Here, where they have given their lives under the gulmohar tree,
where rangolis burn like specks of fire,
here I stand, not to cry over it!
I am not weary of grief! I stand firm by my oath!
Those who have orphaned children,
those who killed my numerous brothers & sisters,
those who tried to snatch away my centuries-old mother language & culture,
and killed my brothers and sisters for it
I come here demanding, they should be hung by their necks!
I'm here today to demand death penalty!
Not here to cry! Here to demand death penalty!
-Because of you, their 18-year-old slogan comes alive again.
-Had I not done it, it would’ve led to more violence.
An agreement with Mujib is on the cards.
It’s not wise to provoke the Bengalis at this time.
It’s a trivial matter, General. Just keep it off the newspapers.
It’s not always so simple!
Yes, it is!
One of the points in their six-point proposal is
that they want to be sent back!
And you’re worried about provoking them?
These traitors need to be terrorized of the Pathans.
It is that simple.
(crockery clinking softly)
For those who laid down their lives for bhatiali, kirtan, ghazal, baul!
For Nazrul’s lines: My Motherland, purer than the purest gold!
In the field of Ramna, amidst numerous dead petals…
amidst forty young lives & budding futures, I can see it!
I can see an ocean of blood in their sacrifices!
Not here to cry! Here to demand death penalty!
(tense music)
Not here to cry! Here to demand death penalty!
It's nice.
-Sir, Mr. Kapoor called up.
They want to book a table for three packs.
And Mr. Das for eight packs at 8 p.m. today.
-Can I confirm? -Sir?
No, I will just…
Sheela madam has come.
-Hmm.
(door opening, shutting) Yes, ma’am!
Tell me!
What can I do for y-
Hey?
Sheela, you okay?
Kaberi’s friend.
Suman. Suman Choudhury.
Yes.
Brilliant student!
He was to accompany Professor.
Okay… What happened?
The army beat him to death openly on the streets!
And you know what the newspapers say?
A “minor clash”! Can you imagine that?
-Hmm… -No one cares one bit about it!
And what are we doing here, Jimmy? For whom?
Calm down, calm down.
You can’t break down like this.
You know, you have to scream your words aloud. So loudly that…
it reaches every corner, every ear of the nation!
Their sacrifice can’t go in vain, right?
We have o tell the press about it.
We’ll get the who’s who of the film world.
Business people, editors.
You haven’t changed your plan, right?
-Mhm. -Hmm.
We’ll need funds. Lots of it.
Roaming the streets begging for it won’t help.
Not your typical charity thing.
We’ve to arrange for good entertainment.
So that the richest of the rich in the city gladly pour into it.
You know, it’s like, buy a six course meal
with a moral high ground for free.
Simple.
Sir.
Any news of those boys?
Not yet, sir.
They are hiding in Calcutta, according to our intel.
Remember Shamsur Rehman?
He used to visit Mujib in prison.
-Sure.
-He is visiting Calcutta for a fundraiser.
Those boys will surely try to get in touch with him.
Find them, bring them back alive.
Sir.
(tense music rising)
Take this.
How long will we continue like this? Tell me?
I don’t know. We’ve to arrange for jobs.
The landlord gave us another reminder.
Brother, any news from home?
-The Khan sena is still lurking.
They’ll possibly come here to look as well. Sniffer dogs.
We won’t get caught.
Our bodies might, our hearts never will.
-They didn't write a word on it.
-What did you expect?
The martial law is on.
When have newspapers in Lahore written about us?
Huh?
Do our lives matter to them?
I don’t know…
-Nothing on the radio either.
-The radio is important.
Not everyone can read; the radio reaches millions!
And don't you remember about Azad Hind Radio?
Yes...
Someone tried to awaken Bengalis in this same way a few years ago.
She recited poems, sang songs...
Remember Sakina Banu?
Huh?
Her body was shredded with bullets.
We didn't even get to see her corpse.
(somber music)
They don’t even let us sing Rabinsangeet,
and you'll teach them the banes of the martial law?
You make me laugh, brother.
Will you speak to Mr. Debdulal of Akashvani?
We must have a radio station of our own.
So that our voices can reach Dhaka from Calcutta.
Well, but how do we make it happen?
Do we have the money? The technology?
Can't even afford to print pamphlets! Outlandish!
Don't suggest outlandish things!
We need to meet the editor of Jugantor and ask him
if he can have someone interview Suman's friends or family there...
The incident needs to be reported. We can't allow a cover up!
(rice boiling)
(dramatic music)
-Please come, sir.
-Careful. -Strange opening of the shaft.
-Yes. -Well, I don't know...
What if it starts to rain and the water seeps in...
through the tunnel?
But this is the opening, right, sir?
We’ll need to do piling before you go any further...
That means it's fixable, right?
I’m not sure…
But why... what exactly are you expecting to excavate?
Why? Why can't we move to another spot?
We can't.
-Perhaps we can find another way. -Mr. Holbrooke.
Mr. Holbrooke,
maybe you should find out when your passport is coming?
Sir?
Seen the things that Jimmy is doing?
Printing our politics on restaurant menus of Park Street.
Yes...
As if his patriotism is overflowing from champagne bottles
It's just business, that’s all.
Why care, sir, as long as our job gets done?
You still won’t tell him?
What we’re making him do & why, that's none of his business.
And if his business profits from it, that's none of our business.
Professor’s security should be absolutely tight.
-Hmm. -Let the programme happen.
But it shouldn’t cause us any embarrassment.
Everyone will be tracking him.
ISI, US intelligence, everyone.
His stay and security is your responsibility.
-Don't worry, sir.
(hopeful music)
Greetings, Shamsur da.
Bless you.
How’s the cholera situation?
Not good, Shamsur da.
Can we go there?
Yes, sure, I'll take you there.
How do you think the fundraiser will turn out?
Don’t worry, Shamsur da.
-I have come with a lot of hope. -Yes, I know.
We are planning quite a huge fundraiser at Jazz City.
Rich Bengalis keep frequenting it. You know…
Don't worry.
(car approaching)
-Welcome! Welcome to Calcutta!
-Assalam Walaikum, sir. -Walaikum Assalam, Mrs. Bose.
Shamsur, come to my place. I have set up everything over there.
But Shamsur da had asked me to arrange for his lodging here...
What are you doing?
Driver, put the luggage in my car.
What are you saying, Ali sahib! How did I become a state guest?
I know you'd rather keep me as a permanent guest at jail!
The Pak Government sent you to receive a mere opposition leader?
Unbelievable!
Forgive me, Mrs. Bose.
This in fact is unbelievable.
No one told me to do anything.
Do you mind having lunch with your civil servant friend?
-Can I be honest, Ali sahib? -Go on.
I do mind. (reflective music)
Can't have lunch with a man whose hand is drenched in Suman's blood!
If you were in my place, you'd feel the same.
What have I got to do with what happened to Suman?
Come to my place, let's talk there.
No.
No, Mr. Ali.
Please leave.
I don't want us both to be inconvenienced.
Oh, yes...
We're holding a fundraiser at Jazz City. Do come if you can.
Let’s go, Mrs. Bose.
Please call me Sheela, Shamsur da.
Come.
Shamsur... they are waiting for you at home.
Kindly convey my apologies to Mariam Apa.
My blessings to Abbas.
I send him my love.
And yes...
Does he still draw?
How old is he now?
21.
Suman would've turned 21 in two months.
They could've been great friends…
Great friends!
(pensive music)
-I need to make a call.
(phone ringing)
Yes, who do you want?
Shyamal, there's a call for you.
(suspenseful music)
Yes.
(phone ringing)
-Note down the address.
O traveler
Why do your weary limbs still lie in slumber?
Awaken— the birds are stirring awake
What are you thinking, Shamsur da?
-Hmm?
Never imagined I'll have to come to a different country
to listen to our own songs...
We don't think Calcutta is in a different country.
Forget it. You have hardly eaten… You'll fall sick like this. Hmm?
You are just like your younger sister.
She too looks out for everyone.
She worries about everyone.
I'm alright, dear...
Don’t worry about me.
Fine. Please ask if you need anything, okay?
The library is upstairs.
Shall I get you some curd?
You might like it.
(mysterious music)
How do we do this from the roof? Let’s go there & wait.
-Sir? -Sir...
What are you doing here? Oh, no!
-Sir... -It's okay...
-Joy Bangla, sir!
-What are you doing here?
-Huh? -It’s a long story, sir.
Whatever is happening in Bangladesh should be conveyed to the world.
-We have to do something… -No.
Not now.
ISI spies are all around.
If you get marked, everything is over.
Okay, sir. But we can act in secret.
We could make a ham radio with some training.
We must spread awareness, sir.
I can feel your frustration.
But there's a time for everything.
This Park Street fundraiser is meant to spread awareness.
Remember one thing.
It is a priority that Bongobondhu contests and wins the elections.
Before that, no one must have any idea about you people. Got it?
The radio station will happen! It sure will!
Tell Sheela madam if you need anything, okay?
Now get going.
Joy Bangla!
-Which floor are they on? -Third floor, sir.
Can you peep inside?
Didn't see much yet.
How will you go?
The same way we came. Climbing the pipe.
No, wait a minute.
Listen, don't go back the way you came.
Go downstairs and exit from the back gate. Go, go!
(suspenseful music intensifying)
-Mushtaq. -Yes.
Watch him 24/7. Okay?
-Hmm...
-Whoever comes, identify, keep a watch.
-Yes, sir.
(phone ringing) Hurry up, they'll be coming soon.
Hello... Bangabhaban.
All okay? Shall I send in more people?
No, it’s okay. Take care of things at your end.
-Okay. -Listen...
-Hmm.
-The head count may go up a bit. -That's okay, I'll manage.
-Thank you.
(soft jazz playing)
-Mr. Singh? -Yes, Mr. Lobo?
The usuals, or do we have to tone down the fun quotient?
No, you don't need to tone down anything, the usuals will be fine.
It’s the same guests from the big parties.
-Cool.
-Where’s the diva?
She knows the set list. Will be down for here sound check anytime.
Please carry on.
That’s nice... Great. See you in the evening.
Bye.
I made a few copies of the press release.
-Hmm. -You have carbon paper, dear?
Let me type it out then. We have time, right?
Almost all newspapers are informed.
We've someone flying in from abroad too.
Excellent!
We really needed these letters from these companies too.
What more can I tell you?
You have put in everything from your trunk of treasure.
Oh, it's nothing.
But a lot of the credit goes to Jazz City.
-True.
-You'll see, you will succeed in your objective.
Many businessmen will be coming.
You can speak to them in person.
-Please excuse me. -Sure.
(phone ringing)
Excuse me...
Bangabhaban?
There are just two doors we’ll need to watch.
-But how do we know who's coming to meet whom...
-Obviously, the important visitors will come during the day.
The press will also be there… along will old friends.
-The one's were looking for will come in the dark.
-Hmm, good for us.
Even if they disappear, no one will notice.
What if the boys don’t turn up?
Then the professor...
We take him on the way back from Jazz City.
But he’s under strict police protection.
We need a replica of his car, same colour, same model.
Who will stay inside the hotel?
I keep frequenting it, sir. With my plus ones.
(phone ringing)
-Hello? -Sir...
he wants to go to the jute mill from here. Around 3 p.m.
Wait, let me write it down.
Jute mill...
3 p.m.
-Right, sir. -Okay.
-Bye. -Hmm.
-Chandu? -Hmm?
I'll take it.
-You can go. -Okay, sir.
(knocking) Come in.
I’m stitching up, not buttoning down.
I'm afraid, the presents of the politicians bore me.
They put on this face of virtue and reticence...
while their eyes scream, they want to get on stage and dance.
Poor things.
At least I have makeup to hide my disgust.
Did Jimmy ever…?
-No. Never.
But others...
Seen you sweat up a few times.
-Me?
Look at me.
You are totally beyond my league!
-Beneath the faux Anglo superiority,
I’m a delicate sculpture in an antique shop
that no one wants to quite touch due to fear of potential damages.
You and I are one & the same, Mr. Singh.
I wanted to ask you something else.
You have a lot of questions for the ladies.
Just because I don’t have Michael staring down on me,
doesn’t imply I don’t bite.
Your skills on the sewing machine is exemplary, Miss Menzes…
Haven’t seen such craftsmanship from where I come from…
Well, single girl from my country...
had to rely on other skills.
Especially if I wanted to survive a world
where my father wouldn't return post war!
So, we, the Menzes sisters,
we picked up whatever we could.
(soft music) Morning choir practice at the cathedral,
St. Loreto’s House of Discipline...
Supplementing Ma's arthritic hand to ensure the orders got out on time.
Applying the falls,
the alterations...
and for the adventurous ladies...
well, some adventure.
It’s music that saved me.
But who will save you?
Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Singh...
I must get changed now.
Of course.
And East Pakistan should have its own military or paramilitary force.
The naval headquarters should also be in East Pakistan.
These are our demands.
Please don't mind, Shamsur sahib.
This looks like a list of big dreams you've dreamt
in the last few months.
You really think that the Pakistan Government
will grant you a separate federal government with taxation powers?
And a separate force? Isn’t that exceptionally absurd?
1947 was also an absurd dream once, brothers.
-But what is the basis of this discussion?
First, let Pakistan conduct its first ever proper election
since its independence.
Then the discussion can happen.
-What are your priorities right now? -All okay?
-Please observe this election carefully.
Send your reporters & see the reality under martial law.
Free, fair elections are the only way to bring peace in this region.
Hence that’s our first priority.
(tense music)
-So much of arms build-up at your eastern side...
Extremely alarming for us.
Now, imagine how alarming it is for the opposition & Bengalis there.
There have been reports of you
trying to reach out to Indian leadership too.
No, no.
This kind of talk just confuses the issue
Again, I am here only for people-to-people contact.
Indians, specially our West Bengali brothers
deserve to know what is happening there.
It’s almost sowing season!
And the state support has been awful for farmers!
The donation drive is for them.
Now, if you excuse me…
I’ve to leave. Sheela?
Yes...
(low murmuring among reporters)
-Excuse me, Professor... -Yes...
Richard Alvarez, Reuters, Lahore.
Ah!
I hope this time, our Party
gets more than a one line mention at the bottom of page 7?
Why on earth would you do this here?
This is tantamount to treason.
Excuse me.
Do you realize that?
Treason?
I’m spreading lies, you mean?
Just come & see for yourself.
-What? -Come, come.
(haunting, tragic music)
Come.
-Sir, we are well aware what this propaganda aims at.
That we Pakistanis are fascists...
and that this refugee crisis is our doing.
The Indian government tells you how their own people are suffering,
and their Bengali words melt your heart.
It’s a power game.
So many deaths…
So many people struggling for basic medicines and some rice.
All these statements from world medical bodies...
It’s not Pakistan’s problem?
Loose lips sink ships, Shamsur.
You're telling the Indian press, you don't trust your own nation?
Trust?
Who can one really trust?
The officers under the previous government
wouldn't follow a single instruction from Mujib.
The army has been shooting kids down openly on the streets.
At least cholera shows greater mercy than bullets.
You westerners won’t print a word against the martial law.
But someone has to say it!
-Professor...
Please consider a middle path.
Have me meet Mujib.
Bhutto can be spoken to before the election.
A neutral voice can bring some sense to both Parties.
Mr. Alvarez.
You remind me of this story about Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin...
The men on the moon?
Yes.
Before the moon mission, the two astronauts
met a Native Indian chief.
The chief asked, "You're going to the moon?
I have a message for the moon spirits.
But in my native language."
Armstrong memorized the message in their native language.
Later, he asked a Native Indian colleague its meaning.
The colleague heard it & burst into a laughter.
You know...
what the message was?
"Don’t trust a single word these men say.
They will steal your land and make you their slaves too."
Hey, Jimmy! Chatterjee speaking.
-From Peter's Fans! -Sir!
Why have I not been invited to your latest party?
Not done, boss!
I am so sorry, sir, honestly I haven't invited anyone.
The word's just spreading.
-Jimmy. -Sir.
-It's me.
Get him a table, you won’t regret it.
Neither of you will take a no for an answer...
Huh?
-Waiter… call Jimmy sir.
-I am the manager here, sir. Remember?
-You sure don't look it. -Hello, Mr. Mitra!
Hello, hello!
Honestly, all the big events seem incomplete without your presence!
The flattery won’t work.
How many guests coming today?
-It's a big event. I'm not sure.
-So make it smaller.
There are orders, can’t allow it to become a fairground.
Whose orders?
We have to take care of security clearance.
-Ah. -We're telling the Naxal students.
Anything goes wrong and it’ll become a huge deal.
Better send the guest list to the police station.
-List? -Yes.
What list? And whom will I refuse?
The minister’s nephew? Or the Vice Chancellor’s family?
Or shall I just turn away Mr. Uttam Kumar saying:
Sorry, Kamal Mitra's permission won't work. Ask Inspector Mitra.
He can't guarantee your security. Shall I tell him this?
The order's from higher-up.
-Give it to me in writing? -Uhu.
Your damned club has become a pain in the ass for me!
Oh. Ointment?
-I will fix it in time.
A city infested with Naxalites, cholera spreading all over.
And you're throwing a damned ball!
Send it over.
Thank you!
Sir, I couldn’t see his face.
He was spying from the neighbouring terrace.
But there were others too.
When I went up, the place was already empty..
But I'm sure that they were there.
Don’t leave the Professor alone even for a moment.
Watch him all the time.
If he wants to go out, accompany him.
Don't worry.
(tense music building up)
(bicycle bell ringing)
You are too anxious about the young Turk, my boy.
This is such a glitterati-fueled occasion.
Sir, I had no idea so many people would turn up!
And honestly,
I don't understand this cross-border political cocktail.
-Oh! -I just want business.
"Political cocktail"?
When will you quit complaining?
-But sir was asking-- -Sir, I tell you,
his business motto is "Trust is fine, control is better".
I'll just...
-Excuse me, sir. -Uh, please.
Let me introduce...
Mr. Richard Alvarez. Reuters.
London. Los Angeles. Lahore.
You are aware of his bylines and his impeccable tailoring.
-Nothing escapes Jimmy’s eyes.
Can't help it, sir.
-Excuse me, sir.
Mr. Agarwal from sales emporium wanted to have a talk.
Sure, please come.
-Hey!
Go...
Go!
So? Some heated shit happened in the afternoon I heard?
-Ah, well...
Never try to drill sense into an overreacting Bengali!
Shamsur didn’t even spare the High Commissioner.
Hossain sahib?
Damn. So, he is not coming tomorrow?
I doubt it.
Just like me, his salary too comes from Lahore.
Well, we should catch up over the overreacting Bengalis
on both sides of the border sometime soon.
-I'll be back.
-Long time, Mr. Alvarez!
-Hmm.
-So, what's... what's going on in Lahore?
-Well, the Balochis have got their own province.
The One Unit thing is gone.
Let's see.
(suspenseful music)
-You found an exact dupe of the car! Good work!
And the guns?
-Inside.
(uptempo music playing)
Of course!
-Thank you, ma'am. Thank you. -Thank you!
Thank you, sir.
Thank you.
-Mr. Singh!
-Hey, Mr. Sanjay, how are you?
Thank you!
I hear Pulu babu and Dipankar are coming too?
Moushumi too is coming from Bombay?
(ominous music building)
(car ignition turned on)
(quirky jazz playing)
Sir, he's here.
Chandu!
Get the table ready! Hurry!
Bashir...
(upbeat music)
'Joy Bangla'
Greetings.
Jimmy, this is Professor Shamsur Rehman.
And Shamsur da, this is Jimmy, owner of Jazz City!
Greetings!
Today, we are elated to have with us
Professor Shamsur Rehman from East Pakistan.
He would like to say a few words.
Shamsur da?
Thanks a lot, dear friends.
History tells us that there often have always been rulers
who do not see a country as a nation,
but as a profitable piece of land.
And that's how rule & wreck have come to mean the same thing.
People have been victim to immense, brutal oppression
based on inequality!
We have tolerated this torture for years!
Our blood has soaked the land!
Our spines have bent under the weight!
But we didn't lose hope!
Today’s Bengalis are like sunflowers!
Even after suffering waves of torment and pestilence,
they eagerly await the new sun with all the hope in their hearts!
Your gathering here today, has doubled our courage.
It has doubled our strength!
I hope you all shall encourage us in the future
so that we can progress towards a new dawn.
Joy Bangla!
-Joy Bangla!
(uptempo jazz music resuming)
I wish you well too.
Here's the main course.
Pulao.
And your curry.
-Sir, how is it?
-Great!
Reminds me of my auntie’s cooking!
It's all for you!
-Hello! -They all want autographs!
All good, sir?
-All good, ma'am? -Want a photo with the heroine?
-Great! -No.
Good for Shamsur, though!
Such unconditional love and support...
He couldn't have even dreamt of this!
Do you think... this is all out of love for Bangla?
Of course.
Mister,
why should these businessmen spend so much on the Awami League?
-Why?
-If Awami League wins, they can execute cheap imports
of jute, rice & other things from across the border.
They'll gain from the investment! It's simple! (laughing)
Charity is a zero-sum game! Just like love!
-Well said!
-Keep the car ready.
Candles and wax Fireflies in groove
Wings unfurl, moon makes its move
She stands in stone
Alabaster ways The metronome shifts
The queen begins to sway
Jiving down the alley Victoria stalks
Gunpowder in the air Regret on sidewalks
She knows when love arrives
Waiting too long
The third bell chimes
She waits for my song
Victoria
-Yes! -Yes, right!
Thank you.
You wouldn't take a no, right?
You've always asked the right questions at the wrong time.
-Can I help you, sir?
Ah, yes.
I wanted to congratulate the cook.
He’s done a great job!
I will let my team know, sir. Everyone is very busy, you see.
All the best, sir.
Millions have their hopes riding on you.
-Yes? -Bathroom?
-That way. -Ah, that way?
Oh, she's so bright, singing tonight
(guests applauding)
'Joy Bangla'
Sir... sir?
Sir?
(dramatic music)
What's wrong?
He’s dead.
-Huh?
(ominous music rising)