OBIT: SINDHU… the river that flows on

Ananth Narayan Mahadevan

She was as “grassroots level” as you could get. When the biopic on her, I AM SINDHUTAI SAPKAL, was screened at the London International Film Festival, the men were weeping more than the ladies. There were remarks like “she evokes Pather Panchali and The Color Purple”, “this is the rooted-in-the-soil character that we wish to see” circulating. Her story never failed to inspire or touch an emotional chord from Palm Springs to New York to Kerala.

“I have a hundred daughters and as many sons-in-law” was the headline in a newspaper feature that drew my attention. Her anecdotes were awe-inspiring, even incredible. A lady who attempted to kill herself twice, then revoking her stand on life and eventually “giving a life instead of taking it” was the stuff legends were made of. Delivering a baby in a cowshed and severing her own umbilical cord with a stone, feeding the new-born with bread cooked on a funeral pyre in a crematorium and reducing her wayward but repentant husband from her spouse to a son, intrigued me. Probably this was the person I was waiting to meet. Possibly this was the subject I had been yearning to make a movie out of.

Actor Tejaswini Pandit who played young Sindhutai on the
sets of the film Mi Sindhutai Sapkal

Her scepticism about a filmmaker meeting her wasn’t unfounded. There were several stories about the film world exploiting unsung achievers. But my producer Sachin Khanolkar believed in her as much as I did. And after buying time over tea and poha, she decided to pour out her life story to us. Of course, she didn’t need a film to advocate her cause. But we insisted. Convinced her that this wasn’t going to be like the films she was used to. This would be an honest, uncompromising tribute. The world had to know about her. She didn’t deserve the partial anonymity she preferred to live in.

The movie turned out to be a life changing experience. A girl actually christened Chindi [torn bit of cloth] at birth, was renamed Sindhu by a holy man. From political issues to interpreting the character of Rama in the Ramayana to fighting for social causes, she was one hailstorm of a lady who quietly but resolutely fought her battles. She rattled quite a few municipal chairs, rallied underpaid women around her, fought for animal rights and kept a lookout for abandoned newborns in the middle of the night. Her story was too vast to be encompassed into a two hour movie.

She visited our locations on many occasions and never tired of repeating the real life moments of the scenes we were filming. Her passionate recitations of Bahinabai’s poetry was a highlight of the film and its music score.

The challenge was enormous. And when we sat down to watch the first preview of the film, I couldn’t figure who was more nervous… she or me. But her moist eyes at the end of the screening validated the effort. “You made me relive my life exactly as it had happened,” she said in a choked voice. It was the least a filmmaker like me could have done for such an incomparable life. How many human beings bury their hurt and insults and decide to avenge themselves by actually rehabilitating society, undoing the wrongs of people! And she continued to do it for several decades. Her Bal Niketan at Pune was the beneficiary of the attention that the film drew towards her. When the film won four National Awards, the jury chairman asked for her whereabouts… “We wish to do a pilgrimage to her ashram”.

She was the eternal Mai for all. And people like me, her bala [son]. Her speeches and poetry evoked unanimous applause. It was her way of channelising funds for the ashram. Each one of the girls received personal attention… whether medically or in education. Several of them have been happily married and settled. Most of them in reputed posts. This appeared impossible when she picked them up from the streets. She was adamant about not giving up any of these children for adoption. It was with a missionary zeal that she looked after them till they found a domestic destination.

The writer with Padma awardee Sindhu Tai

The complete lack of government support didn’t deter her. Although she did express her disappointment over the callousness of the authorities, she never let that be a deterrent in her already turbulent life. She had seen it all….poverty, domestic violence, and death in the face. She could only resurrect herself from such depths. And she did. In a way that was never subject to self-doubt. For the world, she came across as a bundle of energy, an exuberant soul who’d never fail to touch your life. But left to herself she was the introspecting kind, reflecting on a past that defied human endurance.

Her soul will continue to watch over her children. There is still so much life left in her! It is indeed a sad commentary of our time that a figure like Sindhu had to be brought to social prominence through a film. She didn’t need one. Her humanitarian service deserves to be taken forward now. Her daughter, Mamata Sindhutai, would certainly helm it, but if social conscience has indeed been awoken, we might see Sindhu’s revolution gathering a momentum that she always dreamt of.

Mahadevan is an Indian screenwriter, actor, and film director of
Malayalam, Hindi, Marathi, Tamil films and television shows