Interview with Rahul Aijaz: “My Film Wasn't a Logical Process; It Was Artistic Instinct”

Rahul Aijaz

What first drew you to Dr. Ashraf Aboul-Yazid's poem “A Train Crosses the Desert,” and what convinced you that it should become part of your film? Given that the poem is built on metaphor rather than a conventional narrative, what were the greatest challenges in translating its poetic language into cinematic storytelling? How closely does the film follow the poem, where did you allow yourself creative freedom, and what does the train—its central symbol—represent in your own interpretation? The poem explores themes of displacement, alienation, identity, and belonging, while your film is deeply rooted in Sindhi culture. Which of these themes resonated with you most personally, and how did you bridge the Egyptian literary vision of Dr. Ashraf Aboul-Yazid with the cultural landscape of Sindh while preserving the poem's universal message?

The film ‘A Train Crosses the Desert’ is not an adaptation of the poem. The story of the film arose separately and the poem became a part of it. I wanted to make this film in memory of my late cousin Farooq, fictionalizing our friendship and brotherhood. I came up with the story structure and needed a suitable world for it. And after a couple of attempts that didn’t fit perfectly, one day, I scanned my room and found the poetry compilation book that Mr. Dali had gifted me a couple of years earlier. I read all the poems just to feel inspired and see what I can do and if the world of poetry and music fits my story. By the time I finished the book in an afternoon, I had already shortlisted a good number of poems. And still somehow, when I read ‘A Train Crosses the Desert’, I instantly knew this was it. This is the film’s title and I would be using some excerpts of it in the film. It’s not a logical process, but rather an artistic instinct. When you feel something is right, even if you don’t have a rational reason, it usually is right. The reason can always come later. That’s what I felt after reading the poem. And then the same thing goes for ‘A Prison’ which is recited at the beginning of the film. They are not narrative poems but that’s what makes them beautiful and haunting. The film is metaphorical too, and the metaphorical poems add more depth to it. They tell you that you are not alone in feeling something like this, that someone else already felt this emotion and expressed it in words that you can read or listen to for comfort or consolation. They reveal so much about the characters’ tragic situation and how they are feeling that it was impossible not to include the poems in the film. Once I was done making the film, I was happy that I picked up Mr. Dali’s book that day. I always say Mr. Dali’s poems provided the railway tracks that our film’s train is on. Without them, the journey wouldn’t be possible. The best thing about this is that you don’t have to translate poetry into visuals, you just have to feel the words and images come to you. For me, the process was easier since I already had the images. The poem came in to make the visuals more meaningful. Of course, the full poem is so extremely rich in themes. But for the film, I used specific parts of it which I felt were perfect for the story. For me, the train is life. And sometimes, you wanna stop it, sometimes you want the journey to keep going. And both are tragic choices depending on a person’s situation. There is relief and pain, both at the same time. This coincides with my themes of euthanasia and the lead character’s dilemma. When I play the film for audiences, be it in Karachi or in any other country (we have screened it at more than a dozen festivals in 8 or 9 countries), the reactions are always astounding. There is silence and wet eyes and shock. I have even seen grown men weep like babies after seeing the film. And that’s because they don’t need the poem or the film’s metaphors to be explained, they can feel the power of it. And once you feel it, that’s all you need.

What elements of Sindhi culture, language, and visual tradition did you incorporate into the film, and why were they important to your adaptation?

The film is in Sindhi but there aren’t a lot of Sindhi elements you see in the film. It’s a rather personal film and so Sindhi language becomes easier for me to write dialog in since it’s my mother tongue. And the authenticity of my friendship with my cousin can only come across perfectly in Sindhi. There is slang and a couple of mild cuss words and phrases used to showcase their brotherhood. There is also the use of tambourine which was a practical choice and brought a sweet musical sound to the film. It’s not exactly a solely Sindhi instrument but is often used in our music. And just like the poem, it felt right to use it.

How did you develop the visual language of the film? Were there particular landscapes, colors, or recurring motifs that helped convey the atmosphere and emotions of the poem?

Mainly, I wanted to trap these characters in a small, congested space and shoot it in a way that enhances that suffocation of the characters. These two brothers are literally trapped in their lives. And the best way to showcase it was to make and shoot the space smaller so the audience can also feel trapped in the room with them. Then the train metaphor, the tambourine, upcoming Eid festivities and everything raises stakes and conflict in an already messed up situation where a brother is asking his brother to euthanize him. Every element of the film, visual, sonic or literary, is meant to make this situation feel more intense. The addition of the poems made me think of ideas that helped me write dialog too, indirectly. The stories they tell each other, the bond they share. Everything is connected to each other. Since it’s one of my early works, I was in a mental space at the time where I wanted to strip the film of all its bling. No ornamentation, no stylization. Just pure raw emotion. That was the goal and I think we pulled it off quite well. Since then, I have experimented further with this bare-bones approach in my feature film Indus Echoes, which was released last year and is still doing festival rounds in other countries. ‘A Train Crosses the Desert’ short film was the reason I could make my feature the way I did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3nyxY9Xaac

Silence often speaks as powerfully as dialogue in poetic cinema. How important were sound, music, and silence in shaping the emotional experience of your film?

I really enjoy juxtaposing opposites in my work. So I wanted to play with the audience a little bit too. It’s a film called ‘A Train Crosses the Desert’ but it shows no trains or deserts. It’s a film with two musician brothers. But there is no proper music or soundtrack in the film. It’s a film about death, but the metaphors are of life and living. Silence, in this kind of a film, becomes even more important than dialog. It paces out everything and makes you feel everything deeply. If there are no pauses, there would be no music or rhythm or poetry. Even in poetry, the gaps make the words more memorable since without rhythm, it would be just constant rambling. So silence is always extremely important in the films I make.

Which verse or image from the poem had the greatest influence on your creative vision, and why?

There are two parts that have stayed with me all these years. One is from ‘A Prison’ which is very short. It essentially sums up the whole film when it asks who is the prisoner and who is the guard? And I thought it was the most powerful way to open the film because the audience doesn’t know anything yet and so by the end, they will be so emotionally destroyed. And then if they think about it, the first poem will come back to haunt them because it foreshadows the whole relationship dilemma we explore. And then it’s at the end when the character recites lines, and I’m paraphrasing here, saying even if we could stop the train, we may not get off it. I often think about these lines.

The poem portrays people who continue their journey despite suffering, estrangement, and disillusionment. How does your film interpret this paradox, and what message do you hope audiences will take from it?

The film is built entirely on this paradox. Is it better to get off the train or is it better to keep going? Nobody knows. And it’s different from person to person and their situation. I don’t give people a message. I merely present these ideas and let them come up with their own understanding and make a choice however they want. I don’t think of myself as an activist or a preacher. The beauty of poetic cinema is, yes I have something to say, but I am not going to preach it to you. I am going to present it to you in an engaging manner and then, it’s up to you to take what you want from it. The poems also do the same. The reader then wonders about staying on the train or not. Yes, there is estrangement, disillusion and suffering, and all these are valid reasons to stop the journey. But should we or should we not? Each person can answer on their own. 13. Did working on this project change your own understanding of the poem or its themes? Not really. I felt the words in my heart and didn’t need to understand them. If I can feel it, it’s beautiful already and doesn’t need explanation. The combination of the story and the poem is another case. For that, the audience can answer this question better. For me, working on this project made the poem unforgettable since I wrote and heard it hundreds of times for many months. 14. Poetry adaptations are relatively rare in contemporary cinema. What do you think poetry offers filmmakers that conventional storytelling sometimes cannot? Poetry offers an intangible quality that cannot be explained. It offers more depth. I also used poetry in my feature and people connect to it. Poetry can make you feel things that are very difficult to express. And combine it with cinema, the combination just elevates the experience so much. 15. How did your cast prepare for characters driven more by emotion, symbolism, and atmosphere than by a traditional narrative? We did readings and rehearsals and I explained to them the emotions behind each moment of the story. Nadir Hussain (who plays the lead brother who recites the poetry) and Tariq Raja (who plays Farooq) got so much into their characters that it was an emotionally heavy experience for them. It is very demanding and taxing on people’s minds. But it paid off.

What were the greatest creative or production challenges you encountered while making this film?

One creative challenge was to make the film interesting enough that people don’t question why we are only trapped in a room with 2 people for 20 minutes. The pace had to be slow but the film still had to be engaging. So the writing had to be sincere and tight. The rest of the challenges were practical. We shot it 2 days before Covid lockdowns started happening in Pakistan. The post-production happened during peak Covid and strict lockdowns. Another challenge was to shoot most of it in one day due to budget constraints. I was given funds by Goethe-Institute Pakistan as part of their Film Talents II fellowship. Institute of Business Management (where I teach film) contributed equipment for the film. But even then, the overall cost of production was high so I decided to shoot at least 95% of the film in one day. It was a great challenge but it taught me a lot of things that I still do in all my films.

Did you have the opportunity to discuss the adaptation with Dr. Ashraf Aboul-Yazid? If so, what was his response to your interpretation?

No, I just asked for Mr. Dali’s permission to use the poems in my film. And I am grateful that he immediately said yes without knowing much about the film, if I remember correctly. I do think he enjoyed the film. We spoke about it once it was ready and I shared a cut with him and he was very appreciative. We then met again in Kazan in 2021 during the Kazan International Film Festival where the film played and he is always very kind with his words. So I appreciate that he trusted me with his wonderful words. 18. Why do you think “A Train Crosses the Desert” continues to resonate with readers and audiences across different cultures and generations? Because of its timelessness, haunting imagery and depth.

Do you believe cinema can introduce new audiences to contemporary poetry? What role can films like this play in strengthening the dialogue between literature and visual art?

I love this question. I think cinema is poetry in visual form. Now if we combine poetry and cinema, the synthesis becomes even greater than the sum of its parts. Literature has always been connected to cinema since almost the birth of film. That’s why we see a lot of adaptations of books, plays, and poetry in film. But even besides that, someone like Werner Herzog who is one of the greatest filmmakers to ever exist, reads poetry before he writes films to put him in a certain zone. And it brings out an different kind of artistic quality to his films. That’s why his films are timeless too. And it’s not just to tell stories but because innately, these two mediums have a certain capability to express more and push language and tap into the deepest parts of human hearts and minds.

Finally, if you could describe your adaptation of “A Train Crosses the Desert” in just three words, what would they be?

It’s very difficult to sum it up in three words. But I’ll try. Universal. Heartfelt. Tragic.