An attempt to find what it means to be human - Ganesh Matkari

I never had the ambition to become a writer, so the fact that I began writing owes a great deal to serendipity. My journey into film criticism started when the evening daily Aapla Mahanagar unexpectedly gave me an opportunity to write. From 1997, for the next four or five years, I wrote reviews of foreign films for them. In those days, "foreign" primarily meant "English," as reviews were typically written for films released in theatres, and most of our imports were in that language. This ratio hasn't changed much even today. Occasionally, Korean, French, or Japanese films make a fleeting appearance, usually around the time of the Oscars, but the overwhelming demand remains for specific blockbuster-style English films. Barring my initial years, I have always endeavoured to seek out films that transcend these limitations. A few years after I started writing, the golden age of global film piracy began, first through DVDs and later via torrent sites, creating an urgent need among the youth to watch these films. This was a noticeably different landscape compared to the connoisseurs of the previous generation. The cinephile of yesteryear was nourished mainly by film societies and festivals—a limitation of the era. Even if one wished, where else could they access these different films? Consequently, world cinema became the monopoly of a specific class. Names like Ray, Kurosawa, Antonioni, De Sica, Godard, and Kiarostami were the ones you heard; film societies predominantly screened the works of a select few directors, and the viewership was scant compared to today. A society might screen two or three films a month, sourced from embassies or the National Film Archives. While the range (and number) at festivals was larger, such events were few and far between. The International Film Festival of India (IFFI) hadn't yet settled in Goa, and travelling to its changing locations was difficult for young people. Still, many managed to watch films at festivals in their home states. In places like Bengal and Kerala, the film society movement was advanced and had permeated all strata of society, as it still does. We had major societies like the Prabhat Chitra Mandal and Pune's Aashay Film Club, but their reach in disseminating world cinema was inherently limited. Piracy changed this picture dramatically. The fundamental problem of access was solved. Not only that, but films became available to college students and young professionals at affordable rates, allowing the influence of world cinema to penetrate deeply. Despite this, the question of what to watch remained unresolved. Previously, the problem was the lack of anything to watch; now, with everything available, it transformed into a new dilemma of choice. For me, this opened up a new space, a new territory for writing. In the pre-2000 era, books on cinema were predominantly of two types: plot-centric or nostalgic. This wasn't a universal rule, but such writing was more common, partly out of necessity. After reading about a film, watching it was not always possible. Thus, writers often tried to reconstruct it in narrative form or provide historical context. Now, this is no longer necessary, and it has become possible to write about films with direct, essential references. I saw this as a monumental opportunity. The body of writing on world cinema in Marathi was minuscule, and a new path for it was being forged here. When I began writing, I would say I had a certain intuitive understanding of the cinematic medium. My family had close ties to the theatre world; celebrated names like Ratnakar Matkari and Madhav Manohar were in my own home. This gave me a degree of insight into the practical side of performing arts and the right perspective on criticism. I had watched a plethora of films and had done a fair bit of reading. This was sufficient to start, and I could have continued relying on that foundation. However, I realized that to keep writing, I needed to expand my reading and viewing, which I did to the best of my ability. I was a practising architect at the time, but I learned to save and utilize my time effectively. I became a member of the Prabhat Chitra Mandal and began watching world cinema voraciously. I increased my reading, started a personal collection of books, and continued watching films. I also sought guidance from director-scholars like Arun Khopkar. The Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune offers a four-week Film Appreciation course; I took it not for new knowledge, but for the chance to see important films on the big screen. My writing continued and grew, taking the form of columns, articles, and books. I believe it's important for new cinema to reach new audiences, while also cultivating an appreciation for film history. My writing reflects both these aims. In my columns for the weekly Sakal, 'Bollywood Hollywood' and 'Chaukatibahercha Cinema' (Cinema Beyond the Frame), I wrote extensively about contemporary films that used unconventional narrative styles. Simultaneously, through longer essays, I explored the works of important (and personal favourite) directors, movements, and the changing currents in the film industry, which have since been compiled into books. When I asked the veteran director Sumitra Bhave to write the preface for my first book, Filmmakers, she advised, "Just as you write about world cinema, you should also write about Marathi cinema!" Perhaps with this in mind, when the Pune Mirror asked me to write about Marathi films, I did so for seven years. It was a rewarding experience; I received positive feedback from many directors, and it led to engaging discussions. Writing in English also allowed me to reach a different readership. My most ambitious project to date, A History of Film Movements - Global and Indian, allowed me to view history through a new lens. It was an attempt to look beyond individual films or directors and to see the threads that connect the global film industry. I also wanted to dismantle a particular convention: the practice of separating Indian and world cinema. When books discuss world cinema, Indian cinema is seldom mentioned, and vice versa. However, I felt a need for a comparative analysis—to examine what was happening here while certain types of films were being made abroad, and how we were responding to globally significant events like wars and intellectual currents like realism. I explored this idea in this comprehensive tome. My writing is for anyone who sees cinema not merely as entertainment, but as a medium and an art form. But it is also for myself. When we try to capture a thought in words, it begins to gain clarity in our own minds. I believe that much of my writing on cinema is a quest for the clarity that is possible within the contemplation of the medium. I began writing fiction after fifteen consecutive years of film criticism. There's no particular reason why I didn't attempt it sooner. Perhaps I had convinced myself that my inclination was purely towards criticism. Besides, once you are known for a certain type of writing, you are commissioned for more of the same, and your focus naturally narrows to that subject. That might have been what happened to me. In 2012, we were producing the Marathi film Investment, which I co-directed and which later won the National Award for Best Marathi Film. After the shoot wrapped up, I wasn't writing anything else and had also taken a break from architecture. It was then that I tried writing a story, fittingly titled 'Break'. This story, along with other interconnected narratives that expanded upon its theme, grew into the novel Khidkya Ardhya Ughadya (Windows Half-Open). After finishing the first story, I reflected on it with a degree of detachment to understand what I truly wanted to convey. I realized I was writing about the social class of which I am a part. You could call it the middle class, but it's a middle class undergoing a transformation. This is not the same middle class that has been the subject of Marathi literature for years; this one is different. The lives of its members are no longer linear but are fragmented. The family structure has changed. The language has changed, as has the lifestyle. Everyone's personal space has shrunk; each person's world has become confined to themselves. We are under the assault of the internet and an omnipresent digital presence. Instability and insecurity have become integral parts of life. As an observer, I felt it was essential to look at this, and that I must do it. Windows Half-Open is a novel of perspectives—the perspectives of the characters on the world, and the world's perspective on them. Windows is not a direct account of my personal experiences, but experience is central to its creation. All writing is, in one way or another, autobiographical, but the paths it takes can be vastly different. Sometimes a writer might narrate an event exactly as it happened; at other times, the writing could be a response triggered by an incident, or even a fleeting thought that requires a structure to be examined. When a writer presents a story through a play or a screenplay, they must consider the audience before them, the limited time they are given, and the commercial possibilities that arise. The mentality and expectations of a literary reader are different from those of a theatre or cinema audience. The reader is more open, more prepared to think. All my narrative work is, in a sense, tied to characters and their perspectives. What happens inside their minds is more important than the external events of the plot. The endings of my stories, and their overall structure, depend on this. But apart from this one constant, my stories have continuously evolved. The narrative in Windows is realistic, in keeping with its socio-political undertones. In my later stories, starting with the title story of my collection Installations, I feel the frame of realism began to blur. These stories have changed with the aid of temporal flexibility, the intermingling of truth and fiction, elements like dreams and coincidences, and greater narrative fluidity. To some extent, surrealism and mystery have also found a place, but this mystery is not linked to fantasy or horror. It can be connected to the uncertainty that is rooted in reality itself. I am sometimes asked why, after Windows, I haven't written something of a similarly large scope, like a novel. But I don't write by deciding on a format beforehand. I love the short story form. I believe it is a form that, within its limited framework, presents you with new challenges. It holds the potential for experimentation. The architect Mies van der Rohe has a famous quote, "Less is more," often used in the context of minimalism. It could just as well apply to the structure of a story. To say something significant does not depend on the number of pages; it is related to what you want to say and how you can say it. No form is superior or inferior. What matters is how we use it. I am often called an "urban" writer. I don't entirely agree with this. In my opinion, the distinction between urban and rural that existed forty or fifty years ago no longer holds. Our journey towards a global village is underway, and in that respect, our literature has also begun to move towards an equilibrium. Provincial or professional details may vary depending on where a story is set, and linguistic differences will exist and remain, but beyond that, it is essential for this literature to converge through a universal sensibility. If we consider this, one thing becomes clear: wherever a person may be, on a fundamental level, they remain the same. Their background, their profession, their language—the differences these create are superficial. They do not change their humanity. I would say that writing is my personal attempt, on an individual level, to find that very essence of being human. -Ganesh Matkari  Renowned film critic and author (This article is the translated version of the original article आम्ही का लिहितो? माणूसपण शोधण्याचा प्रयत्न  written byGanesh Matkaripublished in the Sahitya Chaprak Diwali Ank 2025 ) https://youtu.be/CevLxwJpAa4