Tags:
Journalism of Courage
As I stood in line to watch my first movie ever on the big screen, a thought exploded in my mind: the queue outside Orient cinema in Kolkata was no different from those that formed during the 8216;crackdown8217; in Kashmir in which people were asked to assemble in a ground for an identification parade by the mukhabirs informers. I use the word 8216;exploded8217; probably because I belong to Jammu and Kashmir; I am influenced by the language of conflict. The trip to Kolkata was my first trip outside Kashmir. The year was 1997. I was 17.
As the doors of the movie hall opened, a harrowing experience began. The crowd jostled to get inside. As I entered with my father, I fell to the ground. That embarrassment will haunt me throughout my life. It was pitch dark and I had failed to see the staircase. All because I was not familiar with the topography of the cinema hall. Cinema halls were closed in the Valley in 1989; about ninety per cent of my generation has never been inside one.
Just as I got attuned to the surroundings, some mushy scenes came on. The movie was Dil to Pagal Hai. Elders giggled and youngsters passed comments. In Kashmir I would have either pressed the fast-forward button on the remote or left the room if an elder was present. That different age groups were watching this together, left me dumbstruck. I was less interested in the movie now, more in the crowd8217;s behaviour. This was a completely new world to me.
Every time a song played, the decibel level would reach sky-high. In the interval, I decided to leave because the sound had given me a headache. But I was not allowed to leave the hall by the guard. It seemed no different from a military crackdown! I pledged not to watch a film in a hall again. I felt that I lacked both etiquette and tolerance for the movies!
