Places of political turmoil are often defined by just that – conflict, trauma and the big geopolitical issues. It’s very easy to forget about the humanity that resides within the everyday lives of people wanting to live their lives and finding hope in the most unexpected of places. Acclaimed Indian writer/director/producer Onir tackles this head on with We Are Faheem & Karun, his beautifully sensitive portrayal of life in Gurez, a remote village on the Kashmiri border. A security man from India, Karun, is posted there and unexpectedly, through a series of interactions at the checkpoint he falls for Faheem, a young Kashmiri local and against all odds, their relationship blossoms. Inspired by a true story of a gay army man, the Ministry of Defence in India initially refused to give Onir the permission to shoot, stating the film was derogatory to the army…three years later it’s premiering at the BFI Flare Film Festival. Explored with sensitivity, humanity and subversion of stereotypes, Onir’s portrayal explores themes of family, friendship, hope, love and romance putting a face to the personal lives of those who live within the chaos of geopolitical conflict. On a busy Thursday morning, Directors Notes caught up with Onir over Zoom, ahead of the film’s sold out 20th March Flare premiere and a hectic press tour to understand his process, vision and ambition for his work.
[The following interview is also available to watch at the end of this article.]
Before we dive in, can you introduce yourself and the film we’re going to be discussing?
I’m Onir, a filmmaker, producer, and writer from India. We Are Faheem & Karun is a sequel to my 2011 film called I Am, it’s a film about identity in a way, but identity with various layers. It’s the first ever queer Kashmiri love story, set in Kashmir itself, and in the Kashmiri language, with local actors, so for me, it’s a very special film. It comes from a space where queerness is almost invisible, which is quite ironic. Take being trans, for example, whilst you are very often targeted, you have visibility. The other end of the spectrum for people who are queer is being invisible in a space where you aren’t accepted so I wanted to make queerness visible.
So the notion of visibility versus invisibility is almost the central tension even though it’s essentially a story of forbidden love?
Yes, being ‘othered’ whether it’s because of the choices you make regarding your sexuality or religion or whatever. And it’s based on the real life experiences of people I know, so whilst it is fiction, it does stem from reality.
It’s the first ever queer Kashmiri love story, set in Kashmir itself, and in the Kashmiri language, with local actors, so for me, it’s a very special film.
How did you make their story visible visually? It’s something you feel within the first few minutes of We Are Faheem & Karun when the two leads first interact in their facial expressions, the smiles…
I feel that having spent most of our lives in a country where we’re criminals by law, you kind of recognise and learn how to find/seek each other out without saying it. When you’re othered, you seek out those spaces where you know you won’t be judged and you’ll be loved, that’s what my characters find in each other and that’s what I wanted to depict in their interactions. You just know.
Neither of them struggled with their sexuality, which is a trope you often see. They were both very comfortable with themselves which is refreshing.
Yes, that was a really conscious decision. It’s about when they knew and how they dealt with it, I often get asked when I ‘came out’ and it wasn’t just this ‘one day’ or moment in time.
This simple act really looked to subvert what the standard power dynamic would have been between the two and made it about the romance, not who has the power.
The juxtaposition of something as cold and aggressive as a checkpoint being their point of finding each other is such a poignant visual device, as is the apple. Talk to me about that.
Honestly, the idea of the apple came from my co-writer Fawzia Mirza. She really wanted to play with the symbolism of giving an apple to someone. In this case, such a simple act is in the first instance loaded with such fear and mistrust but in the end, breaks the ice and becomes their ritual. It was really important to me that Faheem does it, traditionally he wouldn’t be the one doing it because of where perceived power lies so this simple act really looked to subvert what the standard power dynamic would have been between the two and made it about the romance, not who has the power. This is the crux of what this film really for me tries to do, which is dismantle the image of the ‘enemy’ because as a society, globally we nurture the idea of the ‘other’, of the ‘enemy’, rather than looking for what unites us as a society, especially right now.
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So in your mind does the film reach a resolution in that regard?
Well, hopefully you noticed this is labelled chapter one. It’s a film about hope and the mother is the one that helps us, and Faheem finds that hope which the narrative alludes to toward the end.
Talk to me about the visual approach to the storytelling. This is a beautifully calm narrative and the visual world of Kashmir depicted is incredible. Again, it feels like such a juxtaposition to what one would expect or compared to what’s actually happening in such a hostile environment.
I’ve been going to Kashmir for nearly 18 years. I’ve learnt the language. I’ve lived with locals. People joke that I’m now half Kashmiri. I feel I belong. I feel the pain, the anguish but I also see after so many years of conflict, the desire for hope to flourish. The narrative of conflict is one that has gone on for so long and some people look to perpetuate it. I chose this part of Kashmir that is right next to the border because you see interaction between the army and locals. You see them roaming around together, playing around together – and especially given the situation in India, people here really want to remind the world, and each other, that they CHOSE to be part of India. The Gurez people and the place itself have a sense of calm and quietness but there is this underlying tension and history of a place that has seen a lot. In the film, Faheem’s mother talks about ‘the river of blood’ and his father talks about it being the place he lost his grandfather, so the calm I depict is meant to feel like it’s come after a lot of anguish.
What was your crew and gear setup for the shoot?
So when I wanted to make this, it was part of an anthology, I had to send it to the MOD in India for approval, and it was inspired by a true story. The film got rejected and banned so everyone backed out – the studios, actors, financiers – so I decided to make it a feature film and inspired by Iranian filmmakers, I made cosmetic changes to get it through. So I made Karun a security guard and changed the uniform so it wasn’t an army uniform. I used all the means I had to get it made, my personal savings, favours, etc. But this is a story that first started as a debate in parliament so whether they banned it or not, I’m glad it started the conversation and dialogue.
The film got rejected and banned so everyone backed out – the studios, actors, financiers.
In terms of camera work because I had zero budget, I had a tiny crew – 17 of us including the cast and everyone was multitasking. I hired a Sony FX9 camera man and he wanted a focus puller, etc. but I had no budget. The core team was four across lighting, arts, camera work – everyone was doing everything so it was organic and we just did whatever we could to get it made.
How did it feel – the journey to parliament, the rejection, to eventually getting We Are Faheem & Karun out?
I feel over the years, all the films I have done, especially with queer narratives, always face big challenges, so you learn to navigate when there is a no. The story is more important than these hurdles, the visibility is more important. The joy of success and driving dialogue is what keeps one going. And in the end, there was nothing to lose so I could make it as authentic as possible.
I made a conscious decision to ensure I gave the queer love story a song. It’s about representation.
Why did you feel the need to include the musical interludes within their love story?
So very often with films like this, you feel that you have to take the language of world cinema – meaning no songs. But for South Asian people music is an essential part of everyday life. I don’t use music like Bollywood does but for me, it’s really important that the film is accepted and seen by people at home. I know how important music and songs are in our culture and whenever a queer person thinks of a love song, the reference point is most often between a man and woman in Bollywood. Where are the queer songs? I made a conscious decision to ensure I gave the queer love story a song. It’s about representation.
The mother’s role was very poignant and visually it was striking that it was one female lead amongst all the male leads, what was the decision making behind that?
When I started shooting, her role was smaller and as I was working through it, I realised there was a much bigger role for her. It came from talking to my students (because I do filmmaking workshops with Kashmiri students) and realised how much everyone talks about ‘the mother’ who has such an important role in their lives. We did a short documentary exploring this relationship and how much they actually know about these important figures in their lives, it’s a documentary called Me and Moj. So that was the inspiration for the mother having such an important role.
As an out and loud gay person myself, I’ve never found any hate in Kashmir and I wanted to show that.
But the feminist movement and queer movement have always been allies so the mother and Faheem understood each other more and she educated Faheem. I’ve also realised women generally look for peace, that’s a huge generalisation but mostly women do, so the mother becomes a symbol for peace or the pursuit of peace. It would have been really easy to populate this story with the usual tropes you expect to see – even between him and his colleagues but they didn’t hate him or mock him, they cared about him. As an out and loud gay person myself, I’ve never found any hate in Kashmir and I wanted to show that.
What do you hope to achieve with We Are Faheem & Karun?
I really want to show the film in Kashmir, I want people there to talk about queer rights and I want the dialogue that started in parliament to keep going. There’s no justification that even after being decriminalised we are still not seen as equal citizens and I hope that changes. Most of all, I want people to watch this film beyond the queerness, it’s not just about being gay.
As a director who or what is your inspiration, where do you find your creative energy?
I always need to make independent films. Sometimes I’ll get it right, sometimes wrong but the joy of making films and shaping my own identity as a filmmaker in India is what keeps me going. I was asked recently, haven’t you done enough in terms of ‘queer themes’ and that’s what pushes me. Would someone telling straight stories be asked the same thing?
What’s next for you?
This was supposed to be an anthology of four stories, but Covid happened and the ban happened so things got delayed. But there’s a trans story, a lesbian story and a bi-sexual story. All of them are interconnected through linking characters you see as Easter eggs in the previous film so I hope I get to start telling those chapters soon.
*A heads up, this video interview contains mild spoilers
