Long before there was a simple loin-cloth clad, bare-chested old man walking along the length and breadth of colonial India, making salt, and giving the British sleepless nights, there was a simple Gujarati barrister, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

That is obviously the germ of most stories.

That Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was concerned with more pressing matters in his hand. Finding a decent job as a barrister, being able to fend for his family, earning a reputation in his chosen profession — very ordinary, very common. Till eventually fortune turned favorable. His services were required upon a matter between two Indian settlers in South Africa. It seemed like a quick case, the pay was good. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was off to South Africa.

It was in South Africa though — at Pietermaritzburg to be exact, that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, a subject of the British Empire, was forcibly removed off a train. He had a valid first class ticket. But he was a ‘coolie’. He couldn’t travel first class. He refused. He was dragged off the train.

It was in South Africa that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi first started to realize his place in the society of the white man. He was diabolically discriminated against, he was not allowed to walk on public pathways, he had to sit outside with the stagecoach driver — he might have been a subject of the British Empire. But he was not quite the same as the rest of them.

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi rallied the community to unite in the face of this oppression and to fight back. Not with tools of death and damnation, but with kindness and peace. A common thread Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi found in the heart of all religious discourse, he decided to employ that understanding in his fight for basic human rights. For freedom from tyranny, oppression, and subjugation. For the fight for equality.

It was on his arrival at South Africa, maybe on that fateful night at Pietermaritzburg, that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi set off on the path to become Mahatma Gandhi.

Shyam Benegal, inadvertently, has had a steady influence on my life from a very young age. I remember most distinctly about Mammo. I hadn’t understood the story in its entirety. The concepts of exile, identities, political agendas over humanitarian principles — none of that made much sense to me yet. But I loved the basic nutshell of the story. The way it unfolded, the way the characters turned familiar and likable, the way their stories became important to me. I didn’t really delve deep into who made this film, who were these actresses — matter of fact, I kept calling Farida Jalal “Mammo” for a long, long time afterwards.

Eventually I heard the adults go on about something called Sardari Begum. I even remember picking up on the name, Suraj Ka Satvan Ghoda, in that period of time. The reason why the name stuck on was the metal image of the Sun God’s seventh horse — white, winged, one of seven such horses, a golden chariot — I went on building it in my head. The name stuck on.

My first proper association with Benegal happened with Zubeidaa. There was some level of star-attraction for the movie in Karishma Kapoor. I had bunked school. I bought a ticket at Menoka. I searched for an usher to help me find my seat. He asked me not to bother and sit wherever I wished to. The hall was empty apparently. It turned out to be the best movie experience of my life. I was totally engrossed in the story. I was completely in the midst of the whole affair. Truth be told, I had come in here to waste the day, sit in an air-conditioned environment. All in all, spectacular.

My proper, more auteur interaction with the works of Shyam Benegal began in college. I had suddenly been introduced to a brand new world of raw storytelling. Suddenly I was into Ankur, Bhumika, Nishant, Manthan — I was completely intoxicated about seeing a movie based on India’s White Revolution. I hadn’t thought something like this was even possible till then. It was a brand new world, a brave new world.

It was not easy sourcing movies like these back then. We had to rely on VCDs/DVDs and empty pockets. We had to find screenings and the like. And even getting there was based on empty pockets and the Metro not going just about anywhere like it does today. We persevered on. We ticked off a few boxes. But the rare movies, they were difficult to obtain still.

It wasn’t until much recently, with a subscription to mubi.com, that I first found Suraj Ka Satvan Ghoda. I had to watch it, there was a lot at stake here, lot of childhood hype. It had nothing to do with the Sun or His horses. Winged, or otherwise. Not in the literal sense. But as per usual, Shyam Benegal was a master storyteller. A bunch of short stories, told by the enigmatic Narrator (Rajat Kapur), you once again found yourself absolutely hooked on to every chapter, every twist and turn. The stories were crisp, they were told without any pomp and splendor in the normal sense of the term. They were just magnificent. It may not have been what I had imagined it as a child; it was even more spectacular than that.

Suraj Ka Satvan Ghoda has turned into one of my all-time favorite movies. Along with The Making of the Mahatma. Another mubi.com offering.

Yes, I had heard a lot of about this movie. But I had never been able to access a copy. The mental hype had reached a crescendo of sorts in my anticipation. And once again, I was not let down.

I had already seen Netaji Subhash Chanda Bose: The Forgotten Hero at cinema halls. My second Benegal movie in a theatre after Zubeidaa. Yes, I loved it, yes, the music was absolutely amazing. But for some reason it still felt a bit mainstream. As much as it wasn’t. But The Making of the Mahatma was an ode to the Benegal style of old. It had that quiet charm, the simple storytelling, the power of narrative, solid performances from a across the board — it was damn near perfection.

Based on the book, The Apprenticeship of a Mahatma by Fatima Meer, the film traces the 21-years in South Africa of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, a path which made him eventually come back to India and pick up his fight against the Colonial British powers in the country, turning into the architect that would eventually lead to independence in 1947. The movie, and naturally the story, forms a very important section of Gandhi’s life, because this nurtures the seed that would eventually snowball into a very unique revolution, a completely non-violent one, that would not only work for India — but also be accepted by various other revolutionary proceeds across the world and through time.

A Benegal regular, Rajat Kapur, glides into the role of the fledgling Gandhi, working effortlessly to show audiences a glimpse of what the process of the Mahatma-fication of Mohandas Karamchand Gadhi actually felt and looked like. It was not a simple process, it was a journey filled with trial-and-error, of trials, tribulations, and strife — particularly when it came to his relationship with Kasturba Gandhi (Pallavi Joshi) — and it was most definitely not pleasant. But that was the entire point of this movie. It was not to focus on the ups and downs of the journey individually — but the journey as it was. In its entirety.

The Making of the Mahatma was a wonderful 2-hours spent in front of a screen, completely captivated, engrossed in every frame, totally swept into the narrative of a man fighting against far superior Colonial forces, fighting for basic human dignity and respect. To see an entire community uniting to fight oppression.

This is good cinema. This is the best of cinema. This is Shyam Benegal.