India March 08

India. Noisy, colourful, crusty bazaars that weave through Old Dehli’s underbelly where tuktuks collide with the mass of humanity, the waft of cumin and chillies roasting under a hot midday sun, the nubile snakecharmer with tears in his kohl lined eyes, the bright white opulence of Taj Mahal’s marble, the bobbling smiles from the hot purri hawker and the shy smiles of young women in dark, cloudy burkas hurrying to the call of the imam.

In March 08, I took a cinnamon infused, masala tea journey to ‘the Continent’ that still has me deeply addicted to chai, chicken biryani and puris.

I fell in love with India like a man lost in quicksand. At first I resisted it, then was overwhelmed by the experience. India slipped into my psyche, it slinked under my senses and wormed its way into my heart, so much so I was soon helpless in the magic of this great, spicy land.

I especially enjoyed seeing India through a lens and frame – filming on train platforms that heaved with activity, catching glimpses of baby doe eyes peeping through a hot pink sari sari and feeling the holiness of a moment as her mother fed her in the midst of a crowded station in Chennai. On our way to see a King’s magnificent monument to his Queen, we steamed through tiny rustic villages in rickety train cars that closely mimicked tin cans on wheels, nibbled our sugar biscuits and hot chai served on trays in a tradition that dates back to the days of India’s colonial masters, and rocked to sleep as India’s hamlets morphed into sprawling cities with floating glass towers filled with the hum of industry and progress.

I wept when a desperate woman in Hydrebad’s Muslim Quarter wrapped her arms around me and begged me to save her children from hunger and pain. She was flailing, inconsolable and wild in her grieving poverty. The kind policemen who took her away did so with a weary patience I imagined they practiced often, separating the desperately disadvantaged from the tourist hordes who spent money liberally on trinkets before of their starving eyes.

21 days and thousands of little moments of inspiration led to ‘In Her Footsteps’ – my first feature length film as director. www.inherfootsteps.com

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