“Rohith’s letter had a calmness to it, a strange lightness to it,” says filmmaker Ramchandra P.N. when I ask him about the title of his latest documentary The Unbearable Being of Lightness on the Rohith Vemula suicide and the student protests that followed soon after at the University of Hyderabad last year. Months before the incident of January 17, Ramchandra had been scheduled to conduct a workshop with a group of students at the University, which had to be cancelled when the climate grew volatile. It was rescheduled only when the boycott was over and the students started coming back to classes.
Circumstances brought Ramchandra to this epicentre of unrest, and the Mumbai-based filmmaker recalls how he had known there would be a film at the end of it all although he wasn’t sure just then of the form it would take. The faint contours of an idea, however, had already started to form as he prepared to leave Mumbai for Hyderabad — this journey itself traced in the course of the film with scenes shot from aircrafts and taxis interspersing with those of the events at the University.
At the film’s centre was Shopcom, the popular student hangout where much of the protests had taken place and where posters, protest songs and other traces of the turbulent days were still on display. This was incorporated into Ramchandra’s workshop where participants had to prepare reports of what they had observed there. The workshop itself was to be documented on film along with the ongoing events at Shopcom and the students’ actuality reports.
Jarring reality
“I knew I had to use Rohith’s letter,” says Ramchandra, and, in a series of scenes shot against a busy backdrop at a shopping mall in Mangaluru, an actor reads out the suicide note. Shot through tilted camera angles, we see people casually milling about, talking, sitting and eating in the background. Against this peaceful, even nonchalant, setting are visible the faint silhouette of a face and a dark crop of unruly hair as we hear Vemula’s last words. This juxtaposition is deliberately uncomfortable. It makes the reality of what is being read out and the general sense of indifference and injustice hang even heavier. Odd angles and the frequent use of a black screen add to this jarring visual experience, an instance of form mirroring content.
A couple of months after the workshop, the filmmaker decided to include sections of the Hindustan Times article by Sudipto Mondal on Vemula’s family history—’Rohith Vemula: An unfinished portrait’— in the film, thereby adding one more layer to the tapestry of narratives. The point was to put different strands together to paint a larger picture. The director feels that this, as opposed to the use of a single self-righteous voice, was the more democratic way of approaching a subject as vexed as this.
Also running through the film is a song performed by the group Hirawal which, the film says, continues to perform and spread its message of protest at various venues across the country. Originally composed by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, the poem ‘Intesaab’ is a “dedication” to suffering and to those who endure everyday injustices, and poignantly welds together the film’s many voices.
Subjectivity matters
Speaking of the documentary filmmaker’s responsibility while dealing with sensitive issues, Ramchandra, who has already made several films in the category, says it is to refrain from imposing one’s own views as the truth. The filmmaker must have the courage to put forth his viewpoint and to acknowledge it as his own. The element of subjectivity is crucial.
The film has been screened at various documentary workshops and institutes in Bangalore and Mysore, at Manipal University, and at Whistling Woods International in Mumbai, among others. Asked about the reactions to the film, especially among students, given their centrality to the subject, the filmmaker says that many students have understandably been disturbed. Questions about the filmmaker’s own political affiliations too have been raised. Commenting on the current climate for the documentary genre and on the present political scenario with its increasing polarisation, Ramchandra describes the process as “painful”.
“Suddenly, people you have grown up with, or have been friends with, are no longer a part of ‘us’ but have morphed into ‘them’. Whose purpose does this large-scale divide serve? While we are fighting among ourselves, quietly our natural resources are being exploited. Nobody is talking about the theft of the deep sea underground gas or invoicing of coal import for electricity or the environment being destroyed in Gujarat, Arunachal, Chhattisgarh and elsewhere or the violation of human rights of forest dwellers in Bastar or even the long-due appointment of the Lokpal. The fear of violence because of religious/ caste polarisation is real and frightening. As documentary filmmakers, we should be trying to grasp the larger narratives of such polarising issues.”
Ramchandra talks of the space for the documentary in India today. A lot of young filmmakers are experimenting with the medium in new and exciting ways, but there is sadly no platform for the films. What’s needed most are places where documentaries can be screened and systems to create an audience base. What’s the point of making socially relevant work, asks Ramchandra, attempts to bring about awareness and change if only a very small portion of the public sees it?
“We have a situation where individual filmmakers contact individual organisers and try to arrange individual screenings. There is no systematic approach. We have failed to create a system of distribution of documentary films in India. If we had a system, I think the impact would have been more,” he says. Social media may have enabled wider general access to works such as these, but it has also simultaneously posed a challenge, that of ‘too many’. As the director quips, “Along with this film, there will be 50 other Rohith Vemula films.”
A film writer, the author also works with Marg magazine in Mumbai, thus bringing together two favourite things: writing and cinema.
