Saffron Kingdom: A love letter to Kashmir

An ode to Kashmiri resistance and endurance.

A new film, Saffron Kingdom, slated as the first Kashmiri-American film, is currently doing the rounds on the festival circuits in the U.S and Europe. The film tells the story of a Kashmiri family who escape to the United States following an incident in their native Kashmir. As Hayaa Beig writes in this review, the film doesn’t just provide a counter-narrative to Indian propaganda about Kashmir; it is a repository of Kashmiri culture at a time of erasure and elimination by the Indian state.

A leaf caught in barbed wire. A flower crushed under a soldier’s boot. A wedding turned into a funeral. This is Kashmir.

It’s not usually what we get to see in Indian popular cinema, where Kashmiris are either gracious hosts to their colonizer or terrifying extremists who seek ‘revenge’, devoid of any political context.

And this is precisely what filmmaker Arfat Sheikh set out to correct when he embarked on a journey to make Saffron Kingdom.

And it doesn’t disappoint.

The story follows the story of Masrat (Diana Aras) and her son, Rizwan (Alex Cheeks) who are forced to flee to the United States for safety after her husband is disappeared by the Indian army.

Once in their adopted Atlanta, the family tries to rebuild their life.

But when Masrat, a writer, begins researching the history of Kashmir for a book, she begins unpeeling memories and stories from the 1990s when Kashmir was in the midst of an armed uprising against Indian rule.

Her work forces her to revisit old traumas growing up in Kashmir.

At the time, Kashmir was embroiled in a popular mass movement against Indian rule, and Indian forces responded with immense brutality, including a spate of massacres against Kashmiris demanding freedom.

Saffron Kingdom holds a camera to one family’s experience, but it could be the story of any Kashmiri family- a tale of the dead, the missing, and those who are left to remember.

But the making of the film is as fascinating as the film itself.

Sheikh, a political exile himself, had to shoot the film in Georgia, and therefore faced a dilemma in casting for his actors.

Sheikh understood that it would be difficult to ask Kashmiri actors to play in a political film.

Given the oppressive nature of the state, it would certainly result in consequences, including travel bans from the Indian government.

He instead found a diverse range of actors in the U.S and undertook to train them to speak their lines in Kashmiri.

The sets, too, were made in Atlanta, with only segments of the film secretly shot in Kashmir.

As I watched the film, I found myself transfixed by both his effort and the subtleties of Saffron Kingdom.

The Indian soldiers, for instance, are, for the most part, faceless.

Only guns, military gear, and boots, crushing a flower underfoot, symbolizing the systematic violence of the state.

The filmmakers seem to have made a decision to ensure the viewer never sees their eyes.

It is as if Sheikh wanted to show how Indian soldiers are an act of disturbance; a counter to the Indian narrative of soldiers being sent to ‘disturbed areas’.

The inclusion of an eyewitness account from Farooq Ahmed Wani, the sole survivor of the Gowkadal Massacre in 1990, was also very inventive.

His account of the events on that fateful day and the aftermath further grounded this film in a heartbreaking reality.

Knowledge of the human cost of occupation converts this film from the fictional to the historical.

As a tool of political education, it excels, but the film is also a repository of cultural preservation.

As I watched the film, I found myself awed by the sheer care the filmmakers took to balance the devastation of the family’s past with the magnificent beauty of Kashmir.

Fabrics, metals, and patterns, overlaid with the lilting, soothing Kashmiri music, enveloped the viewer in an immersive atmosphere.

Shots of beloved Kashmiri architecture and artistic traditions of weaving, pot-painting, and mehndi communicate what words cannot.

The careful documentation of Kashmiri culture, the inclusion of the Kashmiri language, and the depths of the tragedy Kashmiris experience were so thoughtfully depicted. And given the limitations and structural violence artists face in Kashmir, the film is an even bigger feat than most could imagine.

Saffron Kingdom’s production design is also exquisitely done. From the patterns of the actors’ clothing to the textures of the furniture, every detail was well-considered.

The set designs, fabric choices, and lighting decisions clearly communicate that a designer knowledgeable of Kashmiri culture was at the helm.

The ambitious decision to switch from time and place was easily followed due to the masterful cinematography decisions.

Kashmir’s nostalgic golden glow pulled the viewer in, lovingly embracing the characters, while the cold light of America was only vaguely offset by the warm clothing and furniture.

Now to be clear, while several films about Kashmir foreground its culture - they do so in a way that often fetishizes the culture, reinscribing the region as a “territory of desire.”

Devoid of political context, these films strip the viewer of the history of Kashmir.

Saffron Kingdom - not shying away from the brutality of Indian occupation- does not do this.

Saffron Kingdom is then, an ode to Kashmiri resistance and endurance, against all odds.

Confronting a culture of silence and challenging attempts at Kashmiri erasure, the film shines a spotlight on issues of violence, military occupation, and generational trauma that plague Kashmiris in both Kashmir and the diaspora.

This film is nothing if not a love letter to Kashmir and the endurance of the Kashmiri people.

This poetic and poignant film is a story of love, loss, and ultimately survival. It is the responsibility of the viewer and those who live on to tell the stories of those who no longer do.

“Our stories will be told.”

Saffron Kingdom is currently being screened in festivals across the United States and the United Kingdom. To find out about future screenings, click here.

This film review was produced with the kind support of Hari Sharma Foundation in Vancouver, Canada. Check out their work here.