The journeys of individuals are the journeys of nations

A few days ago, I was sitting in a plush seven star hotel, with the top bosses of an International media company, narrating the story of my first truly global film, ‘The Suicide Bomber’ to him. As I looked at my potential future partners, who seemed to be riveted by the tale I was sharing with them, I was suddenly reminded of a similar situation, thirty six years ago. The difference was just that instead of these sophisticated westerners, a bizarre, flesh eating Mystic had sat in front of me, chanting Sanskrit shloks, while the sound of a thousand bells resonated in the Benaras evening air. Nothing had changed; I mused, and yet, so much had! These well informed men and the tantric were both means to the same end, as both of them were gateways to funds for my passionate heart to make movies. However, while the venture capitalist was asking me questions relating to my vision for the film and how he could help me; the mystic was giving me voodoo charms in the form of scraps of dead human flesh to be fed to the potential financier that I was engaged in wooing. I was a young lad of twenty one then, scouting around with a friend of mine for finance, so that I could tell the stories that coursed through my heart; and my potential financier was a gun-wielding landlord, who made money out of the oppression of the poor farmers, and who lived in Gaya, the town where the Buddha received ‘enlightenment.’ What a journey it has been for me alone in these last thirty odd years, and similarly, what a journey for India! I have literally moved thousands of years, from the dark ages into the global arena in less than half a lifetime!

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