"This time he has surpassed himself", "what a movie boss!", "I am a mother like that...probably" and numerous other such emotions went through my mind. But more than anything else, Maqbool and Omkara. Yes, Haider came late in my life. Long after it was released. Because when it was released, I was not fit enough to watch it. So I watched it today, more than one and a half years later. Maqbool had come 4 years after its release, in 2007, on a lonely Saturday midnight which I so fondly describe. And Omkara? Oh, I couldn't wait for Omkara, 2006 August, around independence day, watching it in the theater with my long term boyfriend, celebrating his first return from onsite, the onsite where he proudly went off, after the mutually convenient decision of slaying our yet to be born son was successfully carried through. Yes, I am definitely a mother like that.
Aah the trilogy is finally complete for me...I haven't forgotten a single scene from any of the movies in so many years. And I have a rather weak memory. The absolutely heart wrenching scenes from Maqbool still manage to haunt me. The old man retiring to the bedroom during daytime, and people talking about that unknowingly in front of the silent lover, and I cringing with humiliation. "No, I don't want that kind of a husband - who knows not how to respect the wife...", and she fondling the goat, almost worshipping it, before it'd meet its end. "Don't love no, if you have to kill in the end?"
And then that ever inspiring scene in Omkara, if I'm to die for him, why not tell him about my love and then die? And then that closing scene where she makes a strange face after finally the impact of his accusation dawns on her, and says, I don't want to live anymore...and the real evil kind of humor that was ever made - what if you have lost your jewelry, my wife once lost the kid, have I ever scolded her?
Unimaginable drama. Vishal Bhardwaj's adaptations are not just that, they are Indianizations. Take for instance the music...nothing suavely cinematic about it, just pure rustic theatrics. But you don't ever dare to say that the music is unnecessary. No, it is what the flavor is made up of - and it is very intrinsic to the script - we are grave diggers - we sing about grave digging. In the crisp, matter of fact lyrics of Gulzar...which again never ceases to be an enigma in itself.
Which scene of Haider would remain with me? Not sure, it will come to me gradually.
Which scene as of now, right after watching the movie? Perhaps Arshi all covered in undone red wool, perhaps wondering about why the scarf she had so lovingly knitted, brought about such doom? Or maybe the apprehension whether his mother will kiss him on the lips before choosing her death - a step colossal for Indian cinema, but then mothers do kiss their children on the lips, don't they? Hypocrisy everywhere...that's India for you. People don't dream here, they just obey bloody customs. I love my boy, I would have kissed him on his lips a hundred times were he alive, I can almost see him wiping his lips in disgust, "Ma, I am not a kid anymore..." I am that strange weak lovesick mother who does mistakes. I often feel my puppy is my reincarnated son, but I fee strangely hesitant in getting him vaccinated. Your mom died and my son died. So I feed you just to fill my void. I don't take care of anybody - I couldn't take care of my son. If you survive, that's your good fortune. I won't try and do you good. Your siblings died - I couldn't help them. I can't fight destiny. I can punish myself, I can't bring myself happiness, try as I might...
Were I in Prague now, I'd have raised a flute of quality red wine to the movie...in India you've to just assume the action...I am glad that Haider came last, and so late, you see, Shakespeare is finally 400 years old, yet the ways of the world haven't changed...human beings still go insane and howl in pain...
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