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Adda: rendezvous; meeting placeI stood where the Rajgarh Road ended, just beyond the railway crossing and watched Moni Bhattacharjee stripping down to his skin. The occasion: a 3 hour-long film festival being held there in a makeshift open-air theatre. It was organised by a group of young people wanting an audience to showcase their work. The setting: incongruous in the extreme. There was the railway track at the back, noisy cycle and auto rickshaws in front and in between, an audience thousand or more in number. Over it all, was the larger than life image of Moni suffering the ennui of life in silence. The film: Wind of Change by Rajiv Borthakur. It is a depiction of life fragmented in today’s topsy-turvy times, and of the mundane activities of life: waking, sleeping, walking, waiting, dressing, undressing…To my surprise, I noticed that none among the audience shuffled uncomfortably in their seats or coughed discreetly or made catcalls either as they watched Moni undress. I felt then that it had been wrong of me to attribute puritanism as endemic to the Guwahati psyche. But then, I had drawn my inference from events like vandalisation of fashion shows in the name of cultural preservation, and from the lived experience of my neighbour Mrs. K complaining to my mother that I, as a girl, should not return home very late every day. I just had to thank the young people from one of the various addas of Guwahati for acquainting me with this other face of the city.***Guwahati is where the capital of Assam, one of the seven states (federating units) of the Northeast frontier of India, is located. It used to be a sleepy town till the acceleration of commercial development reached such a pitch in the last decade or less that it lost its balance – it remains, as in the peoples’ attitudes, a small town; outwardly however, it can compete with any third world metropolis today.And like any growing city, it attracts a large number of people who come here looking for livelihood avenues.***Most of the members of the adda Moni frequents are not from Guwahati. They came to the city from different parts of Assam to pursue their respective professions – mostly connected to the film industry. While some of them have been in the industry close to ten years, some are relatively newcomers. But everybody shares a common passion – cinema. It was this passion that dominated most of their daily conversations and culminated in the film festival where the Wind of Change had been screened. The adda members called it the Addabazor Suti Sobi Prodorxon: Screening of Short Films by the Addabaz (adda lovers).***The adda culture is nothing new to the Guwahati scene. An informal get together of like-minded individuals, addas have a dichotomous nature and are viewed with wide ambivalence. On the one hand are some addas outside pan shops, under roadside trees and in hip and happening food joints, where the members meet regularly to play cards or carom and to gossip. These regular hangouts are mostly identified with loafers and the general inclination is to equate adda with decadence. On the other hand are the addas of poets and writers, or professionals and workers, also maybe on roadsides, or in coffee shops, tea stalls and other eating joints or perhaps at a member’s house. These addas are looked at with much awe as the spawning ground of brilliant ideas and intellectual innovations.The older generation of Guwahatians met at Panbazar, the book land of Guwahati – also considered the intellectual hub of the city. Addas still happen here, some of them having survived decades. But today’s young and happening destination is Rajgarh, opposite the Guwahati Commerce College, where one can see different kinds of addabaz. One of these kinds represents the flashy and consumerist pop-culture of Guwahati, which has placed the city among the topmost in the purchasing power index of the country. Rich kids with big cars and ‘modified’ bikes may be seen parked outside fashionable eating joints, enjoying their money power. Close to them however, might be another adda where a group of people would be equally enjoying themselves talking about art, literature, world affairs, family gossip, and what have you.The adda which Moni and Rajiv and a number of their friends frequent also meets at the Rajgarh Link Road. This particular adda had its genesis with its members meeting between long working hours in the nearby editing studios. They would get together to smoke or chew tamul (betel nut) or sip tea and to have some conversation. Gradually a fraternity developed with the realisation of their common passion. Numbers swelled. The adda became their permanent address. So much so that anybody looking for young people associated with the industry would either meet them at the adda or in the event of their absence, leave a message, delivery ensured.***The idea of organising a short film festival came up in the course of regular adda discussions. Notwithstanding what was portrayed in the introductory film of the festival, Moments (of Adda), these young people met not merely to talk into their cell phones and drink tea with cigarettes dangling from their fingers. That was part of it. But they also had moments of intellectual introspection and times when they constructively contemplated on their shared desire to ‘do something different’. The idea took a few months to grow roots. Then, Amar Gogoi, one of the earliest adda members, took it upon himself to push the project through. Owing mainly to his enterprise, the adda members and their friends put together their films, publicised the event, pooled the required funds and set up the modest infrastructure for the screening within just a month.The leitmotif of the festival was freedom – of expression, of participation, of appreciation. The idea of freedom was inherent in the choice of setting: the open-air theatre in the street. The entire process by which the festival was put together also spoke of the same idea of unrestraint. None of the 32 films submitted for screening were rejected. Any subject matter was allowed – the painfully moralising Values and Vision was screened as was the intensely erudite Las Vegasot. No limit was set on the length of the film or the age of the maker. Thirteen year old Raeesha Tanvir Altaf, for instance, showcased her film Khakuar Paro Sorai. Neither was experience a precondition: from a veteran like Altaf Majid to an amateur like Abinash Lahkar, everybody was provided a platform. And finally, nobody was barred from viewing the films or from airing their views about the films.Those who did air their views though, chose to talk not so much about the individual films as about the entire event. For them the remarkable fact was the ‘something different’ that the festival signified, and the intellectual labour and out-of-the-box thinking that went into making it a reality. The genre of the short film also provided novelty. Larger significance to the phenomenon came from the realisation that it was all done by a group of talented but cash strapped young people without any institutional support. It was the sole urge to ‘do something’ that had made them put together an innovative film festival in such a short time and with funds less than INR 10,000 (USD 217 approx) – most of it contributed by the members of the group.As it happened though, the films showed a poor understanding of the short film genre. In fact, technical, grammatical and dramatical shortcomings in most of the films were quite conspicuous. Most of the filmmakers suffered from poor execution of ideas and inability to translate individual visions into moving communicating pictures. Language barriers also often proved insurmountable. Where amateurs were making the films this is perhaps understandable, but quite a few of the adda members are professionals. Paucity of time has been cited as one cause of all shortcomings. But one of the possible reasons could have been that everybody tried to do everything. An editor trying his hand at direction or an actor or a director turning scriptwriter may not have been the best use of their respective specialisations. What if they had pooled their expertise and come up with one extraordinary flim? A different experience would then have awaited the Guwahatians.***The adda film festival was one burst of enthusiasm, a sustained effort of a month, and a temporary shedding of the characteristic Assamese attitude of lahe lahe (sloth in equivalent terms) by a group of young people and it exposed an entire city to the possibility of alternatives to established institutions, avenues and perspectives. It also made people realise they had an aptitude for such alternatives. There’s hope for the city yet. But what about Mrs. K?***
Adda: rendezvous; meeting placeI stood where the Rajgarh Road ended, just beyond the railway crossing and watched Moni Bhattacharjee stripping down to his skin. The occasion: a 3 hour-long film festival being held there in a makeshift open-air theatre. It was organised by a group of young people wanting an audience to showcase their work. The setting: incongruous in the extreme. There was the railway track at the back, noisy cycle and auto rickshaws in front and in between, an audience thousand or more in number. Over it all, was the larger than life image of Moni suffering the ennui of life in silence. The film: Wind of Change by Rajiv Borthakur. It is a depiction of life fragmented in today’s topsy-turvy times, and of the mundane activities of life: waking, sleeping, walking, waiting, dressing, undressing…To my surprise, I noticed that none among the audience shuffled uncomfortably in their seats or coughed discreetly or made catcalls either as they watched Moni undress. I felt then that it had been wrong of me to attribute puritanism as endemic to the Guwahati psyche. But then, I had drawn my inference from events like vandalisation of fashion shows in the name of cultural preservation, and from the lived experience of my neighbour Mrs. K complaining to my mother that I, as a girl, should not return home very late every day. I just had to thank the young people from one of the various addas of Guwahati for acquainting me with this other face of the city.***Guwahati is where the capital of Assam, one of the seven states (federating units) of the Northeast frontier of India, is located. It used to be a sleepy town till the acceleration of commercial development reached such a pitch in the last decade or less that it lost its balance – it remains, as in the peoples’ attitudes, a small town; outwardly however, it can compete with any third world metropolis today.And like any growing city, it attracts a large number of people who come here looking for livelihood avenues.***Most of the members of the adda Moni frequents are not from Guwahati. They came to the city from different parts of Assam to pursue their respective professions – mostly connected to the film industry. While some of them have been in the industry close to ten years, some are relatively newcomers. But everybody shares a common passion – cinema. It was this passion that dominated most of their daily conversations and culminated in the film festival where the Wind of Change had been screened. The adda members called it the Addabazor Suti Sobi Prodorxon: Screening of Short Films by the Addabaz (adda lovers).***The adda culture is nothing new to the Guwahati scene. An informal get together of like-minded individuals, addas have a dichotomous nature and are viewed with wide ambivalence. On the one hand are some addas outside pan shops, under roadside trees and in hip and happening food joints, where the members meet regularly to play cards or carom and to gossip. These regular hangouts are mostly identified with loafers and the general inclination is to equate adda with decadence. On the other hand are the addas of poets and writers, or professionals and workers, also maybe on roadsides, or in coffee shops, tea stalls and other eating joints or perhaps at a member’s house. These addas are looked at with much awe as the spawning ground of brilliant ideas and intellectual innovations.The older generation of Guwahatians met at Panbazar, the book land of Guwahati – also considered the intellectual hub of the city. Addas still happen here, some of them having survived decades. But today’s young and happening destination is Rajgarh, opposite the Guwahati Commerce College, where one can see different kinds of addabaz. One of these kinds represents the flashy and consumerist pop-culture of Guwahati, which has placed the city among the topmost in the purchasing power index of the country. Rich kids with big cars and ‘modified’ bikes may be seen parked outside fashionable eating joints, enjoying their money power. Close to them however, might be another adda where a group of people would be equally enjoying themselves talking about art, literature, world affairs, family gossip, and what have you.The adda which Moni and Rajiv and a number of their friends frequent also meets at the Rajgarh Link Road. This particular adda had its genesis with its members meeting between long working hours in the nearby editing studios. They would get together to smoke or chew tamul (betel nut) or sip tea and to have some conversation. Gradually a fraternity developed with the realisation of their common passion. Numbers swelled. The adda became their permanent address. So much so that anybody looking for young people associated with the industry would either meet them at the adda or in the event of their absence, leave a message, delivery ensured.***The idea of organising a short film festival came up in the course of regular adda discussions. Notwithstanding what was portrayed in the introductory film of the festival, Moments (of Adda), these young people met not merely to talk into their cell phones and drink tea with cigarettes dangling from their fingers. That was part of it. But they also had moments of intellectual introspection and times when they constructively contemplated on their shared desire to ‘do something different’. The idea took a few months to grow roots. Then, Amar Gogoi, one of the earliest adda members, took it upon himself to push the project through. Owing mainly to his enterprise, the adda members and their friends put together their films, publicised the event, pooled the required funds and set up the modest infrastructure for the screening within just a month.The leitmotif of the festival was freedom – of expression, of participation, of appreciation. The idea of freedom was inherent in the choice of setting: the open-air theatre in the street. The entire process by which the festival was put together also spoke of the same idea of unrestraint. None of the 32 films submitted for screening were rejected. Any subject matter was allowed – the painfully moralising Values and Vision was screened as was the intensely erudite Las Vegasot. No limit was set on the length of the film or the age of the maker. Thirteen year old Raeesha Tanvir Altaf, for instance, showcased her film Khakuar Paro Sorai. Neither was experience a precondition: from a veteran like Altaf Majid to an amateur like Abinash Lahkar, everybody was provided a platform. And finally, nobody was barred from viewing the films or from airing their views about the films.Those who did air their views though, chose to talk not so much about the individual films as about the entire event. For them the remarkable fact was the ‘something different’ that the festival signified, and the intellectual labour and out-of-the-box thinking that went into making it a reality. The genre of the short film also provided novelty. Larger significance to the phenomenon came from the realisation that it was all done by a group of talented but cash strapped young people without any institutional support. It was the sole urge to ‘do something’ that had made them put together an innovative film festival in such a short time and with funds less than INR 10,000 (USD 217 approx) – most of it contributed by the members of the group.As it happened though, the films showed a poor understanding of the short film genre. In fact, technical, grammatical and dramatical shortcomings in most of the films were quite conspicuous. Most of the filmmakers suffered from poor execution of ideas and inability to translate individual visions into moving communicating pictures. Language barriers also often proved insurmountable. Where amateurs were making the films this is perhaps understandable, but quite a few of the adda members are professionals. Paucity of time has been cited as one cause of all shortcomings. But one of the possible reasons could have been that everybody tried to do everything. An editor trying his hand at direction or an actor or a director turning scriptwriter may not have been the best use of their respective specialisations. What if they had pooled their expertise and come up with one extraordinary flim? A different experience would then have awaited the Guwahatians.***The adda film festival was one burst of enthusiasm, a sustained effort of a month, and a temporary shedding of the characteristic Assamese attitude of lahe lahe (sloth in equivalent terms) by a group of young people and it exposed an entire city to the possibility of alternatives to established institutions, avenues and perspectives. It also made people realise they had an aptitude for such alternatives. There’s hope for the city yet. But what about Mrs. K?***
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