DECEMBER 22, 2000 VOL. 26 NO. 50 | SEARCH ASIAWEEK

To Bear Witness
An independent filmmaker strikes a quiet blow against religious extremism in India
By SUJOY DHAR Calcutta

When Indian director Buddhadeb Dasgupta was selecting locations for his latest work, he really only had one place in mind: the West Bengal district of Purulia. Fond memories of growing up in the rural area was one factor. But the biggest draw was its isolation. Some settlements were so inaccessible, his crew had to transport their camera and other equipment on bicycle. Or strap the gear to their backs.

Why did Dasgupta want to hide? He was concerned that the film, which focuses on the story of a Hindu zealot attack against a Catholic priest, might invite reprisals from radical groups. Dasgupta needed the remoteness to produce Uttara, a study of how intolerance devastates a tiny rural community. But even the distant village wasn't far enough. Many of the inhabitants, mostly poor Christians, were thrilled to have a film set in their village — and even agreed to serve as extras in a crowd scene. But when it came to their churches, the villagers, afraid that Hindu extremists might identify the buildings and burn them down, refused to let the cameras in.

Religious fundamentalism is a difficult movie subject at the best times. In a sectarian climate, it can be downright dangerous. But the rise of Hindu nationalism is precisely what compelled Dasgupta to take a stand. "I made this film in response to present-day realities and to warn against them," he says, pointing to regular eruptions of religious, ethnic and political extremism in India. "There's a growing cult of violence." The trend has been spreading. In 1993, Hindu-Muslim riots broke out in Mumbai over a disputed holy site. Since the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party came to power two years ago, India's Christian minority has come under increasing attack, often over accusations of proselytizing. Churches across the country have been burned and several priests have been killed in what Christian leaders called a campaign of hate.

The brutal murder of missionary Graham Staines last year spurred the director to take action. A mob in Orissa state pounced on the Australian minister and his two young sons while they slept and burned them to death. "It is one of the cruelest attacks we have seen in recent times," the director says. "It disturbed me very much." Indeed, even as the alleged ringleader of the Staines murders, Dara Singh, went on trial this month, hoodlums attacked a Bihar missionary home, raping the cook and assaulting the nuns. Says Dasgupta: "The tendency in India is much like what it was in Germany, Italy and Spain during the times of Hitler, Mussolini and Franco."

Yet the 55-year-old Dasgupta insists his film is not political. A dreamer who lectured in economics at Calcutta University before giving in to his passion for the cinema, he says that the universal notions of personal fulfillment and loneliness are essential elements in his new work. All the same, he points to another universal theme — the connection between bigotry and fragmentation. "Intolerance is the catalyst in the descent from peace to destruction," he says.

Uttara, or The Wrestlers, is a poetic, visually stunning gem. Merging contemporary reality with a Bengali short story, the movie is set in a remote tribal hamlet. The rugged beauty of Purulia frames the tale's brutality. Two friends, Nemai and Balaran, relieve the monotony of their jobs at a railway signal station with enthusiastic bouts of wrestling. But fractures soon appear in the tranquil village. The railway workers' relationship deteriorates when Balaran brings home a lovely bride named Uttara. Fueled by Nemai's envy of his friend's marriage, the friendly wrestling matches become an obsessive rivalry over the woman. Meanwhile, Hindu extremists turn on a parish minister who, like Staines, had been serving leprosy patients in the area. Uttara, a symbol of human conscience, tries to stop the brutality and is ultimately destroyed.

Thanks in part to his low-profile approach, Dasgupta has largely escaped the wrath of Hindu extremists. Where publicity-conscious directors embroiled themselves in controversy even before their first reels were shot, he quietly sent his cast and crew to Purulia. Even so, a producer pulled out of the sensitive project, fearing censorship troubles. For good reason. Soon after he wrapped up production came a tip-off that West Bengal officials allied to radical Hindu groups were moving to block the film. Dasgupta thought laterally: He submitted his film instead to censors in Tamil Nadu state, who he knew would not understand his Bengali-language film. The Tamil-speaking board approved the movie, clearing it for screening across the country.

But Dasgupta knows he has enemies. He received several warning phone calls from Hindu intellectuals following a test screening in Delhi earlier this year. "What they said can only be interpreted as polite threats," he says. There haven't been any threats against his family so far. Perhaps that's because until recently the film was showed only to festival-circuit audiences in India. His use of Bengali, a regional language, also served as a buffer.

Now Dasgupta is being rewarded for his pains. In September, he won the highest honor at the Venice international film festival — the special director's award. Festival director Alberto Babera calls Uttara "the best Indian film in years." Since then, both Dasgupta and his new production have been in constant demand at film festivals from London to Toronto. What's more, he is even making some money. Not counting his own pay, the film cost only $150,000 to make. That's a pittance by the standards of the film studios in Mumbai (Bombay), known as Bollywood. But just breaking even is a feat in India, where alternative directors have trouble getting producers. Tara Bangla, a Calcutta-based television station bought broadcast rights, and has screened the film on prime time. And after rave reviews in the domestic press, Uttara is being shown commercially in Calcutta, where communal tensions are muted and audiences are more appreciative of creative expression.

For most of the theater-going public, who prefer standard Bollywood entertainment, the film is unlikely to make much of an impression. Even so, Christian groups like Bangiya Christiya Pariseba view Uttara as a form of vindication. "It is a film of wider connotation but nevertheless highlights the issue of attacks on religious minorities in India," says a Bangiya spokesman. "Hindu groups are systematically targeting us. I think people who see the film would be repulsed by the ruthlessness of people who resort to communal violence." That's certainly true for Calcutta movie buff Bimal Das. "I have never been so touched by a film. Uttara makes us ponder," he says. The idealistic Dasgupta couldn't ask for a higher accolade than that.

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