Monday, May 30, 2011

The Last Picture Show

M Farooq Shah and David Lepeska
 
Remnants of Palladium cinemaSrinagar: Beyond coils of shiny razor-wire and an eight-foot-high fence of tin sheeting along Neelam Chowk, two policeman peer over rotting nose-high sandbags and into the street from inside chicken wire-wrapped towers. Some twenty yards behind them an aging, windowless stone building appears empty and derelict, its curvilinear chlorine blue façade faded by sunlight. 
Beyond coils of shiny razor-wire and an eight-foot-high fence of tin sheeting along Neelam Chowk, two policeman peer over rotting nose-high sandbags and into the street from inside chicken wire-wrapped towers. Some twenty yards behind them an aging, windowless stone building appears empty and derelict, its curvilinear chlorine blue façade faded by sunlight. 
What sort of space-age, tumbledown edifice could require such protection – government offices? Top secret scientific labs, or the headquarters of a hard-line separatist party, perhaps? Not quite. A prominent, unlit neon sign and a trickle of young men passing through a swinging tin door as 1 p.m. looms provide subtle clues.
”I couldn’t live without watching movies in theatres,” said an entrant named Rakesh, a perfume seller from Utter Pradesh who braved the security for the respite of a breezy viewing experience about once a week.
This is the Neelam, Srinagar’s last working cinema, and exhibit A in Kashmir’s culture wars. Apart from its long-sought autonomy, little in Kashmir is as fiercely protected and oft-embattled as culture, particularly entertainment and leisure activities. The predominantly Muslim population of the Kashmir valley might not have the domineering clerics of neighboring Pakistan or Afghanistan to keep them in line, but they maintain an upright Muslim sensibility of their own – witness the dearth of alcohol and music – and with extremist elements ready to crack the whip and a pervasive anxiety on the streets, urban amusements are almost nil. 
After a decade and a half of protests and occupation, bombings and burnings, cinema is poised to become the next casualty of this almost 60-year conflict.
[Because of the constant danger, residents of Srinagar are loathe to go out at night. Entertaining is therefore often done in the home. Additionally, a wealth of outdoor activities and leisure options await the more active local, with high-end trekking and health resorts less than 100 kms away in Gulmarg, Pahalagam, and Sonmarg. This article will consider more rural and domestic pursuits only as they relate to the cinema house.]
Prior to the renewed insurgency in 1989, Kashmir had many well-attended movie houses. The Palladium, centrally located and then one of Srinagar’s most popular theatres, was in 1991 destroyed by arson, widely believed to be the work of Muslim extremists. Seen through the prism of the proceeding decade’s flared religious passions, increasingly risqué Bollywood fare suddenly seemed overtly vulgar. Many theatres were closed while several others – including the Firdaus, Shiraz, and Naaz – were taken over by the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF). Indeed the Neelam itself was shuttered for over a decade until the state government helped reopen it in 2002. The Regal Cinema was opened to much fanfare that same year, but on the first day of screenings a bomb blast killed one audience member and injured several others, and the theatre has been shuttered ever since. The Broadway, the Neelam’s last competitor, succumbed to the pressures last year, shutting down and selling its lot to a mobile phone company. 
All of which explains the machine-gun wielding policeman at Neelam, as well as the thorough bag searches and full-body pat downs. In a region where traditionalist passions can lead to explosive violence, a bastion of modern pop culture requires great security.
Kashmir University’s Director of Kashmir Studies, M.H. Zaffar, for one, will not be shedding any tears.
“It doesn’t matter whether one or more movie theatres are functional in Kashmir,” he said. “With new state-of-the art TVs, DVDs, and cable television, people in Kashmir have managed to stay entertained, knowing that going to the movie theatres involves a fair amount of risk.” 
A few locals were willing to take that risk.
“I usually come once a week with my friends, at times alone as well,” said Pattan resident Zaeeshan Haider, moments after the Neelam security check turned up a small box of matches, which were confiscated. “We don’t have cable TV in our village and watching movies is the only means of entertainment to us, despite the fact that it could be dangerous.” 
Indeed, the theatre was near empty on Wednesday despite scorching heat. Although the picture was slightly out of focus, the overall theatre experience at the Neelam was quite pleasant at Rs 40: a ceiling fan kept the auditorium cool, the sound was good, seating comfortable, and refreshments cold. And most of the score of attendees enjoyed Shaadi se Pehle (“Before Marriage”), a two-year-old sex comedy.
“It’s not the best form of entertainment in town, but it’s still good,” said Narbul resident Taureef, 24, who comes about once a month and is very excited about an upcoming film starring Shahukh Khan. 
“I’d rather play cricket or football, but there are no facilities,” continued Tuareef, a recent college graduate looking for a teaching position. “There were barren fields where we could play, but those were taken over because of the insurgency.”
That insurgency is the very reason many locals had little interest in going out to watch movies. 
“I have a big-screen television, DVD player, and a great sound system,” said Srinagar resident, Javed. “I have total control over the viewing environment. Why should I leave the house and take the risk?”
Yet there were several for whom the gathering clouds were a reason to mourn, including the Neelam’s house manager, who was initially reluctant to talk but opened up on condition of anonymity. Along with other local cinema managers, he had several times in the last decade approached the government to request alternative sources of income, and even filed a writ in court – to no avail.
“Some associated with the cinema have installed shops or run auto-rickshaws,” he said. “Others have died.”
Today the exposed and cracked concrete walls of the Palladium’s open-faced avocado-colored shell offer eloquent testimony to those lost lives. Sycamore trees jut out from where the seating area had been and sunflowers sway in a net-covered courtyard next to a heavily-manned red brick guardhouse. Nearby, a CRPF poster reads, “We are the guardians of the wishes of Kashmiri people.” 
Apparently the Kashmiri people wished the Palladium to become an arboretum.
“With the priority attached to life and property given the current circumstances, entertainment in Kashmir has taken a back seat,” said Zaffar, placing the demise of Kashmiri cinema within the broader context of living in the conflict-ridden valley. “It is the society that determines whether a facility should be in place or not: If people at some stage rejected cinemas, there’s should be no qualms with it; if the society thinks that it needs them, they will automatically return.”
The Neelam’s manager reluctantly agreed with Zaffar about the uncertain future of movie houses, yet felt cinema could exist in the Valley, partially because of the popularity of films about the ongoing clash, such as Fanaa. 
“We had almost a full-house every day,” he said of that film’s run last month, “and we ran the movie for four weeks.”
Arshad Mushtaq, director of the first ever Kashmiri-made feature film, Akh Daleel Loulech (“A Tale of Love”), which premiered earlier this month, believed the real problem was a lack of a local film industry. 
“Indian cinema has been pretty biased as far as portraying Kashmir and making films that have distorted its cultural ethos,” he said, urging the involvement of Kashmiris in film production. “The need is not a great number of cinema theatres but to establish film institutions where we could train local people to make movies that give a correct interpretation of the facts.”
One local resident had more personal concerns.
“We live in a constant state of fear but we brave all odds for the livelihood and the sustenance of life,” the manager of the Kashmir Valley’s sole movie house said proudly. “Cinema is the only means to earn a living for my family and I can’t think of doing anything else.”
----
Cinema Halls in Srinagar:-
Firdaus, Hawal Occupied by CRPF
Shiraz, Khanyar Occupied by CRPF
Shah, Qamerwari Occupied by CRPF
Naaz, Maharaj Bazar Occupied by CRPF
Regal, Residency Road, Now a store house 
Khayam, Khyam Chowk Converted into Hospital 
Palladium, Lal Chowk destroyed by arson in 1991
Broadway, Badami Bagh Cantt 
Opened in 1997 (1st film screened was Titanic). Shuttered in 2005, premises sold to Hutch, a mobile phone company. 
Neelam Cinema, Suthrashahi Operational.