Ashvin Kumar’s Latest Film on Kashmir Hits a Roadblock with the Censor Board

In 2012, I had met independent filmmaker Ashvin Kumar at a Khan Market coffee shop in New Delhi. As a young journalist grappling with questions of censorship and the labyrinthine path of an independent filmmaker stuck in what has long been seen as a very sarkari way of doing things at the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), I was stunned by the lucidity of his anger. Moreover, seated in the comfort (and ignorance) that comes with living in a bubble, Kumar’s subject—Kashmir—presented itself to me as an intriguing study. One that must be mulled over, read about in editorial columns at coffee shops, even romanticised to a certain extent. But Kumar’s exasperation burst that illusion.

His debut documentary film, Inshallah Football—a story about an 18-year-old who couldn’t go on an exchange programme to Brazil because his father was a former terrorist—had just been awarded the 'A' certificate. Just a week prior to that, the film had won a National Award in the Film on Social Cause category. His acrimony was palpable. The certification dissolved what would have been a relatively easier path to make his voice heard and create revenue. The same year, his second documentary, Inshallah Kashmir: Living Terror—which won the National Award for Best Investigative Film in 2012—was also given the 'A' certificate.

Fast forward six years to now, and Kumar is still seething. Talking from Srinagar, he immediately insists on a WhatsApp call. "The fact that I asked you to call me back on WhatsApp, which is something I have to do routinely, should say everything about a feeling of being under observation,” he says, letting out a faint chuckle at our déjà vu of a conversation. His latest issue is with the ‘A’ certification by the CBFC for his upcoming film, No Fathers in Kashmir (tentatively scheduled for an early next year release). It’s still too early to discuss the details of the film, he says. “I want to save it for when my film sees the light of the day by the censor board.”

82 days. That’s how long it took for the CBFC to come out with the certification verdict on Kumar’s film. According to Cinematograph Act 1952, the total time limit for certification is 68 days. In fact, the first screening, says Kumar, took place on September 3 after the submission was done on July 15. “An ‘A’ certificate is death by a thousand cuts for a film,” says Kumar, adding that the film has no sex, violence, vulgarity, nudity or drug abuse. “Theatrical revenues barely cover even marketing costs. Our films expect almost 50 percent of total revenues from broadcast rights. Under present laws, broadcasters cannot broadcast (A) adult certificate films on TV. They can only run either (U/A) or (U) certificate films. By the time our battle in courts is over, it may become financially unviable to release the film.”

The CBFC had responded to Kumar's claims in an interview to Mumbai Mirror early this month, saying that the application was incomplete. "The corrected application was accepted only two days later,” said Tusshar Karmarkar, Regional Officer of CBFC, adding that the screening did take place on September 3, after which the film wasn't cleared. “We felt that it needed another screening…Usually, we clear a film by 68 days at the most, but this film was referred to the Revising Committee and that took time." A second screening was promptly organised on October 10, after which the 'A' certificate was pronounced.

While the delay has taken a monetary toll on the filmmaker, Kumar is equally flabbergasted by the cuts demanded from this work. “It’s my job to bring certain things to light. Don’t kill the messenger!” he says. Kumar’s next step is to apply for an appeal, and in doing that, he opens up the floor for a much larger debate.

The Elephant in the Room
Back in 2004, his film Little Terrorist—based on a true story of a 12-year-old boy who mistakenly crosses the Indo-Pak border—was the first Indian Oscar nomination in the category of Live Action Short Film. His filmmaking trajectory conspicuously steers clear of commercial cinema, and he doesn’t mince words to deride the festering silence in the industry—including during the recent #MeToo movement. “The commercial logic of Bollywood is weighted against people speaking out. How many political films or films that are critical about national icons are made? To speak up is to be trolled and lynched. Bollywood is hugely influential, it shapes impressionable minds and that sort of power should come with responsibility—to speak the truth, to be critical of the state. For these reasons, I have problems with the ethics of the present system."

Bollywood, he says, comes with its own set of baggage when it comes to storytelling. "It is a fetishising industry. There’s a lack of responsibility in its portrayal of women, minorities and contrarian opinions,” says Kumar. “Success in Bollywood is all about how many bums you've put on seats, not about the number of people who've been touched or moved by your film.”

Without revealing much about the film, Kumar says No Fathers looks for a solution. “As idealistic as it sounds,” he laughs. “I’ve wanted to make this film for the longest time, but didn’t know how to go about it—the subject is terribly complex and sensitivities fragile. I was concerned about getting it right and about how I was representing the people of Kashmir.” He believes that films such as this might direct us towards a “reconciliation”. “Reconciliation may be the ultimate aim but there are many steps before that," he says. "How can we even begin talking about reconciliation without first telling the truth? We have a great opportunity at this moment. A new generation of Indians, the millennials, are sufficiently distanced from national traumas of partition, a bit more apathetic towards national prejudices against minorities and national obsessions about identity that leads to ‘othering’. They certainly hate being lied to and manipulated. The film attempts a fresh, youthful look at an old issue by directly engaging these young people whose lives echo the lives of its teenage protagonists in the film. Maybe telling the truth would encourage deeper engagement than what the previous generations have been willing to do and who knows, maybe a possible solution may also emerge.”

Which is why, it’s apt that the film pushes through the drone of noise that comes from conversations on the conflict in the region, where two 16-year-olds experience first love and heartbreak. It cuts through the noise and hyperbole in mainstream media, presenting a reality about ordinary people trying to lead ordinary lives. “And all of this unspools in the background of real conflict. I’ve said it as it is. I haven’t taken any sides. I’ve tried to emotionally engage on a human level and move away from the whataboutery of politics. Loss is loss."

The Defiance of Truth
Kumar considers Kashmir the reason behind his own coming-of-age. "It’s the coming-of-age of my own political awareness," he says. "The mainstream media’s propaganda and misinformation creates demonic, hyperbolic and misleading representations of a people who we would like to think of as fellow citizens. A counter-narrative is not permitted.” he says. “There’s a packaging of ‘us versus them’. But real life is never that simple and there is no attempt to engage with the complexity or nuance of the actual situation."

Kumar’s approach towards documenting the conflict has manifested in humanised narratives—be it through the wide-eyed Basharat in Inshallah Football, who looks at his jersey etched with 'Born to play football' with a sunken realisation that his father’s past has marred his dreams, or the men interviewed in Inshallah Kashmir, who recount stomach-churning accounts of brutal assault during the ongoing conflict. “Because it [documenting Kashmir] boils down to basic humanity, empathy. Putting yourself in the shoes of those who you call the ‘other’ and seeing life from their point of view. Very few people in India know what is going on in Kashmir or how we actually got here. This is not the tired old Hindu-Muslim, Pakistan-India binary that bought media would like us to blindly consume. Its far more complex, multi-layered, nuanced than that.”

At a time when freedom of expression is being questioned, artistes, writers and poets are being detained or imprisoned for speaking out, and attempts are being made to silence the media, Kumar’s apprehensions aren’t exactly far-fetched. “I always thought ‘killed for opinions’ is a tad hyperbolic. Sadly, in India, it’s not. We’re in the throes of a series of Crystal Nights—it is purging by a number of allegedly spontaneous but clearly engineered incidents. Contrary opinions do not matter, no matter how well-intentioned. Look at what some internet blogs and media houses are being subjected to. What does that tell you? The fear is real. That’s why we are talking on WhatsApp.”

UPDATE 05/04/2019: After eight months of struggle over the 'A' certificate for No Fathers in Kashmir, the Central Board of Film Certification finally gave the 'UA' certificate in March, 2019. The film will release across theatres in India on April 5, 2019.

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