Divide and Rule:
Bappaditya Bandopadhyay's Barbed Wire
Introduction and Interview by Vinita Ramani, KJ #65

Set in an unspecified rural area at the border separating west Bengal and Bangladesh (though neither is named specifically), Bandopadhyay's Barbed Wire (Kantatar, 2005) makes the astute decision to handle its weighty subject matter with a sense of both irony and humour.

The film's opening shot immediately establishes the various, contrary forces that Bandopadhyay explores in the next two hours. A woman, later identified as "Sudha" (Sreelekha Mitra) wearing a burqa with a bundle in her arms walks along the barbed wire separating two pieces of land. As she trails the wire, a Bengali folk song begins playing, against the sounds of military trucks and gunfire.

The governments in question – whoever they may be – have established the borders. The military enforces the laws keeping the illegal two-way traffic across the wire in check and the song, meanwhile, wafts across either side of the divide, linking a people for whom the partition means very little.

Other things too, seem to be unaffected by the wire and contradict the presence of these borders. Meteorologist Binod Da (Sudhip Mukherjee) and his naive assistant Ananta (Rudranil Ghosh, a comedian in local Bengali television) send balloons floating to the skies every morning and dutifully deliver weather reports to the head office.

In tandem with the daily ritual, Ananta asks Binod what the weather is set to be like for the day. Strangely ominous and comic at the same time, the innocuous question hangs over the entire film, suddenly inflected with layers and multiple meanings. How much will the weather differ on side of the border as opposed to the other? How much will the weather in one country, affect its neighbour? Questions like these silently hang in the air as the balloons are released into the sky.

In one instance, promises of sunshine are contradicted by a sudden afternoon thunderstorm. Outside the halls of the subordinate and supreme courts, where law clerks and lawyers sit and type up affidavits or letters of complaint for clients, reams of documents go flying in every direction as the storm kicks in.

It is a surreal moment, particularly as it is set against a previous scene in which a lawyer advises yet another "anonymous" woman in a burqa that she should get all her original documents and birth certificate together, without which she is no one and cannot have the law on her side. Random reams of document carefully catalogued by a bureaucracy confer identity on wanderers in this land.

These moments of irony may seem immediately obvious to Bandopadhyay's audience, but what lends each scene its credibility and resonance is that they are subtly delivered by wry, age-worn characters who have become so accustomed to the system that they are beyond nonchalant about it.

The scenes act as vignettes and comments on a system of corruption and legal bureaucracy that has become so entrenched, it is no longer viewed as abnormal.

Against this backdrop, Sudha wanders into the makeshift camp by a river set up by Binod Da and Ananta, where they do their daily weather readings. Sudha and Binod almost immediately become involved in a sexual relationship, which turns into the vehicle through which Bandopadhyay critiques a more contemporary and context-specific problem.

Joking that she has several lives, a different one for each time of the day, Sudha's evasive and poetic responses to Binod's questions about her background are an initial indication that something is amiss.

Later, Sudha reveals to Binod that she was Pirani, might have also been Chopa Mondol and Rukhsana Khatum. Each time, taking on a cultural and religious identity belonging to someone else so that she is able to cross the border and find work, her dilemma shows how a deeper, insidious problem has started to take root in the village and the two countries - counter-terrorism strategies that have made wandering, possibly single women or widows their latest victims.

Bandopadhyay chooses to paint one of his government bureaucrats as an overly dramatic octogenarian, exploiting the likes of Ananta by warning the latter that he should stay away from all unknown women because they are suspected terrorists. But it isn't just a throwaway gesture that critiques the system's lackeys by making them out to be fools.

It shows how the beginnings of fear and the use of power has its roots in taking advantage of a person's naivety by stringing together random events as if they are sequential and inextricably bound to each other.

The army trucks roaring into the village is a scene that repeats itself several times throughout the film, but remains unexplained. However, the lawyer is later able to link that presence to nameless women wandering the court's corridors and to Ananta's sense of unease about authority and people who might be breaking the law – prostitutes, women without identification papers like Sudha: in other words sexually active women.

The film more powerfully suggests that it is economics and poverty that drives people across borders, so much so that the identity categories of "Hindu" and "Muslim" have very little to do with religious convictions and almost everything to do with an appearance or identity that's taken on to alleviate poverty and struggle.

Bandopadhyay drives the point home further by including a random character, an old man, who is like the proverbial court gesture. Armed with an aged colonial era rifle that does not serve its purpose anymore, he sits down with a law clerk daily, dictating detailed letters of complaints that interrogate the state on its prisons, health ministry, defence budget and finance policies.

He serves no greater purpose than to act as a foil, revealing the remarkable dangers posed by exploiting ignorance and suspicion of "others". We should all be doing what he does everyday, it seems Bandopadhyay is suggesting. But instead, we are busy indicting prostitutes or the rural poor because they are suddenly on the list of "suspected terrorists" and smugglers of vital information at odds with the state.

It may come across as a familiar gesture and the film's general mood, pace and structure may bear some resemblances to Iranian filmmakers like the Makhmalbafs or Babak Payami (his Silence Between Two Thoughts comes to mind), but undoubtedly, there is something thoroughly Indian and Bengali about Barbed Wire, even as Bandopadhyay's use of satire and irony lends the film a placeless, powerful quality.

The following interview with Bappaditya Bandopadhyay was conducted in Singapore, after the screening of his film on April 16th 2006.

What is the status of Bengali films right now?
The big tragedy for Bengali films of Bangladesh or of west Bengal (India) is that they are not allowed to be released in other territories. So west Bengali films made in west Bengal can't be shown in Bangladesh. That is the government's decision, it's the same language and almost the same culture, but we don't know why that rule has been imposed. But maybe a time will come when they'll change the laws and the market will be there for it. The other problem is that art films will lose out from such a move. In Bangladesh the main market is the rural market. In Kolkata (West Bengal) people have the choice of seeing a Hollywood film, Hindi film or a Bengali film. But in rural areas, Bengali films are the only kind that do well...but what kind? Not the kind we’d like to see out there.

This film has done well, why do you think that is the case?
I think a lot of incidences like the ones in the film has happened in West Bengal. Also, deep inside any Bengali living in West Bengal that you talk to, there is a strong attachment in their hearts for Bangladesh. The partition is something that was imposed. So even today if you talk to the older generation, they will not accept it. Particularly because the music in the film is purely Bangladeshi, so they relate to it. So the familiarity is the thing, there is a strong bond between the two Bengals (west and Bangladesh).

Are the issues a huge departure for you or have you dealt with these before?
It’s a departure after my second film Silpancar (Transcendence from one art form to another). That was a very experimental film.

What compelled you to take on these issues?
It's based on a novel written by my father who was a journalist for about 40 years. We've read about these kinds of incidences in the newspapers. Immigrants come from Bangladesh, particularly women, to work as domestic help. But as a Muslim working in west Bengal, they won't be accepted in a Hindu house. So such women take on Hindu names and appearances to work. Right now, this is a huge issue in the elections in West Bengal, in the fight between the left parties and the election commission, which was also raised by the Bharatiya Janata Party (formerly the ruling party in India propagating conservative Hindu ideology). So the BJP always say that the immigrants are basically Hindus driven away by the Muslims in Bangladesh. But the reality is that most of the immigrants are Muslims driven away by economic problems.

Right now the biggest issue in India is also the voter ID card. It's not a passport, but a card which has your photo and you need it to cast your vote. This is a very big issue right now because the opposition say that if it is used effectively it will be used to get rid of the Bangaldeshis because you need proper papers to get the voter ID card. These are big political issues in the country at the moment. Who is a voter and who is not? It had been introduced about a decade ago, then it was dropped. But the election commissioner decided to re-introduce it. So this is the backdrop of the film. Can the identity of a person be determined by whether he or she has a voter ID card or not?

Is there are a black-market for selling or buying identities using these cards?
Oh yes, it's a huge problem, but the film questions the whole idea of having an ID card because these are all things imposed on a people. But since the addition of the terrorism issue, which the government of India thinks is either sponsored by Bangladesh or Pakistan...this backdrop of fear threatens people. It's very difficult to distinguish who is and who is not a terrorist. A lot of commoners are treated as terrorists under the prevention of terrorism act, often without trial, if you are seen as a threat to the country. The scene with that woman walking with a rope around her waist, with a small baby being led into a court room, I've seen that with my own eyes. How could a woman like that be an enemy of the state? But we don't know. Who do we pose these questions to?

You've chosen not to identify the town or the country or the political context exactly, which reminds me a lot of certain Iranian filmmakers Babak Payami or Makhmalbaf.
No doubt. I'm sure the same thing happens between the Iran-Iraq border or the Chechnya-Russia border. Wherever people move across borders and migrate, there are a lot of such incidences, where people try to change their names and identities. Also, my second film was very region specific, down to the behavioural patterns of the people, as a result the film communicated less with people. We tried so hard to be so authentic, it was almost a socio-anthropological film. So this time we tried to be universal, to help people relate to the film.

Why the decision to centre the narrative around women?
Three of my films have women as protagonists. It's not a conscious decision, it's what appeals to me. My first film was about a woman who is divorced. Her husband also lives in Kolkata like her. She brings up her two daughters and when her daughter is about to be married, a ritual issue arises because she has to be given away by her father or a male member of the family. So the father says he has to do it, but the mother insists she will do it and the daughter is caught in a dilemma where she can't reject or accept either. I’m interested in those kinds of issues.

Have you had any negative reaction in terms of what characters in the film say? Most of them say that poverty has no identity, no religion and no culture...or borders. So in a way, the issue of religious identity is nothing because poverty dominates. Have people reacted against that statement in the film?
Most Bengali films nowadays are not like Satayajit Ray or Rithwik Ghatak. They are based on urban problems. About relationships and crises in relationships, sexual problems, adultery, psychological issues. But not in the context of poverty, which they avoid. That's the reaction I've seen. People don’t want to see rural settings as much anymore.

Is it because of the legacy left behing by Ray or Ghatak, is that why they avoid the rural issues?
No, it's the market. A country which has a 60% population living below the poverty line, so much writing comes up about it. But you won't see it reflected in television or films. I think globalisation has changed everything, and cinema has also changed. Cinema has become urbanised and deals with those kinds of issues. Not so much poverty...because there isn't a market for it. There is also a generation gap between the older journalists and newer journalists. What was news back then isn't newsworthy anymore now.

So that's the only sense in which you've had a reaction? Or have conservatives reacted against it in other ways?
Oh yes, a lot...they say it's an anti-state film. But they won't say it to you directly because India being a democratic country, I guess they won't say it as directly as Iran's government might! (laughs). You get it in terms of censorship etc. So this film got an A censorship, which means it can't be screened on national television without going through censorship and most of the scenes will be deleted and a lot of the dialogue will be also taken out or muted. Censorship is a big problem. Love-making scenes in Indian films will never mature. From next month nobody is allowed to smoke on screen, which is ridiculous. We accept the rating as it is, which is that it's for Adults Only.

What inspired the visual style of the film?
A lot of filmmakers. Rithwik Ghatak is a huge influence on most of us younger generation of filmmakers, mainstream or art cinema filmmakers. Ray's films are very much made for a western audience whereas Ghatak's are very Indian. It's very much like the debate that goes on in Japan about Kurosawa and Mizoguchi. People say Kurosawa is made for the west whereas Ozu and Mizoguchi are close to the hearts of the people because it speaks their language. Ray is more global, I think. Of course, I'm a great admirer of Fellini, his world is very appealing to me. And Tarkovsky. We're good students of cinema you could say!

And your background? Did you study cinema?
I studied sociology in university and I chose it because I figured it's one subject I could bunk classes and get away with getting a degree! (laughs). I always wanted to do film, I just did this degree because I had to do it. My father made 4 documentaries, so in a way I learnt from there. Another person who is a musician and filmmaker Ghotam Chaterjee, is a huge influence on me. I learnt by working with him. Mrinal Sen once told me that the best way to learn how to make films is just to make them and make mistakes and then move on, not repeat the mistakes, but make new mistakes that you learn from.

And you choose to use a lot of ironic humour to handle what could have been a very intense subject.
Yes...otherwise the film would be very shocking and people might not like to see it. Pasolini still has this effect on people. But Fellini never took life seriously and I like that. Tarkovsky is so serious on the other hand. He is so intense, you have to be emotionally attached to him to see his films. So a general audience would never be able to handle him...you either love him or hate him. The character of the letter-writer, is based on somebody I know who has written nearly 10,000 letters or so to various governments and ministries to complain about what is happening in the country.

And you also leave the film's narrative historically unspecific. So we don't know exactly what period it is set in. The only continuous thread that lends the film an ominous quality is the army trucks that are coming towards and eventually, into the villages.
Yes, I didn't want to be specific. But it's a huge problem right now. Policing, but also moral policing which is the subject of our next film. You can't move around in Kolkata the way people here are right now, for example. Women who dress and walk around the way women do here, they will be taken in by the police. It's not a religious thing, it's a moral imposition which exists very strongly. I think it's that generational gap again, that is prompting it.

So it's a little ironic that the world is looking at India as this rising economic power without acknowledging that these gaps are increasing all the time. Whether between the rich and poor, or generationally.
Yes, the country's leaders won't accept it, but it is there. I think the future could be a lot like what is happening in Bangladesh. Dhaka is so rich, so developed, but most of the country is in poverty. I saw this really interesting documentary about a village in Bangladesh that doesn't have the facilities to predict cyclones, though it is a very cyclone-prone area. So the predictions are done in Dhaka and then this one man in the village is informed and he has to take a loud-hailer and cycle around the village to tell everyone to vacate the area. And it's so difficult for him to do that before the cyclone comes, and that to me, is so strange. So it's ironic. Telecommunications is amazing in India, there's huge foreign investment in the country, the roads have improved. But that's the problem of globalization, the other half will never have anything.

Vinita Ramani considers herself an advocate for the interdisciplinary spitit with an academic background in sociology, philosophy, film and cultural studies. She did her Masters's Degree at the School of Oriental and African Studies (UK) in South Asian studies, focusing on ethnic minorities and the law, as well as Indian philosophy. She has worked with the Singapore International Film Festival over three seasons (2002, 2004, 2005) as a publicist and writer, and with the Toronto International Film Festival (2004) as its Asian cinema publicist. She has written for a variety of publications on cinema/arts and culture, including Exclaim! (Canada),Vertigo (UK). BigO (Singapore) and Ekran (Slovenia). She also moonlights as the bassist of Etc, a Singapre post-rock/garage band.

The writer would like to thank Philip Cheah, Singapore International Film Festival’s programmer, for arranging this interview. April 2006