fiancée who is a huge Coelho fan. When that was mentioned to Coelho, he gracefully wrote: “In the name of love…” on the book. “He seems to be a nice man,” was the parting comment of Choucair, visibly pleased.
Shirly Sagum, a client administrator, couldn’t contain her excitement. She is an ardent reader of Coelho, has read Alchemist many times over and even has her personal diary titled, The Alchemy. She said the author helped her in self-development and that reading his books was a spiritual experience.
Nilufer Rafatian, an Iranian, brought the Coelho’s Farsi translation to get them signed. Nilufer bears the pain of multiple sclerosis and moves around in a wheelchair. She said Coelho’s books give her hope.
Muskaan had only a quick comment to make: “His books have an inspiring effect on you. They make you believe in your dreams.”
Deena Kamel, an AUS student, had a pertinent observation to make. “It is great to have Coelho in Dubai but not every one is here because of his books or ideas.” She said the book signing was more of a celebrity event. What was needed was an open forum to exchange views and ideas with Coelho.
She also cited the case of mistaken identity. When Prof William Haney, professor of English Literature, AUS, walked in with his students, his uncanny resemblance to the author caused a stir with fans running up to him and the security staff trying to bring the situation under control.
Coelho’s books, meanwhile, flew off the shelves of Virgin. People waited patiently, some with rose bouquets - all carrying bunches of books. They chanted “We love you” to Coelho as he took the small break to walk down the aisles.
A bunch of teenage kids, clutching movie tickets in their hands, walked in to the store to explore the commotion. One boy commented: “Seems like a lot of people in Dubai read books.”
Boy, you said it!

Boxes:

Coelho quotes in Dubai
I am who I am.
You cannot do anything without being political.
My first visit to Arabia is not this physical one… my soul came here first.
Men are more faithful to authors than women.
It is not my intention to teach anyone. Who am I to teach?
Normally, publishers don’t like my titles.

Traffic trap
“I have to fulfil my quota of monuments and landscapes (on every visit). I want to walk in the market, see monuments and that is what I am going to do here. On arrival, we decided to go to the souk. What we did not know was that it took one hour from the hotel to get to the souk. So we stopped in the middle. We did not go but it is something I am really planning to do…”

How ‘The Alchemist’ was not to be
Paulo Coelho said he coins the titles for his books arbitrarily. The Alchemist began with the title. The Pilgrimage came after finishing the book. The Zahir and Eleven Minutes came in the middle of the book.
Coelho recalled: “When The Alchemist was first accepted by Harper Collins in the US, they said: ‘Fantastic book but horrible title. There is no alchemist in the book. The alchemist is only at the end of the book. So let’s put a better title: The Shepherd and His Dreams” Coelho put his foot down to retain the title.
He faced the same resistance with Veronica Decides to Die. “Oh my God, you cannot put that title. It must be a sad because Veronica decides to die.”
“When I put a title, nobody can change that. So far, I think I have very good titles,” said Coelho.

Shaolin monks dateline Dubai for Kung Fu show

2005-11-23T17:26:00.000+03:00

Photograph: Mohammed Rasheed

Many hundred years back, they protected an emperor from his enemies before all but five of them were poisoned to death by the very man they saved.
Today, they must rebuild their monasteries, which have been stripped off riches, down the years.
And to accomplish that, they do what they know best: Kung Fu. They perform the martial art in all its original, breathtaking finesse in Dubai.
Yes, the Shaolin monks are in the city.
And part of every dirham that you spend to watch them perform the spectacular 'Wheel of Life' on Nov.24 and 25 at the Madinat Jumeirah will go into rebuilding the Shaolin temple in south China, according to the monks' team manager.
The group of 22 monks from the Shaolin Temple will integrate their martial arts display into a well-choreographed show featuring live music and actors.
The monks are led by Master Wang Hai Ying.
He said the monks devote their entire day to perfecting the martial arts.
They wake up at 5am and continue their general practice sessions until 7pm when they break for meditation to gain inner strength.
Yassin Matbouly, managing director, Vibe Middle East, organisers of the show, said "Wheel of Light" is the most spectacular show he has ever seen.
Show director Micha Bergese said a host of amazing feats including bending iron bars and breaking concrete blocks have been lined up for the audience.
These are made possible by taking in the "strength of the universe into the body."
Every monk will have his own characteristic movements.
Bergese, an accomplished director and choreographer, has worked with renowned names in the music world including Mick Jagger, Julio Iglesias and Tina Turner, among others.
A curtain-raiser to the show, performed for Dubai's media, highlighted the rigorous training regimen the monks have gone through.
The soldier monks dived up in the air, somersaulted, landed on their hands, walked on them, lay flat on the ground and swiftly again went through the routine without even a pause.
That a mere body somersault could take so many different forms was only complemented in its awe factor by the immaculate foot work of the monks.
And they came in all sizes. The youngest, Denghui, is only seven years old. The oldest are 24.

Niche cinema finds a foothold

2005-11-23T17:20:00.000+03:00

Gianluca Chacra

Though largely caught in the web of Hollywood and Bollywood's commercial arms, moviegoers in the UAE are waking up to the revelations of alternative cinema. Rajeev Nair has the details

The Dubai International Film Festival (Diff) hasn't defined itself as a mere showcase of arthouse films. From screening utter escapist fare like Ocean's Twelve to the hard-hitting reality bites expounded in Hamburg Cell, Diff had delivered a mixed platter last year.
But in doing so, in giving screen-space to the non-commercial productions, the film festival also brought to focus the alternative cinema movement that has already struck roots in the UAE.
Indeed, cinema that does not fit into a commercial format has its share of enthusiasts in Dubai. Through blogs to on-line interaction and Thursday night get-togethers to special screenings, these select bunches of filmgoers have been digging into the classics and New Age cinema with unbridled enthusiasm.
They have been studying the works by masters, discussing world cinema movement, figuring out trends and passing on the word that beyond the cineplexes next door, where Hollywood screams its head out, there is still cinema, after all. And meaningful one at that.
If not in tangible results, Diff has certainly brought the spotlight on these niche crowds.
A discussion on Dubai's arthouse film culture could ideally start from Gianluca Chacra, managing director, Front Row Filmed Entertainment LLC. Front Row has been revelling in picking films that theatres refuse to touch. Pertinently, they discovered that it is a niche that works. And how!
Front Row's opening film, Iranian director Mohsen Makhmalbaf's Kandahar, which they brought straight to DVD, was a runaway success. The second, Michael Moore's hard-hitting documentary, Bowling for Columbine, silenced skeptics. Since then, Front Row has also ventured into theatre releases — one of the most prized-catches, you guessed it right, being Fahrenheit 9/11.
And to think that Gianluca had sold his car to raise capital for starting this business!
A Lebanese-Italian, Gianluca's family has been in the business of films for over 60 years. His uncle was distributor of Warner Bros films in the Middle East; his father has been an independent film distributor for four decades. That was a time when Lebanon ruled the entertainment market; the UAE was only emerging with just a few cinemas.
Gianluca grew up in Rome, went to college in Lebanon, and returned to Rome to work on a film festival. Meanwhile, he had part-timed with his uncle and dad, picking up the basics of the business. He realised that the film festival job wasn't cut out for him, and in a bid to make his mark in business, he moved in to Dubai with the money he got by selling his car.
"Many distributors consider that the UAE does not have an audience for these (independent, arthouse) films," says Gianluca. "I totally disagree. There are a lot of expatriates here, who want to watch them."
He realised the potential of the alternative cinema movement and looked at buying smaller titles — "not the bad small ones but the critically acclaimed ones." Despite these films' popularity elsewhere, including film festival circuits, theatres were hesitant to touch them. Gianluca released them on DVD to "show we can get results." The response to the first film, Kandahar, he says, "was even bigger than commercial films." He expected a favourable turnout but was still surprised by its success.
He attributes it to the niche audience independent and arthouse films have. "Most Hollywood productions do not have a message, they are not up-to-date with current situations, and that is where independent films make the difference. They have something that Hollywood does not give."
The success of Kandahar and Bowling for Columbine in the DVD circuit is also a testimony of the interest people in the Middle East have on politics. "Most people here are politically driven, and there are these 'conspiracy theories' when it comes to Middle East issues. Obviously, people here would be interested in films that address socio-political realities."
Gianluca says the subjects handled by indie films are eclectic. "You find subjects that you really don't know about. They are dramatic, realistic, and something you have never seen before."
That element of novelty is not the sole consideration of Front Row in picking titles from most European countries and Southeast Asian countries too. They also dig into classics — but the bottom line is to anticipate whether the subject would appeal to UAE audiences.
The principle issue involved in expanding the base for alternative cinema in the UAE is to have an attitude shift at the retailers' end, feels Gianluca. "It took me a lot of effort to convince people that Kandahar will work," he recalls.
And he would like to see a lot more visibility to alternative cinema titles. The large arm of commercial cinema has been so far-reaching that it tends to trample over alternative titles. Retailer intervention, with a respect to alternative cinema sensibilities, could save the day.
Gianluca does not clog the market with many weekly releases. Front Row has about eight DVD releases per month — a figure kept low to ensure that every film gets the attention it deserves. "If you are launching five titles a week, which one will you focus your marketing efforts on? People will get lost in the clutter. Niche films need a niche marketing strategy."
That is what he would like to see at the theatres too. He explains the sad performance of US box-office hit, Sideways, an award-winning film. "It was a niche film not for the mass market. It needed a different marketing strategy of playing at fewer theatres."
Despite these hiccups, Gianluca is happy with the way alternative cinema is picking up in the UAE. However, he feels there is a larger role that Diff can play by strengthening its association with the Ministry of Information and addressing censorship issues.
He recalls the fate of Hamburg Cell, which was screened to critical acclaim at Diff. However, "the film is banned from screening in the UAE," says Gianluca. He finds the ambiguity — of being screened at Diff but withheld from public theatres — baffling.
Having facilitated the release of the first UAE film, Dreams, recently, Gianluca is encouraged by the positive response of Dubai Media City and Dubai Studio City in nurturing a film culture in Dubai. "They have taken into consideration creating a film fund in assistance with the government like the way it is done in Europe and the US."
Front Row is working closely with Diff in bringing a few landmark films this year. The company also associates with Cairo Film Festival. "We are giving the film, Man to Man, starring Kristin Scott Thomas," says Gianluca. She will attend the opening of the film at Cairo Film Festival.
Gianluca is not closing his doors on commercial cinema. A newly found arm, Shooting Stars, which will handle the distribution of Warner releases, is preparing for the theatre releases of some true heavyweights including Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and George Clooney's Syriana, which was shot in the UAE.
Meanwhile, he is also optimistic of guarding the niche segment of alternative cinema because the old guards still believe that posters with guns and explosions work. "Not any more," smiles the youngster. "People are aware of cinema; they have the Internet and cable. They know if a film is good or bad..."
That is precisely the kind of movie lovers who gather at the movie screening sessions by 9714 at Ibo, Millennium Airport Hotel, every week, or at Five Green's fashion and art events. These movie-buffs look beyond the confines of commercial cinema and discover gleaming gems from alternative cinema that gives them the creative high.
"We have been hosting alternative cinema screenings at various locations around Dubai for the past couple of years," says Shehab Hamad of 9714. "There have been monthly screenings of animated, shorts, experimental, foreign and independent productions.... all non-mainstream."

Michael Ross of 9714

One of the first films to be screened thus was I Call Myself Persian directed by Tanaz Eshaghian and Sara Nodjoumi, who sought the identity of Iranians living in America post-9/11. "The response was phenomenal; it was a multimedia event and it attracted about 800 people."
Michael Ross of 9714, who is in charge of the programming, says the movie selection has been largely eclectic. "It is a mixed bag, and the films are those that I like. I can't even say it is a representation of the best or respected directors in the world because the films (chosen) are what I personally really like."
These have varied from Divine Intervention by Palestinian filmmaker Elie Suleiman to Federico Fellini's La Dolce Vita, and Almodovar's La Mala Educacion to Woody Allen's comedy classic Annie Hall.
A recent screening was of La Haine (Hate), a film that catapulted actor-writer-director Mathie Kassovitz to the limelight. The French film about the cultural diversification in Parisian suburbs couldn't have come more timely for the Dubai audience watching news unfold of the riots in Paris.
There is a growth in the audience for alternative cinema but the segment will always remain niche, feel Shehab and Michael. "It remains a niche all over the world and in Dubai, there is a big enough audience to sustain interest in these films."
While the interest in alternative cinema selections has been broad-spectrum, "it looks like Italy is winning (in audience appreciation)," says Michael. Shehab adds that American independent films are the least popular.
Diff has catalysed interest in alternative cinema, observes Michael. "It sure has raised the profile of arthouse films."
That sure is good news for indie and arthouse filmmakers.

Profile: Swedish Artist Ragnhild Lunden

2005-11-23T17:15:00.000+03:00

Feelings on canvas

Swedish artist Ragnhild Lunden describes painting as a process of downloading her feelings. It is a spontaneous action, so utterly uninhibited that Lunden is not even restricted by the need for brushes. She simply paints – with her hands, a kitchen knife, whatever – and the painting comes to life. They are on display at Courtyard Gallery and Café through Nov. 20. Rajeev Nair met her

Photographs: Prashanth Mukundan

In the beginning, a cluster of faces stare onto your canvas. Your teachers, your acquaintances, your critics, you… And then, slowly, one by one they leave the room. It is you and the canvas, and then you too bid good-bye. There remains only the core artist in you, stripped off your egocentricities... and you paint. It is a magical moment.
Ragnhild Lunden realised that magic very early in life. The Swedish artist has discovered that painting, as an expression, is ultimately a communication between the artist and the canvas through various media. The process has a brutal honesty, which strips her inner turmoil out in the open. It is a paradox of sorts — a feeling of detached involvement, the ability to see one's own works from a third person’s perspective.
Lunden says she likes what she sees in her works. Her paintings that hang on the wall in front of her are exactly the sort she would want to paint, and she is proud of them.
Though she tries to externalise the experience of painting, Lunden’s works bear an intense personal stamp. That could be because she regards the process of painting as a download of her feelings. “I am a very lively person,” she says. “When I am in pain or when I am happy, every thing is in extremes. It then feels nice to paint, to get it all out, all my feelings, all that I think and experience…”
However, that is a very organic process. She could flit from one feeling to the other, and the mixed emotions do leave an impression on the final work. That calls for a lot of instantaneous moments of creativity. Yes, Lunden agrees, her works are spurred by the moment.
She had discovered the artist in her when she was a child, a hyper-kid who, according to her teachers, would settle down if given some paper and pens.
It was not possible for her to chase her artistic interests as a career initially because her father had died when she was very young. “I needed to have, what you call, ‘real education,’” says the lady. So she went on to become a dentist and attempted a doctorate in dental research. A little into the intensive medial research and Lunden realised that her true calling was in fine arts. But that stint as researcher has helped her as an artist, says Lunden. “It helps you seek solutions, answers…”
There are so many interesting asides to this lady, who attends all her exhibitions with the “Horus eye.” She paints, in black, a representation of the Egyptian mythological figure, Horus, who is believed to have been committed to peace. Lunden wears the Horus eye to the left; according to the myth, Horus could paralyse others with his left eye.
Peace is the message that Lunden too upholds. Currently, she is working on an installation in Australia that addresses world peace.
The Egyptian connection runs deeper still. Having spent a few years in the country, she took a fancy for hieroglyphics, studied them extensively, and today reinterprets them in her paintings. Abstract expressionism thus meets hieroglyphic interpretation in the works of Lunden.
“I like the beauty of their lines, and their form. I know what they mean and I feel very free working on them,” she says. Hieroglyphics have a universal quality – some forms are truly basic, which helps in enhancing a universal appeal for her works.

The organic evolution that characterises her paintings also spills on to her work techniques. She is not limited to express herself with brushes; she dabs the paint with whatever suits her fancy — a cloth, a kitchen knife, her hands...
That sense of “untidiness, the loose edges,” if you may, represents the evolving and personalised feel of the artist.
Lunden feels that paintings must reach out to other people, wherein the viewer should perhaps discover a slice of his own life, his own inner self in the painting. It is a medium that communicates to every one, and serves as a basic art from that could be common to all humanity.
Largely self-taught, Lunden sees a gradual evolution in her style. “My early pictures were very dark but the recent ones are white. It is difficult to explain why. Many things have happened to me, and perhaps, I have learned better to handle colours. When you have many years of experience, painting layers and layers, you become free with colours.”
There are several points of continuity in her works — the symbolic languages, the geometric shapes, the figurative forms… and then there are visible proofs of the artist at work: Hand drawings, painted-overs, the skeletal sketches, the canvas patches…
In that diversity wells up the inner expressions of a woman, who only wants the world and its peoples to be at peace with themselves.

Theatre for HR development

2005-11-23T16:47:00.000+03:00

Theatre for a better workplace

Theatre is the latest tool for human resources development in Dubai. Rajeev Nair has the details

Imagine addressing all those workplace woes out in the open through interactive sessions, where you play out — as in theatre — your grievances and discover solutions. It is a concept increasingly gaining acceptance in the corporate world, and the trend has reached Dubai too.
Scenez Group, a Dubai Media City-based company specialising in theatre projects, has unveiled Dubai's first 'Theatre at Work' corporate training workshops. It is a fun-packed approach to understand human psychology and the various patterns of human behaviour and thus, bring about the desired HR development.
One of the latest approaches in HR training, the use of theatre has been standardised to a few techniques. One is the Forum Theatre, developed by prominent theatre practitioner Augusto Boal. It addresses team development and conflict resolution in the corporate environment. The Alexander Technique, developed by Mathew Alexander coupled with the Grotowskian method (Jerzy Grotowski, Poland) is a movement/yoga- inspired technique used for stress management and developing the right body language for more efficient communication.
Sam Bardawil, whose did his studies at the Central School of Speech and Drama, London, and the University of Bristol, offers the training in Dubai. "Theatre for training is a new development in the HR industry," he says. "It has caught up in the last 3 to 4 years in the UK because unlike traditional training, it focuses on bringing out the emotional elements. It gives a lot of attention to human beings, treating them as a bundle of emotions and even as spiritual beings."
Augusto Boal had devised the Forum Theatre after touring through Brazil to educate the people about their rights through theatre. "But at the end of the sessions, the people would become so charged they wanted to revolt," says Bardawil. "That is when he realised the power of theatre. He resolved that he would never say anything on stage, which he is not willing to implement in real life."
Forum Theatre was built on that basic premise. "Here, people watch a play that tackles a subject related to their lives and work together as a team to resolve the issues. The play has a very simple theme and every one can relate to it. People then suggest solutions by acting them out," explains Bardawil.
Forum Theatre is an emotional, physical and intellectual experience, says Bardawil. "It is a quick check of what it is like to implement the changes in your life, and hopefully enable you to go back and do it in real life."
When such a play is done, the spectators start reacting and suggesting as if they are watching their lives on a mirror. Since the end-result is freeing people of their oppression, the practice is also called the "Theatre of the Oppressed." The people who take part are "spect-actors" — not spectators or actors. "They have to observe and act," explains Bardawil.
He says that the Grotowskian technique he follows is also referred to as Poor Theatre because in this style of training, there are no props, decoration or lighting. "It is all about actors being in an empty space using their own faculties to bring out as much as they can to communicate to the audience. They have to get the inflexion, intonation and articulation of their voice right. They must have the right facial expression and body language."
The principle of the Grotowskian technique rests on the fact that as they grow older, people tend to hide their emotions and spontaneous feelings. "We start putting on masks, which is visible in our voice, our postures and our body language. We tend to hide what we really feel," explains Bardawil.
The Grotowskian technique thus aims at liberating individuals from these masks. "This is very important if you want to connect to the corporate world. The Grotowskian technique helps you find your own way of expressing yourself, and understanding how you can use your body to portray different feelings."
The third kind of training using the Alexander Technique is mostly about stress release and stress management. "Stress manifests physically as voice changes and body pains," says Bardawil. "Alexander Technique synchronises body movement and breathing, which is very important in releasing stress. You discover your points of stress, release them and remove the tension from the body."
The Theatre at Work events can be held over one week or even months. "The size of the corporate group does not matter," says Bardawil. "The training is based on collaboration and the minimum we might need to conduct the workshop is 7 to 8 people."
Bardawil's own initiation into theatre therapy was after studying Art History and discovering certain courses where you can use art therapy for personal development. He later discovered drama therapy before venturing into corporate training using theatre techniques. He later taught at the American University in Beirut while also conducting freelance theatre training workshops.
He says there has been tremendous self-realisation from his own learning. "I think it changed my life completely. I became aware of my own inconsistencies about who I am, my strengths and what I need to work on. I am not concerned about what others think about me — often, a negative thought that blocks me from being what I truly am. The moment you realise your limitations and abilities, your ego starts deflating. And that is the way forward..."
And as bottom lines go, Theatre at Work helps re-discover the child in you, where you are not ashamed to show your true emotions. "It is getting to the true you, and not what is in the surface."

Caption:
Christina Chammas, general manager, Scenez Group; and Sam Bardawil.

Profile: Ali Mostafa, UAE filmmaker

2005-11-09T19:43:00.000+03:00

Power of subtlety

UAE filmmaker Ali F. Mostafa's Under the Sun (Taht El Shams) is one of five films by up-and-coming national filmmakers to be screened at Dubai International Film Festival's UAE-focused programme segment, 'Emerging Emaratis.' Rajeev Nair met him

'Emerging Emarati' filmmaker Ali F. Mostafa discovered the magic of movies when he barely big and old enough to pick up a camera. He shot his toys first, made animation pictures out of them, created characters and situations, and even came up with ingenious special effects using air-sprays and lights.
Those "toy stories" paved the way for Ali discovering his inherent creative strength. That was to make him confident of zooming the camera on to his friends, and the people around him.
His father had a large collection of films, which helped, but Ali had conditioned himself to create a film frame from every walk of life. His eyes were like the camera lenses picking up details, studying them for visual effect and tucking it away in his mind to recall at a later stage.
That later stage has arrived. The present. The now. He has achieved what he dreamt to be: A filmmaker.
And the moment of glory comes as his film, Under the Sun (Taht El Shams) will be screened at the Dubai International Film Festival's 'Emerging Emaratis' programme segment, which showcases five films by up-and-coming UAE filmmakers.
Under the Sun, a 23-minute short, isn't autobiographical, though the film's structure and content might tempt one to draw parallels from Ali's life.
The film's protagonist is a 13-year-old UAE boy, Mohammed, half-English. (And it is played by Mohammed, Ali's younger brother).
Through one day in the life of Mohammed, during the Holy Month of Ramadan, Ali tries to capture "the international perceptions and misconceptions about Islam." Mohammed also stands for the audience's perspective; they both see the world with the same bewildered eyes.
To be in the director's chair has not been an easy journey for Ali. He has hauled tonnes of photography equipment up many flights of stairs; he has clipped films at the editing table; he has scripted stories; worked as sound recordist; played the assistant to director — all at college, his "filmmaking boot camp," the prestigious London Film School, to become what he eventually wanted to be: The director.
It took grit to be there. He had decided to chase his dreams. Straight from school, he chose to be try his hand at interior designer and earned name as an accomplished set and wedding stage designer. But he was sure of his ultimate turf — films — which he spelt out in interviews many years back.
He discovered in the masters programme at London Film School a perfect training ground. "Every term you made a movie, and you learnt everything from scripting to sound recording to holding a camera," Ali recalls.
And at college, while his peers scrambled for the director's chair, he decided to opt to work through the ranks. "Today, I know what every one else would be doing on the sets in detail because that is what I have already done. I know what my crew feels doing a particular task and it helps me help them perform better."
Under the Sun was the graduation film Ali had to do for his masters programme. He had decided to shoot the film in his home country, and he decided to script about what hurt him most: The disturbing portrayal of Muslims and Islam by the media. He called upon the cinematography experience of his Belgian friend Michel Dierickx, who too had graduated from London Film School.
From what should have been a crew of six but now reduced to just the two of them, Ali and Michel went about the film with meticulous precision. Ali had already prepared the storyboard with photographs of virtually all the frames, and Michel agreed with the visual imagery completely.

Ali says that finalising his hero as a 13-year-old and as half-English, was done after careful deliberation. "Children are naive and impressionable, and I wanted to portray what they feel, watching all those unreal messages on television," he says. He also believed that the chances of a Westerner sitting up and taking notice of the film was greater if there was the added element of a Westerner's perspective to the central character.
Being half-British, he agrees there are similarities and even autobiographical moments to the film. "But those are moments every boy in this country goes through," he asserts. Ali tries to bring in a very realistic portrayal of childhood, which he draws from close observation and experience. Some of them could be as simple as the children munching on spicy cheeseballs splashed with laban. "That is done a lot in the schools," smiles Ali.
Choosing one day as the thematic length of the film suited its "short" segment, feels Ali. "That was how it came to me. It was about Mohammed meeting all these characters through the day; it could easily happen to any young boy."
Ali says directing his brother was natural and effortless. He was, in fact, part of all the short films Ali had made earlier, and they shared a rapport. "I was confident he could do it, and I didn't really have to direct him much. He is 14, plays a 13-year-old but has the mind of a 30-year-old. He understood the underlying currents of the story, and he got it right on the first take, all the time."
Ali had to use only seven rolls of film; his maximum takes were just three. That was the sort of rapport he elicited from his cast.
Ali recalls watching the impressive performance of Keisha Castle-Hughes (who at 13, was the youngest ever to be nominated for the Best Actress Oscar) in Whale Rider. It was the same subtlety he sought in Mohammed too. "I believe that acting is not over-acting or over-reacting," says Ali.
Ali says filming Under the Sun was helped by his own unique perspective: of being able to watch things from two angles. "The story meant a lot to me, and I wanted to send across my film's message out there. I wanted people to see it."
He has submitted the film to other film festivals too, and is waiting to hear from about 15 film festivals around the world. That confidence also comes from the overwhelming response he got to his film's screening in London.
Ali is awed by the phenomenal interest in filmmaking in the UAE, right now. His only advice to the youngsters who dream of a film career is to be at film sets, if they do not have the financial resources to go into a film school. To be at the sets also means being part of the team, doing the odd tasks, learning the craft, the hard way.
But the current enthusiasm in filmmaking in the UAE, triggered also thanks to Dubai International Film Festival, will translate into tangible results, says Ali. "In two years time, you can watch Emarati films at the local theatres — not one or two but five..."
Ali does not restrict his inspiration to a few select directors. "Every thing influence me, maybe because I watch films differently..."
Personally, he will continue to be in films, doing commercials, corporate videos, whatever it takes to establish himself as a filmmaker. And whatever he does, he says, will bear his stamp of creativity and quality.
And his dream is to win an Oscar award before he is 35 years old.
That is about ten years away... but Ali knows he is on his way.

Box 1
Under the Sun: Cast and crew
Cast: Mohammed Mostafa, Amina Nolan, Abdullah Al Sayegh, Saif Al Deen, Marwan Al Sabri, Mohammed Al Haj, Mohammed and Sami Zeidan
Writer: Ali F. Mostafa
Music: Kunal Soonderji, T-1 Creative
Cinematographer: Michel Dierickx
Editor: Ahmed Abdulqader
Sound recordist: Ron Bagnulo
Producers: KHalid Al Awar and Ali F Mostafa
Director: Ali F. Mostafa

Box 2:
Emerging Emaratis to be Diff regular
Emerging Emaratis, which puts UAE filmmakers on the spotlight, will become a regular fixture at Dubai International Film Festival. This year, the segment will feature five films by national filmmakers.
"We feel very strongly about backing up our words with actions. We have said that our goal is for Diff to be the world's destination for discovering new and interesting Arab cinema, and this new section is part of that high-level strategic goal," says Neil Stephenson, CEO and director, Diff.
Masoud Amralla Al Ali, director of the annual Emirates Film Competition and programmer of the section, says the decision to give space to young national filmmakers marks a key step in the development of cinema in the Emirates. "The cinema movement in the UAE is still very young but this decision will go a long way in its long-term development," he adds.
The five short films selected for this year's Emerging Emaratis programme are:
An Ordinary Day (Youm Aadi): A film about the capricious nature of creativity. It won its director Omar Ibrahim the Diff Award for Exceptional Talent in Filmmaking at the 2005 edition of the Emirates Film Competition.

Under the Sun (Taht El Shams): Ali F. Mostafa's film delves into a 13-year-old boys' experiences of practising Islam in a modern city.

Amen (Ameen): Director Abdullah Hassan Ahmed's social film about the fractured relationship between a father and son, and the son's love for a disabled girl.

Dying for Fun (Al Maout Lel Mota'a): An acclaimed film from director Nada Mohammed Al Karimi and one that has already played to rave reviews in a Lebanon documentary film festival. It follows the story of dyed chicks from the time they are hatched and coloured to their arrival and premature death in family homes.

Hoboob: An inventive short film directed by Saeed Salmeen Al-Murry, it is based on a traditional folk tale and tells the story of a young citizen who tries to dig a well in a remote village.

The second Dubai International Film Festival will be held between Dec. 11 and 17, 2005, and will feature approximately 85 films including features, retrospectives and short films.

Interview: Shivani Pandya - Diff Exec. Director

2005-11-09T19:40:00.000+03:00

When cinema binds

One of the most encouraging responses to the first edition of the Dubai International Film Festival was the cross-cultural bonding it facilitated, says Shivani Pandya, executive director, Festival Operations. Rajeev Nair met her

In the run-up to the second edition of the Dubai International Film Festival, Shivani Pandya, executive director of Festival Operations, has more than a fair share of challenges.
The toughest part, she says, would be "meeting the expectations of people, and making sure that the hard work put in, manifests into the benefit of the audience."
Her responsibilities include "programme admin" which covers setting up the industry network, marketing, project planning and co-ordinating the technical aspects. She speaks about the preparations currently underway for Diff 2005. Excerpts:

How do you look back on Diff 2004? What are the lessons learnt, and how does the experience help in planning for Diff 2005?
Last year, we worked out the concept of the film festival we had in our mind. And for an initial event, we were able to get most of the elements in place. We have learnt in many areas; we know what works for Dubai, and how the audience reacts to our different segments.

How would you describe the Dubai audience for Diff?
Dubai has a very good film-going audience, and the fact that we could get films that they haven't seen before worked well for us last year. The audience is indeed a cultural mix with so many different nationalities appreciating not just their films but others' too. There was a good cross-cultural mix in the audience; people are open to looking at films from other cultures and that was very nice.

Do you therefore see Diff as a platform for a true cross-over culture in film appreciation?
I think we are headed there. Foreign films are rather new to Dubai but with Diff 2004, we could elicit a good cross-cultural responses to the films. Khamosh Pani, a Pakistani film, for instance, fetched a diverse audience. That is a trend we saw across the board.

What according to you is the unique identity of Diff?
We are not looking at Diff as a festival for the industry (like Cannes) because we don't have a local industry. But we are focused on two targets: The local community, who appreciate films; and the film fraternity — local, regional and international. Through this multicultural event, we are looking at setting up a industry. We are trying to showcase Dubai as a destination for films, and it is happening.

Have you seen tangible results?
Arab films screened at Diff were showcased at Miami Festival because its festival director was here. There were other films that evoked interest in distributors. Yes, the results have been small but they have started to show, which is very encouraging. It makes us realise that we are on the right track and we have to build on it.

The Cairo Film Festival closes on Dec. 9. Diff opens on Dec. 11. Will there be an overlapping of interests?
I feel it is good that these events are close, and even if there is a slight overlapping, it is not a big deal because the audiences are very different. And the industry..., they travel across the world. For many international artistes, the close dates also help plan their itinerary. In fact, we have a few big celebrities doing both Cairo and Dubai.

Which are the new markets that Diff reaches out to this year?
We have segmented audiences in terms of the region and sub-continent; and international. What we are trying to do is create awareness, by and large. We have been able to do so by participating at international film festivals (this year at Cannes), and advertising in trade. We have collaborated with many festivals around the world.

Is the logistics involved similar to Diff 2004?
It could be very similar. We had some 350 people working towards the last three months of the festival on Diff 2004. The core team comprises 10 to 15 people who work round the year; a lot more would come in six months onwards. This year, the theatre venues are Madinat Jumeirah, Mall of the Emirates, Knowledge Village and the DMC Amphitheatre. We have made it more convenient for audiences this year in terms of accessibility. Based on the feedback we received last year, we are asking the filmmakers to increase the screenings to two. We will have on-line ticket sales and shuttle services — on the whole, we are looking at making it more user-friendly.

Profile: Gireesh Nair; documentary maker

2005-11-09T19:30:00.000+03:00

Frames from the streets

The Unknown, a documentary on street children and women in an Indian city, conceptualised by Gireesh Nair, a UAE-based television professional, has been short-listed in competition at the Vancouver International Film Festival. Rajeev Nair has the details

On the pavement by a bustling street, a child turns on its paper-cot — a poster torn out from the wayside wall. The tiny tot studies the prints on its 'bedding' as flies buzz over him, and then, abruptly, he sinks his head down. It hurts. He cries. The vision freezes on the boy's pain.
Same city, another pavement. An old woman in rags reaches out her hand to passers-by. They are busy – laughing and talking, they walk past briskly. As the camera pans on the woman's nonchalant expression, the pavement senses the flurry of a rustle. It is a woman draped in a fancy silk sari. She clutches a big bag closer and walks away. The camera moves back to the old lady, and settles on her hand — it doesn't have a palm.
Children and women — all from the streets of Kochi, a city in the south Indian state of Kerala — are the subjects of The Unknown, a 17-minute documentary. Filmed by Gireesh Nair, a UAE-based television professional during his annual vacation back home, the documentary has been short-listed in the competition section at the Vancouver International Film Festival.
The Unknown dwells on unknown faces, alright. But in its totality, the documentary is about people you know, people you see but do not watch, people you hear but do not listen to, people you sense but do not feel for. They are known, yes, but best left forgotten. And it is this raw nerve that Gireesh pricks with his documentary.
Not surprisingly, The Unknown does not have words. Except for three narrative breaks, the documentary does not rely on the spoken word. Music, culled from selections by the masters, underscore the mood of the production but it is the camera that does the talking.
Despite the lack of words, the vocabulary that the frames throw up is tremendously rich. There is every emotion in these 17 minutes: Anguish, frustration, sadness, despair, nonchalance, resignation... and then, a little hope.
That is what you want to read on the faces of those children, wide awake on the shoulders of their mothers (or total strangers), as they watch the city go past them.
In their life is the constant backdrop of traffic, speeding buses, chugging trains, huge billboards that mean nothing to them, and people — countless faces who are on the move, always on a journey, to a destination. And what is theirs? One street to another? One shop to the other? One hand of charity to the next?
The Unknown is brutally honest. It pinches where it hurts. It is a painful reality we are happy to forget, and Gireesh and his crew simply dig them out and lay them bare, without preaching, without holier-than-thou pomposity.
It all started with Gireesh attempting to make a television piece for Sakhi, a home for distressed women in Kochi, initiated by the Cultural Foundation for Peace. Ann Sharon Lopez, the organizer of Sakhi, had suggested doing the shoot.
But once Gireesh studied the subject at hand, and decided to use candid shots for the production from the streets (and also to protect the identity of the women who were given shelter at Sakhi), the scope widened.
The Unknown, eventually, had little to with Sakhi. At no point, does the documentary try to endorse Sakhi. The Unknown is just facts based on actual people on the streets, and nothing more.
Gireesh and his camera man, Nithin Thalikulam, shot The Unknown with a hand-held DSR370, at different locations in Kochi. They had no story-board, no sequence of events, not even expectations of what to be shot. It was as candid as it could get.
They had their little brushes with trouble too. Once, at a railway station, a few women threw stones at them. At another time, women who also sold flowers while their little ones slept and played by the roadside were annoyed and raised a ruckus. But these were minor and forgettable episodes, says Gireesh.
From a footage that ran to over two hours, shot and mixed over ten days, he eventually culled the documentary to 17 minutes, also adding observations by social worker Justice VR Krishna Iyer, Ernakulam District Collector APM Mohammed Hanish and journalist Leela Menon.
The documentary was screened to encouraging response by Sakhi in Kochi, recently. And now comes the honour of being screened at Vancouver...
Gireesh, who works with an Arabic channel in Dubai, has previously assisted accomplished cinematographers including Rajeev Menon (on the feature film Minsara Kanavu) and Madhu Ambat (on the Kerala shoot of Raj Kumar Santhoshi's Lajja).He has also worked with cinematographers Sunny Joseph and KG Jayan, and film director PN Menon. He started his career in advertising in Mumbai, before moving to television. More productions for television, and eventually, films form his dreams.
The Unknown, he says, was a moving experience, personally. "To take the camera to the street, and watch things that were always there, but see it in a new light, was a different experience."
It is that difference, which he communicates through The Unknown — a no-frills take on reality.

Interview: Dr Ernesto Illy, coffee expert

2005-11-02T13:06:00.000+03:00

Cuppa good health

One of the world's foremost experts on coffee, entrepreneur and scientist Dr Ernesto Illy says coffee helps you live "better, healthier and longer." Rajeev Nair met him in Dubai for an exclusive chat

Coffee, in marketing parlance, needs a bait. Vis-a-vis the cola giants, good ol' coffee — despite its only marginally higher caffeine content in an Arabica espresso — has little allure.
No one tempts you to drink coffee. No one lures you to coffee shops. (And when they do, it is often for the wrong reasons: Cream, milk, ice and sandwiches — what have they got to do with coffee per se?)
To miss coffee, says Dr Ernesto Illy, 80, honorary chairman of Illycaffe, headquartered in Trieste, Italy, is to miss out on a "better, healthier and longer" life.
An entrepreneur and scientist, Dr Illy is the son of Hungarian World War I officer, Fransesco Illy, who went on to invent the automatic coffee machine, the predecessor of today's espresso machines.
His company, Illycaffe, which sells a "distinct blend of 100 per cent Arabica coffee in some 70 countries," also gave to the world, today's Italian-style espresso coffee.
All over the world, customers sip some 5 million cups of Illy coffee every day according to modest estimates.
Dr Ernesto Illy, thus, represents the preference of these 5 million die-hard coffee enthusiasts. As a scientist, who devoted his entire life and career to promoting quality coffee, he is also the spokesman of a growing tribe of scientists, who believe that coffee had got a raw deal as a health beverage.
Recipient of Italy's important honour, Cavaliere del Lavoro (Knight of Industry), Dr Illy has been chairman of the International Coffee Organisation Promotion Committee and the Institute for Scientific Information on Coffee. Over many years of research, he has streamlined what it takes to make a perfect cup of espresso (see box).
In Dubai to underscore the importance of a healthy breakfast (with coffee, of course) to Grand Hyatt's F&B team, Dr Illy's joviality is infectious. Soft-spoken, affable and oh-so gracious, Dr Illy needs little prodding to talk about, what else, coffee. "I can skip lunch or dinner but not my breakfast," he says. "The quality of the breakfast affects your whole day." When travelling, his breakfast includes two double espresso; at home, he has two strong cups of tea from India and then, coffee, all day.
With his excellent academic track-record, it is only natural that Dr Illy reels out scientific facts, figures and terms. Yes, as a listener, you tend to get lost in the face of such torrential scientific talk, but the bottom line is rather straight-laced: Trust that mug of coffee. It isn't harmful, when not in excess. It is even good remedy to beat two vile habits: Drug abuse and alcohol addiction.
Dr Illy says that his life is testimony to this theory, now endorsed by many scientific bodies.
Many years back, he had to remove his tonsils and the doctors gave a shot of morphine "enough to put a horse to sleep." It had no effect on Dr Illy, who recalls that "it was horrible to remove your tonsils without an anaesthetic."
Why didn't the morphine work? That question taunted Dr Illy. Years later the scientific community (in which he too plays a key part) came up with the answer. The receptors in the brain that are blocked by the components in morphine are the same that are blocked by a component in caffeine — the "lactone of the caffeilquimic acid." Due to many years of his coffee drinking, his neuro-receptors had become immune to morphine.
These studies are now being implemented to good use in Russia and the Nordic countries. In Norway, it has been proved that 64 per cent of an average adult's antioxidant intake comes from coffee (antioxidants are proven to help mitigate the chances of heart disease and cancer).
Initial research on coffee, says Dr Illy, misled the public, more so because instrumentation techniques were not as fine tuned then as now. One scientist, who researched the impact of caffeine on human brain used 60 mgm per kilogram of body weight (while espresso's caffeine content is hardly 1 to 2 mgm per kg of body weight). That was an alarmingly high level, which led him to the conclusion that coffee could be harmful to health.
Dr Illy recommends three to five cups of regular coffee per day, each containing about 100 mgm of caffeine per cup. It is metabolised in three hours in men; the metabolism is 25 per cent faster in women.
One cup of espresso coffee (brewed as listed in box), Dr Illy explains, has about 50 to 55 mgm of caffeine. This is quite close to the caffeine content in cola at about 46 mgm. Illycaffe uses Arabica beans for its coffee for the principal reason that its caffeine content is lower compared to Robusta coffee.
A perfect espresso cup comes from 50 Arabica beans, says Dr Illy. Naturally, it is important that each bean has a stringent quality standard. "We can ensure that only through an excellent relationship with farmers. We know majority of our farmers in India, Africa, Colombia and Brazil, personally." Illy has also developed special machinery to identify and eliminate even a single defective bean.
Dr Illy believes that his contribution to coffee has been the "application of science to improve its quality." It is a long chain of factors that govern the ultimate cup quality. "It starts the moment I decide to put the plant in a location because there is a strong link between the genome of the plant and the environment in which it lives," explains Dr Illy.
From reducing the water content in the cherries to checking the blend to picking those vital 50 beans, the prefect cup goes through several environmental and technical processes. "There are over 2,000 components in coffee that give it the flavour," says Dr Illy.
All scientific research on coffee has eventually focused on caffeine — "the prima donna," according to Dr Illy. "In over 20 years, there have been 17,000 research papers on caffeine."
Dr Illy says it is easy to try for oneself and realise why coffee is a cup that ticks. Place mugs of espresso, regular coffee, tea and cola. "The cola is sweet but you drink it and forget it, it has no after-taste; tea is rich in aroma but has little body and is low in taste; regular coffee does not have too much aroma — milk has already reduced its bitterness; and finally, there is the espresso which is rich in aroma and has a lasting impression of taste. It is a clear winner. With espresso, you cannot cheat on its flavour or taste."
Dr Illy's advise to qahwah drinkers is to make sure that it is made from finely ground beans, and preferably filtered, because the residue in qahwah has been identified as having a component that increases body cholesterol levels.
And finally, he is all too pleased to be in the region, that gave coffee its name, which according to Illy is a clear derivative of the Arabic word, qahwah, meaning "plant beverage," and not necessarily connected to the birthplace of coffee, the Abyssinian region of Kaffa.

The perfect espresso

The rules for a perfect espresso using Illy coffee

* Water temperature should be 90°-95°C
* Coffee in cup temperature should be 80°-85°C
* Dosage should be 6-7 grams per espresso cup
* Volume in cup should be 30 ml
* Time extraction should be 25-30 seconds.
(Source: www.illy.com)

The Darebaghis in Dubai

2005-11-02T13:00:00.000+03:00

Intense imagery

The Darebaghis — Iranian brothers Mostafa and Morteza, and Mostafa's wife Shahla Moghaddam — exhibit their works at Majlis Gallery, Bur Dubai, through Nov. 4. Rajeev Nair has the details

If there is a meeting of minds in the paintings of Iranian brothers Mostafa and Morteza Darebaghi and Mostafa's wife Shahla Moghaddam, it could only be coincidental.
For all the current American moorings of Mostafa and Shahla, the three still are bound by strong, regional impressions — of the land and its people.
They had first exhibited at Dubai's Majlis Gallery in 1997. Then, they were fresh from "their shared studio, looking north towards the mountainous fringes of Tehran and venturing south to seek new experiences and inspiration."
Today, they have travelled further afield; in fact, Mostafa and Shahla work out of their studio in the US, while Morteza finds comfort in Tehran.
Over the years, they have evolved new languages but retained the "simple intensity of their artistic statements."
That captivating intensity is the essence of the current exhibition. If Morteza presents his collection of truly Arabian sketches, painted specially for the current show, Mostafa and Shahla are rooted in their individual artistic leanings.
Together, the three styles, with their varied palettes, brush strokes and attitudes, make for a visually stunning imagery. And yet, there is a synergy, a faint echo of three minds working in unison, that resonates at the exhibition.
In Morteza's current collection on show, there is absolutely no scope for ambiguity. He paints dhows, beaches, oryx, camels and people with astounding directness.
Which comes as a surprise if you study his original portfolio that has a large share of figurative abstracts. At Majlis Gallery, he almost poses for an impressionist.
Mostafa, but, adheres to his style statement: Of angular shapes and the recurring imagery of roosters, fishes and goats. Some of his paintings make two perfect halves: One section totally abstract, the other with his vintage angular patterns.
It is a style that rubs off, occasionally, on Shahla's works too. But the larger collection proclaims her preoccupation with bold colours, dramatic brush strokes and an eye for details.
Morteza, younger to Mostafa, and currently in Dubai as part of the exhibition, is rather shy when it comes to words to describe his artistic career. As one of Iran's original artists, his comfort zone clearly lies in painting, in expressing himself through colours and not in words.
For the Dubai exhibition, he has painted dhows, beaches, boats and camels — all representations of what he saw here. Nothing was photographed. No rough sketches were made. He painted them all from memory — including a rendition of the Majlis Gallery.

The paintings, for its direct content, could even be considered too simplistic to be heavyweight art. But the finer details and the instant sense of association they generate make all the difference.
How about closing one of your eyes, and cutting out the boundaries of the painting, to study the boats and beaches minutely? The paintings suddenly seem to come to life, to lie out to infinity, beating the space-time constraint of the canvas. If that isn't the success of art, little else is.
"I like my (direct) style," says Morteza. "With these paintings, I simply want to bring out the culture of the region."
Yet, there is the figurative abstract artist, not wholly into reality bites, lurking in the background. The Arab nomads — men and women — all have dabs of red on their headwear or on the desert background. "Red is a very warm colour," explains Morteza. "It perfectly suits the warmth of the region — the desert and the city."
There is fluid motion too to the paintings. One work looks at the land ashore from the stern of a dhow. Another has waves breaking on the shore. In both, the fluidity of the subject is perceptible.
Morteza does not bring politics to his art. "I don't like politics, and I don't like to bring politics to art."
But what he does bring to his works is life. Intense and natural.

A profile of two Arab artists

2005-10-26T14:58:00.000+03:00

Distinctive expressions

In a rare teaming up, two artists from the Arab world, Yousef Ahmed, a Qatari national, and Jamal Abdul Rahim, a Bahraini, present their works at the Majlis Gallery Dubai through Feb. 19. Rajeev Nair has the details

Photographs: Mohammed Rasheed

One man celebrates the spiritual dimension of calligraphy with the creative flourish of abstract art; the other salutes art from a thoroughly individualised perspective experimenting with print-making techniques and leather-art, to name but two...
Artists Yousef Ahmed from Qatar and Jamal Abdul Rahim from Bahrain however share one common ground: An Arab sensitivity to issues.
That perhaps is the one factor that complements their joint exhibition, untitled, currently on at the Majlis Gallery, Dubai. The artists say that by displaying their works together, instead of segregating them, they derive the power of creative expression from one another.
Ahmed and Rahim, while following two streams of artistic expression, have one more common ground: A passion for the Arabic language. The language is their inspiration, their muse, and they flaunt it.
And then there are the thoroughly individual streaks.... Ahmed was sort of groomed in art, inspired by his father, an employee with the Qatar Petroleum Company, who would bring home colours and brushes. The young boy was encouraged to play with them.
Rahim, on the other hand, was a latecomer into rendering art. He appreciated art alright, but it was one of those moments, when a conviction in his own abilities took the upper hand, that drove him to actually sit down and create art.
If Ahmed worked on calligraphy to start with, Rahim has been a man of many media. Ahmed eventually got to mix abstract notions in the foreground of what is essentially calligraphic art; Rahim continues his flirtations with diverse media, sometimes highlighting Andy Warhol-esque touches, other ways expounding the prevailing Miro influences but invariably, creating his own stamp of art that is thoroughly Arab in content, feel and idea.
Yousef Ahmed is not a stranger to Majlis Gallery. He has visited the place often; Rahim had exhibited at the Sharjah Biennial. Both believe that exhibiting ones works beyond one's immediate confines are important. "Every artist has a message," says Rahim. "We must try to participate in conveying this message from country to country, region to region."
However, creating art for the sake of exhibitions does not curry favour with them. "That way, you cannot concentrate on your work. Art is a spiritual exercise — you can't ignore it," says Rahim.
The Arab flourish in his works are deliberate, says Ahmed. "In Qatar, we do not have the mountains like in the UAE or the green you see in Bahrain. We have flat deserts and bright blue skies. That is essentially what is reflected in my works, which have predominantly dusty colours." Ahmed says while he has brought Arabic calligraphy to the foreground, local realities form his backdrop.
Rahim builds his art from the rich Arab civilisation, its mythology, religion and language. "But each artist has his individuality. I see from a view that is different from the others. And essentially, with each of our interpretation, we are building the history of the region through the principal subject — man."
Both artists have exhibited extensively, and they agree that they can gauge the viewers' reaction, only too well. "But you don't anticipate or work towards that. Appreciation in fact should reach out to the art. A true art lover will travel to the end of the world, if need be, to seek out the art he wants," says Rahim.
Artists pick their raw material, their inspiration from everywhere, he says, on the Warhol-esque touches and Miro influences in his works. "To be a poet you must read great poets; to be an artist, you study others. We, as humans, share one collective history, and it is a constant give and take of influences." But he adds that his own style is thoroughly rooted in the Arab civilisation.
Rahim likes to reach his art out to as many interested takers there are. That is one reason for his affinity to print-making. Today, he has probably the largest print-making workshop in the Gulf, in Bahrain. "I regard myself as a student and a teacher of art at the same time. I am still searching art. I spent a lot of time in my workshop, exploring the lines and colours I can get."
At Majlis Gallery, he has also brought in some leather-art, which is yet again, another medium for expressing himself. He says he is an artist for the sake of it. "You enjoy the moment at work. And once you are through with the moment, any moment at work, you smile — that is the satisfaction that art provides. There are no absolutes in art: Abstract or reality — both are right. Every thing depends on your taste."
Ahmed says Arab artists have acquired true international stature over the years. "Their background is firm, their training is strong and they catch up with the techniques fast. Today, you can observe Arab artists taking an upper-hand at international exhibitions."
Both say that artists are at the forefront of any socio-political change in the making. "Every where you go, artists are in the front-line. We carry the message forward," says Rahim. "That means, we must also know what goes around us. We have to use our eyes and ears to see and hear the world. If politics is the craft of lying, art is an expression of reality. There are no borders for artists or art."

A DSF feature

2005-10-26T14:56:00.000+03:00

And then, luck smiles...
Today will not be another day for some Dubai residents — and visitors too. Today, they will smile better and breathe a little easier, as they go to bed richer. Today, they would have won a slice of the DSF raffle. Rajeev Nair portrays a day in DSF vis-à-vis the month-long celebration’s most participated event — the raffle draws — meeting the winners and talking to those who make it all happen

Photograph: Rajan

This morning, the octagonal raffle-box is empty. Hit by the desert wind, it takes a quick rotation but fights back to gain control. The wind pushes it further; it relents with hesitation. Now, at this moment in time, any movement it takes makes no difference.
Last night was another matter. There were 80,000 bits of paper inside – each one, the key to a fortune. A little shove - and luck takes a twist, a turn.
Last night, there were the arc lights. Fireworks had set the backdrop. Fountains sprang to life, sound boxes blared, and people gaped at the raffle-box with eagerness, sometimes with nonchalance – but hope, unfailingly, welling up.
Not waiting for the wind, many hands turn the box round; after all, luck needs a little push. And when all is set, the entertainers leave the stage and the speeches are made, a hand ploughs through the box’s innards. Fingers scramble; two paper pieces cling to them. It is a defining moment - for two lives. Which one will change for good? Which one will stay on, its course unaltered?
The hand thumbs off one, lifts out the other, and the name on it is read out aloud: A winner is born. Telephone lines will now buzz to life; the winner, probably, readying to sleep, will go to bed richer, not perhaps able to believe the singular stroke of luck that, for many, will hopefully lend life a new course.
Raffles come announced; luck comes as it always does – without fuss. The hullabaloo will follow later – the interviews, the felicitations, the well-wishers, the envious eyes…
At the Dubai Shopping Festival, luck favours, simply, those who buy.

Luck’s abundance comes in the zeroes that follow a one. The more, the merrier. And in this Arabian city, during one month of the Dubai Shopping Festival, the zeroes numb you with their lavishness. Dhs100 million – how does one spell it out in figures? Dhs100 million is the total prize money that Dubai visitors and residents will take home during the one-month shopping extravaganza – from the three principal raffles organised by the DSF Committee, and from the countless lucky draws hosted by the malls, supermarkets, fashion retailers and neighbourhood stores.
The raffles are an eagerly awaited event. Year after year, people pin their hopes on that one stroke of luck that will change their lives — for good. For some, winning a fortune is just another go in life — they are the ones who have already made their millions. For others, even with a lot less number of zeroes appended to the winning “one,” luck comes for the better, a remarkable better, that should see debts cleared, burdens eased and aspirations achieved.
And when luck smiles over Dubai, it is hardly selective. It makes a random draw and encompasses in its stride the rich and the not-so-rich, men and women, the aged and infants; indeed, luck doesn’t differentiate.
A man who once slept in the hills, lost in the wilderness of Ras Al Khaimah (see box), as an early fortune-seeker in the Arab world, finds that he can live like a millionaire in a fancy waterfront apartment in New Dubai…
A man who borrowed Dhs5 to buy a telephone card to call home gets richer by half a million in one single stroke of fortune…
A man who hoped to help his friend for the marriage of his daughter finds an unexpected source of money opening up…
A man who hesitates to spend money because he has no money, still makes “missed calls” on the mobile phone of the DSF committee, finding it hard to believe that he is richer already by Dhs500,000…
A child wins his father five kilogramme worth of gold…
A doting father wins one kilogramme of gold after he bought gold for his son’s marriage…
There is always a story to the ways of luck. Sometimes it makes human interest copy. Sometimes it suffices with a quote: “I never expected this…” Whichever way you look at it, raffle draws are a major ‘draw’ of DSF — if only for the sheer change it brings about on human lives.
Raffle winners, quite often, are hard to pin down. Today, they are all over the dailies and the television, smiling lavishly as they collect the prizes. Tomorrow, they are social recluses, wary of every telephone call they receive… They have won it big and God alone knows how they will manage all this money! Unknown people are not to be entertained at this crucial juncture in life, and no thanks, they don’t need any additional publicity.
However, what Ibrahim Saleh, chief operation officer, Dubai Shopping Festival and head of the raffle committee (see box), finds absolutely gratifying is the way raffles touch people’s lives. “Yes, there are winners who are already wealthy and another win might not mean anything for them, but there are others who participate in the raffles knowing fully well how it would change their lives. I have seen how money, indeed, goes to those who are really in need.”
Abdulla Hassan Amiri, operation co-ordinator, who is more like the “face” of the DSF raffle, seen every night on Dubai TV congratulating winners on stage, says every winner makes him happier, more so, because he has been hearing stories and meeting people who in a lifetime of sweat and toil would not have managed to save even a fraction of the huge win they have taken home this DSF.
A DSF raffle draw follows a well-delineated procedure, which starts the night before. That is when the contents of the huge raffle-boxes in the main stage at Global Village, where the daily draws are held, are emptied into the bags of courier companies, which transport it to a secure place. These coupons are for the grand draw on the final day: Feb. 12, when with one stroke of luck, one person will win Dhs10 million cash, another, ten Nissan vehicles and a third, 100 kg of gold (and good lady-luck, what happens if all the three are won by one?)
Every day presents new winners at the DSF office; they have been informed of their previous night’s win and they are at the office to make sure that the news has not been a nasty prank (oh yes, crank calls made by friends are a flavour of the season)… The committee members collect the coupons, verify the details, ask for proof of identity and welcome them to the prize distribution ceremony that evening.
Meanwhile, the raffle boxes, the little ones strategically placed all over Dubai — for gold, the Nissan and the Lexus — have started brimming up. Every sale worth the stipulated amount fetches the customer the coupon, which goes into the raffle box. Inside, the names are a microcosm of the cultural plurality of Dubai — Arya, Mohammed, Isha, Katherine, Keith, Yasmine… they are names now, maybe winners tonight.
Aramex, a transportation solution provider, is entrusted with the task of delivering all the gold coupons from 53 collection points all over Dubai to the Global Village by 8pm. Hussein Hachem, general manager, UAE, Aramex, says the company has a dedicated team of couriers and supervisors on the job, who start the DSF raffle box delivery work at 4pm every day.
Aramex has to collect from 47 points for the weekly gold draw for the prize of 5kg gold too, for which it puts additional staff. “Traffic is a general problem, for all,” says Hachem. “We start early to make sure there is no delay in delivery. We have some 20 people on the job and we have dispatchers who are in constant contact with the couriers.”
The company has been doing the DSF job for the past nine years, and never once has there been a delay, he adds. During the Eid holidays, this year, when traffic came to virtual standstill, Aramex still managed to deliver the boxes on time, with some timely help from the DSF committee and the Dubai police, says Ajmal Khan, one of the first couriers with the company, who today leads Ibrahim, Jaudeen, Hussein, Feroz Khan, Thaha, Majid and Pazhani on the daily routine of collecting the boxes.
Similarly, the raffle boxes of Lexus and Nissan coupons are also transported to the Global Village, where the main stage comes to life with the Dubai TV crew taking camera positions ready to transmit the draw, live on television. The venue has a dreamy feel: Ten Nissan cars line one end of the huge stage; three Lexus vehicles deck up the other. In the centre is the gold raffle venue, replete with a huge poster of Indian film actor Amitabh Bachchan, serving as the brand ambassador of the DSF commemorative coin.
Arc lights lit up the stage, and huge sound boxes, wrapped in plastic to drown a little of the decibel level, come alive with Arabic music. Abdullah Amiri of DSF reaches the venue much earlier. He must welcome the guests of the evening – today, a beauty queen, a gold and jewellery entrepreneur…
There is the constant backdrop of the gushing fountains – playing with hues myriad. And at 9pm, the sky is lit with fireworks. Together with the fog machines that cloak the stage in surreal charm, this space is suddenly the hotspot, the most happening place in Global Village. Little crowds had formed; others walking past the stage glancing at the cars, and then looking at them again. It is hard to take your eyes off a fortune – seemingly just within your grasp.
Brisk sales happen at the coupon counters near the stage — they cater for the last minute entrants to the draw. Many who have purchased the coupon stay put — after all, luck could descend on them just an hour later.
AM Anil Kumar, an Indian, is all smiles tonight – he is a winner. He flashes the lucky coupon that has fetched him and his nine other friends the three Lexus cars. The ten, most of them staying together in a flat in Sharjah, had pooled the money to buy the ticket. It has been a routine for the last six or seven years, and Anil Kumar has always been the “team leader,” the man who initiates the purchase. And the friends always bought the ticket in Anil’s name.
A debit collector with Al Ghandi, Anil hasn’t won at raffle draws before, nor have his friends. This time, when they purchased the ticket at Deira City Centre, Anil did a little mental math, totalled the figures on the ticket number to his lucky number, seven, and then, forgot all about the draw.
The very next night, he was sipping tea at a neighbouring cafeteria when an Arab sound crackled on his cell-phone: “Mabrook... congratulations… you have won the Lexus raffle.” Another call followed, and a third, this from a person, who saw the draw on television. Anil was not one to be fooled. He took it with a pinch of caution, walked to his room, whispered the good news to his friends, and decided that the celebrations would begin only after the news is confirmed.
Next day, his mobile phone not ceasing to ring, Anil confirmed the news at the DSF office, and now, he is at the Global Village, with his friends Mujeeb, Aziz and Jenu, to claim the prize. The others who will also get one-tenth share each are Mohammed Ali, Subair, Rajeev, Shaijal, Karim and Mohan, who is Anil’s brother.
They have decided to exchange the cars for cash, and Anil has no doubts about what to do with the money: Split it equally among the ten. That is about Dhs48,000 each.
It may not be the kind of money for middle-class individuals looking for one lucky break, but it still would make their life easier. Anil, for one, looks at clearing off some debts, while Mujeeb has decided to shell out a share of the money for the marriage of his friend’s daughter. “Even as we took the ticket, Mujeeb had said he would give the money for the marriage if we won. I guess, it is the luck of that girl which fetched us this prize,” says Anil. The ten-member team might take more raffle coupons but Anil and his friends chorus: “We are not greedy.”
Atif Ilyas, a student who has fetched part-time work at the main stage as volunteer, smiles through the story: He has been listening to such tales over the last fortnight. He is witness to many winners, and he recalls the story of a manual worker in a construction company, who has no driving licence, and won the three Lexus cars. “He had pooled Dhs10 each from 24 other friends to buy the coupon,” says Ilyas, adding with a philosophical note: “It is the needy who win.”
Needy or not, a win at a raffle can recover the cost of the purchase that on the first hand brought you the ticket. That is Mohammed Azmi, a UAE national’s take on he winning one kilogramme of gold. He had purchased jewellery for his son’s marriage and now, is richer with gold. “Luck is a part of life,” he says, and “winning raffles feels good.”
S Unnikrishnan, another Indian who won the Nissan raffle, hasn’t stopped smiling ever since the telephone call that brought him the glad tidings. Anyway, he smiles a lot, and the win has only given him another reason to spread the joy.
A draughtsman with a contracting company in Sharjah, he had tried his luck with three or four coupons, all linked to telephone card purchases. He has been in Dubai for seven years; this is his first win, and he intends to sell the car. He has some plans with the money – building a house is a priority.
That, indeed, is virtually every expatriate Indian’s dream – to own a house. Unni, as he is called, has always believed in luck, as in God, and the win gives him all the more reason to “thank the good heavens.”
Anil Kumar now collects the prize from Abdullah Amiri. He throws a thumbs-up to his friends; they reciprocate and the action is caught on television. The camera also captures other faces – some eager ones looking forward to the next draw, the one that might make a few among them climb those eight steps to the podium — to riches, and some fame.
The arc lights are put off; darkness envelopes the stage but for the gleam of the cars. The fountains behind still spring to life, the fireworks are done for the day. The festive din from the nearby pavilions is dying down. The crowds have thinned.
And yet, much after the draws are done and the winners return home, there, by the stage, will still stay put a few people, some fresh faces staring into luck’s little turf. It is hard to read the emotion on their faces.
Luck, tonight, has side-stepped them but they aren’t complaining. There is a tomorrow, and tomorrow, a new day, could also hold a new future. Meanwhile, they can dream on, and their dreams can take wings….
In Dubai, in this 30-day festival, theirs are the dreams that indeed come true…

Touching lives
DSF’s chief raffle draws are for gold and cars but in this tenth anniversary year, there is more cash to be won too, than ever before

Ibrahim Saleh, chief operation officer, DSF, remembers meeting with a winner, from Bangladesh. He is a driver working with a local family in Ajman. He had spent close to one-third of his monthly salary on the Lexus raffle coupon. “He couldn’t believe that he had won the draw, and he was giving us missed calls on our mobiles expecting us to call back even after he was informed of the win,” recalls Saleh.
Winning, obviously, hasn’t changed old habits. Big money has come his way but the man still knows that every fil not spent is every fil earned. It really doesn’t matter that he has just won close to Dhs500,000.
Tales that strike a chord fall aplenty on the ears of the DSF raffle committee members. After all, it has rolled out a raffle extravaganza in the tenth year of DSF offering Dhs50 million in prizes — apart from the Dhs50 million worth of prizes that DSF sponsors, support sponsors and participating outlets give out by way of their own individual promotions.
The DSF committee directly co-ordinates three big draws:
The gold raffle, held in association with the Gold and Jewellery Group, offers one kg of gold every day to one winner picked from those who purchase Dhs500 worth of gold jewellery; five kilogramme of gold (worth half a million dirhams) to one person weekly chosen from those who have bought the Dhs250-worth commemorative DSF gold coin; and finally Dhs5 million worth of gold – all of 100 kilogrammes picked at the grand draw.
The Nissan raffle gives away one Nissan every day to a lucky winner, who gets a coupon on purchases from Dhs25 onwards from DSF sponsors and support sponsors. Winners choose, again by luck, from ten Nissan models ranging from the high-end Nissan Patrol to the Nissan Sunny. The grand prize is all ten cars equivalent to Dhs1 million in cash.
The Lexus raffle, one of the highlights of DSF, is another daily draw that offers the winner three Lexus cars – LX470, RX330 and ES300 – worth approximately half a million dirhams. Five thousand coupons, priced Dhs250 each, go into the raffle. The grand draw is for Dhs10 million cash – all who have purchased the ticket getting two chances to win it big.
Saleh says the committee, over the last years, has gained enough expertise to handle the draws, which are held every night at the Global Village main stage. The challenge, however, is to ensure that all the coupons, from all over Dubai, reach the stage in time for the draw. “We ensure that no one loses a chance in buying the coupons or participating in the draw,” he says.
Security is of utmost importance in conducting the raffles, says Saleh. “We make sure there are no counterfeit coupons and we have a mechanism of identifying them, if any. We do random checks as well as scrutinise the winner’s coupon before handing over the prize.”
Preparations for the raffle draws start some three months in advance with the coupons printed in total privacy at a local printing press, which has been associated with the draws for the previous years.
In Dubai, it is not uncommon for many people to come together to purchase raffle coupons, pooling equal share of the price. However, the DSF committee’s responsibility on the prizes ends with distributing it to the winner; it does not look into the deals the winner might have made with his friends at the time of the purchase, says Saleh. “But if there is more than one name on the coupon, we call all of them and ensure the prize money is equally distributed among the people whose names figure in the raffle coupon.”
The DSF committee does not look into money generation from the raffles, says Saleh. “But at the end of the day, there are commercial interests involved because we purchase the cars, we advertise the event, we hire people for sales. All said, our priority with the raffles is not making money. It is about touching others’ lives through the money.”
Saleh believes in luck. “Yes, of course, who won’t believe in luck? There are 5,000 participants in the Lexus draw and only one wins. That is luck.”
Oh yes, lady luck smiles over Dubai – and DSF simply makes her smile with abundant flourish.
-RN

On millionaires’ turf
Kunjeedu Neduvanchery, the winner of a dream home in New Dubai, says winning the raffle draw or not, he is a lucky man

Some 35 years back, when Kunjeedu Neduvanchery, then an 18-year-old, was smitten by the ‘Dubai-bug’ sweeping through his home town in Malappuram, Kerala, he boarded a launch along with 40 others. The scheming boat crew showed the group of tired fortune-seekers a hill far from the shore, and said, beyond it lay the paradise they sought.
Beyond the hill, Neduvanchery discovered more hills. And more hills. And mounds of brown earth, rock-bits strewn in between, and little vegetation. Surely, by any guise, this wasn’t paradise. The group slept in the hills lost, tired, hopeless, hungry and tormented, five days before they spotted a goat. The first instinct was to kill and eat it when better sense prevailed. If there is a goat around, there must be a herdsman too.
And thus it came to pass that Neduvanchery reached the bedouin in the hills of Ras Al Khaimah who took him to a nearby town. With the permission of the policemen, he moved into Dubai, and found work as the domestic helper in an Arab family.
The dark hills are still fresh in his memory. So there is no mistaking the conviction in his words as he says: “Good fortune does not change me.” He regards himself as a lucky man, raffle wins or not. That he won a luxury apartment in Dubai in Eppco-Enco's 'Live Like a Millionaire,' weekly DSF raffle draw is an aside for the man, who believes in leading a life, owing not a penny to anyone.
He has lived his whole life so: Staying clear of debts, he has slept all his life peacefully and now, this sudden stroke of luck is not going to affect him one wee bit.
It has been hard to pin down Neduvanchery for a chat. He is a driver with Kohinoor Bakery in Sharjah. He sets off for work at 4am, and he is relaxed enough to talk — about his good fortune — only at night. Finally, meeting him between work schedules, on Sheikh Zayed Road, Neduvanchery looks every inch the hardworking man that he is.
He hauls cartons of freshly baked breads and cakes; he collects the money, and on the seat inside his van are bags of coins — his day’s collection. Neduvanchery has been working all his life. When his school education came to an abrupt end and his family fell into hard times following his father’s death, the young boy took to travelling. He toured much of north India before settling down in Andhra Pradesh working in a tea-stall. A compelling urge took him back to Kerala, and to the “launch.”
After working with the Arab family, he moved to Abu Dhabi, and started off as helper to a spray-painter. Eight years later, he visited home — for the first time ever since he set foot in Arabia. He married, stayed on for some time, and returned to Abu Dhabi only to lose his job in an administrative move. He decided to return home, where he stayed on for two years.
In his second-coming to the UAE, he has been working with Kohinoor Bakery for the last 15 years. He has eight children from two marriages – his first wife died many years ago. As responsibilities go, he has eased most of them. He has built a house, married off all his daughters except one, who is still a student.
Luck, he says, has blessed him always. “I married off two of my daughters at the same time, and yet managed to return here without incurring any debts.” Debts are what he dreads and what he keeps at bay. He lives with the money he earns.
He had wanted to buy a DSF raffle ticket for the heck of it, and this year, he set aside Dhs300 for it. He bought a Lexus raffle, and with the Dhs50 that remained, bought a telephone card, from a petrol pump he frequents. He was looking into the other benefits that accrue from buying the card like tyre check-ups.
And so when he slept through the Eid holidays — these are only two days in a year that he sleeps totally at ease, he says — Neduvanchery wasn’t amused when a call came announcing him as the winner of the raffle for a luxury home in Dubai. One of his room-mates had last year been at the receiving end of a crank call, and Neduvanchery wasn’t going to fall prey. He slept on.
But next day, he clarified the prize at the petrol station, where he bought the card, and he holds close to his heart one remark an employee made to him: “Did you win the prize?” he asked. “I am happy for you; it is as if I myself have won it.”
Neduvanchery is a heart patient; he follows a strict diet, and he has little of fanciful dreams. He does not intend to stay in the flat; he will sell it. He has made no plans with the money: “God would have scheduled it all,” he says. His family is asking him to return home but Neduvanchery wants to work, and live a life, debt-free…
The raffle is just “another stroke of luck” in his life, an extension of the luck that has seen him through a burdened childhood, a journey through an ocean unknown, and mundane issues galore…
Luck, he feels, has been smiling on him... all along.
-RN

February 2005

Spices Trade in the UAE

2005-10-26T14:52:00.000+03:00

On spices trail
Wars have been waged over spices; the foundations for colonial empires based on their appeal. Arabia, which once enjoyed a virtual monopoly in spice trade through its historic sea-links with India, today, sees new trends in spice marketing and consumption. The watchword is convenience. Rajeev Nair writes

It is a whiff that launched a thousand dhows. The allure of spices, which took the first Arab merchants to the coast of India, also set a trail for ambitious Europeans to build colonial empires in far-flung lands, and triggered meanly contested, fiercely fought wars — on land and at sea.
Today, many centuries after the first dhow from Arabia sought out the spice-rich coast of Kerala, India, spices continue to dominate the flavours of the Arabian lifestyle.
Conservative estimates put the beginning of the Indo-Arab spice trade some 3,000 years behind in history. The Indian Spices Board, the Indian ministry of commerce and industry's strategic arm to promote spice trade, winds the clock a further four millennia back.
Obviously, much has changed. Once predominant source markets have given way to start-ups; raw spices ground to taste, patronised with fervour until recently, have given way to convenience packages.
Colonial hangovers remain in spice trade but the mighty emperors have hung up their boots. In that space has rushed in entrepreneurs — small, medium and truly, multinational — all eyeing the fortunes that hinge on spices.
There is a new writing on the wall, though not necessarily total shifts in spice preferences per se. Black pepper remains the king of spices, and cardamom is its queen. But there are other overtures — a preference for spice mixes and masalas, for one.
The UAE, which forms a key part of India's high-value spice market — the West Asia and North Africa (Wana) region, signals such new trends that are then passed on to the rest of Arabia.
Giri Nair, director, Shama Food Industries, which boasts a truly Arabic brand name for its range of spices, gives the example of a trade enquiry from Lebanon for Malabar fish curry masala mix. "The spicy Malabar fish curry is not even remotely associated with Lebanese culinary traditions. Yet, the market is warming up to such new possibilities."
For long, a hub in re-exporting spices, imported from the Malabar coast in India for richer markets in Europe, Dubai today witnesses a flush of spice retailers — at least two of them having full-fledged manufacturing and packaging units in the city.
The winning formula in retailing hinges on quality. Gyma Enterprises, which trades in exotic spices, herbs and dried fruits, enjoys "34 per cent market share in the A and B category" according to its general manager, Jean-Marc Lourau. Processed and packaged at its plant in the Jebel Ali Free Zone, Gyma pegs its market stakes on "purity" and has HACCP and SQF 2000 certifications.
Traditionally, the biggest competitor to spice retailers, apart from the traditional spice souks, has been the unorganised "flour mills." Their market share has plummeted with more seasoned players making a foray, says Shaji Thomas, retails sales and marketing manager, Gyma. Lourau attributes this to the quality levels that go into packaging branded products.
Giri Nair points out the Sudan 1 toxic dye (this red dye was found in a chilli powder used by a British company to make Worcestershire sauce) scare that has caused a ripple in the retailing industry. "In the unprofessional spice retail sector, there is no way you can monitor for such contamination."
The seasoned players, therefore, say it is imperative to trust branded products, especially those packaged locally. "It is like marketing milk, fresh from the farm. We bring spices ground today fresh to the supermarket shelves," says Nair.
Even as branded spices are on the rise, they also face stiff competition from the very supermarkets that house their products. Many local retail outlets have their own "in-house" spice brands. And in a bid to stifle competition, the retail outlets have introduced the practice of "category management" wherein only very few spice brands are given shelf-space.
It is in this context that out of the box thinking and a close scrutiny of actual market trends come handy. Shama, for example, has broken ground in the Arab spice blends sector. "Arabs are large consumers of spices. They not only use spices to flavour their curries, they are also aware of its medicinal properties," says Giri Nair.
"Cinnamon sticks are now proved to reduce diabetes and blood pressure; the Arabs were aware of it way back in time. Cloves have long been associated with maternity care here — these are all a part of the Arabian tradition even before Ayurveda came into vogue," explains Binu Nair, marketing manager, Shama Food Industries. Arabs also have a preference for Zatar, a blend of thyme leaves, oil and sesame seeds; and dry hibiscus, which is used as a herbal tea.
"Ordinarily, the local community prefers to buy raw spices and grind them. But today, they are showing a preference for packaged Arab spice blends, which we have introduced in the market. In fact, we have gained about 400 per cent growth in spice blends and packed spices retailing in the Co-op sector alone." He attributes this shift in purchase patterns from bulk buying at the traditional souks to selective picks at the modern supermarkets to the demands of modernity.
In tune with the convenience factor demanded today is the evolution of a vast array of spice mixes or masalas. "Gyma has a strong presence in masalas," says Lourau. "And we also package spices to cater for the distinct requirements of various nationalities, and these are placed in retail outlets based on their predominant clientele."
Spices Board of India, which had showcased a contingent of spice exporters at the recent Gulfood, took part in the Dubai expo particularly to promote "trend of new value-added spice products like instant spice mixes and ready-to-cook meals. We want to shift attention from traditional spices to their export potential," says Dr PSS Thampi, deputy director, Publicity, Spices Board.
Spices Board sees great potential in Arabia. "We had launched our Indian Spices logo in the Gulf, and we also had a trade promotion office in Bahrain," says Thampi.
Though Arab demand for cardamom and black pepper continues, India's dominance as their supplier has been offset by Guatemala and Vietnam, respectively. Thampi forecasts a change in the trend. "Spices Board is launching a new initiative, Flavourit, in association with the Spice Trading Corporation Limited, for promoting cardamom, vanilla and black pepper. This will facilitate on-line marketing. In India, people can also place their orders at the local post office."
He says the chief problem with India is that while it is the "biggest producer and biggest exporter" of many spices, the country is also their "biggest consumer."
The UAE, however, continues to source it thyme leaves from Jordan, and many herbal spices from Turkey. Cumin comes from Iran, Syria and India; nutmeg and cloves are more or less exclusive to India; China claims the cinnamon market; India and Pakistan dominate on chillies; and Iran is the chief supplier of coriander.
India has emerged as the chief supplier of turmeric and ginger, with the country enjoying a virtual monopoly in the turmeric market. The Indian turmeric is preferred for its high curcumin pigment content.
The principal challenge in spice marketing, says Giri Nair, is the price fluctuations of raw spices. Bad crops can get spice prices skyrocketing, which cannot necessarily be passed on to the retail market. "India had a very good monsoon and the crops were good," he says. "This has enhanced the bargaining power of Indian farmers also because many other competing countries faced a bad crop situation."
The dynamism, inherent in spice trade, is set to stay. And even if there aren't empires to build or countries to conquer, spices can still help you fetch a place in the hearts — through the stomach — and that explains the newfound emphasis on instant masala mixes. It is a modern world out here, and the spice trade, which has long marked the tides of history, is not going to sit back idle.

Art: Social Fabric at Majlis Gallery, Dubai

2005-10-26T14:51:00.000+03:00

Harmony in fabric
The Dubai International Women’s Club showcases a collection of hand-crafted collaborative tapestries in a DSF-allied exhibition, Social Fabric, at the Majlis Gallery, Dubai. Rajeev Nair has the details

Photographs: Prashanth Mukundan

Nobody, nothing, really changes. For mankind, life — yesterday, today and tomorrow — is an essential cycle of birth and death, love and hatred, little joys and sorrows, hope and frustrations… and whatever the changes one may witness, they are cosmetic, outward, the inevitable frills of development.
That poignant observation on life by Mariam Behnam, stemming from about “75 to 80 years” of living in Dubai, serves as more than a footnote to ‘Social Fabric,’ an exhibition of handcrafted collaborative tapestries on display at the Majlis Gallery in Bur Dubai. Indeed, her words define the true core of the event.
As senior advisor to the Dubai International Women’s Club (DIWC), the organisers of the exhibition, Behnam adds: “At heart, we are still human beings who love friends, who need friends and who like to be together…”
Togetherness — that is the underlying message of Social Fabric, a statement on universal solidarity, springing from the bosom of Dubai, presented to the world at the most opportune of all times — the Dubai Shopping Festival — when the world comes to Dubai, as one happy family.
Hosted away from the city’s festive din, in the wind-kissed silence of a bastakia, where time pauses in yesterday’s memories, Social Fabric offers glimpses into the past — pertinently on the Arab world but not constrained to the region. Here, the past holds the key to a better understanding of today, and serves as a poignant reminder to the future. The past — brought to life by nimble fingers, a collective mind-set and the sheer pleasure of teamwork.
Behnam is qualified to do the flashbacks. After all, she has seen Dubai shape — from vast deserts to today’s galloping metropolis. The physical changes to the city don’t rattle her: She accepts it as the inevitability of modernity but she happily adds: “Any progressive country has to move up the ladder, but side by side, Dubai has also been thinking of the past. The DSF is not just about shopping; it implies culture, it is about bringing people together. Dubai has blended the past and the present and that is its beauty.”
And if there is one aspect of living she has learnt from all her life experiences, that is the value of togetherness, “wherever we may live,” which reverberates in the Social Fabric exhibition.
Its inspiration is seeded in the historic panels that decorated Victoria and Albert Museum’s Moghul Tents Project in London. It was a venue of expression for the South Asian women in England to demonstrate their embroidery skills; the project soon grew in universal stature.
Behnam, who was invited to view the exhibition in 1993, inspired the DIWC members to work on the first ever tapestry from the Middle East. Created with the assistance of Tina Ahmed, a premier UAE artist, the DIWC work, Open Door, indeed opened doors for Dubai to the world of hand-crafted tapestries.
Proffering glimpses of Dubai’s evolutionary past — the dhows, nets, camels, the traditional attire — the tapestry presents a door that opens into modern Dubai, breathtaking now with its skyscrapers. Above, an Emirates airline flies through the skies.
The idea, Behnam humbly adds, was hers; she revels in blending the old and the new. “The tapestry was demonstrative of how different nationalities can work together and live together, regardless of differences and bound by a common goal,” recalls Behnam. The panel was so well received in the UK that it inspired a few college girls from Dubai, who worked with Tina Ahmed, to create a second panel, Al Dallal, meaning necklace. It portrays a bride’s entire ensemble.
It too was displayed at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and Behnam was asked to speak on the cultural and historical background of the region — an added honour for DIWC and Dubai. Both Open Door and Al Dallal toured the world extensively before they were returned to DIWC in year 2000.
DIWC had organised an exhibition of the panels along with a few others from Victoria and Albert Museum as part of DSF a few years back. It was the first of its kind experience to Dubai residents.
Now, Social Fabric builds further on it by showcasing four additional panels created by Zainab Al Habashi, Veena Asnani, Alka Katyal, and DIWC’s own 12-member team. Complementing the experience are seven “fabrications” — original artwork created in fabric — by Mara Thorson, a professor at the University of Sharjah.
A school art teacher, Habashi’s work is an Egyptian wall hanging portraying the familiar symbols of Egypt; Veena Asnani, a homemaker, creates Indian women at work, an immensely evocative piece; and Alka Katyal, also a school art teacher, recreates the splendour of a Rajasthani puppet-show, replete with colourful shawls and a snake-charmer.
Harmony depicts women of different nationalities, and celebrates DIWC’s motto of love, friendship, dedication and yes, harmony. Behnam brought the members together, inspiring, encouraging and co-ordinating them.
Mara Thorson’s works are spectacular expressions, all the more noteworthy for the fact that they are made from textile scrap, which she collects from tailors. She used to spin wool and natural-dye them back home in the US, but since relocating to Sharjah some six years back, she had switched to tapestries, defining her art as “fabrication.” She is inspired by her own land as well as the countries she has traveled.
Thorson prefers to work with scrap clothes. “Otherwise you have to spent time shopping, looking for the right material. When you use scrap, it dictates your creativity and thus, there is a certain freedom in the limitation itself.”
She sketches what she has to depict but “if the fabric is not right, the piece would change, and that is the fun of it for me,” says Thorson, who had contacted DIWC seeing a press report inviting tapestries for the show.
The Majlis Gallery was an obvious choice for an exhibition of this nature, says Behnam. “Personally, I am sentimentally involved with bastakias. I was born into one of these. Allison (the Majlis Gallery founder) has done a unique service to the community by keeping history alive, under one roof.” It was a meeting with Allison that sparked the name of the exhibition too: Social Fabric.
Eventually, the event is hoped to win DIWC a permanent place for craftspeople to work together, says Behnam. “We want our women to come and do their age-old art and crafts. It is way of realising our roots…It’s not without reason that we refer to family trees, we have to put together our roots, our branches, to realise how relevant we are as people.”
Behnam says she believes in women as spokespersons for peace and harmony. “Women believe in bringing up their children as good citizens of the world. I have faith in women. I want more of them to work together on events of common interest.”
Suzan Walsh, one of the contributors to the DIWC panel, Harmony, says the whole experience of creating it was joyful. “No one was pressed to do anything; we just loved to work on the panels. We became good friends and we discovered aspects of each other that we didn’t know.”
Sounding off on Behnam; she has only one request to make — to the young and the old: “Please be more humble. This greed for power and money has to stop. As for this world, there should be a place, where people can work together, thinking not of themselves but of others.”
When Social Fabric curtains down and the DIWC dream of a permanent location for artists and crafts-people to work together eventually materialises, perhaps, that dream of the perfect place too would have come true…

Interview - Vikram (Indian actor)

2005-10-26T14:48:00.000+03:00

Winning streak
South Indian actor Vikram has just took home the coveted national award for best actor. A steadfast belief in his abilities and a steely determination to stay put in cinema, he says, have took him to his current status as Tamil cinema's superstar. Rajeev Nair met him in Dubai

Vikram bucks trends. The south Indian actor defies images. His image is "no image." For an actor, who has struggled in bit roles, supporting characters and spells of no-work, today, Vikram rules the box-office.
The true turning point in his career came with Sethu, a film that was remade into Hindi as Tere Naam, featuring Salman Khan. The portrayal of a youngster traumatised in a mental asylum nearly fetched Vikram the best actor award at the national level. Vikram admits he felt dejected for many months.
The film was a box-office hit too, and suddenly, Vikram found himself transforming as the next "angry young man" to hit Tamil cinema. His subsequent films followed a formula: A wronged youngster fighting mobs with bare hands. His heroes wore one-week stubble, dressed shabbily, danced on the streets, and fought and fought. Action took a new dimension in Vikram's films, and audiences loved his heroes with some negative shades thrown in for good measure.
Every once in a while, he took a break from the out and out action roles and concentrated on performance-oriented films. Kashi, a remake of the Malayalam film, Vasanthiyum, Lakshmiyum Pinne Njanum, had Vikram in the role of a blind street singer. In King, he played a dying youngster, checking in from a Far Eastern city to reconcile his dad with his family.
And then came Pithamagan. Director Bala, who had assessed Vikram's talent too well in Sethu, cast him in the role of a cemetery care-taker, who eventually learns love and friendship. Vikram did not have one decent line of a dialogue in the film and he had to convey it all through expressions and a distinct body language.
With Pithamagan, the actor became star had graduated into the boots of an accomplished performer. And now, he stars in hit-maker Shankar's film, almost a year in the making.
He is not prolific in the number of films; he picks and chooses, ensuring that when he arrives at the silver screen, he makes it in style — with a zeal that can be seldom associated with other actors.
He also stands for the youth brigade in Tamil, who offer a perfect complement to the ageing "mega-stars." It was glorious moment for the actor, when Rajnikanth described Vikram as his "heir" to the throne of action star after watching the youngster's film, Sami.
Thoroughly unassuming, Vikram, known to his friends as Kenny, can be an interviewer's delight. No airs. No tantrums. A thorough professional. Excerpts from an interview:

A little late in the day, perhaps, but how has life been since winning the national award?
It feels nice. I guess it has brought about a sort of national level recognition. Though my films have been seen by people down south, up north, they hadn't really aware. Now, suddenly, people from there walk up to me, commend on the film and my performance. It feels good.

Has it compensated for the disappointment at not winning the award for Sethu?
In fact, I wasn't really thinking about an award while Sethu released. Later, it went to the awards, the committee saw it, applauded my performance and wanted to see it again. Until then, I had never hoped for an award but then my expectations started going up. When I didn't win the award, I was low for a couple of months. This time, however, I just took in my stride. If I win, let it be. If not, let it be. But the fact is that I enjoyed doing the role.

Which of the two characters — from Sethu and Pithamagan — do you hold close to your heart?
It has to be Sethu. I would definitely have felt better if I had won the award for Sethu because it is a role I hold dear to myself. It gave me my first break and I had simply loved the story. As for Pithamagan, the involvement was one step ahead. The entire unit worked on the film like a close-knit team. We were all multi-tasking — as assistants to the director, as costume designers... We did a lot of homework too. Every one in the unit felt like an integral part than any other movie we worked on.
As for the character itself, director Bala did not tell me a story. He described the character to me. We worked together much before on every scene, every situation so much that I knew what came before and after every shot. Normally, as an actor, you come up and do the shot. Period. No, with Pithamagan, acting was a continuum. I didn't have to think of the role or character. I just had to go in front of the camera and start off....

On the one hand you do performance-oriented films; at other times, you do out and out action films? What is your comfort zone?
I love doing them both but of course, my first love would be a performance-oriented character. Second comes pucca, real commercial films.

You had done a lot of bit roles, sidekick takes and what not before you made it big. How do you look back on your career?
For me, I guess, success has been the result of a combination of hard work, perseverance and a little talent. I won't add luck to it in a major way because had I been lucky, success would have happened much earlier. But the hard fact is that despite the setbacks and upsets, I never was distracted. Even when nothing happened, and my good friends suggested me to get into business or whatever, their full support always assured, I stayed put with my dreams about cinema. That is important. If you start wavering, start trying to work at other jobs while waiting for chances, you stop looking like an actor. Your psyche changes, you falter. I was like the horse — I knew I had to get there and I went for dancing classes and the like. I was always chasing a goal, and that kept me going.

Now, fame, recognition, money and success later, what next? Have your priorities changed?
Not at all. It took three days for the very fact that I had won the award to sink in, and it burst when I told about the award to my daughter, and watching her rather 'so what?' look, I just feel all the more relaxed. I guess, the award is like a calling card — it is good for national level identification.

You also acted in Malayalam. Your role in Dhruvam with Mammootty was noticed too. Why don't you do more Malayalam films now?
Dhruvam happened after Meera, my third Tamil film. Director Joshy saw my photograph in a magazine and simply asked his production executive, Shanmugam, to fetch me. That was it. But now, it might be difficult to do Malayalam films because the industry can't perhaps pay what I get by doing Tamil films. But then, money is not really a criteria. If I get a good role, something that interests and challenges me, I will do Malayalam films.

It has been reported that you fell-out with Bala, who is regarded as your mentor-director. Is it true?
We go back a long way. We are first friends and we are very close. For all you know, I might just call him right away and start chatting.

You are at the vanguard of the youth movement in Tamil cinema today. Young guys seem to have upstaged the ageing superstars...
Nothing of it is planned. It is just that we have all got more aggressive with our work, especially post-Sethu because it was a film that brought in a new sense of naturality to Tamil films, otherwise known to being out and out commercial and artificial. Sethu was a thoroughly deglamourised character and it has kind of provoked actors to look different, and not be wary of images.

But do you feel, with your action films, you too are falling into an image trap?
I do have an image. That is one of having no image. It can actually work against you. I can't do a normal film anymore. Action or not, my film has to be different.

But your films more or less fall into the groove as far as the story-line and situations are concerned...
Come to think of it. What you can essentially have is a protagonist, an antagonist, a romance, some songs and dances... Such films come in a format but we try to find out what moves the audiences. In a way, it is like life itself. Every one is born, every one dies. But you try to make your subtle differences. I too try to present something that stirs audiences in a different sort of way.

Forever goal-driven that you are, what are your goals now?
I am just taking one film at a time now. My film with Shankar has taken about a year. But the time that goes into production does not matter to me. I am willing to work day in and day out, three days and nights at a stretch until I fall down exhausted. Acting is my passion. I sleep thinking of cinema, wake up and life revolves around it. When I do a project, that alone is in my mind. The food I eat, the make-up I do, the books I read... everything now, centres around the Shankar film. That is my immediate goal. And this role is the most complex I have ever done.

So that is another award-role in the making?
Shankar said so in an interview...

Your characters are angry, you seem like a rebel on-screen. Are you one in life too?
Most people ask me whether I get angry. No, I never lose my temper. If I am upset about something, if I sense a misunderstanding, I just walk up to the person and talk it over. I don't keep things inside me. I am a bad actor in real life. I can't lie, and if I do so, you can make out I am lying. I trust people implicitly and I guess, I am a happy man with no mood swings. I simply don't like chaos.

For one who has seen the true downside of the film industry, with all those disappointments early on, do you feel you are in a position to get even with people who might have hurt you?
I don't hold grudges. In fact, I am only thankful to all — my fans, for patiently waiting for my releases that come after many months; my directors and the press, who has always stood by me. And anyway, I have never asked a chance to work to anyone except Shankar. That I did, after Sethu. I have always wanted to work with him. Mani Ratnam is another favourite. So no director had to actually refuse me work. I know they use actors that work for the totality of the project. That is only practical. I say to my friends that even if my mother were to produce and distribute a film, I won't give her my dates because she is not a good producer or distributor. I keep friendship and relationships separate from my profession. I am very particular about that. I want the best alone for a film I do, and I can very well understand directors making their choice. They always need someone who is viable. Therefore I have no regrets, and certainly, no grudges. You know, I was supposed to do his Bombay and when I missed the chance, I lost sleep for more than a month. Today, I am sitting somewhere comfortable enough, where I can do really good roles and work with really good directors. This is where I have always wanted to be, and I hope that fire doesn't die down in me.

February 2005