Directed by late Bangladeshi director Tareque Masud, Matir Moyna is one of those films which though firmly rooted in the socio-political environment of a place can have tremendous appeal universally. The film demonstrates the power of a simple story set in a time of social and political upheaval that can resonate with a viewer sitting in any part of the world. But Matir Moyna is as much complex as it is simple. It not only acquaints us with life in an orthodox madrasah through the eyes of a child, but also portrays the coming apart of East Pakistan through the degeneration of characters of various shades in the child’s family.
Anu is a child who is sent to madrasah by his father who is a conservative Muslim Kazi also serving as a homeopath. Anu’s plight is that he cannot adjust to the staunch and restrictive environment of the madrasah where he cannot even be called Anu because the clerics don’t think it to be fit as an Islamic name. He finds a confidante in a boy called Rokon who is different from most of the boys at the madrasah. They first bond over lunch when Rokon, who can puke at the very sight of fish gives his share to Anu, who is apparently fond of it. The other boys at the madrasah have fun at the expense of Rokon, by hiding a fish in his bed-sheet at night. Anu is sympathetic to him and they soon become thick friends.
Masud was brilliant at creating characters and making us delve deeper into their lives. He had breathed life into every character in the film almost magically and bestowed them with distinct flavours evident in the smallest of gestures and the minute details in the film. Like Kazi, the patriarch of the family is shown shutting the window of the house twice, symbolic of his blind belief in orthodox Islam and his reluctance to see and accept anything that contradicts his beliefs. He has shut out the reality to such an extent that he wouldn’t allow allopathic medicines to his ill daughter and refuses to admit that the Pakistani army will inflict any harm on their fellow-Muslims until his house is burnt to ashes.
Rokon is another example of his brilliant creation. The little boy’s eccentricity betrays the fact that unlike his classmates, he isn’t interested in abiding by the rules that the madrasah imposes on its students. He wouldn’t participate in the games of the other boys as a silent protest to the forbidding of playing with a bat and a ball at the madrasah. There is a beautiful scene in the film when Rokon and Anu play catch-catch with an imaginary ball in the air, depicting the regressive childhood that the students are forced to lead in the institution. Behind the walls of the madrasah, Rokon has built a little secret world of his own, his only escape from the despicable world on the other side of the wall. He has stacked the place with his collectibles like an old mirror, the disintegrated front of a bicycle and some old posters which would seem like trash to others. The magical feel of the place transports one back to one’s childhood when one held on to absurd ideas and meaningless objects as one’s prized possessions.
Anu, his sister Asma and Ayesha, his mother are characters who lead their lives according to Kazi, the patriarch and his notions of puritanical Islam. Despite their reluctant resignation to their fate, there is a constant tussle to get rid of the dogma of their religion. In this semi-autobiographical film, Masud constantly questions his religion and tries to break free of its restrictions. There is a scene where men are struggling to bring down an animal in order to slaughter it on Eid, a sight that Ayesha doesn’t let her children watch. A song in the film later takes a dig at the practice of slaughtering animals by asking if Muslims held cattle closest to their heart as they sacrifice them, when the prophet had asked of men to sacrifice that which was most dear to them. The film is replete with folk-songs that speak about a moderate Islam, one that Masud would prefer over a radical one. Modernity has also made its way into Kazi’s family in the form of his younger brother and the kids’ uncle Milon who while standing up for the formation of a separate state for the Bengalis, sees no harm in being part of Hindu celebrations or sneaking in allopathic medicines for his ailing niece.
But this modernity is not unknown to Kazi and his family. His character also becomes interesting because there are references to him being a modern anglophile who embraced radical Islam at a later stage in his life. There are scenes which show that his wife who was eventually forced to live her life within the four walls of their house was once a free bird who played around with her brother-in-law of her age. This irony of deterioration from liberalism to conservatism and a sense of nostalgia in the liberal past of the family make it even more compelling to question religion for the filmmaker and the viewer alike.
The film culminates into a tale of ultimate death and destruction which is inevitable as a new social and political order can sweep in not without destroying the status-quo that has rotted to its core. The film which is shot in villages of Bangladesh captures this mood wonderfully through its restrained and mature camera-work, which evokes the beauty of the countryside as well as shows the fury of nature as floods which signify the degeneration of Kazi’s family and the society at large. The floods would wash away the blind beliefs that Kazi held on to for long, long enough to lose his daughter and eventually his wife and son. Anu has fled the madrasah and Rokon, who has nowhere to go has lost his sanity to a world that is not fit for him to live in. The world of Kazi topples over. Change shall come, like the change of seasons, even if it is at the cost of those who try to resist it.
A bird of clay (Matir Moyna) is a gift that Anu gets Asma from a fair on his way home from the madrasah. He advises her to conceal it from their father. Even before she can hatch a plan about where to hide it, their father arrives. The look of innocence mixed with fear that appears on Asma’s face is a sight that leaves an indelible impression on one’s heart. So does the film which is a beautiful multi-layered portrayal of the strife between childhood innocence and religious radicalism set in the larger backdrop of the Bangladeshi liberation war. Had it not been for his unfortunate death, viewers would have had much more to look forward to from the brilliant director Tareque Masud!
Visit Wikipedia for learning more about Matir Moina
Anu is a child who is sent to madrasah by his father who is a conservative Muslim Kazi also serving as a homeopath. Anu’s plight is that he cannot adjust to the staunch and restrictive environment of the madrasah where he cannot even be called Anu because the clerics don’t think it to be fit as an Islamic name. He finds a confidante in a boy called Rokon who is different from most of the boys at the madrasah. They first bond over lunch when Rokon, who can puke at the very sight of fish gives his share to Anu, who is apparently fond of it. The other boys at the madrasah have fun at the expense of Rokon, by hiding a fish in his bed-sheet at night. Anu is sympathetic to him and they soon become thick friends.
Masud was brilliant at creating characters and making us delve deeper into their lives. He had breathed life into every character in the film almost magically and bestowed them with distinct flavours evident in the smallest of gestures and the minute details in the film. Like Kazi, the patriarch of the family is shown shutting the window of the house twice, symbolic of his blind belief in orthodox Islam and his reluctance to see and accept anything that contradicts his beliefs. He has shut out the reality to such an extent that he wouldn’t allow allopathic medicines to his ill daughter and refuses to admit that the Pakistani army will inflict any harm on their fellow-Muslims until his house is burnt to ashes.
Rokon is another example of his brilliant creation. The little boy’s eccentricity betrays the fact that unlike his classmates, he isn’t interested in abiding by the rules that the madrasah imposes on its students. He wouldn’t participate in the games of the other boys as a silent protest to the forbidding of playing with a bat and a ball at the madrasah. There is a beautiful scene in the film when Rokon and Anu play catch-catch with an imaginary ball in the air, depicting the regressive childhood that the students are forced to lead in the institution. Behind the walls of the madrasah, Rokon has built a little secret world of his own, his only escape from the despicable world on the other side of the wall. He has stacked the place with his collectibles like an old mirror, the disintegrated front of a bicycle and some old posters which would seem like trash to others. The magical feel of the place transports one back to one’s childhood when one held on to absurd ideas and meaningless objects as one’s prized possessions.
Anu, his sister Asma and Ayesha, his mother are characters who lead their lives according to Kazi, the patriarch and his notions of puritanical Islam. Despite their reluctant resignation to their fate, there is a constant tussle to get rid of the dogma of their religion. In this semi-autobiographical film, Masud constantly questions his religion and tries to break free of its restrictions. There is a scene where men are struggling to bring down an animal in order to slaughter it on Eid, a sight that Ayesha doesn’t let her children watch. A song in the film later takes a dig at the practice of slaughtering animals by asking if Muslims held cattle closest to their heart as they sacrifice them, when the prophet had asked of men to sacrifice that which was most dear to them. The film is replete with folk-songs that speak about a moderate Islam, one that Masud would prefer over a radical one. Modernity has also made its way into Kazi’s family in the form of his younger brother and the kids’ uncle Milon who while standing up for the formation of a separate state for the Bengalis, sees no harm in being part of Hindu celebrations or sneaking in allopathic medicines for his ailing niece.
But this modernity is not unknown to Kazi and his family. His character also becomes interesting because there are references to him being a modern anglophile who embraced radical Islam at a later stage in his life. There are scenes which show that his wife who was eventually forced to live her life within the four walls of their house was once a free bird who played around with her brother-in-law of her age. This irony of deterioration from liberalism to conservatism and a sense of nostalgia in the liberal past of the family make it even more compelling to question religion for the filmmaker and the viewer alike.
The film culminates into a tale of ultimate death and destruction which is inevitable as a new social and political order can sweep in not without destroying the status-quo that has rotted to its core. The film which is shot in villages of Bangladesh captures this mood wonderfully through its restrained and mature camera-work, which evokes the beauty of the countryside as well as shows the fury of nature as floods which signify the degeneration of Kazi’s family and the society at large. The floods would wash away the blind beliefs that Kazi held on to for long, long enough to lose his daughter and eventually his wife and son. Anu has fled the madrasah and Rokon, who has nowhere to go has lost his sanity to a world that is not fit for him to live in. The world of Kazi topples over. Change shall come, like the change of seasons, even if it is at the cost of those who try to resist it.
A bird of clay (Matir Moyna) is a gift that Anu gets Asma from a fair on his way home from the madrasah. He advises her to conceal it from their father. Even before she can hatch a plan about where to hide it, their father arrives. The look of innocence mixed with fear that appears on Asma’s face is a sight that leaves an indelible impression on one’s heart. So does the film which is a beautiful multi-layered portrayal of the strife between childhood innocence and religious radicalism set in the larger backdrop of the Bangladeshi liberation war. Had it not been for his unfortunate death, viewers would have had much more to look forward to from the brilliant director Tareque Masud!
Visit Wikipedia for learning more about Matir Moina
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