Unseen characters have been used since the beginning of theatre with the ancient Greek tragedians, such as Laius in Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex and Jason’s bride in Euripides’ Medea. Rosaline in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is another classical example of an unseen character.
In the Malayalam movie Paka which was showcased in the recently concluded Toronto Film Festival, there is a Granny whose disgruntled mutterings are pivotal to the movie all through. Only her toes are shown, with her lying on her bed. Her two grandsons live with her until one of her sons, uncle of the two grandsons, returns from jail.
In the Thamizh movie ‘Ethir Neechal,’ directed by K Balachander, the Coughing Grandfather only his cough is heard all through the movie. The Grandfather is never shown. The other movie I watched where a body part of a main character is shown is in Inspector Gadget, a 1983 animated film where the villain Dr Claw’s right hand is shown all through the film.
Like the Dr Claw, the Granny of Paka is arrogant, malicious, ruthless, sinister, short-tempered and sadistic. The Granny is the one injecting venom of revenge into her grandsons. She does not want to change and does not even want any light or fresh air entering her room. She chastises her grandson who tries to open the window of her room. After her death, the grandson opens the very same window to let in light and fresh air into the room.
The other movie I remember where a main character’s legs were shown was in Charlie’s Angels, where the villain and the master mind’s legs are shown at the very end. In Paka, the Granny’s toes are only shown all through.
I wanted to meet Nithin Lukose, the director and script writer of the movie after the premier show, but Nithin couldn’t make it to Toronto due to the pandemic protocols.
Mariakutty, aged 83 years. who enacted the role of the Granny mesmerised the viewers with her voice alone. She happens to the Grandmother of the Director Nithin. The story is loosely based on the stories the Granny narrated to a young Nithin. In fact Mariakutty relived her life in the movie, through her voice.
Filmmaker Nithin Lukose’s debut directorial venture Paka (River of Blood) premiered at the 46th Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) and I was fortunate enough to watch it – thanks to our friend Mr Suresh Nellikode.
Paka is a tale of a river where the spilled blood of two warring families flow – akin to the rivers and streams in many Indian villages, where hatred, jealousy, bitterness and blood flowed with the water. At times the waters carried a corpse or a severed limb. The warring factions can be well described as the Pandavas and Kauravas of Mahabharata, where there is no winner. Interlace it with a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ like romance between two lovers from the warring sides, it’s a complete story to narrate.
Paka is set in Wayanad, Kerala, is a gripping and fast paced story of revenge which gets inherited over three generations. The irony is that the acidity of revenge increases with each passing generation. The modern generation, the educated and worldly aware one, appears most acidic.
The movie ends with one side discarding all the weapons of revenge in the very same river and the other side diving deeper into vengeance, hatred and revenge.
Though natural sounds have been used all through the movie, the score composed by Faizal Ahmed adds value to the climax. Camera work of Srikant Kabothu brings out the natural beauty of the hilly terrain and the tropical forests of Wayanad. Arunima Shanker’s editing is crisp and it ensures a fast pace for the movie. The only flaw is in non-synchronisation of sounds of the band and chenda melam (ensemble of drums) during the church festival.
The cast needs a special mention as most actors were common people from the villages of Wayanad, who faced the camera for the first time. Basil Paulose and Vinitha Koshy have done a great job as the lead pair and the debutantes Athul John as Paachi, Jose Kizhakkan as Kocheppu, Joseph Manikkal as Varkey have exceeded expectations of raw newcomers.
The film has short with crisp dialogues and comes with English subtitles. This will facilitate better understanding of the movie by all.
The word Paka in Russian is an informal way to say goodbye. Russians often say paka paka meaning bye bye!. The very same word Paka in Malayalam denotes hatred. Paka is a village in southeastern Estonia. In Japanese Paka means a hooded jacket. The Maoris of New Zealand use the word to denote a white man. In Swahili, Paka means a cat and in the computing world its an acronym for Password Authenticated Key Agreement. What a contronym!!! A dichotomy among languages!
Kudos Nithin Lukose for an excellent movie. Paka deserves its selection for the TIFF this year and is a must watch for all.
Upon completion of the Artillery Young Officers Course we, the Second Lieutenants, were appointed as the Gun Position Officers (GPO) in our Regiments. The GPO is the commander of the gun group and is responsible for the reconnaissance and deployment of the six guns of the battery in a gun position. With the help of his Technical Assistants at the Command Post, he is responsible for calculating and passing the technical parameters of bearing and elevation for the guns to engage targets miles away.
Deployment of a battery of six guns to engage targets in depth commences by reconnaissance (recce) of the allotted Gun Area. The map coordinates of the Gun Area is passed to the GPO with any restrictions on movement or administration.
On reaching the allotted Gun Area, the GPO recces the area on his vehicle to find a place suitable to deploy his six guns. When the GPO finds a suitable area, he alights from his vehicle to carry out detailed recce on foot to mark the placement of each of the six guns and the Command Post.
The moment the GPO alights from his vehicle, the driver drives the vehicle to an area which offers maximum cover, to avoid detection from air. The LMG detachment – a Gunner and his assistant – appear in front of the GPO and the GPO deploys the LMG for protection of the Recce Party – both from air and ground attack.
The LMG detachment travels in the Battery Havildar (Sergeant) Major’s (BHM) vehicle. BHM is an appointment given to one of the senior Havildars of the Battery. He is responsible for all aspects of duty and discipline of the NCOs and soldiers in that Battery. During the deployment of the Battery, he assists the GPO.
The LMG Gunner is generally the ‘Detail Master’ of the Battery. He is the understudy to the BHM and is the soldier with good handwriting and skill at mental maths. He provides all secretarial help to the BHM and his most important task is to prepare the Parade State of the Battery the evening before, to be handed over to the Regimental Havildar Major, who compiles the Regimental Parade State after receiving the same from all Batteries.
The assistant LMG Gunner is a tradesman – the Tailor or the Janitor – who does not have any specific combat duties.
After the deployment of the LMG detachment, the GPO carries out his recce, decides on the platforms for his six guns and the Command Post and gives out orders to his party. The Gunners now prepare their gun platforms and the Technical Assistants prepare the technical parameters. During all these actions, everyone is expected to run and walking or slouching is a taboo, until the guns arrive and deploy.
After the guns are deployed and when the GPO confirms that the guns are correctly positioned and all technical parameters are correctly set on the guns, he gives a ‘Ready Report’ indicating that his guns are ready to engage targets.
Immediately on giving the Ready Report, there appeared Gunner Mathukutty, our LMG Gunner, with a steaming cup of tea. That tea was the one I earned by my sweat. By the end of the deployment, with all the running around – especially in the Rajasthan deserts, I was drenched in sweat. The tea tasted too good to describe and it always enthused me and removed any tiredness.
During our training exercises, we had many such deployments, at times about eight in a day. Every time the Ready Report was given, Gunner Mathukutty served me the very same tasty cup of tea. I wanted to know as to how Gunner Mathukutty prepared the tea when he was the LMG Gunner.
During one of the deployments, I kept a close watch on Gunner Mathukutty. He jumped out of the BHM’s vehicle with the LMG, followed by his assistant who had the stove and kettle. After I showed him the position of the LMG, they deployed the LMG there. While I recced the gun platforms, they both recced for a covered position to prepare the magical tea.
After a fortnight of training, we had our final exercise which in artillery parlance is called the Practise Camp. This exercise involves many tactical deployments of the battery culminating into a final deployment in the firing ranges. After the final deployment is live firing to engage target as per the tactical settings.
On the final day of our exercise, the General Officer Commanding (GOC) of our Division visited us in our Gun Area. I briefed him in detail about the deployment and the tactical scenario. He appeared satisfied by my briefing, but wasn’t all too happy about my LMG. True Infantry General that he was, he said “Your LMG is not deployed correctly. It needs to move 20 meter to the left.”
Captain Raj Mehta, our Tactics Instructor at the National Defence Academy (now a Veteran Major General) had taught us all the nuances of section tactics, especially the deployment of LMG. He had drilled it in us to such details that all of us will deploy the LMG at its apt position even in our sleep.
‘I deployed it in less than ten seconds,’ I thought. It could well be that the General did not realise that the LMG was deployed for both air and ground attack. I still do not know as to how Gunner Mathukutty could have identified any aircraft flying overhead to be hostile. In case he sighted any aircraft in our vicinity, friend or foe, he might have ended up emptying the entire magazine of his LMG by firing at the aircraft.
We all love watching surprise homecoming videos on YouTube, especially those featuring American and Canadian soldiers. Our eyes fill with tears as we watch service members being embraced by their loved ones after long deployments. A picture of a father in uniform holding his baby for the very first time – how can you not be emotional? These moments are undeniably powerful, stirring feelings of patriotism and deep respect for those who sacrifice so much.
Yet only those of us who have actually been on the other side of the camera know that while homecomings are fabulous in their own right, they also present unique and often surprising challenges.
Have you ever tried to fathom the stress that soldiers and their families endure – not just during deployment, but during the homecoming itself?
The Decompression Chamber
For me, coming home was like emerging from a deep-sea diver’s decompression chamber. The journey typically began seventy-two hours earlier in a bunker at twelve thousand feet above sea level in Kashmir or Sikkim, ending finally at my family home in Kottayam, a mere ten feet above sea level. The transition was jarring. It took time to accept that I was safely home, surrounded by loved ones, breathing the air of my childhood.
It took even longer to accept the new reality: I was no longer in an intense, life-threatening combat zone, but in the protective nest of my mother’s care. That adjustment brought its own share of stress, anxiety, and fear—for my family members and for me.
The depth of my stress was directly related to the dangers I faced while deployed, the length of time I was away, and was significantly worsened if I had lost any soldiers or if any had been injured—whether by enemy action or the vagaries of extreme weather. There was also the nagging fear of being unaware of changes in family dynamics, neighbourhood developments, shifting relationships with relatives, and even the comings and goings of animals and poultry at home. Nothing was too small to add to the anxiety.
A Mother’s Sigh of Relief
For my mother, my arrival was always a moment of profound relief. She would heave a long sigh, rush to thank God for bringing her son home safely, and then say, “Why did you write that you would be home next week? I always knew you would come earlier.”
Throughout this emotional welcome, our father maintained a stoic silence—until finally breaking it with a simple, “Welcome home.”
The Statue of Homecoming
The statue pictured above commemorates the homecoming of a sailor. It was unveiled on 4 May 2010 in Victoria, the capital of British Columbia, to mark the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Canadian Navy. The image captures the essence of reunion – the joy, the relief, the unspoken understanding between those who leave and those who wait.
A Lesson Learned Early
My journey of homecomings began when I joined Sainik School, Amaravathi Nagar, in Tamil Nadu. Traveling home on vacation was a day-long ordeal in the 1970s, owing to India’s poor rail and road connectivity. I would write a letter home a fortnight before my planned departure, then travel in a group with friends.
While I was in grade eight, my eldest brother offered me advice that I have followed faithfully ever since. “Never write the correct date of your arrival,” he said. “Always give a date a few days or a week later. Amma gets very stressed thinking about you on the train – whether you might miss a connection, whether you’ll get good food. Spare her that anxiety.”
I followed that advice through decades of military service, right up to my last homecoming from Canada. I never gave the exact date of my arrival. Often, I told no one at all about my travel plans.
The Taxi Ride That Gave Me Away
In 2015, I flew into Kochi Airport and took a taxi home. While still in the taxi, I called my eldest brother.
“How far away are you?” he asked.
“About forty-five minutes,” I replied.
My brother immediately announced to the household, “Reji will be home in forty-five minutes. Get lunch ready for him.”
My mother was utterly surprised and thrilled. “Which Reji?” she exclaimed. “Our Reji? I spoke to him in Canada yesterday. How can he be home in forty-five minutes?”
After lunch, I asked my brother how he had known I had landed in Kochi and was on my way home – before I could even say anything.
“The traffic horns,” he explained. “Blaring, chaotic. I know that in Canada you never hear that sound. So I guessed you were in a taxi, coming home.”
A Nephew’s Realisation
Our nephew serves as a Captain in the Corps of Engineers. After completing a gruelling six-month Young Officers’ Course in Pune, he and his friends vacationed in Goa for a week. Only then did he return home.
He called me shortly after arriving. “Now I realise why you never disclosed your travel plans,” he said. “My mother called constantly, demanding that I come home immediately.”
My eldest brother, now head of the family, offered him the same advice he had given me decades earlier: “Never write the correct date of your arrival. Always give a date a few days or a week later.”
The Unseen Side of Reunion
Homecoming videos capture only the embrace, the tears, the joy. They do not capture the decompression, the anxiety, the careful management of a mother’s worry, or the strategic withholding of arrival dates. They do not show the soldier learning to breathe again at sea level, or the family learning to accommodate a person who has been living in a different world.
Homecomings are wonderful. But they are also complicated. And for those of us who have lived through both sides of the camera, the real story is always richer – and more challenging – than the two-minute clip suggests.
REJINCES 