Khamosh Pani: A Deep Dive into the Impact of Fundamentalism

Exploring the Themes of Khamosh Pani

Khamosh Pani is a film that communicates its message through subtle hints and gestures. Just when it seemed that the poignant partition trilogy, including M.S. Sathyu's Garm Hawa, Deepa Mehta's 1947-Earth, and Chandraprakash Dwivedi's Pinjar, had reached its conclusion, Sabiha Khamosh Pani Sumar's film emerges to challenge that notion.

This film, though small and seemingly delicate, is anchored by a profound inner strength. In many ways, Khamosh Pani mirrors its main character, Ayesha (played by Kirron Kher), who embodies both the victim of historical tragedies and a fiercely independent woman who has endured both political and personal turmoil, only to ultimately be overwhelmed by forces that often thrive in our surroundings.

Initially, this stark portrayal of historical enigmas may seem to offer nothing new regarding the tragedy of India's partition into two flawed nations. However, it would be a misstep to view Khamosh Pani as divisible into distinct segments. The narrative does not have a clear beginning or end, reflecting a life lived in the hope that one day, the contradictions of existence would coalesce into a unified statement, whether in this life or the next.

For a time, Sumar's politically charged storyline simmers in the discontent of lives lived on the margins of history. Set in 1978 and filmed in the village of Charkhi in Pakistan, Ayesha and her son Saleem (Aamir Ali Malik) appear unaffected by the country's violent past—until divisive fundamentalist forces invade their tranquil village, reminiscent of India's division in 1947.

Khamosh Pani not only urges us to learn from our past mistakes but also acknowledges that such errors are unavoidable, and we must find a way to coexist with them. Ayesha's once peaceful world collapses as Saleem becomes increasingly radicalized, torn between his responsibilities as a political activist and his role as a son, ultimately pushing his mother to the edge.

The screenplay by Paromita Vohra, while elegantly simple, should not be misconstrued as an oversimplification of the historical dynamics shaping the subcontinent's current reality. Within its narrative lies a cautionary tale and a wake-up call to fundamentalist elements on both sides of the India-Pakistan divide.

The narrative of Ayesha, caught between her past and present, is conveyed in such a casual manner that the audience might overlook its deeper significance. The director navigates the dusty lanes of the village with a brisk pace, collecting fragments of lives scattered across the invisible layers of history. There’s a carefree barber who remains indifferent to fundamentalist pressures, humorously noting that his business booms during election seasons.

While the film seeks to highlight the lighter aspects of fundamentalist politics, Sumar portrays fundamentalism as a toxic force that ultimately devastates the essence of life. As Ayesha's son transitions from political naivety to full immersion in fundamentalist ideologies, he inadvertently destroys everything valuable in his life.

A literal divide emerges between Saleem and his schoolmate Zubeida's (Shilpa Shukla) innocent romance. Sumar captures Saleem's conflicted conscience in brief moments, such as when he contemplates buying a watch for Zubeida but is swayed by his friend’s dismissive views on love and politics. Ironically, as Saleem attempts to sever ties with his past, it is Zubeida who ultimately carries forward the legacy of his mother. In the end, as fundamentalism engulfs her nation, her resolute expression encapsulates the film's poignant message.