A Bold New Direction in Pakistani Cinema
By Mo Shah

Sabiha Sumar's critically acclaimed Khamosh Pani (2003), harks back to a time and era when the promise of a bold new direction in alternative Pakistani cinema was taking route. Not unlike the politically fueled Blood of Hussein (1981), Khamosh Pani employs a humble Pakistani backdrop to flesh out an ambitious tirade on relevant socio-political issues that have consumed the Pakistani consciousness, particularly in the post 9/11 theater. Sumar's film deals with the very foundation and growth of fundamentalism in our society, but it accomplishes its thesis in a delicate, believable, and almost heartbreaking manner.

Both the script (credited to Sabiha Sumar) and the central cast display a versatility and maturity that South Asian audiences in particular may not be used to. Not to betray the key moments of this film, but the opening sequence may be the first time in cinematic history when audiences can catch two Pakistanis situated in a village casually French kissing. The moment is fleeting but critical in setting a tone for the film - it sends a clear signal that ready-or-not, Khamosh Pani is about to deal with modern issues in a candid and realistic manner. So if you're used to the traditional sugar-coated South Asian approach to cinema, be warned that Khamosh Pani makes a clear break with such traditions from its first shot.

	Stills from Khamosh Pani
	Khamosh Pani Website

The film charts two relationships set in a village close to the Rawalpindi region of Pakistan. Initially, it looks at Saleem and Zubeida, a young couple that seem to be on the brink of marriage. However, Saleem, lacking any clear direction or ambition in life is slowly consumed by the temptation of joining religious fundamentalists who afford him a brand of importance that he has before experienced. Eventually, Saleem is consumed by the extremists, who in turn have overwhelmed the male constituency of the village. His gradual shift from a likeable and romantic man to a fundamentalist, as well as the affect this has on those around him, lies at the heart of this film.

The second, and more poignant relationship is between Saleem's mother Ayesha (Kiran Kher, in a role that garnered her the Bronze Leopard for Best Actress at the 2003 Locarno Film Festival) and the rest of the village. Ayesha is unique to the village in that she hailed from a Sikh family prior to partition, and converted to Islam after her family was torn apart in the post-independence mayhem of 1947. Although certain villagers have lived in harmony with her secret since partition, the influx of a fundamental element changes the complexion of the dynamics between Ayesha and those around her - including her son. The plot is further complicated when Ayesha reunites with her brother on a historical Sikh pilgrimage from Indian-Punjab to Pakistan.

On a grand scale, Khamosh Pani is a direct criticism on President Zia's rise to power. The relative calm and contentment of the village is razed to the ground after Zia comes into power and is further damaged after Zia's pseudo-Islamic revolution (in the form of religious emissaries) takes fruition. Attention to detail is carefully adhered to, right down to the television commercials of that era, and the cinematography is top notch. Where the film falls short however, is in the generalization of so many key themes. Saleem's character, who is almost comically feckless prior to his transformation, abates the visceral impact of his disposition. The fundamentalists are seen as two-dimensional characters as well, a move that extinguishes the failed humanity of their cause. However, it is the brilliant acting of Kiran Kher, a timely and potent script, and an intimate look at a multitude of issues that ameliorate even the harshest of criticisms this film can garner.

Films like Khamosh Pani have been made outside of Pakistan, and it is a work that has borrowed heavily from worthy predecessors (including Mira Nair's Earth (1998), which more effectively displayed the horror of changing beliefs and attitudes for the worse), but it is nonetheless a glorious accomplishment for Pakistani cinema. Particularly, it is equal parts accolade and inspiration to the women of Pakistani cinema, to create such a powerful piece of art, and have it recognized universally as a global achievement. Let's hope this is just the genesis of such cinematic endeavors in Pakistan.