that ‘My Paper Boat’ is sailing successfully to some thinking minds propagating the message of global warming, climate change, drought & displacement. ‘My Paper Boat’ is a simple short film I did with my friends for a competition conducted as part of Copenhagen Climate Change Conference to be held in UK. All the world nations are expected to sign a treaty taking the vow to diminish the Carbon emission for a better future. Today we are quite proud to know that the film is selected as the best film for screening at Copenhagen to convey this message to an international crowd.
Lines from ‘Durbhikshya Boli’ - a poem by poet Sri.Manohar Meher from Sinapali, who witnessed the seven famines of 1899.
Details of the film in NFSC site
Thanks to Mr. M.D. Muthukumaraswamy ( Director NFSC) for giving me this project and Mr. Mahendra Kumar Misra (ASGP) for helping me realize it.
I learned a lot while doing this film - Simple facts like, my life in Kerala and metros in India never told anything about India. As Gandhi said India’s heart is in her villages. In a way one can call India, a big village. Though the project started with the plan of representing the effect of drought in those regions, what I saw was - the tribes were not only suffered from the drought but they were even badly affected by landgravers and corrupted officials. They were displaced form their own land. Gonds shifted to Raipur, remains a living truth of displacement. Interviews with Mr. Ravi Das, Secretary (Kalahandi Vikas Parishad) also proved this fact.
“Starvation is the characteristic of some people not having enough food to eat. It is not the characteristic of there being no food to eat”
a etc etc. Hence I kept the film hidden in my DVD pouch for almost 3 years. A few months back my friend Sachin happened to see it and told me that he liked the whole concept and I must breathe some life into it. Thus this film happened again. A few weeks back I started re-writing and re-editing it. And today I am presenting you ‘My Mirror’ in a better shape, though I still accept that it still retain a lot of mistakes including me and my language. Kindly accept it as an amateur filmmaker’s first effort exploring the media of film. Thanks.Escaping from the load 
noises of crackers, a small group of guys from MCC, as part of a program by OSLE India went into the woods nearby Medavakam Kootu Road (Chennai) to explore and experience the company of birds, on this Diwali. I joined the journey because of my good friends Rayson, Susan and Sachin who belongs to the OSLE India team, and trust me it just became a memorable day in my life. What I have seen only in Animal Planet, (in fact that’s probably one among the very few channels I am in craze of) I experienced the same in the company of our own Steve Irvin, Hopeland from Zoology department Madras Christian College.
I always liked listening to the birds, in fact I had 2 pigeons and quite a few lovebirds at home back in Kerala. There used to be a cage in common for rabbits and love birds. But this time it was way different. Watching a being in its own habitat is quite a joy. They talk
s to you in the language of freedom. I guess my love birds might have also sounded different in their own habitat. At the forest we came across only a few rare specis, in fact other birds were familiar ones. But I don’t think I have ever watched or understood any of them this clear before…. even our very on Cookoo, Maina, Crow or Kingfisher. Hopeland clearly ‘re-introduced’ each of those species to all of us that each of them gained a different status in our minds. I and Sachin went around taking
videos of all of them and the group while Hopeland took his breaks and kept explaining things. Whenever he heard a familiar or unfamiliar call of a bird he would stop immediately and get hold of his binoculars. What fascinated us was his knowledge of other beings too along with the birds. He knew every butterfly in the area and their mode of living. On the way he showed us an agonizing Skelton of a dog, but now it is the home of a colorful beetle. He came out and looked at his guests explaining silently the tyranny and irony of life.
I had a great time videographing a rare Brahminical Maina following it quietly keeping my slippers away, and
of course the adventure in the pond further inside the forest. As soon as we reached the pond side, Hopeland asked us to be quite so that he can get an Owl in his binoculars. Sad... he was hiding somewhere. But yet the pond kept us happy with a vivid view. We saw a few water snakes and two rare species of Kingfishers. Hopeland was so excited watching the snakes and he said that he can try catching one and examine it close. In no time three of us went down to the pond. Hopeland was on one side of the pond and I was trying to focus my camera on him standing on the other side. Hearing our footsteps, quite a few frogs busy in their sun-bath did a quick plunge into the water… it was a great show. I slowly stepped into the water from one side and Hopeland from the opposite side. I guess the water at that side got disturbed and I saw a snake approaching me. It was really fast reached almost my legs. I go
t the shock of my life and tried to move out. I guess the sounds and the ripples made it equally scared. Sensing the presence of a foreign body, in few seconds it took a U-turn and went in a different direction. Meanwhile Hopeland’s leg caught in the mud which he finally struggled his way out and then cautioning me to carry a stick to identify the depth at each level. He tried his best to catch one snake. Guess the whole noise made them too cautious that they smartly hid themselves in the muddy bottom. So we too came out.
On the way back we saw few other birds and some interesting plants. Nirmal sir (English department, MCC) was guiding us in the whole trip, explaining each species and plant with their actual literature connection. He showed as ‘Kunni-mani’ seeds and said that even a few decades back people used it for weighing gold. Rayson kept recording the whole conversations on his phone and others made short notes. We entered the forest land around 8 AM and it took almost 3 hours to just make one small circle of excavation. All thanks to Hopeland who guided us and described the beauty of the bird's kingdom. Though, I don’t really remember the names of all the species he showed us, we are planning to make it a shot docu film with the details ...of course with the help of our own ‘Steve Irvin’.
childhood. He was then a little boy with all the notorious monkey instincts. Memories of those days, hence, still remains as high as those trees at his ancestral house in the village, Avoli. There used to be 4 Nut-Mug (Jathi) trees which was our little cockroach's dream world. Except for the tall coconut trees, palm trees and two giant jack fruit trees there were hardly any tree in the place, he hasn't reached. Little cockroach used to look at the way 'Varky Chettan' (brother) climbed those coconut trees to pluck the coconuts for home. He used to take small breaks while climbing the coconut tree and then look down and smile at us. Little cockroach used to wonder how the world looked from such a height. He used to wonder how he would have felt when the tree swings as he climbs. “Huh I must be looking like an ant for Varky Chettan.”, smiled Cockroach.
of coffee plants) and the thread with the skin of plantain trees. After designing the weapons he would then act like the epic heros of Ramayana or Mahabharatha, realizing the bed-time stories of his grandpa. He also admired Tarzan for his jungle life on trees. Cockroach always tried to imitate tarzan climbing on all the four Nut-Mug trees with the bow and arrow hanging on his back and then shooting at his prey....the poor jack fruits, guava, or champa berrys used to be his target animals. Another game was to shoot arrows aiming at plantain leaves or even high at coconut leaves. Since the arrows used to get stuck on the leaf and hang down, cockroach could count their number and thus decide how good an archer he is. Nut-mug trees had another beauty. It was always been full of leaves that used to hide the 'Guerrilla' warrior from his beloved mother, who must be in search of him, with a long stick ready to paint his butt in black-blue colours.
Now you must be wondering why suddenly the big cockroach at Takolam village ended up thinking about little cockroach. On the last day of his project there, the big cockroach – after a long period of time - became the same Guerrilla worrier shooting from a tall tree.....the differences were...it wasn't a Nut-Mug tree that time, but a temporary palm tree....He didn't have an arrow to shoot, but he did the same with a Panasonic NVGS Camera.
he epic characters Duryodhana, Saliyar and Sakuni (in lying posture, made of sand) at the temple ground. Each of the statue were the size of a shuttle-court and there wasn't any camera angle on the ground or the nearby buildings that he could get a clear-full length frame for the final drama cum ritual. The ritual Therukoothu (folk drama) happens around these statues with the actor who play the role of Bhima finally hitting the thigh of Duryodhana statue, symbolizing the killing of the great villian of Mahabharatha. The total drama was supposed to happen for almost 2 hours and the whole area was been thickly crowded.
Mahabharatha where Arjuna does a penance to please Lord Siva and gain the divine arrow 'Paasupatha'. A look at the tree gave me the same instincts of Little Cockroach. But it was all covered with electric tubes, lights and wires. Thankfully there was an electrician boy Karthik who became a close friend. Cockroach quickly told him to cut all the wires and current connection to the plam tree. In no time Panasonic NVGS cam took the space of Bow and arrow on the back, and cockroach climbed the palm tree. It was tedious and a bit scary coz it was a temporary tree planted only for a day's drama. As he climbed the tree kept swinging in a 'melody'. Somehow cockroach reached the top and sat on the small platform made for Arjuna. 
The day I reached Pondy, we both walked through the French area checking out the buildings and the main sea-side nearby, talking about her research work, my documentaries and so on. Almost half a day went in that and by evening we had a nice South-Indian dinner. Btwn, she is a pure vegetarian and loves true South-Indian flavors and dishes. At night around 10.30 I went back to the bus depot side to find a room to stay and she went back to her place. Almost all the lodges were booked and the only one available had a room till next day early morning 7.They gave it to me for a cheaper rate on the condition that I must leave early in the morning which was pretty much Okay for the Vagabond. I informed her that we would meet by
There were no chirping birds to wake me up. But I still woke up from an unknown world of dream at 
I walked through the sea-side up and down listening to the sonata and reached near a sea bridge...a bit high....it was blocked…looked like a restricted area. It was not me and the joggers alone busy there. Found a lot of fisher man down under the bridge with their morning catch, fishes and squids of various sizes. Suddenly I remember a day while studying in MCC when we went for a 'Turtle Walk ' through the beaches of Chennai at night tracing turtle eggs to protect it from predators of dark. Early in the morning we were asked not to walk in front of the fishermen boats getting ready to sail for their hunt of survival because they consider it as a bad
The sea-bridge was so tempting to climb. From that distance it looked so exciting…stretched towards the sea with the sea on all the three side. For a moment I dreamt of standing at the extreme end… or rather sitting there at the edge stretching my legs to the sea. They say, Sagittarians are a confused lot as they have a serious problem in finding any difference between dream and reality. Dad always keeps questioning me for this attitude. Well what to do dad, I'm born Sa
gi...'I dream' is 'my reality'. I looked around for means to climb the bridge and saw some fishermen walking through the walls of the bridge on which it stands so high in the sea. A second thought hardly have any scope…natural instincts only works well with me. In a few minutes I was there up climbing the walls...quite slippery with the waves hitting it hard reaching almost to the height which I was walking. Kept clicking photos at every step... The roaring sea was so notorious and I am no swimmer. Thankfully the notorious salt water have had already made the surface of the wall so hard giving me great grip. I had to look around now and then to see whether there were any coast guards around. Just walked through the walls to the extreme end and reached a block were it’s mentioned water is steep...Strictly No Entry. But there was a ladder on that side to climb on top of the bridge...Basic Instincts worked again…I intruded in to that space and climbed the ladder to the top of the bridge. It was so exciting to see an open bridge so wide for me to walk. I walked like a king to the tip of it.
I guess I stood there for an hour the sea breeze…listening to the sonata of sea. By then sun was out in his golden shades romancing with the waves leaving me irritated for another man's glance over the sea. Water kept glittering-swinging, so soft and rhythmic. For a moment I felt that the bridge is also swinging like a cradle leaving me quite sleepy. Kerstin's phone
call got me back to the world I belongs to and hence got up and walked back. Suddenly I realize that to get out of the bridge either I have to take the same risky way which I climbed or to walk out though the other end of the bridge where the securities are standing. I can get caught as an intruder. Kerstin must be waiting...so I thought I take the normal way towards the security...though I had no clue how to handle them.
Kerstin was on her way towards the seaside and we met in between and continued with our small-little expedition in Pondy.... :).......Cheers.
Before concluding this post I would like to to speak about what fascinated me in this shoot -the way which people responded for the interviews. I was so surprised in the beginning because ever
yone in Kanchipuram who participated in this fest talked like they are going for a wedding in their family. In fact Vanigar community members kept on saying that it’s their daughter’s wedding. A very personalized way of talk about the almighty…kept reminding me that GOD is in me, u and everyone. After attending the wedding ritual that went on for all night I too felt the same. I walked with El
avarkuzali Amman (Goddess Parvathy) during the whole event. After the whole function it truly made me feel it's my sister's marriage. A German scholar friend Kerstin who was with me all the time too said that she felt the same. The satisfaction I cannot explain in the work. It’s for everyone to experience being a part of it. I learnt a lot of new things with this documentary.
A Dusi Day - Last month I w
as in Dusi, a small village situated at a distance of ‘4 rupee bus fare’ from Kanchipuram to video archive the well known Tamil folk art form Therukoothu…a dance-drama-song-story telling art form. The event went on for 10 days…in fact 10 colorful nights. It gave me an exposure to quite a lot unexpected events that are, since then ‘archived’ as unforgettable-nostalgic experiences. Thinking about this, I can’t be but speak about the cold ghostly touch of a cyclone that left us stay the whole night without any light, soaked in rain at the ground of Drupadi Amman temple.
Like all the other days, my partner Sundar and I arrived at the temple around 7 pm with the camera, tripod and other equipments. Usually I have this weird way of carrying camera ‘just’ wrapped in a bathroom towel. My definition for this gentle act is that I have no time to unzip the camera bag, take it out and then put the battery- tape followed by an easy shoot. Carrying it in towel- fully loaded like a soldier’s gun- gives me all kind of flexibility with her - feeling her tight on my arms ready for action. Having said this I assure that I am not a camera person for planned actions but for a ‘hiding animal’ movement. May be I can fit for the role of a wildlife-news-sports cinematographer than a filmer. But on that specific day, for some strange reason I felt like carrying the cam in the bag itself. As Vinod sir once said, just follow self-intutions…it works for your good, in a way everyone’s. 
It was the 6th night of Therukoothu. Koothu normally starts at 10-11pm and will continue to the next day morning 7-8 am. The ground is always crowded with village women and children; mostly grand moms with the tiny ones of family. Like every other Indian village art form, Theru koothu also happens during the summer time. It used to be the only source of entertainment for the village lot out of the dirty summer heat. During koothu we can find the entire village crowds present there as early as possible marking their own territory on the ground with mats or plastic sheets, finally ending up sleeping there enjoying the gentle breeze of the open space. For that weather it’s better to keep ourselves close to the sand in the ground coz that’s really ‘Kewl’.
Being in the village for 12 days made me realize a few things. My life in Kerala, and then in metro’s like Hyd, Chennai, Pune or Mumbai failed to teach me anything about India. Now I really do understand why Gandhi said that the heart of India beats in the villages. India is not a city – it is a big village. Every single person of Dusi have this Qn for you whether u r a known or unknown, “Sapitingala ?” ( Had food?). I heard the same Qn from each of them- one person repeating it as many number of times as possible and at almost any hour of the day when they see you. The people there live on bare minimums. I had 2 rupee tea and 1 rupee idly for first time. Capitalism is eating these places too. It was very obvious. U find all handsets and connections there but no toilets.
A cyclone and rain during the summer, was so unexpected. Suddenly it became so windy around 9 pm and Dusi (Dusi means Dust) started flying. Along with the Koothu artists, Sunder and I, got into a school building where the villagers provide us with a good dinner. For our bad luck the dust fell all over our body and the plates. The doors and windows started behaving so rude with the wind. If I have had taken an ariel shot of the whole place, I am sure, the school would’ve been like a huge insect waving it’s wings. The power went off and it became pitch dark. For a while we felt like there is an earth quake and the whole building is shaking. The ‘Koothu’ of the weather went on for half an hour. Finally Vayu (God of wind) gave way to Indra (God of rain and the King of all). The winds stopped and it started raining heavily.
The Therukoothu of the night got cancelled. We went back to the temple side and lied down on the floor. Late night, when the rain stopped for a while, villagers started with a few interesting rituals. Leaving Sundar back to take care of equipments, I got into one of the bullock carts with the camera. Naughty Indra, after his Kit-kat break, continued to shower ‘blessings’ soaking my camera. The only solution was to continue shooting, covering her with my T-shirt. So did I, in no time removed my t-shirt and covered the cam keeping it's mouth alone exposed for shoot. Well, i guess being a male has one such advantage. :)
I saw the first animal sacrifice in my life and people getting processed and all. Came back half naked, fully drenched with camera half covered with the t-shirt. T-shirt tricks always worked well with me. Just thought of a similar experience happened while studying in Madras Christian College. While editing a college project at MRC editing suit, the cooler started leaking. (There was no AC then, I guess a cooler was hired). It was late at night 2 or 3am and I was all alone. The water spread all over and I was doubtful whether it will spoil the equipments. Guess what, the editor was found on the floor wiping the whole editing suit with t-shirt.
Well, leaving all that...a lot is there to speak about the village Dusi, probably I must retire from everything on day and scribble these memories.
d somewhere -somehow on the run to conquer certain other destiny. I hope, soon I can manage to get some time to shed the cocoon of my reality and scribble a few words of fantasy and facts.
Far from the illusions of Page 3 music and gimmicks and gymnastics on stage, this was something really special -true to real life. NFSC and Musician Oliver Rajamani joined together to conduct this event at a Narikkuruva (A Gypsy Community) Settlement at Villupuram in Tamil Nadu. The charm of the whole event was the hospitality and participation of Narikkuruva Men-Women-Children. Oliver played so many Gypsy instruments like Ud (Arabic), Setar (Irani), Rabab (Afghanai), Guitar (European) as well as our very own Sarod. Accompanied by his band members on various other instruments from different parts of the world. The songs were mainly folk songs in different languages with the touch of fusion. A good example is a Tamil folk
song sung in Texas Style on the Irani instrument Setar.
Sometimes there is no music in music, except for a passion. I must say that this film is developed from a fear I have, of losing control over my hands...my body. Here my protagonist is inspired by his father's music, rather his passion in spite of parkinson's disease that keeps him away from his passion. There is silence in music...that makes the music. In fact, I strongly believe that music is a collection of notes placed over silence. The same way for me, film is nothing but a collection of visuals placed over a dark, blank space.
se my eyes and sit silent imagining myself standing in the shoes of a blind man. May be that is the worst fear I can ever have. There is always a thought lurking in mind- what if one day the whole world become an alien land for me where things and places seems yet to be discovered. What if my favorite colors say adieu to my vision. !!! What if one day the darkness of a movie hall moves on to the screen too...IThis fear gave me some good short film characters who remained blind. I am blamed of brewing such characters in most of the short films. I guess my addiction to nature naturally leaves me scared of such a situation.
Though I wouldn’t mind watching a hopeless end in film, I can’t think of doing such a genre. I would rather leave a spark for survival. Here the spark is passed from one generation to the next. Here we see the son getting inspired.
Feb 14, 2009 - My 26th Valentines Day thus “passed away”, without much noise leaving me yet, young and yellow. I was handsomely idle at home hooked on one of the old Malayalam books... rather a research material identified recently for a film script that I may or may not realize in this wild-weird-warm lifetime. True to my senses, I have clearly no idea whether I would ever be mature enough to live anyway close to the norms and notions of this day of young excitement. But on this occasion I can’t be just mute on a woman who moved me the most till
this date. She is “Yesterday”, a simple African village woman who breathes only for the good of her family. I was never been lucky enough to travel to that country side and see this lady who speaks only her mother tongue Zulu. She suffer from AIDs and lives a simple life with her daughter. I was touched more by her simplicity, her understanding of herself, her way of living the day – today - with the dreams of tomorrow and her disinterest for words of praise. 
When her mine worker husband came back to the village as a skinny soul during the last stages of AIDs, the village threw him away. Yesterday, as a brave woman built a shed away from the village all by herself and took her husband there where he died happily breathing her warmth. I calls her brave and that teacher from the village too.........but not “Yesterday”. The teacher said “Yesterday, you are a strong lady.” And she replied “No I’m not, I had no other choice. Life has to go on.” She taught me the lesson to live life in a simple and natural way without any expectations. She taught me to behave to the situation. Months after the doctor first diagnosed her ailment, AIDS, she 
continued to live as a strong woman. The White Lady Doctor had to say this “Yesterday, your body is so strong.” She just smiled and pointed her finger to the head and said, “No it’s all here. I’m not prepared to die until my child go to school.” That moment taught me peace of mind. For a moment I felt as if I’m meditating on a mountain inhaling courage and love. Yesterday is strong, stubborn, silent, soulful and straight forward. For the first time I bowed to a woman... God, she was a "REAL WOMAN". Anyways, I have no other way but to get out of this unrealistic world of cinema and live a normal life. I have no other choice but to identify her as just a movie character. Even if I collect so much money for my travel to African sub-continent, I wouldn't be 
able to fulfill the dream of seeing this woman. Because she lives in my most favorite film, "Yesterday". A few days back my Amma (mom) asked, “Who do you think you are in love with?” Confused was she as I have this weird habit of making contradictory statements to irritate her. It’s fun to fight with Amma for no reason. ;) I didn’t answer, but left her see the film “Yesterday.” 
