Tuesday 21 April 2015

The Story of the Weeping Camel


Artists are best in surprising others with magnificent creations mostly from things and situations quite ignored by general public. Give a Marble boulder to Michael Angelo; he will definitely carve a heaven of angels from it. Sometime back, I happened to read a review on a 2003 German documentary, ‘The story of the Weeping Camel’. “Uniquely composed of equal parts reality, drama, and magic, this film is a window into a different way of life and the universal terrain of the heart” so said the review. The story was woven around a set of nomadic shepherds. The last of their camel to calve that season brought forth a cute rare white calf. Somehow, the mother camel refused to accept it and rejected it due care and milk. The matter grew into a great concern for the family of nomads. 

The film beautifully draws every thread of sentiments in between the camel and the calf and also the camel family and the nomads. The film portrays the charm of human attachment with Nature. The nomads tried all known tricks to bring harmony between the calf and the camel, but miserably failed. The nomads finally take the help of a few lamas who suggested a series of tough rituals. A musician was brought from some distance and he plays his Mongolian 'violin' as part of the healing process. This however worked; mostly hit by the charming lullaby of the musician, the camel reconciles with its calf. 

The documentary happened to be a total delight from start to finish, and it spoke volumes about the ties that bind human beings and animals together. It is considered as a tribute to the spiritual power of nurturing as an essential ingredient in keeping life bountiful and opening the hearts of all species. How this family of herders dealt with this small crisis delighted children and adults alike. The plot kindles within, a craving to reconcile with everything. The energy of reconciliation sprouts from the springs of love; there we also weep. There, we understand that it was with our own elements that we had been fighting incessantly.

Joseph Mattappally

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