The Mine - A Book Review

Many of my readers would have seen the movie “Saw”. Made by a director fresh out of film school, financed on a shoestring by a never heard of production company, with no stars to speak of. For the uninitiated, the movie starts with 2 strangers waking up inside a dirty public toilet, chained to posts in remote corners, with a bloody corpse lying in the centre of the room. Neither has any idea how they got here. An audiotaped voice tells them they have been brought as part of a horrific experiment, and the only way either may escape is by following a series of clues. A reign of pure terror follows. The viewer is subjected to a series of violent acts as the story unfolds, sheer horror of the human kind with nary a ghost in sight. The massive violence and gore is a put off for many, but the attentive viewers realize it’s all there to take the story forward. The unbelievable ending is the icing on the cake. Days, weeks after watching the movie, the scenes creep up inside you, and you’re reminded that the greatest of all evil a man can face is the darkness that lies inside him.

In one sentence, Arnab Ray’s “The Mine” is the book equivalent of Saw. Sheer psychological horror packaged in a tight story with some memorable and diverse characters.

The synopsis first, borrowed directly from the book.

QUOTE

“At a secret mining facility somewhere in the deserts of Rajasthan, an ancient place of worship with disturbing carvings on its dome, is discovered buried deep inside the earth. Soon the miners find themselves in the grip of terrifying waking nightmares. One tries to mutilate himself.  Worse follows.

Five experts are called in to investigate these strange occurrences. Sucked into a nightmare deep underground, they embark on a perilous journey; a journey that will change them forever, bringing them face to face with the most shattering truth of them all….

THE GREATEST EVIL LIES DEEP INSIDE.

UNQUOTE

Followers of Ray’s blog (greatbong.net) know him as an intelligent writer, well read with the right dose of twisted humour. His first book “May I hebb your attention pliss” was a satire on contemporary social issues, a magnification of the tone of his blog in many ways. But in “The Mine”, Ray re-invents himself as a brilliant story-teller, using intelligent techniques to keep the reader engrossed.

What techniques? Firstly, the pace of horror is unrelenting. From the prologue to the last page, the reader’s mind is jolted by continual events of gruesome proportions. Sometimes flashback, sometimes dream sequences, everything adding up to move the story forward. I never got to breathe easy while reading The Mine. Every page I turned subjected me to another dose of horror. And it’s all psychological, all to do with humans. There are no ghosts, except ones that reside inside humans.

Second, the sheer scope of the story. Ray touches on a little bit of everything that represents horror to the average human mind – mythology, wall signs with ominous messages, historical references of (often sexual) torture, the Nazi holocaust and its ill effects, scientific experiments gone wrong, and of course, characters with twisted backgrounds. Normally a novel which tries to achieve so much falls flat on its face, as the writer usually lacks knowledge of these references and ends up making a mockery of them. But Ray’s knowledge of each event, and how he manages to link them to the core story, is commendable. The aforesaid pace of the story helps too.

Third, the characterization. 5 characters comprise the core story, but everyone else plays a key role. There are no nice guys in The Mine. Everyone has shades of grey, and you learn more about just how twisted everyone is as the story goes on. Not your average ghost story with a cross-wielding Christian priest symbolizing God and everything good in this world.

And that brings me to the best facet of The Mine. It is ALL evil. Good does NOT triumph in the end! In fact, no one represents the good side at all. A welcome break from traditional good and evil stories (where aforesaid cross-wielding priest and the house he represents always win in the end).

Gore? Of course there’s gore, plenty of it. Add to it a few scenes of graphic sex, which come in to heighten the uneasiness. Another person who read The Mine before I did told me she was put off by the “violence”. Sounded suspiciously like how a lot of friends had described Saw. And when I finished reading The Mine, I was right.

But come on, that’s the point of psychological horror. When you put a set of twisted people into even more twisted settings, they don’t hold hands and dance around. The writer probably thought any attempt to ease the pace in a story like this would have dulled the narrative, and I’m with him here. If you read The Mine like your average thriller, you come out sick of the “violence”, and probably don’t finish the book. If you pay attention, visualizing each scene as it is narrated; you come out with a disturbed mind and a fluttering heart after finishing the book. That, really is the triumph of psychological horror.

In summary, The Mine is really a commendable effort from Arnab Ray. If you’re expecting a relaxing Sunday read, avoid the book on all counts. If you’re expecting happy endings, I wouldn’t suggest The Mine either. But if enjoy the genre of psychological horror, enjoy gore till it knots your stomach and don’t mind your brain getting a little screwed at the end, The Mine is just the book. 4 out of 5 stars on my scale.

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Banker in a Junkyard

(This post won the best blog award at the Delhi 48 hour Film Festival 2012)

Life has a few rules.  Rules that preserve the plinth of society, dissuade everyone from trying to do everything and sticking to what they are best at. For example – bricks don’t fly, Yogis stick to spiritual matters, and bankers don’t make movies.

But sometimes an exception must come to prove the rule. Howard Hughes made the flying fortress – the equivalent of not a single brick, but a brick mansion with wings. Baba Ramdev gave up anulom-vilom to go on a crusade against something as material as money – black at that. And Aniket Sengupta, Corporate Banker, decided to join a talented bunch to make a movie.

It all started one Saturday night with my friend Arnab. Over the course of one (too many?) drinks, he started telling me about the 48 hour film festival. Last year he and Rashmi grouped up with a couple of loonies, mostly from the advertising fraternity as themselves, and made a group called Junkyard Productions to participate. Their movie “A Touching Story”, (one of the most brilliant short films I’ve watched) ended up winning 5 awards at the festival. They were planning to have a go again this year, same team with a few changes. “Do you have a vacancy?” I asked, too drunk to care (TDTC). “Yeah, but what are you going to do?” replied Arnab, TDTC. “Well, I’ve acted on stage before, I can sing, I have a good idea of music….(falling short of lies at this point)…heck, I can keep your accounts!”. Arnab, TDTC, looked like he was giving it a good thought. “Ok, you’re in. We’re meeting on the 3rd. Come along.” I agreed, had a couple more, then went home and slept.

3rd evening found me suitably sober and at the agreed meeting point. I had come straight from office, so had everyone else. But while everyone else sported t-shirts/kurtis, jeans, sneakers/chappals and a stubble (ok, not Rashmi) I was the only one in a chequered formal shirt, trousers and leather shoes. Ding! Round one against the outsider.

Everyone knew everyone, or knew something the other had done. I was merely “Arnab’s friend” and no one knew what I do. Round two.

Then they started talking. “I’m Ankur Suman, I head the creative team at XXX, I also directed the touching story”.” I’m Abhishek, I do theatre, currently I’m in a Premchand play which is being staged this weekend”. “I’m Munishwer, I direct, edit and write scripts”. “I’m Rohit, I’m an amateur photographer. I also own a Canon EOS 5D and professional lights”. And so on and so forth. Illustrious, passionate art people. I was last to introduce myself, by which time I was feeling like a leper among knights. Everyone had something worthy to talk about, something pertaining to movies. I had the USD 6M Import Credit deal from the afternoon’s meeting which I was trying best to forget.

“I’m Aniket Sengupta, I’m a Corporate Banker. I err, love cars. I also do long drives and write travelogues on XXX site.  I’m just here to enjoy the ride”.

Pin drop silence. Everyone looking at Arnab to figure out what I was doing there. Arnab and Rashmi tried their best to save round three. “Aniket is also a very good singer with a good knowledge of music. And he can keep accounts.”

Another moment of uncomfortable silence, then the discussion resumed. Teams were made, people were allotted their duties. I was asked to be part of production, which meant I’d be running around arranging stuff so the creative people could do their bit. Obviously, I was also in charge of accounts.

I went home miserable that day. I was in the company of people to achieve a common objective, and everyone else understood that objective much better than I did. I felt like a rookie. I had half a mind to call up the team and cook up a lie to opt out of 48 hours. But I didn’t. I also hoped the other Junkyard members would see the futility of including me and throw me out in common consensus. But they didn’t either. And so, hoping against hope, 10^th August arrived.

We met early in the day. Photography and lighting equipment was being arranged, the editing studio set up, people briefed about their roles and little incidents shared to keep the mood up. I spent most of the day driving around Delhi to get stuff (production team, remember?). In the evening Rashmi and I headed out to Sri Aurobindo Centre for the 48 hours meeting.

From this point onwards, the tables started turning. The meet itself was refreshingly un-corporate, with a bunch of producers eager to explain the process, and a couple of films being screened for the first timers. There seemed to be an air of camaraderie around the place. The guy sitting next to me struck up a conversation, “Which team are you?” Gave me a lot of pride when I said “Junkyard Productions” and saw appreciation in his eyes.

All hell had broken loose by the time we returned. 4 groups were formed, who sat around to think up independent stories. Crazy ideas were floating around the place. Every idea was encouraged, every story worked upon. Exhilarating. I cooked up 3 good stories myself, amazed at how creative a mind tuned to balance sheets and exchange rates could get. None of them got selected in the final run, but I guess baking the cake is more fun than eating it.

The efficiency of the group amazed me. A story was finalized by midnight, and by Saturday morning the script was ready. Our basic plot was to take place inside a school, and within a few hours that was organized to.

Ah, the school. Mann Public School is a pretty neat residential institution on the outskirts of Delhi. Huge campus with all possible facilities for students, with a neat manicured garden, an outdoor amphitheatre et all. We arrived at very short notice, and stayed almost 25 hours out of 48. But the school authorities extended all possible cooperation to us, and made our stay memorable.

Sunday morning I left early with the 2 editors. Majority of the footage was ready, and it was time to head back to the studio to finish the editing. After dropping them I went home and slept for 4 hours, much needed sleep. By the time I was back the final touches were being put. At exactly 5 minutes to deadline, we submitted the film.

When I look back, what amazes me is the camaraderie and professionalism shown by the members of junkyard. In those 48 hours, the maximum someone slept in the entire team was 8 hours. Most made good with less than 2. But even on the final day, the enthusiasm showed no signs of waning.

I remember a scene we were shooting in the school corridor at 4 AM on Sunday morning. The crew and cast, sleep deprived, could barely trudge to the scene. Yet when the camera came on, everyone seemed to come alive. The scene took 6 takes to perfect. Yet not a word of protest, not an expression of disgust. I remember repeatedly requesting the canteen staff for cups of tea, which they provided throughout the night.

I remember another scene depicting a car crash, where the girl driving it is flung out of the door into the mud. The actress actually lay on wet mud for 15 minutes (with a dead expression) while we got the lighting right!

What I most enjoyed, was definitely the attitude. Everyone, with every skill set they possessed, was welcome. No person was too trivial; everyone was part of one big team. If you didn’t possess a certain skill, you were taught that. I learnt a lot of sound recording and even helped in some of the scenes myself. Like the humans in the Matrix, time was always against us those 48 hours. But we did a great job together.

Will I go back? Of course I will. Being a movie buff and critic is one thing; making one is an altogether different experience. And with a team like Junkyard, it’s all one big laugh. There’s no biz like showbiz, so don’t blame me!