All language subtitles for India Matri Bhumi (1959) 720p WEBRip

Resync English Subtitle
For 720p WEBRip
By : H a M e D

The Rossellini Project

The digital restoration
of the Italian version

was carried out using the best
elements preserved by Cinecitt� Studios

and CSC - Cineteca Nazionale.

An in-depth analysis of the materials,
along with the valuable contribution

of film historian Adriano Apr�,

allowed the identification
of the most useful restoration elements..

the internegative for the picture,
an intermediate for the opening titles,

a positive copy taken from same colour
internegative for the sound,

and a vintage showing print
for correct synchronisation.

The images were scanned
at a resolution of 2K.

After scanning the images
were stabilised and digitally cleaned

to eliminate the marks of time - spots,
lines, scratches and splice marks.

The colour correction process turned out
to be extremely complicated,

as the colour had greatly faded.

A vintage copy, preserved by, CSC
- Cineteca Nazionale

and a copy printed by Cinecitt�
in the 90s

were to be of high reference value
during this phase

in rediscovering the
specific characteristics

of cinematographer Aldo Tonti's work,

as well as the various film used
(Gevaert, Ferania, Kodak, 16mm, 35mm).

Following its digitization, the film's
soundtrack under went digital cleaning,

as well as the reduction of background
noises caused by wear overtime,

maintaining the dynamic nature and
particularities of the original sound.

All of the elements traced are lacking
some frames in certain parts,

thus it was not possible
to reconstruct the entire film.

The restoration was carried out by
Cineteca di Bologna

at L'Immagine Ritrovata laboratory
in 2011.

For anyone coming from the West, Bombay
has traditionally been the gateway to India.

On arrival one
is filled with euphoria.

The first thing to astonish
is the crowd.

Tens, hundreds, thousands
tens of thousands

hundreds of thousands
maybe millions of people,

who come together like the
incessant current of a river

which yet hasn't swept away
the vestiges that the Muslims,

Parsis, English colonialists
and others constructed.

Sun, shade, winds
drought and monsoons

have given a common appearance to these
people of diverse races and religions.

which thickens and swarms.

Farmers and city dwellers.
Then there are the old castes:

the Brahmins, custodians of religion,
the Kshatriyas, warriors,

the Vaishyas, merchants,

the Shudras, workers.

The castes were formed
according to ethnic group -

the indigenous, Dravidians and Aryans,

as well as Persians, Muslims

and all others derived
from such a concentrated mix.

The hum of countless languages
rises from the swarming streets -

Hindustani, Bengali,
Assamese, Oriya, Gujarati,

Marathi, Kannada, Relugu, Malayalam,

Tamil, Brahui, Sindhi
Punjabi, Rajasthani,

Pahari, Bhili, Kashmili, Bihari.

A confluence of peaceful peoples
and of warriors become peaceful.

These men with gold, turbans are
Ismailis

ancient Muslim warriors
once known as hashishin

from which the word "assassin" comes.

The Ismailis are now
a hardworking, peaceful community.

This patchwork of humanity,
this promiscuity of elements

makes up the Indian people,
the most tolerant in all the world.

They even tolerate this architecture.

But they do try to improve it.

This tolerance prepares their souls
for all transformations and changes,

without racial prejudice or sacrificing
their various ethnic characteristics.

This crowd enjoys itself
like all the crowds in the world.

Merry-go-rounds,

spin toys,

street performers,

balloons

windmills.

And they happily relax.

They are skilled craftsmen.

Whom this crowd lifts

carries

bears

hoists up,

loads

holds up,

Moves

transports,

transfers

and relocates.

It strolls

ruminates

sleeps,

dreams

builds

works

adopts the most modern methods

or makes use of traditional means.

The Indian people are supported
by millenniums of tradition,

and openly prefer peace to war,

tolerance to intolerance.

A people who don't want
to convert anybody.

But the most authentic Indians
live in its 580,000 villages.

On just one twentieth
of the earth's surface

lives one sixth
of the world's population.

This dramatic reality is the motor
of modern India.

The Indian is aware of nature.

He knows well he's part of it.

He knows the secrets, the laws

the fruits
and how to change them.

Here in the temples the images of life
appear as a great celebration.

A full and delicious expression
of a people's love for life.

A sacred city, Madurai

shows off the majestic
architecture of its temples.

This elephant was brought to the city
for a religious ceremony.

It comes from this immense
jungle of Karapur where it works,

where it once lived in the wild
where it was captured and domesticated.

The elephant is the bulldozer of India.

The Indian is so at one with nature

that through kindness
instead of force

he was able to make the elephant
into his work colleague.

An elephant works just
three hours a day, from 7 to 10.

Then it becomes too hot for him.

Instead us mahouts
the elephant drivers,

don't get a moment's rest all day.

After work, bath time.

And believe me, it's quite a job.

I need to cool him off
for two or three hours.

Splash him, rinse him,

wash him down, cuddle him

caress him, and finally
pick the fleas off him.

After bath time, breakfast.

An elephant eats between
600 and 800 kilos a day.

Of course, it depends
on the animal's height and size.

After he's been well fed
we can finally have a bite to eat.

During breakfast one day

we were joined
by a company of puppeteers.

I remember it very well.

That was an important day
in my life.

Sir, is there a guest house around?

We are from Mysore.

We are here to put on a puppet show.

We are looking for a guest house.

The guesthouse is on the other side.

- Where?
- Over there.

Thank you. Let's go.

We don't even have time
for a little amusement.

At night he needs to be fed 100 to 150
packs of straw with rice or grain,

and more caresses and cuddles too.

What a life!

The next day I saw her again.

These bellows
for us who know elephants well,

signify that they're falling in love.

I'd be so happy.

It's the only way I'm able
to have some free time.

Hopefully it's serious.

At the beginning I'm always afraid.

The female elephants
have somewhat less modesty.

the males however are quite shy.

They have, I'm sorry to say,
more dignity.

Early afternoon after bath and breakfast,
they must be left alone in the jungle.

They're timid, very timid.

Modest, very modest.

I saw her again.

Next day I brought the elephant
under the same tree for breakfast.

And again the following day.

I made an appointment with the teacher
to have him write a letter

a nice letter to my father, that he come
ask my marriage to the girl.

- What do you want?
- I'd like some help.

What for?

To write a letter.

To whom?

To my father.

What do you want to say?

Something nobody must know...

...regarding the puppeteers.

The girl, isn't it?

Yes, it's a serious matter.

If you write it for me,

it'll bring me luck.

Let's begin with -

"Dearest Father

I send you my fondest greetings.

I'd be very happy if you'd come here.

I must speak with you
about my wedding. "

Yes, that's fine.

The letter must have been
well written

as a few days later, returning from work,
I found my father waiting for me.

I thought of my hat.
It's a Muslim cap worn by mahouts,

but since I'm Hindu not Muslim

I said to myself,
"My father won't tolerate it. "

He's a man of principles
and always treats me like an eccentric.

It's important to start a family,

but one must reflect well first.

Come, be seated.

He met with the girl's father.

And respecting tradition,
both spoke badly about their children.

This is the boy's father.

Tell me.

I want to talk about our children.

My son has seen your daughter

and wants to marry her.

Both my son and I have jobs.

We have some land

and do well for ourselves.

This is sufficient
for our children's tranquility.

Let God's will be done.

We'll tell the priest
about the ceremony.

The marriage was arranged
in accordance with the rules.

And that night my father and I went
to the temple to wait for the wedding.

Until that moment, as is our custom

I wasn't permitted
near my fianc�e.

She arrived at the temple
on the morning bus.

Ten months have passed.

The female elephant's starting
not to stand the male's presence.

This always happens when
an elephant is ten months pregnant.

As you know,
their gestation lasts twenty months.

Another female, sensible and patient,
comes to protect and assist her.

As far as I'm concerned
it's again the end of my freedom!

I had to ask a neighbor to accompany
my wife to her mother's house.

I won't have time
to look after her

she too is expecting a child.

With her great rivers, all India

has its roots in the feet
of the Himalayas.

All the snow that melts
on the roof of the world, represents

for 400 million human beings...

life.

From the water blooms
the calm beauty of lotus flowers.

Everything particularly beautiful or
useful is particularly sacred.

Toward death the common feeling
is that each man dies but does not end

because he's reincarnated as another.

But no one can say as whom.

Therefore, all men are brothers.

In "Shanti Parva" a Brahmin tells
a man crying for his dead son,

"You are despair itself,

for you don't despair for yourself,
but for someone else. "

The canto also says,

"I think that my own soul
does not belong to me,

but all creation belongs to me,

and in virtue of this certainty
I am never too happy nor too sad. "

The Ganges is the river
that purifies everything,

and dissolves
into nature the ashes of the dead.

Benares the sacred city

descends steeply to
the sacred banks of the river.

Inside the city life swarms incessantly.

In front is the placid passage
of the water

indifferent to the buildings
it is swallowing slowly.

This is the Mahanadi River
almost parallel to the Ganges.

It's an example of the force of nature.

No bridge can resist
the furry of its waters

when the monsoons agitate them.

People have tried to control this furry.

In Mahabharata, the epic Indian poem,
specifically in "The Gita,"

the book dedicated
to the philosophy of life,

it's said that every word one speaks
and every action one makes

remain forever before us
like images reflected in a mirror,

and judgement won't be
pronounced till afterwards.

It's also said: "The wise
and the ignorant are equally happy,

Unhappy are the mediocre people.

The truth is in everything,

even, though partially,
in what is not true.

Karma - action -
represents the duty of man.

There's been constructed at Hirakud
a dam 43 kilometers long.

They're constructing the access roads.

There's been formed
an immense artificial lake

whose level rises every day.

The treetops remind us that once
the jungle reached to here.

At the worksite, there were about
35,000 of us.

It was hard, yes.
But we did it.

Seven years of work.

For me the time flew by.

Pick stroke after pick stroke.

Basket of earth
after basket of earth.

One stone after another.

We dug, drilled, leveled, built.

So much!

And today:
I, Devi Chakravarty, am here

waiting outside the foreman's office.

My wife's weeping because
we have to leave.

Our son was born here and so...

Here the work is finished.

They've assigned
me to another worksite.

They always need people like me.

Next!

- What's your name?
- Devi Chakravarty.

Ah, here are the papers.

You'll be working in Mandira.

Thank you, sir.

This is your certificate.

This is the letter of recommendation.

- You have done a good job here.
- Thank you. I'm very proud.

Next!

Stop, please!

Take this and go home.

Let's go.

Incredible
how much stuff we needed!

We had the best of everything...
tools, trucks, equipment.

It's incredible! So many things!

Yes, I think it's a real reason to rejoice,
having constructed a dam like this.

Now it seems like nothing.

People say, "They built a dam. "

But no one imagines
what it was like.

In fact I understand my wife.

It's sad to leave behind all this.

But she doesn't think
about what we can do now.

After all, there's not just one dam
to build in life.

175 dead.

Before however, with the floods

if you wanted to build a monument
to all the victims

you'd have to make one
as long as the dam

to inscribe all the names.

Electricity, electricity.
Magic, magic.

Everything can be explained, everything.
You have to think, to think.

There's no more magic,
no more miracles. Knowledge!

No more magic, no more mystery.
Knowledge. Knowledge.

Hirakud Dam.

One truly has a right to feel proud.

All done from nothing.

One basket of earth after another.

One stone after another.

And heart.

Yes, we put our hearts into it.

Poor brother.

Death is sad for those who stay.

Perhaps it's beautiful
to dissolve into nature.

I, Devi Chakravarty, with my wife,

found asylum here,

when we were thrown out of East Bengal,

due to the separation with Pakistan.

Here our son was born

and here we set out
to build this immense work.

This little temple
will be swallowed up by the water too.

With all due respect,

what, after all, is this little building
compared to our dam?

Our sacred lake will now
be lost in the big lake.

Who'd have thought then,
when I took my ritual bath here,

of the surprise
destiny had in store for me?

Who could have thought
that men like us

would be able to create a lake

where there was a little pond?

There she is.

Where are you?

What are you doing?

Let me alone!

What do you want?

What are you doing here?

I looked for you everywhere.

Your head is always in the clouds.

You come down here
when we're about to leave?

I don't understand you.

Why not eat some more?

We're full!

We'll explode!

We're not the only ones...

No, thank you,
we must get up early tomorrow.

Goodbye! We'll meet again.

Look after them.

Can't you see they're standing?

Please, have a seat.

How's your family?

Very well, thank you.

Write us. Don't forget us.

Stay a little longer.

- You're going?
- I must go home.

Write to us as well.

Remember us.

Why are you just standing there?

Let's tidy up a bit.

Careful not to trip!

Our farewell party went well,

but now I must endure her whining.

Another town, who knows how it will be?

I'm fond of this house

and the nice people here.

Suddenly I have to leave everything.

This is my destiny,

never to have peace.

We left our village,

our field

and it's not over yet.

I told you many times

to try to stay here.

But this man never listens to me!

He's cold as a rock!

He has no pity.

Where will I go live now?
To Hell?

I came here.

I had a child.

I raised him.

To leave this house

this marvellous dam...

To end up where?

Oh, it's awful!

My heart is breaking!

Instead, this man has a heart of stone!

I told you to prepare our things!

Go! Move it!

And so, we leave.

Going up the west coast of India,

one crosses vast plains,
rich with water

particularly favorable
for cultivation of rice.

There isn't a square metre
of land left untended.

India once had her fortresses.

Here's an old Muslim citadel
with double walls and quadruple doors.

Nowdays nothing remains inside
but a tiny village.

The old mosque is abandoned.

Strange geologic architecture.

I am 80 years old.

I've always lived here, and yet,

this forest has still for me
its fascination and its secrets

especially at night
when it resounds with

the fantastic love songs of the tigers.

The jungle is the temple in which
are celebrated their rites of love.

When I awake
with the first rays of the sun,

there's all around me
a whole explosion of joy.

I and my wife don't need
to exchange many words.

It's enough, our gestures,

our looks, to express our unalterable,
daily solidarity.

It's a long time, moreover,

that our daily duties have been shared.

What more to say?

My two sons are married.

Every morning
one of my daughter-in-law

brings flowers
for the habitual homage to God.

My wife, like all of us,
is very devout,

and every morning thanks God
according to tradition.

Hey, Rama! What are you doing?

Come here.

Go to that cowshed, milk the buffalo
and then clear the cowshed.

I can no longer work
because of my age.

My place has been taken by my sons.

For me nothing's left but
to give them some advice.

The only thing still left for me
is need for the contemplative life

and for this there's only one place
in the world that can satisfy me,

the jungle.

I love my cows,
they're beautiful, strong beasts,

and I always bring them with me.

The women always have
the same jobs to perform.

I, alone in the jungle,

feel intensely the presence of nature,

and I feel little by little
to be merging into it.

There's a fair in the village of Sume.

Can I go with Rakhma?

I've met often
this tiger that lives here.

See how foolish men are
myself first of all!

I can't manage not to be afraid,
though I know she won't do anything.

She walks away indifferently.

One day I was in the jungle
with my cows.

I remember I wanted
to light a cigarette.

Smoking is the only weakness
I still have.

Suddenly I heard a strange noise.

There were three trucks.

Out of curiosity
I went towards the village.

What's going on?

They're getting iron.

There's lots of iron.

We'll get some work.

They were prospectors
searching for iron deposits.

I'd often heard people talk about iron,

but I think it's just a legend.

The next day the men with the trucks
started up a motor,

and it was a real disaster.

That din chased all the animals
out of the forest.

Only the porcupines,
stupid selfish animals, remained.

But the jungle changed face.

From then on I felt that
the natural balance had been disturbed.

Very soon I had to realise
how much that event had been dramatic.

I found the remains of a porcupine
and the bloodied tracks of the tigress.

Not finding other prey,

she'd pounced and been wounded
by those terrible quills.

That discovery frightened me.

I know how dangerous
wounded tigers can be.

That's the moment
when they become man eaters.

That roar and that human scream
during the night was a terrible sign.

What I feared had happened.

The tigress had attacked a man.

The next day in fact my sons told me

the iron prospectors had decided
to organise a tiger hunt.

Why kill?

The world, isn't it big enough
for everyone?

The next morning I thought I'd
get into the forest before the hunters.

I tried to convince
the tigress to go elsewhere.

Yes truly, the world is big.

There's room for everyone.

Sometimes there are heat waves.

The temperature rises dizzyingly.

The only thing to do
is take refuge in water.

The roads are abandoned.

The rivers become the paths.

In the villages,
life is almost paralysed.

A sky of steel.

Certainly it was
one of these heat waves

that surprised Dulic as he travelled
with his monkey Ramu,

to the festival of Baghdedic.

Ramu the monkey
has arrived alone in Baghdedic.

In the middle of the people
she does what she's used to.

She collects coins
she doesn't know the use of.

The wild monkeys threaten her
because she smells of man.

The next day the pilgrims
leave for their villages.

Ramu is left alone.

At the end of her strength,
she's been picked up by a new master.

And Ramu starts now a new life.

And again , the crowds ...

the enormous crowds.

End