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FESTIVE LAURELS
In
recent years, FTII student films have done the
Institute proud at a number of festivals in India
and abroad. This is reason to celebrate, but for
students who still have a lot to learn, is it
too much too soon?
Khusbhoo
Agarwal, 3rd Year Editing
It’s been a good year for the FTII. All
kinds of films, be it first year DV projects,
second year Dialogue Exercises or the Diploma
Films, have been screened at Film festivals the
world over. Of the first year DV projects Rrivu
Laha’s documentary Aamchi Kasauti
won the Best Student Film at the Jeevika Livelihood
Festival. This film, along with Emmanuel Paulo’s
Waiting and Friday Skies were
screened at MIFF 2006. The last named also won
the Air Art competition in Germany. Meanwhile
in an Ad film competition, Debashish Medhekar
won the first prize where his product was…Beer!
Among the second year exercises, Sandeep Patil
was adjudged runner-up at the International Kodak
Film School Competition. The legendary cinematographer
Laszlo Kovaks, who judged the competition, praised
his work saying “This is a very Dark
subject and was visually told in the right colours…
The way you stayed close and never went wide with
your shots was very dramatic - very well planned
cinematography”
Their Story directed by Reema Borah has
been selected at the Claremont Film Festival while
the Oberhausen Film Festival has chosen Amit Dutta’s
film, Ma Pa. The Tel Aviv Students Film
Festival screened three of our films in its competition
section – Gul Dharmani’s Ek Tha
Chhotu, Keshab Pandey’s Once in
a Village and Priya Belliappa’s Nerostagonan
while Keshab Pandey’s second year documentary,
Chicken Coup was shown at MIFF 2006. Vibhu
Puri’s Diploma – Chaabiwali Pocket
Watch and Rrivu’s film have been chosen
for the Dubai Film Festival, IBDA.
With the increased exposure for all student exercises
besides the Diploma Films, student projects are
turning increasingly ambitious. Themes being explored
have become much more complex not just at the
conceptual level but even in technique, execution
and presentation. However, one school of thought
is that because of this exposure, students are
concentrating more on attempting complete films
for festivals in every exercise rather than understanding
the true need and nature of the said exercise.
They are of the opinion that only the third year
Diplomas should be sent out to festivals. On the
other hand is the belief that larger the audience
watching our films at every level, the better
it is for our students. After all doesn’t
one make films to be seen by as many people as
possible?
AN
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BORROWED PATEELA
Or
HOW I STOPPED THINKING OF A TITLE AND SETTLED
ON THE FIRST THING THAT CAME TO MY MIND.
An
individual take on Holi celebrations, FTII style
with the Pune cops in a guest appearance.
Arunima Sharma, 1st Year
Direction
Make
way all ye ordinary mortals
Queen Elizabeth is here
Or do we rather revere the baba
He who knows all
Dispensing wisdom
Complimentary, at The Tree.
The boys’ mess, that at meal time
Is usually buzzing with the sound of food being
ground and words being minced
Is breathing more heavily today
Its sighs are shorter and beats are faster today
As strange coloured mouths and contrasting hued
tongues
Struggle to locate morsels of food
And purple lips attempt to stop outstretching
themselves into laminated smiles
Amusing? I guess we could call it that.
Some would disagree though.
Those tiny footsteps for example,
That were so miniscule that the relative distance
had no choice, but quietly snigger.
This rather interesting scenario that prevailed
in the campus
At about 2 pm on the 15th of March 2006, was a
collective result of the interplay of a number
of factors, namely-
Bhang, bhang, the property of
universal solubility of water, the inherent nature
of Holi colours of transferring from palms to
faces, the incomprehensible selection process
of FTII, human ability of perseverance and the
resultant fund collection, Hindi music directors,
Bhojpuri song writers, attention friendly dholwallahs,
Maharashtra State Police and bhang.
Cut to three hours earlier
Torn shirts hung like flags of war on the electric
wire above
Voluntary bartenders honed their skills
Generosity poured out of borrowed pateelas
Hair and drops and bodies and flab swayed in collective
rhythm
Atop and around the makeshift dance floor-
A syntax tank inverted in the middle of the fountain
pool
At that moment, the possibility that the centre
of that inverted tank was the centre of the universe,
seemed to be a lot more real than just an egocentric
passing thought.
The eccentricities came, skeletons followed
Equations reinforced, equations modified
Diminishing memory spans, shorter attention spans.
And then, Newton softly guffawed from the heavens,
He had just been proved right, yet again.
The crescendo gravitated back to earth.
As the campus gates opened to an entry, that to
say the least, was uncalled for.
A gang of cops, straight out of a Ram Gopal Verma
flick, complete with tanned skin, bushy moustache,
mid 90’s style glares, attempts at intimidation,
and surnames that ended with the sound of ae
For instance, More, Bhide, Waghmare, Tu ikde
ye re.
We, out of our whirling heads, hunted words and
questions and ideals to throw at them.
None hit them at the right place, I suppose.
Was ‘Holi’, yesterday’s film
at the main theatre, just a stark premonition
of today?
“Stand there, don’t come here!”
yelled he
We pointed to the “Here” and said
“That’s our campus.”
Then we pointed to the “There” and
said “That’s our campus too.”
Soon, the loudspeakers were in their van, so were
the dholwallas and their dhols
The van edged towards the main gate,
We followed, we ran.
Finally, the dholwallas were ‘set
free’ amidst applause galore.
They drove off.
Still lying in the van, were the dhols,
the speakers and a piece of our Holi.
This leads to an earnest recollection of a cliché,
unnecessarily romanticized memory
That of the night before
The eve of Holi
When the bonfire stood tall
The flames flickered on our faces
Desires churned hard inside
When amidst cries and shrieks and slogans and
the anthem
Streamed faulty renditions of “Jalaado…
jalaado… jalaado isse… phoonk daalo
yeh duniya…” and tight embraces stifled
wishes of a ‘Happy Holi’.
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