Delving into a Sufi tale about a simple village girl held hostage in the fortress of a powerful king, this film grapples with questions of freedom and imprisonment, longing and belonging. It weaves together the zaahir and the baatin (the apparent and the hidden meanings) of this tale, which is at once spiritual and social, personal and political, historical and timeless, about a woman, her lost homeland and the struggle to remember who we truly are.

This film takes inspiration from the poetry of the 18th century Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai, widely held to be the greatest Sufi poet of the Sindhi language. His poetry is collected into the 'Shah Jo Risalo' which has thirty ‘Surs’ (poetic chapters or musical modes), based on well-known folk stories, love legends and historical events. Some are based on the lives of ordinary people – weavers, blacksmiths, potters, fishermen. Evidently, Latif had himself walked, breathed, sweated, delighted in, and known the lives of the ordinary people of Sindh, making him not just a great Sufi poet but also a great folk poet. Latif was well-versed in the Qur’an and the Hadiths, and also deeply attached to the poetry of Rumi. Disappointed in love, Latif is said to have left home at a young age and wandered for three years with Nath Panthi yogis in parts of Gujarat, Rajasthan and the entire breadth of Sindh... an experience that gave him intimate knowledge of an iconoclastic stream of Hinduism. Literary scholars favouring Islam lean towards interpreting his poetry entirely as a call to Islam. On the other hand, many Hindu-Sindhi and other scholars tend to stress the influences of Vedantic thought in his writings. Latif himself was not bothered with narrow sectarian concerns. According to a story, once he was asked by a disciple whether he was Shia or Sunni. He replied that he was in between the two. The follower said, ‘But Sayeen, there is nothing between the two!’ ‘Precisely,’ replied Shah Latif, ‘I am nothing.’

Kabir sang his poems in the market place, his spirituality firmly grounded in the public square. 600 years after his time, this 15th century Indian mystic poet’s legacy can be found in both spaces – sacred and secular. This film interweaves the deification of Kabir by a religious sect with his secular appropriation by a social activist group. The story unfolds through the life of Prahlad Tipanya, a Dalit singer whose participation in both domains begins to raise difficult questions for him about ritual and organized religion.

There is a culture of acceptance, silence, and denial of the existence and extent of domestic violence against women in Indian society. The “Bol” film series is made as part of a public service television campaign on this issue. They instigate a range of people to “speak out” – women survivors of violence, fathers and the general male public – in an effort to cut through the myths and the denials surrounding the problem of domestic violence, to bring the problem into full view and place it squarely in the public domain for discussion, reflection and action.

Across a landscape of loss and desolation, a woman walks alone, as the howling desert wind, the scorching sun, the moon and mountain, bear witness. As we fall in step with Sasui on her quest for a lost beloved, piercing questions begin to arise - Are seeking and sorrow entwined? How does one abide with suffering? What is the sacrifice that union demands? Bringing to life a Sufi tale from Sindh through the compelling verses of Shah Latif, this film traces an epic journey of separation, awakening, and pursuit.

The desert is an ideal place to slip within, when the eye has almost nothing external to grasp. And so some of us carried out two journeys within this one. We traversed long, lonely desert roads, but also treaded a bit on the dark, frightening path within, aided by the power of song. The ‘marubhumi’ – ‘difficult terrain’ or even ‘land of death’ – is an appropriate setting for a poetry that talks of dying to be born, to live, to be free. 'The Journey Home' shares glimpses of the Rajasthan Kabir Yatra, a rambunctious, melodic and feisty travelling festival of bhakti, sufi and baul poetry, which toured 7 villages of the Bikaner region with 13 singers in February 2012. The yatris and singers were warmly hosted by residents of the villages enroute – Momasar, Napasar, Jamsar, Pugal, Jageri Dhuni, Diyatara and Bikaner. The yatra was the joyful and vibrant initiative of Gopal Singh Chouhan, who worked with his Lokayan teammates (www.lokayan.org), a diverse band of volunteers and the Kabir Project, Bangalore, to make this festival possible.

Interweaving the folk music traditions of the mystic poet Kabir with the life and music of the late classical singer Kumar Gandharva, this film searches for that elusive sound, that jhini si awaaz, Kabir urges us to hear. Where does it resonate, that subtle sound? Journeying between folk and classical, oral and written, rural and urban expressions of this 15th century mystic poet of north India, the film finds moments of both continuity and rupture between these disparate worlds.

This film investigates one of the most extraordinary social uprisings of modern India -- a rural women’s uprising against state supply of liquor in Andhra Pradesh that sustained for three long years, eventually forcing the state government to declare Prohibition.

Saint. Lover. Devotee. Rebel. Who was Meera after all? We sense her through her songs. We taste her rage, her love. We feel the power of her radical surrender. And yet Meera, one of the most well-loved saint-poets of India, remains an enigma. This film is part of a Lockdown Film Series called Ajab Mulakaatein, an attempt by the Kabir Project and our friends to travel and meet in wondrous ways despite the odds of the pandemic and its many lockdowns. We made online and some offline excursions into the villages of Rajasthan, Kutch, and Malwa to connect with singers and seekers who have kept the legacy of Meera alive in their singing. Babu Khan and Nathu Khan Bagarwa, singers of the Mir community from Jamsar, Rajasthan spoke to us about how intimately Meera speaks to them and the transformative power of singing her words. In stunningly rendered melodies, Bikaneri singer Omprakash Nayak brought us closer to Meera’s ‘nishchay’, her utter determination in the face of all odds. Folk singers Kaluram Bamaniya from Malwa, and Mooralala Marwada from Kutchgot us grooving to the dance of Meera and singers Mahesha Ram and Bhalu Ram from Rajasthan put us in a hush. Over Zoom, we conversed with Chandra Prakash Deval, a deeply invested scholar of folk traditions from Rajasthan itself, the land of Meera. Being himself an eminent and awarded poet and translator in Rajasthani language, Deval sahab took us deep into the metaphors of Meera's poetry, underlining the local flavours of her songs, so intimately connected to the everyday lives of people and their cultures. Neelima Shukla-Bhatt, Professor of Religion at Wellesley College, Massachusetts, spoke from her childhood memory about the power of a Meera song and the spirit of freedom it inspires for her. Nancy Martin, Professor and Chair of Religious Studies at Chapman University, California, shared moving moments and reflections from her research on Meera, including how people from various social backgrounds have embraced Meera as their own.

Kabir was a 15th century mystic poet of north India who defied the boundaries between Hindu and Muslim. He had a Muslim name and upbringing, but his poetry repeatedly invokes the widely revered Hindu name for God – Ram. Who is Kabir’s Ram? This film journeys through song and poem into the politics of religion, and finds myriad answers on both sides of the hostile border between India and Pakistan.

A journey in search of the “des” (country) invoked in the poetry of Kabir, a 15th century Indian mystic, this film interweaves the stories of two people from two very different countries – Indian folk singer Prahlad Tipanya and North American scholar Linda Hess. Where is Kabir’s country? The answer is elusive, as we journey through song and poem into these two lives, brought together in an unlikely friendship by the cross-cultural resonance of Kabir.

This film was made a very long time ago and yet somehow seems timeless and very dear to me. In the year 1995 I would find myself frequently boarding the train from Ahmedabad (where I lived then) to a small village called Tilda in Madhya Pradesh to meet with the women activists of Ekta Parishad. Remarkable women who were challenging the authority of various patriarchs - the abusive husband, the liquor don, the village landlord, the government - and facing the backlash with both courage and vulnerability. Over one year, together, we crafted this film to express their lives and work and how it was transforming their view of themselves as women. The worlds of social activism and spirituality had not come together for me back then, and yet today, looking back, the shared impulses between the two are striking. Both demand a sharp interrogation, of ourselves and the world. Both question conventions handed down to us by society/patriarchy/religion, and fiercely insist on the creation of an authentic self/world based on direct experience. Both are moved by suffering and seek a way to free not only ourselves but all beings from inner/outer oppressions. There are divergences too, but that discussion is perhaps for another time and another place...