Since 1947
West Pakistan has been inflicting wars on India
while internally bleeding the fertile plains
of the East
dry of resources to fund their wars.
Till one fine day
the poor Bengali majority decided to break free
from the shackles of the cruel
Urdu speaking minority powers of the West.
For the first time in history
the majority of a nation
decided to break free from the minority.
Till 1971
“Bangla” was a language
Since then, it’s been a nation.
But this is not merely a record of maps
but the story of a nobody
who found the courage to become a somebody.
And it all began
right here, right now.
They're here!
-They must be out of bullets. Shall we charge now?
-One is still left.
The hospital is 10 miles away, Professor...
You can prevent gangrene if we take you there in the jeep.
-Run!
-We can't leave you behind, sir!
-I am surrendering.
-No, sir... -It'll buy you to time to escape!
Well done, Bengali!
I just want those three kids, Professor!
Go!
Careful!
Go!
Go into hiding!
Go! Run! I want them alive!
(bomb explodes)
-Sir! -Oh! Welcome back, Tapan!
Sit.
Just a minute, sir.
Breakfast?
-Sure, sir.
The unused cartridges from Vietnam are now being used against Bengalis.
Talk to Srivastav, settle the accounts.
-Join back on the 1st. -Okay, sir.
-Sit...
Sir.
They haven’t found those boys yet.
-Which means... -Which means...
as and when they do, they will make them say that
top East Pakistan leader had asked for our help
to take down the eastern military three years ago.
They are the only witnesses of that meeting.
If caught...
Mujib's electoral future is over.
They are our assets now.
We’ve been screaming from Islamabad...
“We are brothers!"
Why do you want freedom?
Bangla...
in our Ajan,
in our songs,
in our blood...
in our breaths!
No one will be able to hold us down!
Then decide...
Bengali or Muslim?
Both.
Joy--
Tensions are mounting up, sir.
Shouldn’t we do something?
The ISI have a 20-year head start on us, Colonel.
Hence, plainclothes defenders of the nation are important.
-I agree, sir.
Servicemen like Tapan are our best bet.
But do you really need to get this civilian-hiring
Ian Fleming business you’ve approved?
We need to find the students.
Protect them and us, from headlines such as
“Witnesses testify to the Mujib Agartala Conspiracy!”
And help Mujib realize his victory through the democratic process.
You really think the West Pakistan establishment...
Yahya, Bhutto...
they will allow free & fair elections in the East?
Maybe not.
But we must not do anything that makes India’s support evident.
So the Pak army will keep spreading terror there
and we'll just sit quiet...
You're not listening carefully, Colonel.
-Sir?
Help them.
But don’t leave any evidence.
These three young lads...
are being chased by the Pakistani army's gunshots.
Running and thinking...
"Why the hell did Mom and Dad think up a fairy tale
where a nation armed with religion could be their paradise..."
Epic fail.
Now, West Punjabi Islamists
those self important clowns in uniforms...
they want to stomp Bengali language, music & culture to dust.
Religion alone can't build a nation, my friend.
It needs the dusty soil, the pull of language,
and bloodcurdling screams of liberation.
And now, where are the children of those who chose Pakistan running to?
To India.
To the doors of Calcutta's Bengalis.
They, who'll greet their brothers with open arms
even though their own pockets are torn,
their streets are lined with garbage...
There's no other way, brother. Ties of language, are ties of blood.
This story is of such a forgotten half-mad vagrant.
This is a story of an unperturbed king of a night club,
still unaware
that amidst Park Street's dazzling lights & Jazz melodies,
the song of freedom shall rise.
The song that will break Pakistan in half.
-Hello, sir.
And its roar will give birth...
to a new nation.
The song that will bear India's greatest win forever.
Here, in the City of Joy.
From your lips on the embouche
Pour the jazz into me
With the red moon rising
Tell me where I should be
Pull over my soul
Cover me in your song
Kiss me through the blood
-How are you, Jimmy sir?
-How are you? -Good.
Is sir inside?
-Hmm. -Let's go.
-Damn it! -Who is it?
-Cockroach, sir! Wait!
-Why don't you call pest control?
-Is it that easy to control them?
Who can tell when pets will turn into pests?
You never know!
Do come.
Where?
Please. The club doors will always be open for you.
When the doors shut on me,
I know how to kick them open!
You're a partner now, yet you keep saying "Yes, sir. No, sir."
Once a servant, always a servant.
Please, sir.
All your old clients & ex-girlfriends...
They keep asking about you. They miss you.
"Where is Arora these days? Is he alive?"
At least come and meet them.
Bye, sir.
(grand music)
-Hey, seen Parineeta? -No I haven’t.
And frankly, don't want to also! -Why?
-Cops are beating up students...
And here Bengalis are gloating in Sarat Chandra’s sentimentality.
-What is going on!
The refugee influx is non-stop.
It’s your country, you manage it.
Why burden us?
Mr. Agarwal,
let me give you an example.
In 1947, there were four jute mills in East Pakistan.
And in the West... there were 25 of those.
23 years later, today, this number here has gone up from four to five.
You know the number on the other side?
350!
The city of jazz
The city that moans
These youngsters can't afford your wine list.
Why do they come here? To sniff?
Hope they don’t make trouble.
They won't, sir. They come here for Pamela.
Still on your first drink?
-Please attend them properly. -Okay, sir.
-How long will you nurse this peg? -Mr. Jamini Roy?
-Huh?
Jimmy. Jimmy Roy.
But our records say Jamini Roy.
Record? Which record?
Excise department, I'm Sinha.
-Ah. -There’s been a small problem.
-Whose problem? -Uh...
Tonight, after 12 a.m., Jazz City’s liquor permit expires.
What! How?
Sorry, are you joking?
Joke? Oh, because I’m smiling? No, I am the jolly type...
I'm dead serious.
-Let me get you a drink, lemonade? -No, it's fine.
One lemonade!
Come.
Mr...
-Sinha. -Sinha! Right!
See. Tomorrow's New Year’s Eve. Can we settle this day after?
You’ll receive a proper application on your desk.
Even an improper application on time would've saved you.
Ugh! It just slipped my mind!
Seriously. I was thinking about it yesterday. But, you know...
I have been so busy with this New Year event.
The 70s are coming.
I mean the Mayor, lawyers, politicians,
you name it, everyone's coming.
That's what I'm saying...
Shouldn’t you have renewed your permit before all this?
You're right.
You're right, my bad.
Honest mistake.
Let tomorrow’s party happen.
In fact why don’t you come down with ma'am tomorrow?
Or you can come alone. Uh, I can book the front table.
No. It’ll be a dry New Year’s eve for me.
You are the one celebrating.
Uh, excuse me?
Sir...
It's about our reputation.
And what about our department's reputation?
Jimmy!
You have been ignoring me all this time, Jimmy.
Darling, that’s such a lie! You know that.
Let me introduce you... my good friend, Mr. Sinha.
-Hello. -Oindrilla, uh, Lily Banerjee.
Mayor Sudhir Banerjee’s only daughter.
-Hello. -And Lily...
He refuses to believe that our cassata
is one of the best in the city.
-Believe it? -It is!
But I am waiting for that champagne tower. Okay?
-Only seen it in Hollywood movies. -Jimmy!
Ah! Mr. Patnaik... All well?
Yes, all well. Well, Jimmy...
I’m specially flying the CEO in for you tomorrow.
That's brilliant!
Hey! Mr. Kaul! It's been a while!
-Mr. Kaul, what are you doing here? Are the tea gardens covered in ice?
No ice in the tea gardens, nor in my glass.
Oh, ice! Chandu!
Expect the ice to go into just cold drinks this time.
Why?
I didn’t get the joke.
Not a joke, a riddle. Excuse me.
Please enjoy the drink. Lily, I'll see you.
Um, Mr. Sinha, please come...
Move...
Out.
Aha!
So tell me, what do I have to do now?
Not much, just put up a sign outside:
‘No liquor served until further notice.'
-Sir. -Or 'Closed until further notice.'
-Choice is yours. -Oh, come on...
Why don't you take a drink too?
Someone get some lime soda for sir.
Sweet or salty is his choice.
-You want something, sir?
-How can I... -Yum!
-I better go. -Huh...
Remember, 12 a.m.
-Hmm. -Bye.
Thank you, my lovelies!
Now a special kiss flies out to you, Mr. Marya!
Ladies and gentleman, our guest from Bangalore.
-Whose exciting new brand of beer... -Excuse me.
What is it?
Goodness, man, were you looking at me while scribbling this?
Nib’s all over the place!
Hello? It's me.
Cancel the permit.
Listen...
Someone came & told me the liquor permit has expired.
-...better place to launch Virginia...
You have the whole day tomorrow. Start making calls.
Uh, let me see...
There’s Sengupta at Writer's Building.
We'll figure it out.
...and its special stone, Jazz City!
No renewal.
Until I say so.
Good.
The crowd has a special shine today.
Why don't you get hold of that MLA from Alipore?
He’s been freeloading here everyday!
Phew!
-Excuse me for a bit.
-Mr Pachu... how is it going?
-Well, alright.
Miss Sheela Bose!
Please, once more!
One more song, please, ma'am!
So long!
-Sheela Bose, one song from you! Please!
-Please, Miss Bose, sing a song? -One song...
Now, now, gentlemen, calm down!
Sheela, sugar, you want to sing?
Done.
She is our guest. And normally, guest is god,
but tonight the goddess is our guest!
-Go, Sheela! -One song, please!
-Calm down!
So? You just zip it, okay?
And keep your eyes on me!
Hit it, guys!
You follow my name
Let's sit down.
-How are you, Sheela? -How are you, hello!
Bless you!
-Been a while. -Ah, yes.
Yes... How've you been?
Take care.
Take care...
Thank you. -Thank you, ma'am.
Can you read my mind?
Hello, Jimmy Roy.
Hello.
Marya called you Miss Bose... Aren’t you Mrs. Chaterjee now?
No, I haven’t changed my surname.
-Ah. For a second I thought maybe...
-Maybe? -Nothing.
So... been a while.
-Everyone misses you here. -Then "everyone" could have called.
Yeah...
Are you very busy?
I try to do what I can.
-Hmm. -You know how things are.
Trying my best to find employment for the refugees.
Mr. Marya is helping.
Employment?
Employment opportunities for the refugees, Jimmy.
-Yeah... -Don’t be a prude.
And you chose to meet Marya here?
He chose.
I obliged.
Let’s go, he’s waiting
Fingers from nape, to the small of my back
Don't lose the tempo
-I almost forgot...
you both know each other.
From your ... Snowfox days!
Old friends, Mr. Marya, old friends.
-And look at Sheela ji now! The work she is doing...
Absolutely remarkable!
Just Sheela, please.
-How many people even care?
Poor things escaping to this side to survive.
Ah. Poor Pakistanis.
They don’t call themselves Pakistanis.
Until a few years ago, they were part of the great Indian family.
-Hmm. But when the borders were being drawn, everyone wanted...
a separate kitchen in the joint family. Right?
They made a choice. Point to be noted.
-Since Pakistan is treating them as stepsons now,
they are seeking refuge from Mother India.
But, during Noakhali, they were all just "Muslims". Huh?
Now suddenly everybody is Bengali?
Jimmy, you remember Kaberi, my sister?
-Yeah.
-I should forget her existence across the border too?
-Right? -Is she alright?
You found Kaberi?
She’s completing her studies there.
-Oh.
I saw her photo in the newspaper.
An article on a student demonstration.
My husband knew some journalists there.
They helped us find her.
That’s great!
Um, met her?
-Hmm. -So, now what? Get her here!
She used to sing, right?
-Hmm.
The Pakistani government will force her to speak Urdu there.
And here, you will make her sing in English.
What’s the difference?
As if she's singing Tagore & Nazrul’s songs there.
-It's all banned. -And here? Everything is okay?
Any doubt?
Didn’t the government put a ban on Hindi film music some years ago?
Didn’t they say that the melodies of those songs are westernized,
that their lyrics have lots of erotic, Urdu words?
But who profited from that?
Radio Ceylon Geetmala cashed in on the opportunity.
Akashvani, naturally, came under pressure.
And Vividh Bharati was born.
Brothers and sisters! Eventually money talks!
You can change the subject, Jimmy, but you can’t run from it.
No one’s running, Sheela.
You used to sing in English too.
Of course, this blow-dried, Brit sarcasm is a new addition.
Have you heard of the Martin Burn company, Mr. Marya?
-Hmm, the people who constructed the Victoria Memorial...
-Yes. It was a partnership between
Thomas Martin and Sir Rajen Mookerjee.
Thomas suggested, they call their business Martin and Mookerjee.
But, Sir Mookerjee actually refused.
He knew European clients would trust a Christian name.
There is sentimental nostalgia and then there is the real world.
-Excuse me.
-I'll just be back. -Sure.
-What was that? Uh, maybe I shouldn't ask.
Don't take a tiff between old friends seriously.
Anyway, I need some advice.
My liquor permit’s expired.
And I need to renew it, and I need to renew it right now!
A fast-track in this city? You must be joking!
Jimmy... I brought Virginia to Calcutta on your word, man.
Or else, you know, investor sentiments...
I’ll get it, sir. Don't worry, I'll get it.
Why don't you ask Sir Boren? He knows a lot of people.
-No... -About what?
Jimmy's lost his liquor permit. Can your husband help?
-Oh!
He’s in Delhi now. I’ll arrange for a meeting when he returns
in my new blow-dried English!
Meet him.
Shall we go? I need to get home.
Of course.
Come, I'll see you home.
-Come. -Thank you.
-Sheela? -Hmm?
-I’m sorry.
Coming for tomorrow's party? Everyone misses you a lot here.
I’ll remember that everyone misses me.
Okay, guys...
Dress rehearsal was successful,
it's the final match tomorrow. Right?
-Hmm...
-Chef...
The caramelisation is excellent!
The prawn cocktail can have little more chilly.
Let them have the kick, man.
-Ya? -Want to try adding more mustard?
No last moment changes please, madam.
Go, get some good night’s sleep.
Come a bit early tomorrow. Thank you.
-I do that everyday. -Ya!
Queen of my dreams, when will you come?
You look after your own beauty sleep, sugar!
Go on, get going.
Yes.
I have to handle a small issue, then I’ll call it a day.
What issue?
Nothing... Eat, will you!
About that liquor license?
-Ugh! -I knew it!
I watched that man come and hand you the papers.
What paper?
Renewal notice.
It came a month back, no one paid any heed.
-Damn! -Stop complaining, Joseph!
Why didn’t you remind me before the license expired?
-I had told you. -What did I say?
“Stop complaining, Joseph!”
Oh, okay.
Can't you go for a deal?
-No, man! He’s adamant! -Oh.
I could always try wearing a lower neckline?
Okay, alright, guys, come on.
Relax!
I can handle trivial problems like these.
Just put on the best show for tomorrow. Yeah?
Yes! Lovely!
Thank you, darling!
-Good night... -Good night.
-Good night! -Good night.
-Good night...
-What am I hearing?
-You heard it absolutely right, sir. The place is overbooked.
And I’m not taking any last moment...
No, no... I heard there won’t be any booze!
There is no prohibition in Calcutta, darling.
And I haven’t printed the bar menu on the invites.
-My dad was saying, so I thought...
Don’t believe rumours, Mr. Da gama.
Have I ever delayed on the credit alignment?
-No, brother. -Then?
I'm getting calls from the bar across yours. What do I do?
Oh wow!
You still answer their calls?
-Well... -Great! They cleared the dues?
-Nope!
Anyway... You're sending the boys, right?
Hmm.
Okay.
-Jimmy, how will you manage on your own?
I told you to employ Mr. Munshi.
Just get the permit cleared fast.
Just tell Uncle, please?
Are you nuts?
I'll ask a Swadeshi to help with foreign liquor permit?
Did you speak with Bose?
Do something! Dad will kill me!
Man! This Bose, Ghosh, Ali, even Jerry! They're all useless!
And who is this bloody Sinha who no one knows of?
Okay.
Hmm, hello?
Sir, Mr. Neotia had called.
He was trying to pressurise us, I brushed him aside.
Okay.
To the right.
-Are there more?
Come on, guys.
Careful.
Hold it over there.
Let's carry these in.
This one. Take it.
Watch it. -Careful.
Da gama’s car?
No, sir. It's my car.
-Hmm. Why don't you get it painted?
What are you saying, sir? It's just a goods vehicle.
-Shall I help? -Huh?
I'll get it done. Full technicolor.
-Rent it out for the eve? -Huh?
-Rent? -Hmm.
Keep it. Take it!
Take those.
Here.
Hey, hurry up! Unload the goods!
-Michael? -Yes, sir?
Make a call to Shohaib's paint shop.
Seven times ten
Seven lives too less
Seven might get lucky, baby
We are gonna be the best
Happy happy happy happy happy night!
Happy days are like stage fright
Happiness is one dance away
Cmon Mr Naidu, give it away
The winter's warmin' up
Cmon, fill up your cup
A little bebop, a little bebop tonight
Shimmy shimmy shimmy...
-Finally you come!
-Last day of the year. Park street is shining!
That’s for the public, not you.
These parties are for the fun & frolic-alcoholic public.
-Whereas we're just public... -servants.
-Let's go. -Yes.
Better hurry up.
-Come.
Cmon, fill up your cup
A little bebop, a little bebop tonight
Shimmy, shimmy, shimmy...
My baby blue
-Soft drinks, sir. -What! Soft drinks?
Seven times ten
Hey!
Seven lives too less
Want to taste it?
I'm off meat today.
No one has anything. They all must've come here drunk.
-I'll search that side. -Go on.
Hey! Come on!
Mr. Prabir! No, no!
Mr. Dutta, don't take it inside!
-Hey, those-- -Mr. Roy?
I see that you've a secret booze party going on here!
Don't be a spoilsport, please.
It's the end of the year, come...
Lovely!
A single sip can ruin a whole year of good deeds, Mr. Roy.
No, Mr. Sinha, no...
It's the end of the year!
Ten, nine...
-Relax! Relax!
Seven...
-Six, five... -Hey, listen...
Four, three...
Two, one!
Happy New Year!
Who turned off the light?
Sir?
Enough.
I am... I'm really sorry.
Apologies.
I didn't do it intentionally... Um, it happened by mistake.
No one messes with the police!
But look at you!
You know what's the law?
What?
Shoot at sight.
Shoo... Shoo?
Not shoo, shoot at sight!
Can I make a call?
-Please.
-Hello? -Yes... has Dad had dinner?
-Yes, he did.
When are you returning?
-Hmm, listen...
I won't return tonight.
I have work at the club.
-I see.
-You and Dad can go to sleep.
-Okay. -Hmm. And lock the door.
Yes, I will. Bye.
As the lamp's light dims
My hands reach out, up in the sky
Whom do I yearn to touch?
Open it.
By mistake...
-Das...
Be gentle...
When I wake up in the morning, I see
They put a lock & a notice on the gate.
It's okay.
Should we let Neotia sir know?
Oh, no.
You know where my lawyer stays?
-No.
Write it down.
-22, Rajani Sen Road...
-Move.
You've been bailed out.
-Who? -You!
-Who got me bail? -I don't know.
Come.
-Easy.
-Who got me bail? -He did.
Take these.
Open up on the side, and see if the customers show up.
-No drinks. -Of course.
Should I try mixing it with coconut water or honey?
-What? -Let's go.
Excise officer huh?
-Hmm.
Slept well?
The reason behind this favour?
The beginning of a friendship, Mr. Jimmy.
I am on your side, don't worry.
What do you want, Mr. Sinha?
-To the point! Very good!
This favour I've done for you...
-Hmm.
In return, you have to do me a small favor as well.
Is this how you usually ask for favors?
No.
I get guaranteed favors this way.
You must've pissed him off.
I don't even know him!
He ruined the biggest night of my career!
For what? For some piece of land by the river!
-Ray Bahadur Shib Narayan Ray, is a 72-year-old seasoned landlord.
He is stubborn, moody and very ill-tempered.
He has a small strip of land.
I have tried to buy it from him.
Failed.
I’m sure with your talents...
you will succeed.
If he likes you, he'll give it to you just like that.
But if he doesn't...
-If he doesn't, use force. You sure know how to.
Didn't we agree on not wasting time?
Right.
We don’t engage in illegal activities.
And we believe, with you by our side,
we won't need to do anything illegal.
Please Ray Bahadur,
do me the favour, get hold of the land's deed,
and you can have your license.
-Good morning, sir.
Go, bring the sherbet.
-No, it's okay, thank you.
-It’s for me.
Take that.
Humans bore me easily. Especially, the humans of Calcutta.
Are you entertaining, young man?
Well, my work is entertaining, sir.
I’m Jimmy Roy. I run a cultural club near Park Street.
Club, I see. But what exactly do you mean by culture?
Well, it’s a club for gentlemen who like finer things in life.
We mainly play jazz.
But I have come here today with some other request, sir.
I’m all ears.
Sir, you see, I've always wanted to open an orphanage.
But not in that concrete jungle of a city.
Something in the lap of nature. And within my means.
-Value & price are different things. -Right.
The true value of a land is not its market price,
it depends on what the land is being used for.
Exactly! That is why I have come to you.
Well...
Behind your estate...
I mean the piece of land located on the southeast of the river.
Well, it's lying empty anyway...
Yes, because I have kept it so.
Sir, I just feel it's just perfect for children.
I mean... um...
open grounds, greenery, by the river...
True.
I can grant you that land.
I'll be ever grateful, sir.
But I will not, young man.
Huh?
Think I am a fool?
Oh, not at all. Of course not.
Sir, just imagine,
your little grand kids playing under the twilight sun.
Their laughter, their spirit, their joy!
You'll take them to see the Victoria Memorial in that imported car?
The Yardley permeating off your ears...
will shape the lives of these orphaned kids?
-No... -Right?
-No, sir... -And then?
Once the kids get adopted, your road is clear.
The orphanage will turn into a river-facing hotel!
You misunderstand, sir. Please, just...
Thank you for today's entertainment.
Sir, listen to my offer once...
-Offer?
You mean money? -Money, yes...
-Come with me. -Sure.
-Jahangir’s ring...
This gramophone is from the first lot in Germany.
Just after the first war...
-Hmm...
-Abanindranath,
-Picasso... -Pablo?
-Gauhar Jaan’s first 78,
Faiyaz Khan’s gold disc!
The complete Zayida repertoire!
Every single LP!
I first heard Zayida many moons back.
Much before the so-called taste makers of Calcutta
even heard her name!
-Hmm.
In my childhood,
at Rampur Palace,
she came on stage to perform just before Allauddin Khan sahib!
It’s useless to impart my pearls of wisdom to you.
Your hair & clothes indicate that
your taste begins and ends with Shammi Kapoor.
Sir, believe me... I'm eager to learn.
But I need someone to introduce me to great taste too.
Sir, if you could lend some of your LPs...
I value them more than a piece of land, Mr. Orphanage!
Well, sure.
-Definitely. -(laughing)
I feel like laughing at you,
but more importantly I am sleepy.
Ananta...
-Ananta! -Coming, sir...
See him out.
Sir... sir...
Come.
-Happy new year, Jimmy!
Here, a love letter for you!
From?
-Joseph. He’s changed his footpath and his job.
With endless customers at the club, poor thing doesn't have any time!
Look, Jimmy.
You came knocking on my door after fleeing one country.
Now if the doors of Park Street shut on you, where will you run to?
Huh?
(tense music)
Ask your band to sing some devotional songs or something.
You should... sell the trumpet.
And buy a tanpura.
It’ll suit this place.
(upbeat, energetic music)
-Hello. -Come.
What brings you to my shop?
Considering a sitar for your jazz band?
If Harrison can, why can’t Jazz City?
-Hmm. Well, what shall I show you? -Uh, a tanpura. The finest one.
-Pass me that one.
See.
Is this like... the best?
I mean, what the maestros use.
Music is not fashion.
Of course not.
-Wait.
You have the ear for a maestro’s music?
You just mentioned Harrison, right?
This is where Ravi da got him his sitar from.
-Oh, really? -Not only that...
Faiyaz Khan, Zayida Begum, Ali Akbar Khan...
Zayida Begum gets her instruments from here? Really?
Listen...
"Hemen da, my heartfelt gratitude for this priceless tanpura."
-Wow. -"This will remain with me forever.
May Allah grace your craftsmanship with His blessings.
Zayida Begum, 17, Assi Ghat,
Ganesh Mohalla, Malviya Nagar,
Benaras."
-What is this?
Who are you, son?
I have grown up listening to your voice, ma'am.
-It’s all Allah’s gift.
What’s a performer without the listener?
-Absolutely.
Where are you from? You don't seem to be from Benaras...
This son of yours also comes from the banks of Ganges.
Um, I’ve come here with a small request.
Please don't refuse me.
(faint singing)
As I lose my sleep
As I cry on my own
-Begum sahiba?
-I thought I would never leave Kashi again, Shivnarayan ji.
But your son’s will defeated mine.
I cannot believe my luck!
-A man whose child regards him with such devotion,
surely is lucky. How is your health now?
I am cured of all ailments now!
Come in. Please...
Come. The first time I had heard you...
What did I tell you, sir?
-Hmm.
You’ve got an eye, haven’t you.
He did it before the others.
-We have no other way, sir.
This is our only option to secretly send help across the border.
The British made a tunnel under the river.
It once carried electricity, now it will carry revolution!
-But, why him?
Jimmy leaps like a horse on a chessboard.
He won't take the straight path.
While others follow linear rules...
he'll leap across every radar without anyone noticing.
He has the stubbornness of a child who has lost his toy.
Or, you could say, he has the violated ego of a prince.
And of course...
the fire of a refugee's self-respect.
That burns bright!
Where will you find such fire in our 9 to 5 government employees?
If he gets caught,
he will be bruised, he will bleed.
Not us.
He is dispensable.
But I don't know why my intuition says
that this horse may win us the king's game.
Hm, I see.
City of jazz
City that moans
But find those three boys
He maybe dispensable
they are not.
The city of lights
Sings in the dark
And then takes flight