BARFI

When the two main protagonists of a story are deaf-and-dumb and autistic respectively, what you experience is the sound of silence: the music that echoes through the cardiac tympanum. Barfi and Jhilmil are two such musicians who play their chords, silently. Yet they emerge as an orchestra—loud and heavy! The movie is not a silent one, in the truest sense of the terminology. ‘Cause the supporting characters speak, shout, laugh, cry: but what you look for is the soundless melody of Barfi and Jhilmil’s bond. And the man who conducts the symphony with charming despotism is Anurag Basu.

The entire film goes back and forth on the time scale. And with that you time travel to Darjeeling and Kolkata of the 70s. The foggy picturesque landscape of the hills ushers a ‘wow’ out of the audience. The scene where Barfi sets the camera for his picture is symbolic of the tremendous talent the cinematography exhibits in the rest of the reel. Be it the green mountains or the grey roads, be it the Farmville or the wooden house, the camera work is a delight! Capturing just the eyes of Jhilmil or the ponytail of Barfi, the lenses marvel the onlooker.  

When it comes down to the characterization, you will find it difficult to feel sympathy for Barfi. He evokes laughter out of you---‘muskaan’ unadulterated. When he eats up a child’s chocolate, you giggle at his prank; when he holds on to the toy train and rides his bicycle, you say ‘ai shabbash’; when he hits a post and falls down you caringly hush ‘awwwwwww’. He has this weird way of conducting a loyalty test. It makes you question yourself---“would I have passed it?”. Jhilmil does and how! The eyes of the girl speak volumes and the melancholy in her calling ‘baafffiiii’ outvoices all other sound in the movie. She is insecure too. Every individual is. But every individual is not fearless---Shruti is not. But these two entities know how to fly high and take you along with. And with them flows Pritam’s music—a reminiscent of Late Salil Chowdhury’s melody!

But the man behind the curtains is the director and screenplay-writer, Mr. Basu. Kahaani has taken us on a trip to the nooks and corners of Kolkata---Basu takes us on a holiday ride to the mountains. His screenplay is, to me, of top notch calibre in this venture. The scene where Barfi frustrates for the first time as Shruti chooses to be Mrs. Sengupta---out of this world! The mime speaks of his shouts, silenced. The scene in Kolkata where Barfi hands over the umbrella,  bids bye to Shruti and looks at the car from the door, the scene where Barfi introduces his home to Shruti and she finds through the window the presence of another woman, the scene where the light reflected of a mirror hits Barfi and he expectantly turns around : some of the best scenes. When the lad and the lass play with mirror reflections for the first time, you are bound to follow the reflections on the ceiling. The ransom note he left has words “ post bosk” and “jai hid” (hind goes missing). The strength of the script is that it makes you be the character. One frantically searches for Jhilmil with Barfi with the toy in his mouth, one’s heart leaps with hope as many times as Barfi throws his shoe up in the air, one actually realises “itni si hasi, itni si khushi, itna sa tukda chand ka, khwabon ke tinko se, chal banaye aashiyan…”!

One wishes to hold on to the movie with his little finger, forever. As I come out of the theatre and see the poster that reads “don’t worry, be barfi!” I feel the director IS asking us to worry— Because we fail to help without a repayment: Because we choke our lives with terms and conditions: Because we do not love without conditions. Even when we say “I love you unconditionally”, we limit our expression by mouthing ‘unconditionally’: And finally because ………we are NOT Barfi!