The tale of MIRZA SAHIBAN is a tale of sublimation of Love; It is an intimate study of all that’s beats silently within the simple, pure and innocent hearts of those whom we call the masses. Their hearts do not beat in vain. They have something to tell the world. Pretty little things. Which are to be of no consequence; and yet it is these little things which weave the history of humanity. Let MIRZA and SAHIBAN tell those things to you. You would love to see them doing so.
As a child Mirza was mischief incarnate. His parents were fed up of him. So much so that one day he was sent a way to the village of his maternal uncle.
Mirza took mo time in establishing himself as amster of mischief in the new surroundings. A new element, however, entered his life. sahiban, the lovely little daughter of Chowdhary (his maternal uncle) suddenly became his companion and conscience-keeper. It happened thus.
The teacher of their school was down with fever. The boys and girls were playing. Sahiban was playing with Fumman, her fatty cousin, Fumman got wild and beat her mercilessly. Mirza saw this and mauled Faunman as mercilessly as the latter had beaten Sahiban. Fumman ran away. Mirza and Sahiban looked at each other and smiled. They did not know that even childhood could smile dangerously.
The smile was dangerous. In the school Mirza’s hands played with the books while his eyes were fixed on the face of Sahiban.
Said Sahiban one day- “Why don’t you read the book? Must you always look into my face?”
Quick came Mirza’s reply-“I must. Your face is the one book that interests me. All the expression of language and precision of arithmetic is in your face. Only the harshness of teacher is missing.”
Fumman reported the talk to the teacher. Mirza got the punishment. Out f the class Mirza had his revenge.
As years advanced. This relationship of three took deeper roots. Social barriers separated Mirza from Sahiban. They lived under the same roof but could meet only secretly. Fumman managed to make a scandal of this and atlast Mirza was thrown out of the house.
The villagers asked Mirza to go away from the village. But a lover is different from a renegade. He stayed on- Nature asserted herself. They met secretly under the Moon and added a few straws every night to the nest of their dreams. Yet before the nest vould be built, their secret was discovered.
Sbamir, the brother of Sahiban ran out of the house with a sword. Sahiban stopped hom saying –“If you want blood, there is blood in my veins too.”
Chowdhary saved the situation and so managed the things that Mirza went away from the village to save Sahiban from disgrace.
Sahiban went to see him defiant of all opposition. It was too late. Mirza had gone. Her wailings reached the Moon. They moved the stars. Could they reach Mirza? Could they move the human hearts which so often see people perish and yet do not let them live?
The cry of Sahiban even today resounds in the hills and dales of the Punjab. It is not the wailing of Sahiban alone; it is the call of the millions who live only to suffer. It is the revolt of helplessness. It is the challenge of misery to the forces of the Tyranny.
See it all on the screen and see if you have any reply for this challenge.
(From the official press booklet)