I remember being there... I remember landing up at tuitions on 6th December 1992 and waiting for my friends to turn up, friends who lived very near the area most affected by the riots... I remember hearing that riots have broken out because the Babri Masjid has been demolished... I remember passing that week hidden behind blackened windows and Bombay looking like a dead city, my hysterical mother not even letting us children go down to the street to play. I remember the undercurrent of tension amongst communal solidarity between the hindus and muslims even where the riots did not reach.
I remember 6th January 1993 even more clearly, A day when worried parents gathered out in the school football ground to pick up their children, Riots had broken out again. I remember my driver maneuvering the car expertly through bylanes and little side roads, protecting us kids from angry, approaching mobs, mobs who would not differentiate between hindu and Muslim, child or adult... all they wanted was blood.
Even at fifteen, I knew that the January riots were political, not communal. The politicians of the day had seized the opportunity to make their power plays, giving it a communal twist, and the uneducated, scared or frustrated (sometimes all-three) common man fell for it and became part of it.
I remember joining a charitable organization and handing out food to what seemed to be millions of people who had lost their homes and families. sitting at VT station.
And I remember the 12th of March 1993 clearer than anything. I was in school, and the sound of what was probably the century Bazaar blast tore through the air in the afternoon, in the middle of the exam hall. It was the last day of the 10th Standard Board exams, And we didn't know what the sound was, Someone made a joke for me to stop farting...
It was only when we got out of school that we heard about the blasts. All sorts of news started filtering in, but we didn't know exactly what the magnitude of the attack was, until we got home that is. When I got home, all the windows of our living room were broken, just from the shock waves of the Air India Building blast.
The following few months were spent in dread, looking over our shoulders. Even then I knew that this was in retaliation to the riots, And even then we were looking for answers. We waited, making heroes out of policemen, and martyrs of the common people who died that day, waiting for some kind of answer, some justification to the madness.
Now, fourteen years hence, The film comes along and reminds me of how big in magnitude the attack actually was, and how it had impacted my mind forever.
When I had heard of the film being banned, I was sad, I had heard so much about Anurag Kashyap, but the censor board seemed to hate him, not allowing any film of his to be released. From the day I heard that he was making this film, I had wanted to see it. And I am glad I did.
The film gave me personally a sense of some kind of answers, some sense of what happened, and why it happened. It was directed with panache, precise and to the point, without resorting to jingoism and anti-communal will. All it did was present what is now believed to be fact in a format that comes together superbly. Brisk editing, masterful direction, and real, earthy performances. It is exactly how a film should be made.
A special mention should go to the real hero of the film, Mumbai City, always a picture of resilience and strength, and the film shows that. Despite the blasts, the riots and all the Chaos, Mumbai moves on, and thats what the city does to its people as well. Gives them a strength that can only be understood if you spend some time living in the city.
If only the powers that be wake up, take notice, and put their money behind Anurag Kashyap, so that he can go on to make more Cinema that can put India on the map.
I remember 6th January 1993 even more clearly, A day when worried parents gathered out in the school football ground to pick up their children, Riots had broken out again. I remember my driver maneuvering the car expertly through bylanes and little side roads, protecting us kids from angry, approaching mobs, mobs who would not differentiate between hindu and Muslim, child or adult... all they wanted was blood.
Even at fifteen, I knew that the January riots were political, not communal. The politicians of the day had seized the opportunity to make their power plays, giving it a communal twist, and the uneducated, scared or frustrated (sometimes all-three) common man fell for it and became part of it.
I remember joining a charitable organization and handing out food to what seemed to be millions of people who had lost their homes and families. sitting at VT station.
And I remember the 12th of March 1993 clearer than anything. I was in school, and the sound of what was probably the century Bazaar blast tore through the air in the afternoon, in the middle of the exam hall. It was the last day of the 10th Standard Board exams, And we didn't know what the sound was, Someone made a joke for me to stop farting...
It was only when we got out of school that we heard about the blasts. All sorts of news started filtering in, but we didn't know exactly what the magnitude of the attack was, until we got home that is. When I got home, all the windows of our living room were broken, just from the shock waves of the Air India Building blast.
The following few months were spent in dread, looking over our shoulders. Even then I knew that this was in retaliation to the riots, And even then we were looking for answers. We waited, making heroes out of policemen, and martyrs of the common people who died that day, waiting for some kind of answer, some justification to the madness.
Now, fourteen years hence, The film comes along and reminds me of how big in magnitude the attack actually was, and how it had impacted my mind forever.
When I had heard of the film being banned, I was sad, I had heard so much about Anurag Kashyap, but the censor board seemed to hate him, not allowing any film of his to be released. From the day I heard that he was making this film, I had wanted to see it. And I am glad I did.
The film gave me personally a sense of some kind of answers, some sense of what happened, and why it happened. It was directed with panache, precise and to the point, without resorting to jingoism and anti-communal will. All it did was present what is now believed to be fact in a format that comes together superbly. Brisk editing, masterful direction, and real, earthy performances. It is exactly how a film should be made.
A special mention should go to the real hero of the film, Mumbai City, always a picture of resilience and strength, and the film shows that. Despite the blasts, the riots and all the Chaos, Mumbai moves on, and thats what the city does to its people as well. Gives them a strength that can only be understood if you spend some time living in the city.
If only the powers that be wake up, take notice, and put their money behind Anurag Kashyap, so that he can go on to make more Cinema that can put India on the map.