Poetic Silence - From Anand Bhavan to 3039 and back
About a Pan Indian Movie that was way ahead of its time - from 1987 to be precise.
This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, each of us examined the concept of ‘LANGUAGE’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.
It was the start of another academic year, my first English class in the Second Year of Undergrad. A gentleman formaly dressed with a tie walks in to address the noisy class. All the chaos of catching up after our vacations comes to a screeching halt as he walks in, however some mumbling continues in the back benches. He is the average height with glasses so wide the first half of his face is almost concealed. The next bit beneath his nose is covered by a lampshade moustache. Somewhere from beneath it, his voice introduces him as the new English Lecturer. And I don’t really recall his name, however what he said next is still etched in my mind: “I am fluent in English, Malayalam, Hindi, a little bit of Kannada and lot of silence.” He ended that line with his index finger placed on his unseen lips. This is when everyone in the classroom almost heard that imaginary pin drop.
Well, this brings us to my first ever #acnotes about a movie. More specifically, a movie that could have been the first-ever pan Indian movie of its kind in the 80s, since it employed the universal language - Silence, quite strategically. So, does it make Pushpaka Vimana (Kannada)/Pesum Padam (Tamil)/ Pushpaka Vimanam (Telugu)/ Pushpakvimanam (Malayalam)/ Pushpak (Hindi) a multilingual or a silent movie? Definitely, maybe.
Truth be told, it’s one movie that could be watched world over even today since this language transcended barriers like no other. Perhaps, one could say it was inspired by the greats - Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and their contemporaries from the silent movies era, yet this stands out as a timeless Indian masterpiece.
The entire movie is a silent poem interspersed with “Aha moments” between lines with background music by L. Vaidyanathan that fills eloquently in the gaps - more or less like a narration. Some key scenes that stand out (in my memory) are:
The ones where: the protagonist/male lead (Kamal Haasan) and female lead (Amala) meet for the first time. Especially, the scene at the funeral, which the late Satyajit Ray praised when he spoke to the Director - Singeetham Srinivasa Rao (SSR)
Image Courtesy: IMDB Then there are I guess three scenes between the pauper and the beggar (P.L. Narayana, a veteran Telugu actor) over a bridge (You’ll know who is who when you watch the movie). The bridge being an impeccable metaphor for the crossover of the protagonist’s mindset from what he was - to what he is - to what he
would become.
The scene at the Luxury Suite where the protagonist gets to live briefly only to realize he doesn’t fit there. In fact, one haunting yet funny moment is when he’s unable to sleep in that room in silence so he goes back to his old room to bring back a piece of white noise to lull him to sleep. A masterstroke in storytelling, which can’t be explained but only experienced.
That apart, the themes the movie touches upon are loneliness, unemployment, greed, lust, envy, love, death and heartbreak, amongst others in full volume.
A lot has been discussed about and trivia shared over the 38 years of this classic. However, I wish to share one specific scene that more or less captures the essence of the movie.
Note: Watch from 8:12 sec to 9:40 sec in the below link (if the video doesn’t start exactly at the timestamp I’ve mentioned).
For someone who grew up listening to stories from my grandmother, this scene resonated so well. In this scene, he’s at his room and he has been served half a cup of tea, since he can afford only so much. Just then as he looks out of the window he sees a neighbour who raises a full cup from the next floor to say cheers. While there is an expression of brief disappointment and envy, the very next moment there’s a light bulb moment when he hears the cawing of a crow perched atop the opposite building. What happens next? Trust me, I don’t want to drop a spoiler. Well, I suggest you watch it to know. Or, maybe if you knew the good old story, you must’ve have guessed it already. But for a kid who was barely 6, this scene made me sit up and be awed by how one could apply what one has learnt. Of course, the enlightenment dawned over the years on repeat watch. Yet, this is the movie in a nutshell - ‘Contentment is a state of mind’.
The scene, though is from a silent movie, spoke volumes that I will remember for the rest of my life. Needless to say, the movie was most aptly titled in Tamil as Pesum Padam, which could be translated to Talking Picture. Or, as the movie’s tag line reads - “A silent movie which speaks”.
In closing, here’s something I want you to think and comment, if you may. Perhaps, you could answer this after watching the movie. Why do you think the movie was named Pushpaka Vimana (a mythological flying palace or chariot in the Indian epic Ramayana).
PS: If you watch the movie you’ll understand why I chose the second half of this post’s title as “From Anand Bhavan to 3039 and back.”
Some food for thought - Listen to the below track with a good pair of earphones, if you may. Or, just push play, no matter where you are:
Now, watch the below video, while I return to the language I’m yet to master - silence.
As mentioned earlier, here’s the list of other flash essays from
the Bangalore Substackers Collective. Read them at leisure:
Loss of a language By Rakhi Anil, Rakhi’s Substack
Beyond Words and Dialects by Aarti Krishnakumar, Aarti’s Substack
In search of my lost mother tongue by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana
The language question by Rahul Singh, Mehfil
Geography & Language by Devayani Khare, Geosophy
The Dance of Languages by Haridas Jayakumar, Harry
No Garam Aloo in Tamil Nadu by Ayush, Ayush's Substack
Lost in translation by Vikram, Vikram’s Substack
I’ve been thinking a lot about tongues, again. by Ameya, (Always) Ameya
The Language Beneath Words by Mihir Chate, Mihir's Substack
What does this mean? by Nidhishree Venugopal, General in her Labyrinth
The Language of Murder by Gowri N Kishore | About Murder, She Wrote.
I have no words by Richa Vadini Singh, Here’s What I Think
Jal-Elephants, Thread-Navels, and Other Sanskrit Beasts by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I Floundered
Of Language, Love and Longing: Politics, Mother Tongue and Loss by Aryan Kavan Gowda, Wonderings of a Wanderer
The Bengaluru Blend by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls
Many fond memories of watching this classic on TV. On a lazy sunday afternoon during school summer vacation. Your piece took me back in time and relive the laughter. Thanks for sharing
If I remember corectly did this have the ice knife?
Thanks for this! I want to rewatch the movie. Excellent observations and perspective!