Sometime in the future…

A primary health care worker in a medical facility on the fringes of a rural community in the center of the Indian subcontinent uses an idiom during a conversation with me. Lo and behold, as if with the touch of a magic wand, I take a somersault, and land in 1982. I am a coming-of-age teen, watching Aadharshila (the Foundation), an Offbeat or so-called Art Film (a bizarre and laughable term- ‘Art’ film- as if other genres of filmmaking are devoid of any Art, which, they might be).

As this blog is carved entirely from memory, and if memory serves me right- which it does most of the time (at least till now)- I watched the film in Shakuntalam Theatre, located inside the premises of the, at that time, iconic Pragati Maidan in Delhi. Helmed by Ashok Ahuja, as his first directorial outing, it left a lasting impression on my young mind. With a love for films flowing through my veins as a legacy of my maternal grandmother, whom we fondly called Wadi Mummy, I was mesmerized with the simplicity through which its hard-hitting message was put across.

Naseeruddin Shah (an FTII and NSD alumnus) and Anita Kanwar (NSD alumnus- an outstanding actor of rare caliber, who, on being shoved mercilessly into a one way straitjacket following her portrayal as Lajjo ji in the long running partition based television saga, Buniyaad, had to beat a hasty retreat from showbiz; what a loss for cinema aficionados and the film fraternity) got under the skin of their roles with amazing conviction and maturity. Decades later, I can’t imagine any actor who could have essayed the characters better than them (if push comes to shove, then for Shah- Rajkumar Rao, Vikrant Massey; Manoj Bajpayee and Pankaj Tripathi in their younger days, and Shahid Kapoor- why not??? For Kanwar- Bhumi Pednekar; Kangana Ranaut- why not???). Shah would have found it helpful to essay the protagonist – an FTII graduate struggling to make his first film- something he would have encountered at close quarters during his initial days in the industry, through his contemporaries.

It is at this point that details begin to slip from my grasp, like sand from a closed fist. But one scene remains etched in my mind.

When Shah visits his friend in a rural village, (there are urban villages also; found in abundance in my beloved Delhi- Mehrauli, Munirka, Ber Sarai, Neb Sarai etc.), he finds that due to certain compulsions, his friend is practicing as a fake doctor. Pride of place in the clinic is earmarked for X-Ra, a dilapidated old refrigerator (maybe) with a red color bulb positioned over it, to depict an X-Ray machine (a heart wrenching situation coated in subtle humor; Kudos to Ahuja).  Shah is aghast.

Unlike the firm light of the Red Bulb, the term X-Ra got buried & lost under years of matter we get to accumulate in our brain cells.

Till, while waiting for the report of an X-ray conducted at the medical facility, sometime in the future, the primary health care worker informed that the X-Ra report will take a few more minutes to be ready. That X- Ra is still used as a term in some belts of our vast country (where another Shah, Rukh, portrayed a superhero in the thriller, Ra. One) where several centuries coexist in harmony, even as the cycle of time moves forward, steadily, often, as a surprise, we come face to face with events that put the well-oiled rhythm in jeopardy.