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Ishan Sharma

@supertrampfilms

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making KABOOTAR 🎬

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Today, we’re thrilled to announce that Nawazuddin Siddiqui is joining us as the lead of KABOOTAR!

We believe independent films need a shot of life every now and then. For us, Nawaz coming on board is so much more than that.

After flying to labs and markets across the world, it feels cosmic that KABOOTAR has found its heart back home.

Long live cinema! #kabootar by @supertrampfilms

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3 days ago

Excited to share some exciting developments on ‘Kabootar’ from Cannes, via @lizshackleton for @deadline. 🎬

“We are delighted to co-produce this ambitious debut feature alongside MDC Filmworks, a film that is both entertaining and deeply moving. We are equally convinced by the talent of Ishan Sharma and by the film’s strong potential with French audiences. We also believe the film has the ability to resonate with audiences around the world, as its story powerfully combines a distinct Indian identity with a deeply universal theme, reminiscent, among others, of The Kid by Charlie Chaplin.”

— Haiku Films

#cannesfilmfestival #marchedufilm #kabootar taken in Cannes, France by @supertrampfilms

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5 months ago

A message from a pigeon. BIG news coming soon!🐦

#kabootar taken in Delhi, India by @supertrampfilms

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6 days ago

A Season Of Mangoes, as narrated by the late Farrukh Jaffar, featuring two pieces of my heart, resurrected in a photograph. taken in Delhi, India by @supertrampfilms

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a month ago

I could not explain it to anyone, not to the people I loved, not to the spirits I worshiped, but I knew it was real - the scent of a lost mind. Wherever she went - a dull smell would persist. One would not be wrong to mistake it for stale coconut oil or the mustiness of a winter razaai. I was just grateful for it to douse the stench of my cigarettes, without fail, every night. It was easy to convince her, my grandmother, that the neighbourhood cat had finally killed the mouse that had been digging into her box of love letters. She would sigh with both relief and grief, and the entire room would fill up with zinc from her medicine.

One time though, with a rumbling stomach, she woke up in the middle of the night, and caught me smoking. Her eyes narrowed down in disbelief and her wrinkled hand pointed to the box. I thought she'd be angry, but instead, she just said -"Read to me".

So I opened her box of love letters, and I took out a letter stamped 09/05/52 | AIR | Portblair, and I read.

"I am here, in a post near the sea. Each time the waves crash, I think of the first few words we exchanged. You said I looked so serious, and asked me if I believed in love. Tomorrow, when I finish my broadcast here at the radio station in Portblair, you shall have the..."

She looked back at me curiously as I looked at the half torn paper. The poetry-hating rat was at it again. The last end was missing. I continued though, filling in the gaps from my imagination.

“…answer. Yes, I believe in love, and not just as a feeling, but as an island, we can experience together. Not very different from this island, in the middle of nowhere, with crashing waves that sound like canon shots, like every word you write to me. And a lighthouse that winks at the moon, and a radio station that emits a frequency that sounds like nothing, and everything, not unlike the stutter that came out of my heart, the first time you looked at me.."

She interrupted my recitation with a glorious snore, sending waves of tooty-fruity ice cream across the room. I went back to sleep that night not knowing what I was better at- poetry or lying.

~a case for menthol cigarettes taken in Portblair, Andaman by @supertrampfilms

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4 years ago

"Was it raining last night? It was super foggy in the morning. The garden was wet. The flowers had been recently pruned. I ran circles on the damp soil and got my slippers inside the house. Much to the horror of everyone, the remains of the grass, the flowers, the scent of my garden was soon splattered all over my room. I remember you like that. In bits and pieces, always overwhelming. Is that too hard to understand?" #filmisnotdead #portrait #memories #writergram #writerscommunity #wordporn #senseofanending #sepia #photooftheday #mood #fiction taken in Chanakyapuri by @supertrampfilms

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8 years ago

~ A Djinn in Durana ~

In my memory now lies a visit to my ancestral village in the deaths of winter, in a school that my uncle runs, beyond which lies an abandoned well that was never filled, in which lives a Djinn.

Sometimes at night, he taps on the kitchen window where my uncle sleeps, and calls out his name in a sad, soft voice. Then he knocks on the door three times. When it happened for the first time years back, his family got really scared and called all the relatives in the dead of the night. A search party was sent out, but the entire village was silent, except for the singing of frogs in the old well.

Since then, the old Djinn and his wandering has been accepted as much as the resident owl who refuses to leave the sports room in the school.

There is a word in the English language, called 'Liminality'- the experience of living in the unknown. Families of missing people go through it, prisoners go through it, having lost life-stage rituals. I wondered if Djinns go through it too, living, looking, wandering. taken in Haryana by @supertrampfilms

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4 years ago

🎬 now casting for KABOOTAR ⚡️

Friends, if you know someone suitable, please share with them or send them our way :)

#castingcall #japan #india by @supertrampfilms

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2 months ago

In a village in Bikaner, where the train rattles every good conversation you ever have, a woman told me about a boy named Teja. On the day Teja turned five years old, a sparrow in his dreams reminded him of his past life. She’d witnessed his death five years ago- a slip of the hand on the tractor, a terrible accident. When Teja woke up, he remembered everything. His previous life- his wife, his kids. Overcome by sorrow, he walked miles and miles until he reached the house he built years ago. But a train track separated him from the house. The early morning train passed through the village, cutting the fields, the sand, even the sky in half. Teja waited for hours, but the train seemed to go on endlessly. Through the compartments, he saw his wife come out of the house and look at him. In an instant, she recognised him, even though he was just a little boy. Ecstatic, she ran towards him, and he towards her, the train screaming on the tracks between them.

Nobody saw the two of them after that. Since that day, whenever the morning train comes, and the earth’s belly shakes, you can catch glimpses of your past lives in the compartments. Some see a drunk elephant, some a sparrow, some just a vast, endless ocean, spilling out of every window.

At that very moment, the tracks began to rattle, and the woman stopped speaking, and I found myself holding back from looking at the train, statued in a painful thought. What if I just found myself staring back?

How wonderful, and terrible would it be, to have no past lives at all.

~Teja Vu and the timeless train by @supertrampfilms

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4 years ago

Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in a dark room. Laced with chemicals, still developing, only a map of the image I must eventually become.
#filmisnotdead taken in Berlin, Germany by @supertrampfilms

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7 years ago

"Come out and play, she said. Time shot us through an arrow and now my heart is red, and so are my eyes, and so is this evening and I don't, I don't, feel so blue anymore.."

#filmisnotdead
#instadaily #pictureoftheday #cyberpunk #bladerunner2049 #redsky #apocalypse #photooftheday #igphoto #retrofilm #kodakportra400 #fujifilmxt4 taken in Bangalore, India by @supertrampfilms

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6 years ago

This is a photograph about panic.
#filmisnotdead #selfportrait #mixmedia #collage #surrealism #decemberphotochallenge #sunflowers #bombaydiaries #ig_color #mumbai_uncensored #mumbai_ig #pop #imagemanipulation #youarenotalone #panicattack #mentalhealthawareness #photooftheday #photographersofindia #instadaily #colorgram taken in Mumbai, Maharashtra by @supertrampfilms

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8 years ago