Diary Of A Misfit

I was raised in several small towns, as a kid. My father was a Class II government servant. Every two to three years he was transferred. He looked for the finest schools in town, for me. And invariably they were in Hindi medium. I did well. Each year I was promoted. School usually was at a walking distance. I used to carry my school bag in one hand and a jute mat in another, as there were no chairs and benches. We all sat on the floor. The school building was one large hall, with no amenities. The ceiling used to leak when it rained, so school used to be closed during monsoons. In winters most classes were held outside.

Till eight years of age, I hardly know a few words in English. I never saw an English film. English newspaper was not available in the town. The only time I heard proper English language was on BBC Radio, when the man landed on moon. But I could not make heads or tails out of it.

When I was nine years, father was transferred to a city. The finest school was in English medium. School authorities took my interview in English and rejected then and there. I felt humiliated. But father persuaded that I was intelligent and bright. He assured them that I pick up things fast and that he will personally teach me English, at home. Inadvertently, I was admitted.

At home, I was taught nursery poems. Learnt jack & jill went up the hill; twinkle twinkle little star, johnny johnny yes papa etc. Whenever there were guests I was asked to recite them. If someone appreciated I recited all the poems, one after another, that I had mugged up.
However I didn’t know the meaning of a single word. I was given a book to learn the English alphabet. It had pictures of A-Apple, B-Ball, C-Cat , D-Dog etc. I had another chart with names of all the common fruits and vegetables in Hindi as well English.

At school, I used to be totally blank. Didn’t understand a single lecture what was going on. It took me one year to understand the difference between sunrise and sunset. I thought sun rises in the  evening and sets in the morning. I was once asked how old I am. I knew old means someone who is above 60 years of age. I replied I am not old. Each and every student laughed including the teacher. I failed to understand where I went wrong.

I was a total misfit at the English medium school. At the annual exams, I failed in six out of seven subjects. The only paper that I cleared was Hindi. I was about to be expelled from the school but on father’s request I was kept in the same class.
I requested my father to shift me to a Hindi medium school. But it was turned down.

My younger brother, was two years younger and also two classes junior to me. After I failed he was only one class junior to me. I must admit I was worried. In case I failed one more year, we both brothers will be sitting in the same class. I couldn’t say we were twins. I had serious inferiority complex.

God had been kind to me. Father looked around for a boarding school with English medium. He came to know of Sainik School that trained children to join armed forces. I took the entrance test. To my surprise I cracked it. Due emphasis was given to sports, physical training, parade etc. I wasn’t good in studies, neither good in sports. Physically, I was a weak child. I cannot remember receiving any medal, trophy or certificate. I was a misfit once again. Somehow I pulled through, for seven years. Armed forces decided not to hire my services. They must have come to know that I don’t have “officer like qualities”. My family was disappointed. My parent’s dream of me being an army officer with a class I job was shattered.

There was no option except to enroll myself in a college. Father had heard of one good college in Delhi where his senior officers admitted their children. I was asked to attempt it. Boarded the train and came to Delhi. Found four colleagues from school who were keen to study in the same college. We all applied for Physics Honours and were selected. Father dreamt of his son being a Civil Servant or with Wold Bank.

The college had students from all over the country. My spoken English wasn’t good. I first constructed my sentence in Hindi. Then translated into English. Often they were broken. Vocabulary was limited. I was once ragged badly that I am studying Physics Honours but couldn’t pronounce Physics correctly. I locked myself in the hostel room. Pronounced 101 times the word Physics, till I got it right.

A Routine job was of no interest to me. My father’s dream of seeing his son a bureaucrat was shattered once again, when I decided not to continue with a college degree and join a film school, instead. I thought I would work on assignment basis from one project to another. I didn’t have to do a repetitive job. I will be traveling all over the country.

I was a misfit at the film school as well. I was trained to be a cinematographer for fiction films, particularly feature films. I learnt the technique to light up the set, frame actors properly, learn camera movements and make sure focus is right. I was hardly exposed to documentary or wildlife film making.

After graduation I was offered to work on a regional feature film. Worked for fourteen months, as a Cinematographer. I was put into a house along with other crew members. I was told that I would be paid when the film is released. The film did not do well. I wasn’t paid a penny. Often I borrowed money from my father, for survival. He always paid but kept advising me to take up a government job.

I was insecure. For several months I was hand to mouth. No work. No money. Finally I got an offer from a NGO that worked for the control of leprosy. I worked as an editor, director and a cameraman for five years. Produced close to thirty educational programmes. However, my heart was in documentaries.

I quit my job. Traveled to Delhi with my wife and infant daughter. I didn’t know anyone in the city. No phone. No internet. No friends. No Clients. I had to start from scratch. I had money for just ten months. For a couple of months I didn’t have any assignment. Bank balance was drying up. I thought of going back to the NGO. Each day on my scooter I used to meet prospective Producers but returned home with an empty promise.

Finally I saw the light of the day. Based on my background of medical films, I was offered a few assignments, that kept the kitchen warm.

Finally at the age of thirty I was hired to shoot documentary films with opportunities to travel. Couple of awards followed. I said to myself I am no more a misfit. I do have a place in this world.

 

STRUGGLE OF GANGA PRASAD

Ganga Prasad used to live in Guruwa a village in Gaya District in Bihar, with his parents and a sister. He was in his teens. Studied up-to third standard. His life style was no different from an ordinary peasant in India, before independence.

His father had a shop and a small plot of agricultural land. He used to buy paddy, wheat, cereal and pulses from the farmers. He then bundled them into jute sacks. Load into a bullock cart and then sell it at the grain market in Gaya, a major town. This was the primary source of income.

Life wasn’t difficult. They had at least three meals a day, till plague struck the village. Out of a total population of 900 almost 150 people lost their lives. Ganga Prasad’s father lost his life as well. Most of the families fled. There was no one left to perform the last rites.

Ganga Prasad after several months returned to his native village Guruwa with his mother and a sister. Shop remained locked.  He had a small plot of land but was too young to cultivate. There was no business, no work, no money. Often three of them slept without food. For several years they had only one meal a day. Life was miserable.

With the passage of time Ganga Prasad matured into an adult. He had a spark in his eyes. He never ever dreamt of being a millionaire or billionaire. His concern was to provide a decent living to his family and to have three meals a day. To improve his life, he thought mobility is essential. Bought a bicycle.

There was a small town Guraru about 12 km from his village. On a fixed day in a week, there used to be a local market where villagers brought agricultural produce. He worked under a Trader for three years. He used to work for the entire day. His primary job was to weigh the grain, accounting, loading and unloading. After three years he asked for remuneration. But he was denied even a penny. He was told that he was compensated by the lunch that was provided. Ganga Prasad didn’t utter a word.  He returned with an empty hand to his village, on his bicycle.

Ganga Prasad got married to Kaushalya Devi. His wife wasn’t used to sleeping with an empty belly. She often had nightmares of living in utter poverty for the rest of her life. She had sewing skill. She could stitch blouse by hand, referred to as JHULLA. Those days there were hardly any sewing machines.  She used to get the cloth and the dimensions from the local tailor. Stitched the blouse in two days and hand it back. She never dealt with the customers. She used to earn one Rupee per piece. Life moved on.

Ganga Prasad was frustrated in the village. No opportunity for him. He was toying with the idea of moving out, temporarily. He met the village priest early in the morning and solicited his advice. The priest advised him to head out in the northern direction and the right date is this day. But there was a problem. There was no money to start a business. The poor priest didn’t have money either. However the priest recollected that he was offered five rupees for a ceremonial function, the previous evening. He took out the money, without any hesitation and offered it to Ganga Prasad.

He walked down to Gaya. Took a train to Varanasi, the nearest city in the north. On the steps of the ghat (bank) in Varanasi, he used to sell cotton towels, for one year. He was not the only one selling towels. In the night all the towel sellers collectively cooked something at the ghat. He then used to spread a few towels, and slept at the ghat itself. In the morning he ate the left over. No place to cook. No place to live. This was the daily routine for one year. He was still hand to mouth. He realized there was no opportunity for him at Varanasi.

He returned to his village. Discussed with his relations. There were a couple of peasants who had moved to Daltonganj an adjacent town and flourished. He thought to try his luck. Worked for two years. Disappointed one again. Returned to his village. He was advised by an elderly man to stick to one business. Initially there will be loss. He has to sustain it. At the moment he is like a pendulum. He should go back to Daltonganj.  Remove the wheels from his feet and anchor it firmly.

He came to Daltonganj once again, with a determination not to return. Continued with his business. Initially there were hiccups. However he made little profits. At last the lady luck smiled. Brought his wife to Daltonganj and raised his family. In his entire life he never fought with anyone, even for his rights, whether he is a customer or client.

He educated all his children. All of them completed their high school. I know Ganga Prasad well and his family. My elder sister is married to Ganga Prasad’s third son. One day I was woken up with the sound of “A for Apple, B for Ball, C for Cat, D for Dog”. I went to the rooftop and saw him learning. I kept watching and admired till he completed Z for Zebra. He asked me if I have seen a Zebra. He was seventy years of age. But I couldn’t understand why he is leaning English at this age. Later in the afternoon, I saw him teaching his grandchildren English Alphabets.

In the course of my profession, I came across President to Peons. I once met a poor man and casually asked him as to why he was poor. He preferred not to reply. I asked once again.

“ Because I was born in a poor family. My father was poor. “
“Why your father was poor?”
“Because his father was poor? “
“Why your grand father was poor?”
“ Because his father was poor.”
He was agitated. He thought I am stupid. I then changed my question.
“ Do you think your children and grand children will also remain poor… ?
Will you ever come out of the poverty line?

Ganga Prasad raised himself out of poverty line. Today most of his grand children are doing well. In-fact doing very well. Half of them are settled abroad. Education combined with migration worked wonders. Some of them are earning in a year what Ganga Prasad would have earned in his entire life. Today Ganga Prasad is no more to see the progress of his grand children.

 

Car Vs Computer

When I was eight years old, my school was five kilometers away. There was no facility for school bus. Father hired a middle-aged man. This man, apart from being reliable possessed a bicycle. He used to drop my younger brother and me to school. The cycle had a carrier. I usually sat on the carrier and my younger brother in the front. He was a sincere man. I don’t remember being late to school ever. Neither I remember waiting for him at the gate when the school closed.

 

Cycle never had a puncture. On the way to school there was an uphill for 500 meters. He used to get down and push the cycle with both the kids, He never ever asked us to disembark. His name was Mangal. But he was known as Mangra. I asked him about the origin of his name. He was born on Tuesday, that is Hindi is known as Mangal.

 

My father had a car and had a driver as well but wondered why I am deprived of the luxury. One day Mangal failed to turn. Father and mother went into an argument whether to send the two boys to school. Mother was of the opinion that we would be nuisances at home.

 

Later I was shifted to a boarding school. Most of the teachers used to walk or had a cycle. Only the Principal had an official car.

Fifteen years later I was a professional in Delhi. Married with two school going kids. All the money was spent on house rent, school fees, clothes, medicines and food. Spare money was used on travel. We had a scooter. Whenever the kids missed the school bus I used to drop them to school. We were a happy middle class family. Most of our needs were met.

However, we were probably the only family in the colony who didn’t possess a car. The children had a complex. We kept dreaming about owning a car. Often I gave them false promises… next year… this year.. next month. To please them I used to often bring home car magazines and discuss for hours what car we are going to buy and the colour and the dolls that we will keep at the back of the car.

 

I had a long assignment. Earned some money. I had a choice of buying a car. But bought a computer instead. I told them this would help them in life in the long run. No one listened to me. I was made to regret. I thought of returning and buy the car instead.

 

I made false promises again. This year for certain.. Come what may… Beg Borrow or Steal… Rain Thunder or Shower… we will have a car of our own. No one took me seriously. One-day son insisted that we have to have a car. Enough is enough. All four of us cannot travel in a scooter. I promised him to bring the car by the evening. When I returned from work, I pressed the house bell. No one opened the door, initially.

“Tell me did you buy the Car?”

“I said of course. Something is there in my pocket.”

When the door was opened, son searched my pocket and discovered that it was a toy …Toyota RAV 4. Son has preserved this toy till this date.

Disappointment was usual and often they used to forgive me. Both the kids spent a lot of their time surfing on the net. It looked like we have an additional window in our house. It opened their horizon. Son started dreaming about being entrepreneur and give a tough competition to Microsoft. Though we didn’t have a car, but we were one of the few families in the middle class colony in Delhi; to own a computer. Both the kids had their email ids.

Finally we bought a family car, after working for eighteen years. We must have visited most of the showrooms one after another, except Mercedez, Audi and BMW. First week, though children had a school bus, I used to drop them to school. Each day we used to travel to a new place. It was indeed a source of joy.

 

Children are now adults and independent. Daughter is a marketing professional. She bought her first car, after working for three months. I tried to persuade her to buy a second hand cheap car, but she bought a sedan. She is now settled abroad and gifted her car to me. I prefer to book a taxi, for local travel. I find it hassle free. I don’t have to hunt for car parking. I am not alone. There are quite a few residents who prefer a taxi than to drive. Their cars are getting rusted.

 

In the coming years I understand electric with autonomous driving cars will take over. People will shift from ownership to renting. In fact gradually I try not to own things. I had a huge collection of audio tapes, Video CD, feature films on DVD, Hard copy of books. I have got rid of most of them. I am not going to buy a car, ever.

 

Son is a Robotics Engineer. He bought his first car in the first month of his employment. He had several choices, but bought Toyota RAV4, instead.

 

 

Footnote

Computer and Internet have helped my children in their growth.

After completing my high school I came to Delhi along with five friends. I asked my friends what college and the course they are applying. Most of them had preference for one college and Physics Honours. Like a cattle, I applied for Physics Honours. Finally all five of us studied in one college and took the same course.

After one generation, son on graduation applied for several universities in USA with a computer and internet. Not only he got funding from the University, he also hired an apartment on rent in Pittsburgh, found roommates there while being in India. In addition he found two students boarding flight from Delhi to Pittsburgh so that excess baggage can be shared.

 

RIVER

Duration              #  60 to 70 Seconds

Language            #  Hindi

Format                #  High Definition

Location              #  A ghat of a major river like Ganga, Yamuna or Gomati in Northern India.

TREATMENT

The intention of this spot is to inform the viewers, about the misuse of a river. A day’s happening at one of the ghats. The audio-track will have music mixed with the ambience of the location.

 

SCRIPT

SHOT#1     Black Screen

Caption : 0530 Hours

Fade in

The entire frame has a dominance of bluish tint. A middle aged person comes to the ghat to clean his back, after defecation. The camera follows him in a mid long shot.

Fade out.

 

SHOT#2       Black Screen

Caption : 0715 Hours

Fade in

The sun has just risen. The camera focuses on a person who is cleaning his tongue, while several persons are seen in the background, out of focus.

The camera tracks in from medium to close shot, who after cleaning his tongue, spits on the river. The character has a rim light, from the rising sun.

Fade out

 

SHOT#3          Black Screen

Caption : 0910 Hours

Fade in

Medium long shot. A group of women chatting casually and washing clothes with detergent.  A few of them are drying their clothes on the ghat, in the background.

Fade out.

SHOT#4      Black Screen

Caption : 1123 Hours

Fade in

A dead body of an animal floating in the river. It is a prey for a couple of crows.  The camera pans in medium shot, along the dead body.  The light is toppish and harsh.

 

SHOT#5        Black Screen

Caption : 1415 Hours

Fade in

A herd of cattle is brought by a farmer for bathing.

The shot begins with the cattle entering the water. The farmer sprinkles water on their soiled bodies.

Fade out.

 

SHOT#6      Black Screen

Caption : 1750 Hours

Fade in

Evening light. The yellow colour is dominant.

By the side of the bank, on a heavy stone, a person in early fifty’s is seen washing his face. He then, discharges his nasal mucosa onto the river. The camera initially holds the person in the mid-long shot. His reflection is seen in the water.

With the nasal discharge, the camera tilts down to reveal a human excreta at the river bed, and the water floating over it.

Fade out.

 

SHOT#7       Black Screen

Caption : 1812 Hours

Fade in

Camera is positioned almost same level as that of the water. The frame is dominantly occupied by the river, while the upper one-third is covered by the setting sun.

To begin with, the frame is empty. We see only the water flowing. The corpse of an infant is placed on the water – it floats.

The crowd then, release the corpse – it floats away from the camera.

Fade out

 

SHOT#8    Black Screen

Caption : Each Moment

A tannery in the background, while the ghat of the river is in the foreground.                         The camera intends to capture the difference in the colour of discharged water from the tannery with that of the river-water.

The factory could be mild out of focus. The smoke from the factory, covers a large portion of the sky.

Fade out.

CAPTION

WATER IS LIFE. DON’T TAKE ITS LIFE

EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN

 

Duration              #  45 to 60 Seconds

Language            #  English

Format                #  High Definition

Location              #  Naked sand dunes in Jaisalmer

TREATMENT

Quite often, girl, in an agrarian civilization, from the time she is born, till her death, is dependant upon a male member for support — both emotional as well as financial.

This is particularly true in India, where a majority of population sustains itself on agriculture for livelihood.

This spot is based on the assumption that a girl lives under the shadow of her father till she achieves adulthood; depends on her husband after marriage; and on her son at an old age.

To bring out this point visually, this spot makes use of shadow.

This spot, intends to be shot in the back-drop of sand-

 

 

SCRIPT

Location                             :      Desert with virtually no vegetation

Time                                   :      Evening

Landscape                         :      Sand dunes in the background. The sand appears virgin, with no foot steps. The pattern of sand will be uneven with several layers.

Atmospheric Conditions      :      Hot and windy

The camera is mounted on a straight track of 40 o 50 feet. It captures shadows of two characters, one male and the other female, walking at 180^o angle to the camera i.e. parallel to the track. Care will be taken in costume designing so that the audience can distinctly recognize the gender in the shadows.

The shadow of the female is often hidden under the male shadow.

After approximately 30-35 seconds of parallel track along the shadows, the camera tilts up to reveal an old lady with wrinkles on her face; walking with a stick, adjacent to her son, a young man, with turban.

The camera hols on to them for six to seven seconds in medium shot. Both the characters leave the frame, towards the end of the shot.

Sound of the desert wind is dominant; along with a running commentary.

 

COMMENTARY

I have lived throughout in the shadows of someone. I continue to live in the shadows. And don’t know for how long I have to live like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

VACCINATION

Duration              #  70 to 100 Seconds

Language            #  English

Format                #  High Definition

Location              #  A village in Uttar Pradesh/Bihar

 

TREATMENT

The treatment is more like the format of a medical report on an infant’s death, owing to lack of vaccination.

The Captions will appear, as if handwritten by a medical practitioner.

 

SCRIPT

SHOT #1      Black Screen

Name : Haria

PAGE TURN – Computer Graphics

Camera on the circular track, moves from the back of the crowd to a medium shot of an infant on the death-bed. His face is not yet covered. Women are crying.

A hut is seen in the background.

PAGE TURN

SHOT #2    Caption

Age : 6 months

PAGE TURN – Computer Graphics

Camera on the straight track – low angle. To begin with, the face of the infant is seen in Mid long shot. It is then covered with a shroud. The camera tracks in with the shroud to frame the infant in close up.

Crying of the women-folk is audible in the audio-track.

PAGE TURN

SHOT  #3    Caption

Father’s Name : Gajanan Mahto

PAGE TURN

Circular track of the father in medium shot, from his profile to frontal view. The crowd is seen in the background.

Crying of the womenfolk is audible in the audio-track.

PAGE TURN

SHOT #4    Caption

Address :

 Village     : Khiriama

 Post       : Chakradharpur

 Distt.       : Gaya

PAGE TURN

The corpse is picked up, by the male members.

Camera is at low angle almost to the ground level.

To begin with the crowd is seen in the background, while the corpse of the infant is in the foreground. The corpse exits from the top of the frame. The camera tracks to the mother who continues to beat her chest with tears rolling down the cheeks.

The audio track will also include the chanting of “Ram Nam Satya Hai”.

PAGE TURN

SHOT  # 5    Caption :

Complaints :

#       High Fever 2-3 days

#       Cough

#       Running Nose

#       Watering Eyes

#       Skin Rash

PAGE TURN

Extreme long shot

Semi-silhouette Image

The corpse is carried along the bank of the river. Top one third of the frame is covered by sky, while the bottom one-third by the river.

“Ram Nam Satya Hai” is faintly audible in the track.

PAGE TURN

SHOT  # 6    Caption :

On Examination :

Temperature     :        102^o F

Heart Beat          :        Rapid

Pulse                     :       120/minute

Throat                   :        Congested

PAGE TURN

Mid long shot.

On the top of the shroud logs are arranged one after another.

Time of the day is evening-with a strong side-light.

Wind sound is dominant.

PAGE TURN

SHOT   # 7    Caption

PROVISIONAL DIAGNOSIS : MEASLES

PAGE TURN

Dusk – Magic Hour

A ritual is performed by the members of the family. The earthen pitch containing water is broken.

The camera moves in a circular track.

Wind sound is dominant.

PAGE TURN

SHOT  #8    Caption

This spot has been enacted.

However, it could happen !

PAGE TURN

The pyre is about to be lit.

The crowd is seen rushing towards the dead body. Logs are removed. The shroud is uncovered. The infant is picked up, who is seen sucking his thumb.

The camera tracks backward. The lights, microphone, reflectors are seen in the frame, in order to establish that it is a shooting.

FADE OUT

THE IRON TRUNK

When I was ten years young, I was sent to a boarding school in Jhumri Tilaiya, in Jharkhand, a state in India. It is indeed one of the most beautiful places in India, located right next to the Dam. We used to have two vacations a year. The school bus will drop us to Koderma, close to forty minutes drive, the nearest town. It had a railway station as well as a bus stand.

On one such holiday, I carried an Iron trunk, weighing up-to 15 kilograms. Bought a train ticket and landed at the platform. Waited for the passenger train. Train did come but it was too crowded. It was just not possible to enter either from the gate. I gave up. Waited for another passenger train. The subsequent train was equally crowded. There was no way I could enter through the regular gate of the compartment. One of the vendors at the platform felt pity on me. He pushed me inside the train through the window. The passengers pulled me inside the compartment. The trunk was at the platform. The vendor was a nice man. He could have run away with my trunk. But he picked it up; and pushed it inside the compartment.

There were several stations on the way to my destination. Gradually the crowd thinned. I managed to find a place to sit and kept the trunk underneath the seat. At one station, a person in his thirties took a seat next to me, and entered into a polite conversation. Asked me where I am coming from, where do I study, if I am traveling alone, the destination etc. By this time the passenger train was about to leave the platform. He moved his body close to me and said: “You are a student from a reputed school. But you need to be careful. This station is full of crooks. Do you know what they do? In a moving train they will grab your trunk like this, and jump out of the moving train. And you can’t do anything about it. “

As he was talking to me he picked up the trunk and jumped out of the running train.

Am I worthy of a loan

When I was Thirty five years of age, I was desperately looking for one bedroom apartment in Delhi. This was the best that I could afford for my family with two school going children. The cost of the flat was close to 6 lakh rupees (US$9,000), but I had 4 lakh (US$ 6,000) in my savings account. Approached not one but several banks with all the possible documents like Address proof, Electricity Bill, Telephone Bill, Income tax Returns for past three years, Bank Statement, Three Photographs, Passport etc. Not one of them sanctioned a loan of Two Lakhs Rupees (US$ 3000). I was not found worthy of.

I waited for another two years to accumulate a savings of 6 lakhs.(US$9,000) By this time the property price escalated to 8.5 lakhs(US$12,800). Approached several banks on my two wheeler. I was denied once again.

When I turned forty, I had close to 8 Lakh Rupees(US$ 12000), but the price of the flat headed to double digits( more than a million rupees). Thought I was chasing a mirage. Banks refused me for the third time.
Today I am fifty five years of age. The banks who thought I am not loan worthy, have to recover 7000 Crore rupees from just one private sector company. Moreover it is a wilful defaulter.

The company was worthy of loan. I wasn’t.

A Recurring Dream

I have a recurrent dream.

I am surrounded by middle aged women. They are all standing looking down at me. I am sick suffering from diarrhea for several days. I am an infant, lying down on my back. I am so weak that I am unable to open my eyes. The ladies are not counting days; but hours.

My father married before he had a job. Not only that, he had two children before he was offered his first job of an Assistant Engineer at Damodar Valley Corporation. He was posted at Maithan Dam, a hydroelectric project, where there was no family accommodation. My mother stayed back in Daltonganj, in Jharkhand that happens to be her hometown as well as our ancestral home. My age should be around two years. I had an attack of diarrhoea. My mother was matriculate. For reasons unknown to me she got in touch with a Traditional Practitioners. Not one but several of them in rotation. Instead of treating me with medicine they were removing the spirit – a form of Exorcism. Diarrhoea worsened. Things went out of control. Mother visited several temples in the vicinity to offer prayers for my life.

I was passing motion multiple times a day. My mother was advised not to hydrate with water or juice. My skin was getting dry. One can pull it by several inches.
We didn’t have a telephone. Father was sent a telegram
COME SOON. SON IS SERIOUS.

He arrived by late night train. Looked at me. He was shaken up. Carried me on his lap. He didn’t own a scooter or a car that time. Walked three kilometers to the nearest hospital. No doctor was to be found. He left me with the mother. Walked to the doctor’s residence. Woke him up. Requested him to come to the hospital. On examination doctor advised several bottles of intravenous fluids. None was available at the hospital. Father again walked to a medical shop. Found out the address of the shopkeeper. He was woken up. The shopkeeper asked for money. He didn’t have money in his pocket. He promised to give it to him the next day. The shopkeeper trusted him. I survived.

Since then I have not followed a traditional practice, blindly. But the dream often occurs.

POND

Duration              #  110 – 120 Seconds

Language            #  Hindi

Format                #  High Definition

Location              #  A pond in the eastern coast of India, surrounded by trees, all around.

TREATMENT

This spot is designed to create an awareness about our environment, a pond in particular.

In this spot, a case study of a pond in a village is undertaken. Over the years, how a young, vibrant and beautiful pond has degraded; due to misuse, neglect and lack of concern by human beings.

However it is still competent to regain its vitality and youth.

The narrative Structure is treated like an autobiography. Instead of talking about the pond, it speaks about herself directly to the audience, in first person, feminine gender.

Text of the Commentary

I hate flattering myself. But I cannot resist saying one thing… I am beautiful, clean and transparent. Do you know what eatery one calls me… Beauty. Indeed I am beautiful.

On my lap colourful fish play. Whenever a bit of dirt comes over on my body, these cute little sisters gulp them. I don’t have to remind them.

With the arrival of soap and detergent in the village, has spoiled my skin. Harmful chemicals has settled on the body.

Gradually, poison has spread on my entire body. Little fishes, they deserted me. These days plastic swim instead.

Human beings stop using me. Only the cattle come to rest. I know this is what I am capable of. Their urine and defecation has not only spoiled my beauty but I stink as well.

In spite of this I have millions of lovers. They are constantly surrounding me. They don’t leave me for a second.

Often I am sick. With medicines, I know for certain I can revive my lost beauty.