A glimpse into Kathal, the film by Amit Ashraf that recently won the ‘Best Story’ Award at the prestigious Ahmedabad International Children’s festival.
Gone are the days when Bangladeshi cinema was synonymous with vulgar, garish and over the top. It has long since diversified into all kinds of genres – drama, thrillers, horror and tales for children, with most of the success stories coming from young directors with a newer outlook and a yearning desire to change the reputation of Bangla cinema to something meaningful, vivacious and fresh. One such fun, quirky and soul-stirring direction is Kathal, a film by Amit Ashraf, that has not only children but people of all ages in splits – before it makes them stop and think of the subtext behind the apparent humour.
The movie begins with a sweet, curly-haired boy called Hasan, an avid fan of Shakib Al Hasan, beseeching his mother to buy him a t-shirt with the name of his hero on it. Little do the viewers know, what a joyride awaits them in Hasan’s quest to attain this t-shirt.
Two friends, Hasan and Javed crawl through a hole in the wall to the more affluent section of Baridhara which has a plethora of things- big houses, big cars and the works. What begins as an innocent excursion into the coveted world of luxury, soon becomes a fast-paced drama when the duo finds a large jackfruit and proceeds to steal it. However, it all quickly goes south when a young girl catches them in the act and tells her father. With the police after them, the young souls are now stuck with a massive jackfruit they must get rid of.
The story may outwardly be about two children caught up in a misadventure but as one watches more and more, the 40-minute movie gives viewers a nagging feeling that the director may be trying to narrate something entirely different. The glaring subtext in the satirical movie is such that the literal wall that divides the affluent and the poorer section of the localities comes to light as a figurative divide that we all know of, whether we acknowledge it or not. Somewhat reminiscent of the door from Alice in Wonderland, which was small and exclusive, both to get in and get out, the two little outsiders are made to feel unwelcome inside the gated society from the very beginning.
The difference between the two areas is stark, one, little more than a slum, and the other, with posh cars and sprawling lawns. The director has made use of props intelligently, such as a slinky mobile phone in the hands of the little girl’s father who insists on the police finding the fruit, all in the name of morals. His nonchalance about the fruit makes viewers understand that he does not really care about the stolen article or the sentiments behind it, but simply wants the perpetrators punished because they dared to steal something that belonged to him.
The movie might essentially create suspense about who will ultimately buy the fruit from these adorable sellers or if Hasan will end up getting his Shakib al Hasan t-shirt after all, but it poses much bigger questions, especially to the affluent society – Why not accept small losses as an act of charity to those who need it more (considering it is known that the thieves were small and needy children), instead of making a big show about offering it to the ‘wanting’ guards? Why not buy the fruit from the children wishing to sell it off, instead of trying to exploit them or bargain with them, when such a hue and cry is made about kids who beg on the streets instead of working for a living? Why not look the obvious need in the face and offer them generosity instead of making them look like delinquents and turning up expensively done up noses at them?
The familiar neighbourhoods and infrastructure, the realistic acting of the main characters, Ishrak Turzo and Poushal Chowdhury, and the way in which the ‘tristate’ has been portrayed as rather exploitative, even almost fraudulent make viewers identify some of the major hypocrisies of the ‘posh society’ of the city, and perhaps, even makes them question their own actions in the process. Amit Ashraf has masterfully spun a tale of innocence and desperation highlighting the hypocrisy of the ‘posh society’ of Dhaka, and rolled it into a 40-minute, spiced up, entertaining, and unforgettable satire piece, full of daring class criticism and wit.