A few moments captured,and stories unearthed.
The journey continues
Monday, August 25, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Untitled as Untilted ---the wasted sequel
Swecha is a youth movement, or lets say it started as one and then they decided to take shape and become this registered organization that primarily works on Environment and building responsible citizen movement around it.
Wasted was the first film the organization produced.
It is more of a personal voice of the organization and the creators of the film who tracked the journey of waste from homes of a neighborhood in Vasant Vihar in New Delhi to the landfill where the waste is segregated,sold and recycled. It is a peek into the existence of hundreds of waste pickers who live a faceless live but contribute almost rupees 20 crore per annum to the Indian economy. But that is also wasted.
What follows is anecdotes of the field visits in the form of a field diary
Field Musings
My shift to Delhi found a space to walk when I decided to work for the next film Swecha was conceptualizing to make.
This is going to trace the lives of the waste-pickers and the life analysis of the waste that fills the Lands in the space called Jahangirpuri,8 kms from Delhi University. The area is a resettlement colony for the waste pickers who migrated to this space since they seem to not remember.
With almost no concept of waste management except for books and articles,and the glimpse of landfills in Mumbai, I had to go to the field if I wanted to feel connected to the film and thus began my journey to Jahangirpuri. A non-Delhiite's first travelogue with all good intentions of not intruding into the community with a camera was dampened by the random rains right in the morning of 8th August.
The rain washed Delhi streets would make one feel like it exchanged roads with Mumbai. It was monotonous and heavy drizzles.
The trip to Central Secretariat was like any other metro traffic laden roads.
From there to Delhi University in the underground train which often seems like a replica of the subway trains of Europe. I was to take a bus to the Azadpur New Subzi Mandi. Unable to create space amongst the hard core aggressive bus commuters and feeling like a wet crow the next option was the auto. The auto drops me there and refuses to move an inch ahead.
Dismissed by the auto, I tried the cycle rickshaws. I explained resettlement colonies of kabariwalas (ragpickers) and the destination was explained to me as Bangali Bastis (settlements of Bengalis,Bengalis synonymous to Bangladeshis) and finally I was there.
Jahangirpuri, about three kilometres from Azadpur in North West Delhi looks at Delhi through different lenses. It seems to be a world by itself. One one side of the road there were apartments and shops like any urban-semi/urban spaces. On the other hand there were stacks of waste in polythene bags organized as if they were the guardians of the space I was about to enter.
The first walk through the alley was uneventful. The concentration was more on the shots that could have been captured, and trying to find the story within it, till I realized the two kids were following me curiously. Befriending Saajan and Deepak I walked back to where I began. Here I met Khalid, a scorpio driver whose live has begun in this space. In almost no time did the conversation had many people joining in and with all kinds of question, who what,where,why,and most importantly what is our benefit from the film. As a development professional it is perhaps easy to answer the question but as a film maker when the medium is being used to explain, to take ahead an issue (here more as an organization mandate than the subject) it is difficult. But the creative journey is probably the responsibility towards the subject, the issue and the film, hopefully, would do justice to the same.
From one Khalid,came one Sheikh Mumtaz, a fifteen year old ragpicker who is a professional. He knows the tricks of the trade and speaks his mind. While I was surrounded by curious onlookers and interviewers I noticed one teenager dressed rather in the Bollywood gear of a well fitted shirt and denim and a bandana which is made of net material in red and has a golden border. From the conversation of what I was there for,it divulged to how it is a bane to live in Jahangirpuri. Irrespective of enough education,just the reference that one comes from this place is a reason for the person to be treated with no respect and almost like a criminal.
My first item number character, the same bandana boy is called Azizul reflects on why the people of the area are criminalized.
He almost replies like a politician whose byte one would not want to miss.
“ Hum kachra utthate hai apne haathon se, aur haath gande hai, aur policewalon ke hissab se har gande kaam ke peeche,gande haathon ka dhanda hai. Woh yeh bhool jate hai ke yehi gande haath estamal hota hai to khana banta hai,aur hum khana khate hai” (We pick waste and get our hands dirty and behind every crime there are dirty hands. Therefore the law keepers say that we are the law breakers. What they forget is these very hands make food,and these dirty hands feed moths).
Shaken by the idea, I got driven into a conversation with the Maulana. According to him,the media has always exploited the community. But he is sure we have noble intentions (and I wondered what made him feel so!). He promised cooperation from all ends.
Hijacked to Sadam ki chai ki dukaan (Sadam's chai shop) we talked about old memories of the place. The neighbourhood is a concern for all the young adults,more so for their offspring. The greed to earn money by waste picking and segregation and selling it cannot be substituted. Secondly the presence of the alcohol den near the school which irrespective of age and students adorning uniform would sell them alcohol is a menace forever. So the students would rather bunk school,pick waste,sell it,earn money,drink and go to nearby video stalls and watch blue films. Education is of least importance and quick money is all that everyone is interested in. The elders are worried and amazed how the several other business run thats detrimental to the society there. The law-keepers turn a deaf ear at this, on the other hand according to their records criminals inhabit the wasted land.
The quest continues in search of the story teller or maybe story tellers, the heroes of real life who are getting wasted amongst the waste.
....to be continued
Wasted was the first film the organization produced.
It is more of a personal voice of the organization and the creators of the film who tracked the journey of waste from homes of a neighborhood in Vasant Vihar in New Delhi to the landfill where the waste is segregated,sold and recycled. It is a peek into the existence of hundreds of waste pickers who live a faceless live but contribute almost rupees 20 crore per annum to the Indian economy. But that is also wasted.
What follows is anecdotes of the field visits in the form of a field diary
Field Musings
My shift to Delhi found a space to walk when I decided to work for the next film Swecha was conceptualizing to make.
This is going to trace the lives of the waste-pickers and the life analysis of the waste that fills the Lands in the space called Jahangirpuri,8 kms from Delhi University. The area is a resettlement colony for the waste pickers who migrated to this space since they seem to not remember.
With almost no concept of waste management except for books and articles,and the glimpse of landfills in Mumbai, I had to go to the field if I wanted to feel connected to the film and thus began my journey to Jahangirpuri. A non-Delhiite's first travelogue with all good intentions of not intruding into the community with a camera was dampened by the random rains right in the morning of 8th August.
The rain washed Delhi streets would make one feel like it exchanged roads with Mumbai. It was monotonous and heavy drizzles.
The trip to Central Secretariat was like any other metro traffic laden roads.
From there to Delhi University in the underground train which often seems like a replica of the subway trains of Europe. I was to take a bus to the Azadpur New Subzi Mandi. Unable to create space amongst the hard core aggressive bus commuters and feeling like a wet crow the next option was the auto. The auto drops me there and refuses to move an inch ahead.
Dismissed by the auto, I tried the cycle rickshaws. I explained resettlement colonies of kabariwalas (ragpickers) and the destination was explained to me as Bangali Bastis (settlements of Bengalis,Bengalis synonymous to Bangladeshis) and finally I was there.
Jahangirpuri, about three kilometres from Azadpur in North West Delhi looks at Delhi through different lenses. It seems to be a world by itself. One one side of the road there were apartments and shops like any urban-semi/urban spaces. On the other hand there were stacks of waste in polythene bags organized as if they were the guardians of the space I was about to enter.
The first walk through the alley was uneventful. The concentration was more on the shots that could have been captured, and trying to find the story within it, till I realized the two kids were following me curiously. Befriending Saajan and Deepak I walked back to where I began. Here I met Khalid, a scorpio driver whose live has begun in this space. In almost no time did the conversation had many people joining in and with all kinds of question, who what,where,why,and most importantly what is our benefit from the film. As a development professional it is perhaps easy to answer the question but as a film maker when the medium is being used to explain, to take ahead an issue (here more as an organization mandate than the subject) it is difficult. But the creative journey is probably the responsibility towards the subject, the issue and the film, hopefully, would do justice to the same.
From one Khalid,came one Sheikh Mumtaz, a fifteen year old ragpicker who is a professional. He knows the tricks of the trade and speaks his mind. While I was surrounded by curious onlookers and interviewers I noticed one teenager dressed rather in the Bollywood gear of a well fitted shirt and denim and a bandana which is made of net material in red and has a golden border. From the conversation of what I was there for,it divulged to how it is a bane to live in Jahangirpuri. Irrespective of enough education,just the reference that one comes from this place is a reason for the person to be treated with no respect and almost like a criminal.
My first item number character, the same bandana boy is called Azizul reflects on why the people of the area are criminalized.
He almost replies like a politician whose byte one would not want to miss.
“ Hum kachra utthate hai apne haathon se, aur haath gande hai, aur policewalon ke hissab se har gande kaam ke peeche,gande haathon ka dhanda hai. Woh yeh bhool jate hai ke yehi gande haath estamal hota hai to khana banta hai,aur hum khana khate hai” (We pick waste and get our hands dirty and behind every crime there are dirty hands. Therefore the law keepers say that we are the law breakers. What they forget is these very hands make food,and these dirty hands feed moths).
Shaken by the idea, I got driven into a conversation with the Maulana. According to him,the media has always exploited the community. But he is sure we have noble intentions (and I wondered what made him feel so!). He promised cooperation from all ends.
Hijacked to Sadam ki chai ki dukaan (Sadam's chai shop) we talked about old memories of the place. The neighbourhood is a concern for all the young adults,more so for their offspring. The greed to earn money by waste picking and segregation and selling it cannot be substituted. Secondly the presence of the alcohol den near the school which irrespective of age and students adorning uniform would sell them alcohol is a menace forever. So the students would rather bunk school,pick waste,sell it,earn money,drink and go to nearby video stalls and watch blue films. Education is of least importance and quick money is all that everyone is interested in. The elders are worried and amazed how the several other business run thats detrimental to the society there. The law-keepers turn a deaf ear at this, on the other hand according to their records criminals inhabit the wasted land.
The quest continues in search of the story teller or maybe story tellers, the heroes of real life who are getting wasted amongst the waste.
....to be continued
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