A football kick that aims for hope

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The anger of the youth in Kashmir has myriad manifestations. What could possibly incense a Dylan-humming, Jacko-clad youth to get out on the street and pelt stones? What could drive an MBA student to tread the “militant” path? Filmmaker Ashvin Kumar’s Inshallah Football probes the pent-up anger of the Kashmiri youth, and ends on a hopeful note — that there is a way out, sometime just by kicking a football.

Set against the backdrop of the ongoing “youth uprising”, Inshallah Football documents the true story of 18-year-old Basharat Baba, aka Basha, a talented footballer selected to play professional football in Brazil. However, his dream began to fade when the government denied him a passport. His father was a former militant and that was reason enough to punish Basha.
Battling prejudice as the frustrated Basha goes from police authorities to bureaucrats, two other stories unfold: one of Basha’s father, who believed in azaadi and was ready to die, and kill, for it, and the other of Basha’s Argentinean coach, Fifa-certified Juan Marcos Troia (Marco).
Marcos and his wife, both attached to Basha and Kashmir, make it a personal mission to pursue Basha’s case and migrate to Srinagar with their three daughters (Marcos has opened a sports academy, International Sports Academy Trust in Srinagar). The family still lives there.
Director Ashvin, whose Little Terrorist was an Oscar nominee, appoints Basha as a reporter for a day. He is already embedded. The government ensured that. Basha meets a friend whose father was killed by the Ikhwanis — surrendered militant-turned (Kashmir’s Salwa Judum) used as gun-on-hire to settle personal scores. He also catches up with a Pandit family still living in Kashmir.
Basha voices his frustration and day-to-day humiliation: “I wasn’t even born when my father did what he did. Why are we still undergoing the punishment?” He recalls how once, while returning from practice, he was beaten up by the Rashtriya Rifles men, even though he had displayed his identity card. The camera stares at a CRPF bunker which proclaims: “Respect All, Suspect All”.
Next, Basha gets his father to talk of the days when he crossed over to Pakistan and his ordeal at “Papa 2”, Kashmir’s most dreaded interrogation centre, after he survived “operation catch-and-kill” in the mid-Nineties. (Papa 2 is now a minister’s house.)
Apart from this, Basha and his friends are “normal” youth who love football and have girlfriends.
Inshallah Football is the outcome of incredible co-incidences. While Ashvin was shooting, Basha’s ordeal was reported by a leading national paper. Chief minister Omar Abdullah read it, was moved, and made a phone call. Basha’s passport arrived soon.
The film does not use any voiceover. All “characters” speak for themselves and this lends the narration of a true life story emotion and connect. The chief minister agrees on camera that there will be many like Basha in Kashmir who may be facing such daily hardships.
The thought-provoking documentary has some stirring scenes. I am from Kashmir, and I have seen from too close what Ashvin is dealing with, and talking about. I must confess, a few tears escaped my eyes.