RAMBLING THOUGHTS ... 25 captured in the films, could, in fact, "connect". And isn't it what Forster said about the understanding of art—to "connect"? To connect is the thing, it is what a writer expects his reader to do. While watching the Odessa Step sequence in Battleship Potemkin, the tribals could immediately "connect" the same with the battle which their forefathers had fought against the British and the Indian landlords and traders. And the very sight of the Mayan rituals in Eisenstein's Q.ue Viva Mexico—mask dance and all—made them remember their own rituals that relate to birth and death. Similarly, for reasons of their own, Father Panchali could easily touch their souls. The magic, therefore, that worked was their ability to connect. To me, all this is over-simplification. I admit the tribals saw the film "wide-eyed and open-mouthed". I shall never contest his observation when the presenter said that he could see "the reverence of a new experience" on the faces of the unlettered tribals. But what were all these due to? I am firmly convinced that the viewers in that tribal belt, in that particular situation, were awed by the "wonder" that was cinema—multitudes of pictures appearing in quick succession and eclipsing soon after, a pair of eyes covering the whole screen, an angry crowd growing enormous and in a moment reducing itself to a small dot and a host of "marvels" as revealed through technological performance called cinema. And, then, in Picasso there were colours and shapes and forms presenting a large variety of illusions for the uninitiated. All these were, indeed, great wonders not for the habitual viewers but, for sure, for those tribals who had no opportunity to watch a film before. Here, I am tempted to recall a funny incident which Robert Flaherty, that great documentary filmmaker, described so beautifully and vividly. Once, that was many years ago, Flaherty accompanied an Expedition team to the Arctic region. There he made contact with the head of a group of Eskimos, named Nanook. He then shot a large length of film with Nanook and his people as his subject, and came back with the whole lot of exposed material. Having edited the film— and he called it Nanook of the North, once again Flaherty accompanied the same team to the Arctic—this time, with his edited film and a 16-mm projector. A show was organised by Flaherty for Nanook and his people. For them that was their first—and perhaps, the last—exposure to a film show—not just watching the film but also watching themselves. That was an experience which Flaherty could never forget. Nanook and his people kept watching the visuals on the screen and, as often as they could, looked back to watch the projector. Suddenly came the sequence of the seal-hunting on the screen. Watching the sequence, there came a moment when Nanook and his people could no more remain just spectators. They grew restless, they became tense. And the moment the screen-seal, in a desperate bid to