Today is a sad day. I made a film because I wanted to help a mother who is looking for her missing son and her own home town refuses to screen the film. Ahmedabad, a city I love and belong to and have fond memories of, will not watch ‘Parzania’ which is based on an incident that happened here. I feel sad that Gujaratis will not get a chance to see a film which expresses the trauma and anguish of a simple Parsi family which calls Ahmedabad its home, got caught in the 2002 riots, and lost a young son. The film is not a statement about the riots; it’s about a mother looking for her lost son. But today I realised that in spite of everything, Gujarat is a sad state to be in. My family belongs to Ahmedabad. My grandfather, Vamanrao Dholakia, was president of the Hindu Mahasabha in Ahmedabad. My father, Parikshit Dholakia, contributed to Gujarati literature. I made the film because I became a part of the Mody family’s anguish, felt their helplessness, cried with them for the loss of their son Azhar who is missing since the 2002 riots. Most of all, I felt the pain of a mother’s heart. Unfortunately, this feeling for their family and its travails as they continue to look for their missing son, transformed into film, will not be felt or seen by anyone in a city where they have been living for so many years. Normally, people of any city rally around a grief-stricken family which cannot come to terms with a personal tragedy, but this indirect ‘ban’ on the film means they have been left to suffer alone and isolated. They have been pleading with the authorities to help them trace their son. Now, they may have to plead with the cinema owners and fellow citizens to show the film. The most poignant moments I spent with this family were times of sheer helplessness. I have seen how one person who calls himself Babu Bajrangi creates such terror that the rich and powerful cinema and multiplex owners don’t dare defy him. I know the Mody family since 1996. We used to fly kites together when they were living in Chamanpura near Gulbarg Society. And when I heard about the family’s tragedy and that they are looking for their son Azhar, I decided to make a film to tell the world about their search. No person involved in this film is expecting monetary benefits — only a hope that someone might see the film and tell the family about their son. The family will at least be content that people in their hometown also know that they are looking for their son. The rest of the world has already seen it. I know of the Gujarati spirit and compassion that made absolute strangers open their doors and purse strings for earthquake victims. I know that Hindus helped Muslims during the riots. Then why is this family left to fend for itself all alone? As told to Sreenivas Janyala
