Talking across time periods

“I think, it is good to have a film about the Taj Mahal as a living backdrop at a time when it is in news for political reasons, to give people a fresh perspective,” said the musician Anoushka Shankar, the face of the restored Shiraz: A Romance of India. The 1928 film, which belongs to the silent era of Indian cinema, was directed by Franz Osten and produced by Himanshu Rai. It was restored this year by the British Film Institute, which has 300 more Indian films in its archives, including some dating back to 1899.

Shiraz, a three-way production between Himanshu Rai productions, German production house Emelka and the British Film Institute, was a pioneer in many ways. It was among the first Indian films to be made during the golden era of silent cinema. Rai also played the protagonist Shiraz. After Shiraz , Osten went on to direct two more films with Rai — Light of Asia and Throw of the Dice . One of the female leads in Shiraz was born Renee Smith and later became known as Sita Devi, under which name she also played the heroine in Panchpaash or Throw of the Dice .

The film was shot inside the Taj, and the directorial team took care to stay authentic to the era. Over 50,000 Indians acted in the film, and archaeologist Sir John Marshall was roped in for consultation. Costumes and sets remained close to the literature and paintings from that period. While the chemistry between Rai and Enakshi Rama Rau (who played Mumtaz) is not much to write home about, Smith remains our favourite with her sass on screen. Essentially a love triangle, the film gives its characters’ inner journeys a good amount of screen time. They contemplate, execute and regret their decisions as the story pans out over several years, until things come a full circle and the omniscient narrator spells out their final fate in the grand scheme of things.

The music, commissioned to Shankar and played live with every screening, was an eight-person ensemble the night I attended. Shankar played the sitar, while the other musicians handled the bansuri, clarinet, kanjira , violin, cello, piano, mridangam, ghatam, morchang , tabla and bass tabla, harmonium, moog, and modular synthesiser among them. The music brought the film alive, and current. For instance, the audience let out a collective sigh when the hero narrowly escaped being trampled by an elephant. The music, which had risen to a crescendo, gave space for the silence to speak. That it was live did not distract the audience in the way 4D gimmicks typically do. Instead, it helped the audience connect better with the film, and transcend the gaps of time and place. In the opening scene, as the drums built up, it was easy to identify with the nurse’s fear as she peeked out of her tent to survey the scene after their caravan had been looted in the desert. Later, at an interaction with the cast and crew organised at British Council in Delhi, Shankar said, “I wanted the music to be authentic to the period. But I also wanted to incorporate multicultural influences, true to the nature of the production. Where I needed to be authentic, I have stayed true, but I feel it is richer for the fact that I didn’t do so blindly while writing the music. For instance, the deep bass sounds that form an important part of the score didn’t exist in either Hindustani classical or Carnatic music of the time.”

The film was reminiscent of early Westerns in the way it opened with vistas of the desert, the site of a battle. It shows the grand scene of a caravan crossing the Persian desert with the baby princess Selima. Minutes later, the caravan is raided by bandits, and Selima — ‘the precious gift of Allah’ — is orphaned in the desert. A wandering potter finds her ensconced on a stone with a cobra for company. He rescues her and takes her to his village. As he steps into the village, a soothsayer reads out to his wife the future of their son Shiraz: “His source of love, misery and fortune will arrive from the desert” — and that is Shiraz’s tragedy, the unrequited love a potter’s son has for his adopted sister, and the way their fate is entwined. In the film, Shiraz goes on to build the Taj Mahal, its grand narrative bringing his love to closure, his last act for his beloved.

For Shiraz and Selima (innocent of the fact that she is the lost princess Arjumand) grow up as playmates, and Shiraz develops deep affection for her. He is beside himself with grief after she’s stolen by slave raiders. He tracks them across the desert to the market of Al Kalab, but cannot prevent her from being sold to a representative of Prince Khurram from India. Shiraz finds his way to the sultan’s seat and keeps a watch over the palace quarters from the outside every day. The rest of the story is riveting enough to keep one on the edge of the seat, as a love triangle develops between Shah Jahan, Selima, and her childhood sweetheart, who is on a mission to rescue her and escort her home.

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