A touching odyssey

By

Bhawani Cheerath Rajagopalan

Adaminte Makan Abu (Abu, son of Adam) 101mts

Director: Salim Ahamed
Cinematographer: Madhu Ambat
Music : Isaac Thomas Kottukapally, Ramesh Narayan

Cast: Salim Kumar, Zarina Wahab, Nedumudi Venu, M R Gopakumar, Kalabhavan Mani, Suraj Venjaaramudu

Adaminte Makan Abu, the Malayalam film which picked up four National Awards (Best Film, Actor, Cinematography, and Background Score) is a return to the world of lost innocence.  At the end of the film we realise it is the excellent scripting that leads from the front all other elements like good acting, steady pace of the film, extremely well etched characters and, finally, a world which rarely gets noticed, as a suitable theme for a film.

Set in a village in north Malabar, this the story of 75 year old Abu (Salim Kumar) and his wife Aysu (Zarina Wahab) whose dream of going on Haj is all set to materialise. Abu is a much loved character who wanders from place to place selling itr (perfume). Till the Gulf boom took over Kerala’s hinterland had its regular perfume seller who frequented the marketplace, bus stands and school gates. But Abu tells us, ‘sprays have taken over. None wants itr.’

The couple’s placid life receives new energy when the possibility of going on Haj seems brighter because the government has increased the numbers that can go on the pilgrimage that year. Abu has no passport. He starts regular trips to the travel agent in Kozhikode, updating Aysu about each step that takes them closer to Mecca, and sharing with her the change he sees in good old Kozhikode.

Aysu adds to the kitty with her income from the milk she sells to the neighbours. Every evening Abu puts away his income for the day into a box, which is their little piggy bank, storing the money for the Haj. Small everyday happenings in the neighbourhood, the Ustad (Thampi Antony) who is like a seer to the community, Haider (Suraj Venjaaramudu) who runs the tea-shop, Master (Nedumudi Venu), are examples of harmony, brotherhood and humanism.

The film takes us along with Abu in the journey towards realisation of his dream. The couple sell the cow and calf, the jackfruit tree and pawn whatever little gold that is left to scrape-up the amount required for the two of them to go on Haj. The naiveté of a country bumpkin like Abu becomes manifest when he removes his footwear outside a leading travel agency only to be told by a youngster exiting the office, ‘You’ll not get your footwear back if you leave it there.’

Abu and Aysu are excited when they receive the passport. But that comes with its share of drama: the first is when a policeman in plainclothes goes to their house for the mandatory enquiry, in Abu’s absence. Aysu is alarmed, so is Abu when he is told he has to go and meet the SI in the police station. Innocent Abu is petrified, he takes the Master (Nedumudi Venu) along. The constable asks questions like, ‘Do you have any case pending?’ Or, have you been to the Gulf?’ But Abu, instilled with some ways of the world by Haidar, waits for the constable on his way home. Then his passport is put on well oiled rails! These are the little lessons that Abu imbibes during his quest for the cherished dream.

It’s testing time in the end: they are doing the rounds of neighbours asking for forgiveness for any wrong by way of speech or action they may have committed. All  preliminaries for the Haj pilgrimage are carefully observed. They buy bags for the journey, clothes for the pilgrimage, go through the immunisation, attend orientation classes etc. There’s very little time left for the journey. When he goes to the sawmill to collect the price for the jackfruit tree he sold, he hears that the bark was hollow. But the manager offers the promised amount because he wants Abu to make the pilgrimage this time.  Abu’s self-esteem, his

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