Chennai-based filmmaker R.V. Ramani is known for making documentaries that are impressionistic and candid.Many of his works have engaged with artists and their practice, seeking to explore various aspects of expression. In the course of his own film practice, Ramani has been aware that there are times when a subject can imprint herself in a filmmaker’s consciousness through a simple moment or situation.Bhanumati Rao as a young dancer (left), and in her nineties, blessed with the gift of a light heart. Photos (left to right): Courtesy of Maya Krishna Rao, RV Ramani.When that happens, engaging with it, and discovering a film in the process, becomes imperative for him. Veteran Bharatanatyam and Kathakali dancer, Malayalam theatre and film artiste Bhanumati Rao was a personality who made such moments possible.‘Bhanu’, as she was known, was in her early 90s when Ramani met her for the first time. He had gone to meet her daughter Maya Krishna Rao, the noted theatre director and artist, educator and Kathakali dancer, at their home in Delhi. A chance encounter and a simple meeting with her transported Ramani to a deeply contemplative realm. Such was the essence of Bhanumati Rao, who passed away at the age of 98 on February 12 in Bengaluru, where she had been living for the past few years with her younger daughter Tara Rao.Maya Krishna Rao and Tara Krishna Rao with their mother Bhanumati Rao on her 92nd birthday (2016). Photo: Anand Sahay.Trained in Bharatanatyam and Kathakali, Bhanumati Rao’s creative journey unfurled in the 1940s when she joined the famous Ram Gopal troupe, which travelled across Europe. Her performances left a memorable impression on viewers. During that time, she met her husband-to-be, Krishna Rao, in London, and they shifted to New York. After India gained independence, the couple returned to India and settled in Delhi, where she started a dance school for children, teaching her daughter Maya as well (Tara wasn’t born then). Bhanumati was in her 40s when she lost her husband.What kept Bhanumati going was her unceasing creative urge. She swept into Delhi’s Malayalam theatre circuit, with its hub at the Kerala Club in Connaught Place, demonstrating a consummate flair for comedy in her plays like Room for Rent, among others. Her house was abuzz with creative impulses, which became evident in the direction her daughter Maya took later in life. She also performed in the Hindi theatre space, learning her dialogues written in Malayalam, for she never learnt Hindi. She was associated with the All India Women’s Conference as well.Bhanumati Rao (right) performing in a Hindi play. Photo courtesy of Maya Krishna Rao.One day in the 1990s – she was in her seventies – after having lived in Delhi for four decades, Bhanumati just left for an ashram in Himachal Pradesh, returning after a decade to start another phase of life in which dance had not yet resurfaced. When she moved to Bengaluru about seven years ago, she started learning Carnatic music all over again. Maya recounts that when the teacher began to teach her the classical song Krishna nee begane baro, she told him that long ago she had danced to it several times. In 2016, at the teacher’s suggestion, Bhanumati, who was in her 90s and experiencing the creeping fog of memory and hearing loss, readily performed Krishna nee begane baro. The video went viral. Much before that, in 2014, Ramani had already commenced on his project to engage with Bhanumati’s “beautiful mind”. It resulted in the much- appreciated, 112-minute documentary, Oh That’s Bhanu, which had its world premiere at the Jio-MAMI Mumbai Film festival in 2019, and continues its journey at various film festivals, winning accolades. In his piece below, documentary filmmaker R.V. Ramani puts down his memories of that special association with Bhanumati Rao.§The story of my association with Bhanumati started on April 9, 2014. I had gone to the house of my friend, theatre artiste Maya Krishna Rao, in Delhi. She had organised a screening of my new film, Hindustan Hamara, at the Shiv Nadar University, located in Greater Noida (Uttar Pradesh), where she was teaching then. This documentary was built around the events surrounding the screenings of filmmaker Anand Patwardhan’s documentary films. The plan was that I would first go to Maya’s house and we would then proceed by car to the University, which was a two-hour drive from her house. Accordingly, I reached Maya’s house on time. It was my first visit to her home. Until then we had always run into each other at venues where she was performing or my film was being screened, or at some event in Chennai or Delhi. Maya offered me tea, and just as we were about to leave, her mother, Bhanumati Rao, came out from her bedroom to the hall where I was sitting. “Ramani, have you met my mother?” Maya asked. “No,” I replied. I got up from the sofa and walked towards Bhanumati as she came towards me, extending her hand eagerly. I held her hand, which was soft and delicate. It felt so good holding on to it. She was slightly built, much shorter than me, and elegant. We walked towards the sofa and sat down, still holding hands. I remember we engaged in small talk as we sat close to each other, holding hands. I experienced an instant bonding with her. I felt as if I had lived an eternity in those moments, that I knew this person and could sense her presence acutely. I could feel and connect with her mind completely. I felt one with her. A still from R.V. Ramani’s documentary film ‘Oh That’s Bhanu’. Photo: R.V. Ramani.Maya had to remind me that we were getting late for the screening. Reluctant to leave, I turned towards Bhanumati and mumbled something to the effect that I would see her soon and left with a sense that my experience with her remained incomplete. As I stepped out of the house with Maya and walked towards the car, I said to her, “I want to make a film with your mother.” Maya looked surprised at first. Then she remarked, “From the way you were sitting with her, I knew something was brewing. My god!” I told her what I was feeling, “I sense your mother so deeply. In fact, I already know the title of the film that I want to make.” Maya was stunned. “What is the title?” she asked. I replied, ‘A Beautiful Mind’. In the course of that two-hour ride to the University, Maya spoke about her mother. I was surprised to learn that Bhanumati was suffering from memory loss, and that, at our next meeting, she would have no memory of me or of our earlier conversation; she could hardly hear; and she was in her 90s. I had not felt any of those things while sitting close to her. None of it mattered. I already felt deeply connected to her. I needed to understand this connection.At the University, the screening of my film Hindustan Hamara went well. On our way back, while Maya wanted to talk about it, I was keen to discuss the possibilities of filming with her mother. I had realised that it could be done only when Maya was around, at least in the initial stages. Also, the fact that I was Chennai-based would make the task of co-ordination that much more difficult. The following day – April 10, 2014 — Delhi was to cast its vote in the Parliamentary election that was underway. I casually asked Maya about her plans. She said she would be going to cast her vote sometime in the afternoon and perhaps her mother, too. That was it. Bhanu’s effort to cast her vote in the general election in Delhi became the first sequence that I filmed to set the ball rolling. It was followed by many more sequences, shot in their house and other locations.Bhanumati Rao and her daughter Maya Krishna Rao (showing a family photograph to the camera) in a still from R.V. Ramani’s documentary film ‘Oh That’s Bhanu’. Photo: R.V. Ramani.By July 2015, I had completed the rough cut of the film, based on what I had filmed with Bhanumati and Maya in Delhi. I decided to have a preview for Bhanumati, Maya and her husband, Anand Sahay, at their house. I could make out that Bhanumati did not relate much to the video image; she had a distant, disconnected look, though, at the end, she said, “It is nice.” Maya and Anand were of the view that the film had come out well. But I had the niggling feeling that the film was far from complete. There were a few references to Tara, Bhanumati’s younger daughter living in Bengaluru. I wanted to include her in the film. I mulled over it for a few months.It so happened that Bhanumati shifted base from Delhi to Tara’s house in Bengaluru by the end of 2015, which necessitated filming Bhanumati in Tara’s house. Among the many sequences that I filmed was one similar to that of Bhanumati preparing to cast her vote in Delhi during the 2014 parliamentary election. This time, five years on, I filmed Bhanumati, on the voting day of 2019 parliamentary election. Time for a walk: A still from R.V. Ramani’s documentary film ‘Oh That’s Bhanu’. Photo: R.V. Ramani.I also filmed Bhanumati going for walks in Bengaluru, just as I had done in Delhi. It was fascinating to see the way different facets of her personality emerged in the course of her interactions with her daughter Maya in Delhi and Tara in Bengaluru. In fact, when I had first suggested to Bhanumati that I would like to accompany her on her morning walk in the park near her house in Delhi, she liked the idea. However, she had barely stepped out of her house when she said, “Ok, that’s enough.” She wanted me to stop filming. Nevertheless, I walked with her towards the outer gate. After opening the gate and stepping out, when she tried to close it, I eagerly opened the gate again from inside. This time, she enthusiastically asked, “You are coming with me?” and I said, “Yes”. Once again, she was excited and happy that I was going to accompany her on her walk with my camera. Half-way through the walk I had the feeling that she was probably wondering, who is this person walking with me with a camera in his hand. In the five years it took to make this film, I don’t know whether I walked with her or she walked with me. Maybe we walked together, still holding hands – supported by her daughters – collaborating, and celebrating the unique bond that I had experienced with her. Behind the camera for a change: A still from R.V. Ramani’s documentary film ‘Oh That’s Bhanu’. Photo: R.V. Ramani.Once the film was complete by the end of 2019, there was a preview of it at Tara’s house. Tara had invited some family members over. During the making of this film, every time I met Bhanumati, I had to remind her, “I am Ramani and am trying to make a film with you.” She would always respond enthusiastically. This time, too, before the screening, as usual, she was wondering as to my identity, and I, as usual, had to remind her. This time I said, “I am Ramani. I have completed the film that I was making with you for the last five years.” She looked impressed and slapped her palm with mine in a celebratory gesture. That exchange set me thinking about the enigma of memory and recollection, that it need not be linear, which is what we generally believe to be ‘normal’. In fact, these ‘memory spasms’ became central to the very structure of the film; they freed me from the dictates of conventional linearity or an ‘ideal’ film structure. Bhanu lived literally ’in the moment’, with an amazing sense of grace and joy. Soon our world was in the grip of the COVID-19 pandemic. I could not meet Bhanu again to feel the luminosity of her being, and the lightness of her spirit that I had been privileged to witness for five whole years, in person and through the film’s footage. When I came to know that Bhanumati had passed away, I clasped my hands in an attempt to relive the memory of both of us holding hands. Yes, I can still feel the connection I had felt with Bhanumati on April 9, 2014.R.V. Ramani is a Chennai-based independent filmmaker and cinematographer. Oh That’s Bhanu, his most recent documentary feature, was awarded the Bala Kailasam Memorial Award for the Best Documentary (2019) by Cinema Rendezvous, Chennai, and will be premiered this week as part of ‘Ramani’s Retrospective’ at the International Short and Independent Film Festival, Dhaka (Bangladesh).
