The Swades State Of Mind

As

Swades
turns
20,
Aseem
Chhabra
looks
back
at
the
film
that
spoke
to
him.

Several
years
ago,
I
had
lunch
with
the
then
finance
minister
of
India
Manmohan
Singh
and
his
family
in
their
sprawling
government
bungalow
in
New
Delhi.
During
lunch,
Dr
Singh
had
a
brief
private
conversation
with
me.

He
told
me
that
things
had
improved
substantially
in
India
and
the
country
needed
people
like
myself
—
foreign
educated
MBAs
(one
of
the
two
master’s
degrees
I
have
earned
in
the
US)
to
come
back
and
work
there.

Twenty-three
years
ago,
I
was
a
young
student,
when
I
first
moved
to
New
York
City.
In
these
past
two
decades,
so
many
people
have
asked
me
why
I
do
not
move
back
to
India.

There
were
friends
who
suggested
that
I
should
return
to
India
to
take
over
my
father’s
successful
publishing
business;
aunts,
uncles
and
cousins
who
hinted
that
I
should
come
back
and
live
in
India
to
be
with
my
parents
who
are
now
in
their
mid-70s.

Last
year,
the
former
Indian
minister
of
state
for
external
affairs
and
a
friend
from
university
in
India,
Digivijay
Singh,
said
this
in
so
many
words.

“What
are
you
doing
in
America?”
he
asked.

“Come
back
to
India,
and
work
for
a
newspaper
there.
So
many
more
people
will
read
your
writing.”

And
two
weeks
ago,
a
journalist
friend
from
Mumbai
asked
why
I
live
in
the
US
where
I
really
do
not
belong.

All
of
these
thoughts
and
words
played
through
my
mind
last
night
as
I
watched
a
preview
of
Ashutosh
Gowariker’s
ambitious,
but
at
times
flawed
and
way
too
long
new
film,



Swades.

In
brief,
the
film
is
about
an
NRI,
who
visits
India
to
look
up
his
childhood
nanny,
and
in
the
process
rediscovers
his
connections,
roots
and
falls
in
love
with
the
land
of
his
birth.
The
film
is
handsomely
shot,
with
heartfelt
performances
and
charming
songs
in
the
tradition
of
Gowariker’s
last
project,

Lagaan.

Swades
is
very
long;
the
second
half
could
have
easily
been
edited
down
by
at
least
half
an
hour.
Gowariker
attempts
to
tackle
so
many
problems
that
the
film’s
focus
seems
cluttered,
just
as
the
mind
of
its
protagonist,
the
NRI
scientist
Mohan
(played
by
Shah
Rukh
Khan).

I
wish
Gowariker
had
cut
down
the
endless
and
rather
boring
scenes
set
at
NASA,
where
Mohan
works,
and
instead
have
shown
more
of
his
life
in
the
US.
The
conflict
in
his
mind,
whether
to
return
to
India
for
good
would
have
seemed
much
more
real.

But
I
connected
with
the
film.
A
R
Rahman’s
haunting
voice,
set
to
his
composition,
a
piercing
piece
shehnai
and
Javed
Akhtar’s
lyrics
stayed
with
me
the
entire
night
and
even
now
as
I
type
on
my
keyboard:

Yeh
jo
des
hai
tera
Swades
hai
tera
Tujhe
hai
pukaaraa
Yeh
woh
bandhan
hai
jo
kabhi
toot
nahi
sakta…

I
know

Swades
is
a
movie,
a
piece
of
entertainment,
an
artistically
made,
commercial
venture,
which
I
hope
will
succeed.
But
perhaps
it
is
a
state
of
mind
I
have
been
in
for
the
past
several
years.

Swades spoke
to
me.

My
23
years
in
the
US
have
been
full
of
ups
and
downs.
First
the
downs
—
three-and-a-half
years
ago
—
five
months
before
the
terrorist
attacks
on
the
World
Trade
Center,
a
fire
burned
down
my
apartment.

Twenty
years
of
my
life
in
the
US
—
at
least
the
material
life
—
was
completely
destroyed
within
an
hour.
A
few
months
later,
my
marriage
of
16
years
ended.

These
are
tragic
events
that
can
have
devastating
affects
on
people
and
their
lives.
But
I
am
still
standing
here,
in
New
York
City.

It
is
my
home
and
I
do
belong
here.
I
am
a
part
of
the
city,
its
large
and
visible

desi
community.
I
am
on
the
board
of
the
South
Asian
Journalists
Association.

I
spend
my
free
time
watching
foreign
and
indie
films
in
Manhattan’s
many
art-house
theatres,
attend
book
readings,
political
talks
and
panel
discussions,
and
hang
out
in
the
city’s
cool
bars
and
restaurants.
I
often
attend

desi
parties
and
dance
to

bhangra
and
Bollywood
music,
with
my
fellow
NRIs.

I
have
a
13-year-old
son,
who
was
born
in
the
US.
More
than
anything,
my
son
gives
me
a
sense
of
belonging
—
the
Saturday
morning
trips
I
take
to
Harlem
for
his
baseball
clinic;
watching
him
play
drums
in
his
school
jazz
band;
dancing
to
hip-hop
music
at
a
friend’s
son’s
bar
mitzvah;
and
on
Diwali
night
listening
to
him
recite
the

Gayatri
Mantra
at
his
maternal
grandparents’
apartment
in
the
city.

I
made
my
adult
life
in
New
York
City
and
my
world
is
here.

India
is
also
my
life
and
I
cannot
seem
to
shake
that
out
of
my
system.
Each
trip
I
take
to
my
other
home,
visiting
my
parents
in
New
Delhi
and
friends
in
Mumbai,
I
watch,
observe,
and
breath
the
changes
that
have
taken
place
in
the
last
two
decades.

I
have
friends
who
have
moved
to
India
(some
have
since
then
returned
to
the
US)
and
I
am
always
very
curious
about
how
they
live
their
lives
in
New
Delhi
or
Mumbai.

I
left
India
when
there
was
one
television
channel
and
that
too
in
black
and
white.
I
now
return
to
India
where
young
kids
and
adults
in
the
cities
are
SMS’ing
each
other
from
movie
theatres
and
the
streets.

My
father
demolished
the
house
I
grew
up
in
South
Delhi
and
built
apartments
on
the
same
plot
of
land.

It
is
the
exact
same
location,
but
it
does
not
feel
and
smell
like
my
childhood
home.

India
has
changed
a
lot
and
sometimes,
I
do
not
recognise
that
country.

Maybe
as
Manmohan
Singh
said,
India
needs
me.
I
have
not
figured
that
out
yet.

I
know
my
parents
need
me
but
out
of
choice
and
other
personal
reasons,
I
continue
to
live
in
the
US.

After
nearly
three-and-a-half-hours
of
film
time,

Swades‘
Mohan
makes
his
choice
and
resolves
his
conflict.
He
goes
back
to
his
nanny’s
village.

He
is
able
to
give
it
all
up
after
Rahman’s
voice
and
Akhtar’s
lyrics
speak
to
him.

My
life
is
not
as
simple
as
Mohan’s.
I
have
not
made
any
decisions
about
where
I
will
live
for
the
rest
of
my
years.
But
I
know
I
will
be
in
India,
next
year,
for
a
vacation.

This
column
was
first
published
on
December
17,
2004.
Since
then,
many
changes
have
happened
in
Aseem’s
life
and
we
hope
to
hear
from
him
soon.