Work day number three has arrived and yet again we are off to the field … not that I’m at all complaining. Our host is Ganpat, who produces and directs Marwar Media, a subsection within JBF’s advocacy department. They are currently in the throws of shooting a new film promoting female participation in primary education. Our introductory destination is Gove Upper Primary school near the village of Poli Kylan.
After an hour and a half drive, our jeep’s engine sputters to a halt; meanwhile, its dissonance is promptly replaced by the low hum of excitable children. We round a bend and enter the school yard; it consists of nothing more than a dusty field and a lone, scanty-looking tree. The low hum has rapidly blossomed into an effervescent rumble, we fear ourselves to be taunting the precipice of hysteria, but fortunately the loose energy turns into inquisitiveness as we approach further. As with most other appointments in India, the shoot is delayed; the school teachers have yet to arrive. While we wait, a blanket is laid out for us to sit. We gladly accept, but soon realize we have just emerged on the wrong side of a zoo exhibit, displaying: bleached man and woman, omnivore and king of the food chain, normally inhabits swaths of Europe and North America, but has invaded all other continents and the moon as an alien species, prefers over-consumption and extravagance to sustainable eco-footprints, exhibits complex verbal communication and vaguely-moral social structures, easily groomed for their money and expensive electronics (… or thereabouts).
Stuck at the front of the class
Eventually, the instructors arrive and we are grateful to be released back into the wild. Almost immediately, we are invited to join the mid-standard classroom where some instruction-related shots are taking place. I am offered a front-row seat, while Abi coyly shuffles to the back of the room. After two minutes of incomprehensible lecturing, I begin to settle in; the experience is reminiscent of my physics classes at Queen’s: shortly upon its commencement, I am hopelessly lost and confused. The shoot drudges on for another hour, after which I am ready for a nap, shower, and trip to the Queen’s Pub. Unfortunately, those wishes go unfulfilled; however, we are gifted some time to interact with the kids. Nothing concrete is exchanged; although, we engage in a simplified version of Simon Says … lacking both a “Simon” … and “Says.” It was more of a “Let’s Mimic the White People” Game … long story short: fun had by all!
With our school visit at an end, we hop back in the jeep and head towards the open road. However, with a film crew no less opportunistic than a pack of hyenas, we are mired with ceaseless stops and starts to interview all types of rural characters: a man walking a cart filled with dried corn, a man traveling by camel hitch, three men on a tractor unaware that Mo-vember is still weeks away, etc. We eventually pass a group of 30 men and women harvesting a field of bajra. Before I can comment on the nature of the women’s colourful sarrees, the jeep screeches to a halt and then proceeds to reverse into on-coming traffic. I verbally fumble: “W- … Wow, they’re colourful.” Alas, Abi is the only one to catch my penetrating analysis, given that the crew have long since bundled out of the jeep, slipped through the barbed-wire fence, and commenced their interviews.
Mmmm ... street-melon
Before we move on, the harvesters generously offer us some watermelons, which I’m sure represent a tangible portion of their livelihoods. Nonetheless, the crew start breaking them open on the side of the jeep or with their hands, any fashion to get at the sweet interior. Everyone gets a half to themselves; though, not as perfect as the watermelons found in Western supermarkets, they are naturally refreshing in the hot afternoon sun. There is something rebellious about standing on a highway, slurping watermelon and seeing how far one can launch the seeds …
Children enjoying the thrill of chasing
after our jeep in Moolki Dhani
Our last stop is a village called Moolki Dhani. We are no longer pursuing interviews; rather, the crew is here to present one of their earlier works on sanitation. In order to inform the village of the evening’s entertainment, they setup a mic and an amp in the back of the jeep and we drive around “50’s political style” getting the word out. Honestly, the results of this exercise seem to produce nothing more than an immense amount of noise and dust. Although in the end, the turnout is quite reasonable for the size of the village. The film is entirely in Hindi, and as my interest wanes, I realize just how tired I am from all of the day’s events.
No comments:
Post a Comment