Five independent filmmakers from the region to be a part of Cinevesture International Film Festival
“Independent films have a very different cachet than success films.” — Diane Lane
The journey of an indie filmmaker is invariably bumpy and film festivals are the obvious destination for their labour of love. As the Cinevesture International Film Festival comes to the City Beautiful for its second edition, a fair number of films, especially by independent makers, have a strong Punjabi and Chandigarh connect.
If three films, namely Zubin Mehta’s Bus No 7, Shashank Walia’s Hanere De Panchi and Ankur Singla’s Ghich Pich, with subjects rooted in Punjab’s terra firma will be screened during the four-day festival, Honey Trehan’s The Blade Runner is in the market. Anmol Sidhu, who won the Audience Choice Award at the Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles in 2022 and also at CIFF last year, is currently working on his new film Kikran De Phul. The film, which deals with the struggles of orchestra dancers of Punjab, is part of In the Works Lab.
Chandigarh da munda Ankur Singla’s debut film Ghich Pich is based in the City Beautiful, where he spent his formative years and made impactful memories, which stayed with him. Zubin Mehta’s film Bus No 7 is not just based in Chandigarh, but is one where most of the drama is happening in a school bus. Not strictly Punjabi, the languages of both films are a mix of Hindi and Punjabi.
Love for Punjabi
Ankur shares how the spirit of his film is quintessentially Punjabi. Irked by how Punjabi is often spoken in our Bollywood films, Ankur decided to keep the language as authentic as possible, as it is spoken in many Punjabi households in the city designed by Le Corbusier. But, of course, language is only a vehicle to convey your thoughts. Thus, Ghich Pich is essentially a story of three young friends and their turbulent relationship with their respective fathers. As the story line touches upon the same-sex relationship, which incidentally also is the theme of Shashank Walia’s Hanere De Panchi, we wonder if the subject of homosexuality has become de rigueur? Shashank informs, “It’s a landscape film, which talks about human relationships, caste, religion and sexuality, among many other things.”
He adds how the film, which explores genuine care and concern, reinforces the collective power of love, not only imagines radical options but how these can be realised. Shot in villages near Tarn Taran, he reveals his film does not tread the beaten path. It is rather riddled with many stumbling blocks. Right from the casting process to arranging finance, everything is a challenge. Yet, surprisingly, the village community rose to support them.
Shashank says, “Often we joked as to how ours is not an independent film but an indi-pind film.” Since mainstream Punjabi cinema continues to be in awe of singer-turned-actors, refuses to experiment or innovate, the rich tradition of Punjab, he rues, often gets side-lined if not ignored outright. In the absence of government support, which they all, including Honey Trehan, feel, is a must for a film industry to grow and evolve. Festivals, they insist, are the only saviour for indie makers. “The much-touted OTT platforms too are fast becoming television reimagined,” observes, Shashank As his debut short film In the Month of Love was in competition at the 49th International Film Festival of Rotterdam, he agrees that festivals do boost your confidence and inspire you to work harder.
Inner voice
For others like Ankur, festival selection is akin to recommendation. More than happy that a festival like CIFF is happening in Chandigarh, Shashank points out its long-term benefits and how it could trigger creation of an artistic space. Similar thoughts are expressed by Zubin, whose Bus No 7 was earlier selected for the online edition of Indian Film Festival of Melbourne (IFFM) and the short Usher found its way to MAMI.
Of course, what excites him about the screening of Bus No 7 in Chandigarh is, “All the city people associated with the film, who have acted in it, will be able to see themselves on the big screen.” Zubin believes that most Chandigarh folks will find the universal message of the movie relatable. Ankur too promises that his Ghic Pich will offer a real glimpse of this beautiful city, whose real understanding came to him when he moved out of Chandigarh. In fact, it was during the making of the film that the meaning of the city and, more importantly, its architecture changed for him. If commercial cinema as Shashank says, “Continues to follow the dangerous trend of knowing what the audience wants,” here are makers who do not make any tall claims, only trying to stay true to their inner voice.
