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iView Author:
VIVEK THAKUR (Bombay, India)

Email : WITHELD

SCENE 17

I am a amateur script writer and this scene is from my first completed script, which is tentatively called Saher. What ever I have learned about screen writing is from the self help books and after reading numerous scripts over www.script-o-rama.com. Many of you over here are pros and I would need your help to structure my script before I can start marketing it. I am pasting a scene from my script over here. Why this scene in particular?…because it runs parallel to the main events and does not gives away anything about the story The two characters in the scene appear just thrice in my script for a prolonged discussion. This is first of there meetings that I have described over here.

I am more interested to have your criticism on the technical aspects of writing but would welcome your criticism as a reader also.

17. INT: DAY – SMALL ROOM - Pakistan

A small room vary dimly lit. It has a center table and two wooden chairs around it. It appears to be an interrogation cell. It has one single door and the table has a note pad and a pencil kept next to it. The door opens and two people bring a man into the room. His wrists are shackled. He is dumped into the chair and his shackles are removed. The two men then move outside taking shackles along with them. The alone men in the room rub his wrists and then waits patiently for something to happen. He does not have any concern on his face. Soon another person enters the room. He is wearing a gray suit and has mustache.

Person in Suit:

Maqbool Mia, I am Tanveer. Chief Investigation Officer anti terrorist cell.

He puts his bag down and makes himself comfortable on the chair. All this while Maqbool is looking at him.

Tanveer:

Jaante hain, aap ab officially terrorist hain. Pakistan bhi ab aapko dehshatgard manta hai.

Maqbool (his voice is very dusky as if he is having difficulty to speak):

Ji Janab

Tanveer:

Bohat achcha. Agle kuch din mein aur aap yahaan par ek doosre ko samajhne ki koshish karenge, aur yeh tay karenge ke hamare aage ke rishte kis taraf jaate hain. Aap to jante hi honge ki duniya ke nakshe mein Pakistan ki jagah badal chuki hai. Hum ab Islam aur Aazad Kashmir ke saath tarraki bhi chahate hain. Uske liye hum chahate ki aap aaj tak jo bhi kar rahe the use rok diya Jayae, shayad aapne kaafi kuch rok bhi diya hoga, lekin kuch baatain hongi jo aap ke haanth se bhi nikal chuki hongi. Mera kaam waisi hi kuch baaton ko jaankar uska asar kam karne ka hai.

He again says meaningfully with a smile on his face.

Tanveer (with smile):

Aap to jante hi hain ki duniya ke nakshey mein Pakistan ki jagah badal chuki hai.

After saying what he has to say keeps looking smilingly at Maqbool.

Maqbool:

Janab paani

Tanveer indicates the pot with a glass on it. Maqbool gets up and goes to the pot. Since the room is very small he comes too close to the comfort of Tanveer. Tanveer pushes his chair back, he is afraid of Maqbool. Maqbool have his glass of water and goes back to his seat.

Maqbool:

Aap ke bachche hain Janab

Tanveer:

Haan, do ladkiyan

Maqbool:

Naam Janab

Tanveer:

Sara aur Aayt, kyon?

Maqbool:

Khubsurat naam hain, aap tasveer rakhte hain apne paas?

Tanveer pulls out his wallet and hands over a photograph of two girls probably of 4 and 5 years of age. Maqbool have a look at them.

Maqbool (handing photographs back to Tanveer):

Bilkul apne naam ki tarah

He sighs.

Maqbool:

Meri bhi ek beti hai, doctor hai Amerika mein, yaad aati hai muje uski lekin…

Tanveer:

Aap ja sakte hain uske pass

Maqbool:

Kaam zyada zaroori hai Janab.

Tanveer (taking out file from his bag, keeping it on the table but not looking at it):

Hmm… to dekhte hain. Aap Pakistan aaye 1992 mein gulf war ke baad. Uske pehle aap Somaliya mein the as an American soilder. Aap ki paidaish hui Afganisthan mein. America mein aap apne doston ke beech Mac ke naam se jaane jate the.

Tanveer then pauses for a second.

Tanveer (contemplating something):

To phir aap musalman kab bane?

Maqbool gives him a smile. He brings himself forward, bends on the table and looks straight into the eyes of Tanveer.

Maqbool:

Sochne wali baat yeh hai ki hum Amerika mein reh kar bhi musalman ban gaye. Log aise bhi hian to mazjid mein reh kar bhi kaafir hain.

He then relaxes on his seat.

Tanveer:

Aapka ishara samjh raha hoon mein

Maqbool:

Agar aap ilzaam ko ishara samajh rahain hain, to aap kaafi betakalluf hain

Tanveer (unaffected):

Hum aap ki baat kar rahe hain.

Maqbool:

Let me see… mein Mogadishu mein American camp mein ardali tha. To let you know something, I was a third generation American, as American as any American can be. Mein paida Afghanistan mein hua kyoinki mere dada chahate the ki pehli mitti jo mujhe chue woh meri apni ho. Asar padta hai. But off course you know all of it. I joined the army because I believed in America.

Flashback:

Location: Mogadishu, Somalia

We see a camp established on a barren land. A company of soldiers is marching towards the camp. A young person is standing at the entrance watching the soilders return. They all look tired, exhausted and some of them are bleeding. A photographer probably from BBC or CNN is taking their images.

Voice over:

Mein khada tha wahan, apne saathiyon ko aata dekh raha tha. Usmein se kuch dost thy mere jo laut rahe they, aur kuch nahin. Wahin kuch doori se ek photographer un sipahiyon ki tasveer le raha tha.

Voice over stops and we see the photographer stops taking the photograph. He fixedly looks at something. We see a very big vulture. The vulture is eyeing something. The camera moves back and we see a small child not more then 2 years is trying to crawl towards the military camp. Soldiers are marching next to the child and they are passing by him. The photographer takes the image of the child and the vulture in between the boots of soldiers and the image gets freeze. The image is on the front of a political weekely.

Voice over:

Koi nahin janta us bachche ka kya hua, mar gaya hoga shayad, lekin us photographer ko bahut shohrat mili, kaafi naam mila, awards mile… lekin kabhi lene nahin gaya. Teen mahine baad uski laash uske ghar se mili. He blew his head off.

All during this narration we see the photographer having the recurring memories of the child crawling and vulture looking on to him. He drinks and moves forcefully from one thing to another, sometimes totally restless and sometimes sitting quietly and looking into blank. Finally he takes a gun out from a case and put on the table. He pours him self a drink, takes it down in one gulp, puts the gun in his mouth. We hear a gunshot and see blood and some human flesh on the wall behind him.

Back to the cell

Maqbool (he is standing near the door):

Woh photographer kyon mara yeh to meri samajh mein aa gaya, lekin us bachche ki maut meri samajh mein nahin aaye us waqt. Aisa kya kiya tha usne?

Tanveer keeps looking at him intently. He looks at Tanveer.

Maqbool:

Jante ho woh bachcha kyao mara?

Tanveer:

Kyon?

Maqbool (frowning):

Abhi bhi nahin samjhe? Who Musalman tha isliye. Kya yeh wajah kaafi nahin hai mere musalman banane ke liye?

He looks into the eyes of Tanveer.

Tanveer:

To aapne amrikiyon ka kaam apne haanth leliya?

Maqbool (bending on to Tanveer):

Aap jannat mein yakeen karte hain? Heaven mein to karte hi honge. Har ek jaan-nisaar jannat mein he… khuda ke saath… aapko aur mujhko dekh raha hai… yahaan neeche. Hum jis raste pe hain who rasta Jannat ki taraf jata hai, aur aap jis raste pe hain woh rasta jata hai Amrika ki taraf.

They keep looking into each others eye for a while.

Tanveer:

Amrika mein bhi kaafi musalman hain

Maqbool (smiles):

Ab kahan

CUT

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