Aamir Bashir perceives the turmoil in Kashmir as a long and severe winter that has engulfed the Valley. And taking a leaf from the thought, his debut film goes by the name Harud (Autumn). “The title is derived from the Kashmiri phrase harduk zazur, which
translates as autumnal decay. As autumn sets in, it symbolises the month of decay, a slow end or a disintegration of life. It brings with it immense hardship for the local people and also a sense of disillusionment. Ironically, the cold and despair seem to having an extended stay in Kashmir,” says the actor turned filmmaker.
“The autumn decay has a metaphorical use in the film, it underlines the psychological decay that Kashmiris are going through while living in a conflict zone. It has aged them beyond their years, hard to believe but most people there, look 10 years older than their actual age. Perhaps this is one of the prices one has to pay while living under the constant shadow of the gun.”
Shedding light on Harud, he says, “The film traces the trials and travails of the common Kashmiri who is struggling to cling on to his dignity and is fighting a daily battle for survival and deep down in his heart, yearns for normalcy. The focus of Harud is a family, whose elder son, a tourist photographer, has disappeared without a trace like the many young Kashmiris. His absence leaves a void and the family finds it hard to come to terms with the situation. The younger son is left bitter and confused, he even contemplates joining the training camps on the other side. And then one fine day, he discovers his brother’s abandoned camera. The camera transforms his world and becomes his gateway to a past that was beautiful but now only exists in fading memories. For the boy, the glimpses of yesterday, makes a subtle difference to his forlorn today.”
Recalling a particular incident that provided the fodder for the film, he shares, Harud was born in my mind sometime in 2003, when mobilephones were introduced in Kashmir. It came seven years late in the Valley as compared to the rest of India. I was in Srinagar at that time and noticed the frantic rush by the common Kashmiris to acquire a cellphone. That moment realisation dawned that their desperation arises from the feeling of insecurity. There is a fear psychosis prevalent there. The mobilephone is a mode of reassurance, the best possible way to keep track of loved ones, in a place where life stands at risk, almost daily. That instance, I felt, people need to know more about Kashmir beyond the clichés. We frequently come across news reports of people being killed in Kashmir, but how many times, do we ponder who died and under what circumstances. Harud focuses on the sufferings of one single family, but this story exists in many Kashmiri homes.
Except for veteran Iranian actor, Reza Naji, who plays the father of the missing boy, the cast of the film consist of non-actors who were trained by Nasiruddin Shah at a workshop in Srinagar. “I have tried to make the film as realistic as possible. The film is in Urdu and also speaks in silences,” says the 40-year-old director.
Aamir admits shooting in the strife-torn region was not a smooth affair, “Although I am a Kashmiri, the other crew members were not. Initially, people were suspicious of our motive. So, each day brought a new hurdle. But we managed to clear the pathway.”
“Harud did have a bumpy ride but it came out unscathed,” he adds with a smile. The film has travelled to film festivals in Toronto, London, Kolkata and Mumbai. “It is yet to find distributors for a commercial release and the possibility of a screening in Kashmir is ruled out since there are no cinema halls there.
Aamir takes a moment of pause, and then reflects on the film and reality it portrays: “Rafiq, the younger brother, didn’t walk the violent path, he chose to rediscover life through the lens. Yet destiny chose death for him instead of life, that is the irony of the film. I may find myself in a minority when I say, that the government has been in a state of denial and committed blunders after blunders when it comes to Kashmir. Fact is Kashmir needs a political solution not economic packages. Until that is in sight, peace will be elusive,” he feels. “Sadly, spring is still far away from Kashmir,” Aamir concludes on a pensive note.