I arrived in India yesterday morning to darkness at Mumbai's international airport. I spent a few hours waiting on the floor of the domestic terminal, nursing the four mosquito bites from my international-to-domestic coach-bus ride and listening to Indian teenagers play guitar serenades of Guns 'n Roses and Enrique Iglesias covers. And then I returned to Ahmedabad for the first time in a decade. Until now, Ahmedabad had been the place I learned to eat mangoes - to juice the small ones, and to relish the princely and storied Alfonsos. It is where the natural and political rifts of India have made their most recent marks. And it is the place where my brother found his story, and I had, after three years of having to imagine the details, finally come to watch him tell his tale.
For those of you who don't yet know, my brother, Prashant, is a storyteller. He prefers to tell his stories on film. And now we're here in the rooftops and streets of Raipur Chukla, the old city of Ahmedabad, in the weeks leading up to Makar Sakranti, Ahmedabad's magical kite festival. On January 14, fondly known as the day the wind changes direction, thousands upon thousands of kites will color the horizon for as far as the eye can see. Prashant is now filming his story of five characters who take to the skies to find joy and to elude the obstacles of their daily lives. In my own way, I realize that I have come here to join in their quest.
My first day here is nearly impossible to describe, so I'll start with my fathers words. On December 16, 2007, my father wrote this e-mail to our family and supporters of the film:
I have been here 9 days. This has been an exhilarating experience at many levels. First, as a father able to observe my son really hard at work and commanding attention – focused and requiring attention to detail, shifting focus from minute detail to a larger perspective, being intense with an actor and gentle with children in the film, all in a matter of minutes –
is very humbling and gratifying. Second, simply observing a “product” being created, with painstaking details, with confusion, frustrations, yelling, and the burden of tackling of masses on the street. Third, this routine at the hotel, the breakfast get together, all walking around in a nonchalant manner, dosing off on couches or in intense discussion about the election in Ahmadabad. Lastly, a new location for me but not a new routine, walking alone in the streets of Ahmadabad when most of the city is asleep; sitting on the desk in my hotel room, facing north instead of south on my own desk in Chicago, but doing the same things - creating music, solving Sudoku and constantly searching for the lives of other film directors and anecdotes about them that I can convey to Prashant. It is Different, yet it is the same.
And I am having a wonderful time.
is very humbling and gratifying. Second, simply observing a “product” being created, with painstaking details, with confusion, frustrations, yelling, and the burden of tackling of masses on the street. Third, this routine at the hotel, the breakfast get together, all walking around in a nonchalant manner, dosing off on couches or in intense discussion about the election in Ahmadabad. Lastly, a new location for me but not a new routine, walking alone in the streets of Ahmadabad when most of the city is asleep; sitting on the desk in my hotel room, facing north instead of south on my own desk in Chicago, but doing the same things - creating music, solving Sudoku and constantly searching for the lives of other film directors and anecdotes about them that I can convey to Prashant. It is Different, yet it is the same.
And I am having a wonderful time.
Well, that's an understatement. In my twelve relatively awake hours yesterday, I squeezed a lot in (I know, what else is new). My parents and I got into a yellow three-wheeler and they laughingly introduced me to the kinda-empty-Sunday streets. We found our way to my brother, who was filming a scene in the vegetable market where Chakku and Nasir (two of the characters who have now come to life) were stealing oranges, and my brother invited me to stand on a bench with him as he filmed and watch it all through the viewfinder (apparently, the crew tells me that getting a spot next to the director during filming is a very rare occurrence, so I appropriately enjoyed every second).
I then accompanied my brother to the barber shop for a shave (an entirely novel experience for me) and he now smirkingly blames me for his new south side chicago/bronx inspired goatee fade. after rooftop lunch with the cast and crew, my parents and i went to the sunday market, akin to so many of the complete cacophony and randomness of such day-of-rest street markets around the world, though I do have to say that it's the first time people wandered by holding every household item possible including live chickens and goats (sometimes carried in the typical indian style on one's head).
While I then felt like I was asleep on my feet, my mother wasn't done with me yet. And when we arrived at the street celebration of Manav Sadhna, I knew that as per usual mothers know best. Hundreds of children played street games, 
and I was reminded how much fun it is to play hopscotch through tires, or throw balls into pails, or swing on long rope swings, paint - on the walls, the street, children's hands and faces, or to dance led by someone dressed up as Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god. For many years, my family has told me about Manav Sadhna, an organization that works with needy children here in Ahmedabad (http://www.manavsadhna.org/), with which my brother and mother have both been deeply involved. But it was not until yesterday, that I had a chance to witness its impact and wonder brought to children's lives. 
and I was reminded how much fun it is to play hopscotch through tires, or throw balls into pails, or swing on long rope swings, paint - on the walls, the street, children's hands and faces, or to dance led by someone dressed up as Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god. For many years, my family has told me about Manav Sadhna, an organization that works with needy children here in Ahmedabad (http://www.manavsadhna.org/), with which my brother and mother have both been deeply involved. But it was not until yesterday, that I had a chance to witness its impact and wonder brought to children's lives. 
After a brief nap, we went to dinner at the home of family friends, a couple who are a legendary Kathak dancer/teacher and Indian classical singer. After watching a Kathak teaching session, I asked Sandhya Auntie whether she would teach me Kathak dance while I am here. And to my great delight, she agreed. (Thanks to all of you who are thinking that I couldn't possibly get any better after the Vanita and Chinh wedding eve performance ;) ) And then I returned to the hotel, happy as a clam sandwiched between my parents, only to hang out with the crew and my brother once again, and pass out to the sounds of the cows on the streets.
