Margarita, With a Straw continues its triumphant journey across the world, taking director Shonali Bose to assorted festival podiums and vindicating her belief in her brave, little film, again and again. In an interview, Bose recounts the loss, the pain and the cathartic emotions that led to the making of the film.
The tragedy that led to light
In the summer of 2010, I was talking about the story of Margarita, With a Straw with Nilesh Maniyar, my co writer. At that time I called it, I Have Me because that was the essential philosophical underpinning of the film. The protagonist goes from a place of seeking external affirmation, love and acceptance to turning within and learning to love and accept herself. When you “have” yourself, everything else is icing on the cake. You are the cake! I was having lunch with my 16-year-old son Ishan and explaining this to him and the fact that so late in life, I finally felt that I had myself. He looked into my eyes and said, “I totally get it…Mamma, because I have me too.” It was such a thrilling moment as a mother.. Three weeks after that conversation, he died.
On the day of his funeral, I was sitting up in bed wondering how I would face the day of cremating my child – and I was gazing at his photo. A beautiful, smiling photo of him. And suddenly, I felt a light and energy fill my body and I heard his voice, “Mamma, I didn’t need to be on this earth any longer.’’ And in that flash; in that moment – I understood the truth of this (existence)..
Later at the funeral, not only was I calm, I was radiant. I was wearing a vibrant red sari to celebrate his life. I felt a powerful light and energy bursting inside in me. I spoke to the few hundred weeping mourners, expressing this understanding. And the entire atmosphere in the room changed.
Thereafter, I was determined that I would do all the work needed to keep this light alive. This shift had happened also when my mother died but I let it go. Because I didn’t believe in it. In her case, I clearly saw her spirit with her arms outstretched at the funeral.
This time I was determined that I would hold on to the pain and not push it away. I didn’t know at that time that if you embrace pain, you transcend it.
The inception of the film
Four months after Ishan’s death, on his 17th birthday, I was able to celebrate his life with joy because nothing could alter the day he was born. And that night, I started writing the film. And when I finished the first draft 30 days later, I knew what the title was going to be — Margarita, With a Straw. When life hands you lemons, you can be sour or bitter or you can make them into a yummy margarita and raise a toast to life.
This is what I was doing with the lemons in my life and Laila was doing with the ones in hers.
Not just about CP
In fact, unlike most disability films, I didn’t educate the public about CP. (Cerebral Palsy), because that wasn’t my intent. I wanted that the audience look past the wheelchair and the garbled speech and hands and see a person not unlike themselves. All teenagers have their hearts broken and get intense crushes and watch porn and rebel against their parents and feel insecure about themselves etc. So I was portraying this very universal experience of love and exploration of love and sexuality – who we are in our own skin. Also, the deep loving bonds of family that as teenagers, we take completely for granted. But bonds that are the real core of our lives. Until suddenly they may be gone. And then where does one turn?
Few learn to turn to themselves and to go on a date with themselves, to love and celebrate themselves and not as selfish manipulative, narcissist beings. But if we cannot be loving and compassionate to ourselves; if we are filled with hate for ourselves, then we are actually operating out of that same feeling and only covering it up to seek love from others to fill the aching hole. That hole can only really be filled by us. Hope people got this from the film.
Why Kalki Koechlin was chosen to play Laila
Because she was the only person who fit and looked the role AND had the talent AND was willing to do work on this exclusively for four months. She was the only one who had the entire combination I needed!
It was a lot of work to get the performance I wanted from Sayani Gupta.
She was scattered in her energy. One day, during rehearsal, I asked her if she had ever meditated and she said – no. I started teaching her meditation and this really changed her performance as she now was centered within – with her eyes looking inward. She was strong inside. That’s what I needed.
On Revathy
Revathy has such a beautiful screen presence. Her real life warmth comes across on screen as well. But we still needed to work quite a bit as she was not used to having to learn her full dialogue for a scene and the whole scene being run in one take! Which is what a master shot often was in my film. She was used to only doing one line for a specific shot. But in such a style of filming, there is no deep organic flow or relationship between the actors. Each one is just doing a good dialogue delivery.
The struggle from ideation to execution
There was an acute, intense struggle, harder than my first film Amu! Because at least by the time I had started shooting Amu, we had all the money.
Here, we had to keep begging and struggling all the way through. Nilesh and I still haven’t been paid! And we might never be. This is not easy. But the response has been mindblowing. At every festival and most importantly in India where in our fifth week, we are still in some theaters!
I’d like to thank my son Vivan – my emotional center. Nilesh Maniyar – without whose energy, creativity, drive, perseverance, support, brilliance, – this film would not exist. And I want to thank his uncle Ravi Jakhotia for believing in his nephew and giving us the remaining money we needed to finish the film. And yes, The Sundance Institute – for their brilliant guidance and continuous support.
There are no other films on the anvil as am still occupied with this baby.
with The New Indian Express Reema Moudgil works for The New Indian Express, Bangalore, is the author of Perfect Eight, the editor of Chicken Soup for the Soul-Indian Women, an artist, a former RJ and a mother. She dreams of a cottage of her own that opens to a garden and where she can write more books, paint, listen to music and just be silent with her cats.