
Having made this triumphant film do you think the struggle has been worth it?
Oh, absolutely. Absolutely! The fact that I had to fight for five years made it a
Was the shift of location from Varanasi to Sri Lanka a bit of a compromise?
It isn't. It just gave me more freedom to do what I wanted to. Varanasi had become a character in it itself. I couldn't handle it as a filmmaker. As this gigantic place of worship Varanasi had become too large in my mind. Once I moved away from Varanasi I felt creatively liberated.
Didn't Sri Lanka shrink your vision?
I think it made it larger. It gave me much more freedom to do what I wanted. The canvas became much larger.
You've made the widows' ashram look incredibly squalid. Didn't you think would put audiences off?
Not at all! While making the film I wasn't thinking of the audience at all. I said what I had to. It's been such an incredible experience of growth for me. You do something that you believe in. But you've no control over how the world would react to what you do. But the way people have responded to Water…With Fire it was mostly women who felt strongly. With Earth it was neither. But this time I've seen both women and men responding emotionally.
Where did the idea for a film on the abandoned widows come from?
Eleven years ago I first went to Varanasi to shoot Young Indiana Jones. That's where I first met an abandoned widow. I followed her to an ashram. It was a bit of shock. We all know about widows. But the whole ashram syndrome struck me as being utterly poignant. The visuals stayed with me. When I decided to do an elemental trilogy I knew Water would be about these women who lived and died by water…Water is the ultimate equalizer. Either it gives or destroys life.
I think your Kalyani(Lisa Ray) is a tribute to Bimal Roy.
Oh, absolutely! Kalyani is my Bandini. Water is in many ways a tribute to Bimal Roy. One of my favourite directors Luis Bunuel said that one of the ways a film becomes universal is by staying particular to a culture. Water goes into a specific cultural phenomenon—the abandoned widows of India. From there it goes into the theme of deprivation and lack of dignity in all spheres. Post-Water people in Canada are talking about the persecution of the aboriginals. In Karachi, they connected my film with the plight of divorcees. In South Africa where Water has done extremely well they're talking about apartheid. Pain and suffering aren't restricted to any one community, gender or culture. Water embraces any kind of pain. It means different things to different people. A Jewish women in Paris told me Water reminded her of the Jewish community where if a girl marries outside her community the parents blacken the mirrors at home.
You keep going back in time through your films.
I'm a sucker for challenges. I believe unless we know where we come from, we won't know where we're going.
If and when Water releases in India, the self-appointed custodians of the Hindu religion would say you're selling our misery to the West?
If they think Hinduism is not about the truth then I guess they're right. Why are we so scared of showing the truth? Why can't we question aspects of out tradition that aren't so great? By doing so we don't become any less great. Why are we so scared of showing our past? Think of what cinema would be if there were no films about the Jewish holocaust! Why they are not scared of showing their horrific past? Why are we scared? That's the question for another film. Why do we want the West to think so well about us?





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