On 20 October, a day before its theatrical release in Kolkata, Doodhpither Gachh (‘The Rice Cake Tree’) premiered in an open field in the village of Aranghata in Nadia district, barely 10km from India’s border with Bangladesh. The only cinema hall in the village, which is about 100km north of Kolkata, had shut its doors 20 years ago, and it did not seem right to launch the film anywhere else. Most of the residents of the village, which has a population of 21,000, showed up for the first screening, not just for entertainment but to celebrate a collective victory.
Hundreds of the people who were present at the premiere that day had contributed their money, time, and labour to make the film happen. However, when the villagers were first approached in 2018 by aspiring filmmaker Ujjwal Basu and asked to contribute to the movie, they were sceptical. But over the following months, the villagers became hooked to the idea and the movie became one of the biggest community projects the village had ever seen. Together, 930 families contributed whatever they could and raised Rs 22 lakh for the film so they could make a local boy’s dream come true.
“The entire village got involved in the making of the film and almost everyone contributed, in cash or in kind. And when the movie was finally screened, it ended amidst thundering claps from the audience. We all stood up, and we were full of satisfaction over backing the right project,” said Prasenjit Roy, a small trader in shoes, who contributed monetarily as well as with voluntary service.
Crowdfunded films are not exactly a novelty, but what makes the journey of Doodhpither Gachh unique is how funds were raised through direct contact with a rural populace, rather than via a crowdfunding platform.
Seeding an idea
Born and brought up in Aranghata, filmmaker Ujjwal Basu is a primary teacher who relocated in 2016 to a school in Belgharia near Kolkata. But it was always his home village that he had in mind while writing and conceptualising Doodhpither Gachh, a poignant tale about a 7-year-old boy named Gour who has a speech impediment and becomes obsessed with the idea — with tragic consequences — that sowing a milky rice cake would result in a milky rice cake tree. In its lighter moments, the film captures the simple joys and exuberance of childhood, but also touches upon more serious themes such as gender preference in India and the impact of poverty on children.
Hoping for a collaborator, Basu in October 2017 showed two of his scripts to his childhood friend Manabendra Chakraborty, a government employee and an Aranghata resident, and they both agreed that Doodhpither Gachh was the one that resonated most with them. Soon after that, they decided to approach the residents of Aranghata to fund the film. Chakraborty, who is credited as the executive producer, took it upon himself to spread the word in the locality. And when Basu announced that he intended to cast local children in the film, public enthusiasm increased. Due to the local people’s interest and also Basu’s personal reputation, the local administration lent their full support — from arranging for the stay of the crew members to allowing the local primary school to be used for the shooting.
Ultimately, out of the film’s Rs 54 lakh budget, Aranghata villagers contributed Rs 22 lakh and another Rs 18 lakh came from 196 cine lovers living in different parts of India. The Rs 14 lakh required for distribution came from an ashram in Birbhum district.
But the village contributed more than just inspiration and money.
A labour of love
Doodhpither Gachh was shot almost entirely in scenic Aranghata, which sits along the gentle River Churni, and most of the cast is made up of villagers.
The locals offered all the help they could, including allowing the unit to use electricity from their homes and opening up their houses for shooting.
“People contributed to the film in so many ways. There were families that offered meals for the crew members, rickshaw-pullers who waived off half their fare, children who emptied their precious piggy banks, tea vendors who provided free beverages, people who ran errands,” said Rajib Majumdar, who owns a local eatery.
Apart from scouting for locations and helping with the shooting, Majumdar contributed Rs 6,000 and played the role of a quack doctor-cum-construction material supplier. His elder sister and his daughter acted in the film as well, as a schoolteacher and student respectively.
Many others were similarly involved. There was Amal Pramanick, a shopkeeper who not only contributed financially to the film but also acted in it and went to Kolkata at his own expense for the dubbing. Sajal Mandal, a teacher in a high school, invested money and volunteered to do odd jobs. Local homoeopathy practitioner Amit Chatterjee contributed Rs 5,000 and sponsored a meal for the 60-65 crew members.
What was it about this project that sparked such a response among the people?
For one, several villagers were excited about a new experience. “We did not know the storyline. We only knew it was a story about children. What interested us most was that it was going to be shot here. None of us here had any idea about what film shooting entails and we were excited about experiencing something unique,” Mandal said.
Carving out a name for Aranghata and giving it a place in cinematic history was another motivator. “We thought that we spend money on so many things… why not on something that could last? We thought more people would get to know the name of our village, and it might even become famous,” Roy said.
According to Chanchal Kumar Modak, who cycled around the locality while wearing a jacket of hand-written posters seeking contributions for the film, the villagers felt as if their story, or at least a slice of it, was being told. “It was going to show village life, this area, and the local children. What pleased us most at the end was that the film smelled of our soil,” he said.
Indeed, only four of the roles (the main characters) were played by professional actors, and the most recognisable name in the credits is probably that of Joy Sarkar, who composed the background score. Interestingly, it was the search for an authentic baul (a mystical musical tradition in Bengal) singer that led director Ujjwal Basu to a ‘distributor’ for the film.
“We got to know of a blind baul singer, Anath Bandhu Ghosh, who lives in Birbhum district. He doesn’t have a phone so we had to go to him, and also do the recording there so he’d feel at ease. We did the recording at the local Shyamsakha ashram, and the authorities there wanted to support our project. They raised funds from people they knew and arranged for the distribution money,” said Basu, who co-directed his first film Michhil (‘The Rally’; 2020) while still working on Doodhpither Gachh.
Released amidst Covid-19 restrictions, and perhaps due to its lack of a star cast and non-mainstream themes, Doodhpither Gachh has not been a hit in the box office, at least in the first few weeks. But just like his unique fund-raising plan, Basu is also considering out-of-the-box screening ideas although he is reluctant to say what these are.“All I can promise is that it’s a people’s film and I will ensure that people get to see it,” Basu said.
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