Although concerned with the afterlife, the film is laced with a humour that stems from the personality of its protagonist and narrator Panicker. Eriyat’s design-driven production and content creation studio, geared towards bringing local stories, most self-initiatives, has several award-winning short films to its credit. But this is his first attempt at filming his father’s stories, says Eriyat. “For my other films, his stories could have played a part because they are within me.”

Suresh Eriyat with his father PNK Panicker whose stories of Malayali spirits have inspired his award-winning short film Kandittund!

Poll

Who will win the Punjab Elections?

BJP 32.86%

AAP 41.43%

INC 25.71%

Submit

View All In Poll

Eriyat did an audio recording of his father back in 2015 when he was 85, toying with the idea of a whimsical documentary for a while, while aware that he would need to work with Malayalis to keep the subject’s regional essence intact. These stories were an integral part of his early years, he says, and his years away from home studying at NID and then working in Mumbai made him realise how unique they were and the necessity of their documentation. “The plan was to use him in the film and fill it up with animations whenever he is talking about mystical creatures,” he says, the idea being to give it a scrapbookish quality where elements from his stories would take the form of photos, scribbles and animations. While the idea of using his father as a caricature had initially filled him with doubt, Krishnadas’s rendition ultimately convinced him that they were doing justice to his stories.

Adithi Krishnadas

Forty four at the time of Eriyat’s birth, PNK Panicker has always been a playful and chatty man, indulgent unlike other fathers and always eager to share a real or imaginary story of a ghostly encounter with his children and grandchildren, to strangers in chai shops and old Kerala bakeries. Panicker is also emotional, admits his son, a fact he attributes to him hardly seeing his father who passed away when he was two, and being brought up entirely by women. “His voice is also like that of a woman,” laughs Eriyat. “He carried a village essence with him, and was constantly making things, like plucking coconut leaves and making whistles out of them for us,” he adds. He also fondly recalls their evening walks, where he would sneak him into non-vegetarian restaurants, the act almost sacrilegious for their strictly vegetarian household. “At 91,” smiles Eriyat, “he is as dramatic as ever”.   

The need to bring out his personality with all its associated charm, was what was challenging says Krishnadas, who only had an audio track and a few video recordings for reference. At the same time, it was this detachment and objectivity, believes Eriyat, that allowed her to make the film which has already had 35-odd official selections and picked up several international film festival awards, including at the Swedish International Film Festival, the Kolkata Shorts International Film Festival and the Dumbo Film Festival. In Kerala, it is immensely popular. “People have come up to my father to ask him how to exorcise a spirit,” laughs Eriyat.

These stories of encounters with characters from the afterlife have also dwindled with time, he says. He recalls that his father would often say that with increased urbanisation, the ghosts were made to flee. “This was another way of saying that the fear of the unknown was disappearing slowly. We are not isolated anymore, there is light and noise everywhere, and little scope for imagination.” These were also cautionary stories. There were many, for instance, he recalls, about walking along ponds at night. “They were just a way of cautioning people not to walk by ponds, especially after a few drinks which were an evening ritual,” he says. Moreover, the stories remain with members of the older generation, who were once central to social gatherings but have now become “funny”.