All language subtitles for Qala.2022.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC5.1

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Camera. Silence. Action.

Excuse me, brother. Ma'am. This way.
Please look towards the camera.

What an amazing accomplishment, ma'am.

Thank you.

Congratulations on being honored
with the Golden Vinyl.

Thank you.

No. Not you.

It won't take more than half an hour.

It's okay.
Let them ask their questions.

Once again, congratulations, ma'am.

How does it feel
to be the epitome of musical success?

It feels as if…

I've finally reached home,
exhausted and spent.

And my mother is at the door,
welcoming me.

This is my father's legacy.

And my mother's dream for me.

She has been waiting for this day to come.
She must be thrilled to hear this news.

Any plans of getting married
in the near future?

There have been rumors linking you
to a well-known music composer.

My next film is with Mr. Rai.

Ms. Naseeban is the music composer,
Mr. Majrooh is penning the lyrics,

and Mr. Rai's co-producer
and wife is the lead actor.

Next question.

Ma'am, the gift of music
runs in your family.

Your grandfather was even honored
with the great title, Diwan--

No. It was my father,

Pandit Devram Manjushree,
who was given that title.

Your mother, Mrs. Urmila,

also came to launch her son
as a singer some nine years ago?

No!

She has no son.

I'm her only child.

Just me.

Had your husband been alive,

he would have been so happy
to see his daughter.

Ma’am,
what are you naming the little doll?

Qala.

-My other baby.
-We couldn't pick up on it earlier.

Both their heartbeats were always in sync.

A…

son?

Don't worry, she's fine.

A strong and healthy baby.

It's quite common with twins.

If one of the babies
is stronger and healthier,

he or she sometimes absorbs the nutrition
meant for the other baby.

So, the weaker child
finds it difficult to survive.

My mother asks

Oh, my darling girl

What makes you so wan, so pale?

What makes you so wan, so pale?

So what if you are a girl.

You can still be a musical maestro
like your father.

You can be trained.
You can be as talented as any boy.

But because you are a girl,
you will have to work harder.

You will have to be extra careful
about your dignity and reputation.

Do you understand what I’m saying?

Of course you don't.

But you will.

The world should address you as a maestro.

And not as a courtesan.

Only then will you truly be successful.

Will you be able to do that?

Are you capable
of achieving that kind of success?

Ma'am, your tea is here.

The people from Illustrated Weekly
magazine will be here any minute now.

Did my mother call?

No.

You did send the telegram to her,
didn't you?

Yes, ma'am.

Did you see today's paper, Mama?

There is a photograph
of me with the Prime Minister.

Such an honour. And the Golden Vinyl.

You always wanted it, right?

I knew you'd be happy.

Ma'am, the photographer is ready to shoot.

I have to go now.

I love you too.

Yes, Mama, I am taking care of myself.

Hello.

I'm calling from Mr. Dey's office.
This is regarding Ms. Qala's dates…

It's from Mr. Dey's office for my dates.

Please tell him that if his hero insists
on singing his own songs in this film too,

my fee should be more than his,
even if it's just by a rupee.

Hold it.

Beautiful.

Enough.

-But, ma'am, the magazine needs more--
-Hey.

I think we've got it.

-We'll send you the photos for approval.
-Thank you.

By the way, I loved the one you did
for Indira last week.

-Oh, thank you. Ta-ta then.
-Ta-ta.

Ma'am, I'll return Mr. Majrooh's books
and come.

Thief!

Aren't you ashamed of yourself?
Displaying my dreams on your walls?

It's mine!

There's no fever at all.

What happened exactly?
Do you have any specific symptoms?

No.

No, Doctor,
there's nothing physically wrong.

There's…

noise…

here!

And fear…

here!

It's…

It's… It's like…

I've been waiting for something to happen.

And it's happening.

I feel like something inside me
is breaking.

I think you need a break.

-Sounds like extreme exhaustion.
-Exhaustion? No, Doctor.

There is something wrong with me.

It's nothing.
This is something all women tend to have.

Slight hysteria, it's totally normal.
You are such a great artist,

and, as we all know,
artists are sensitive people.

They take everything to heart.

Overthink things. That's why you
are imagining the noise in your head.

Plus, those few days a month
for every woman are difficult.

So, why don't you get out of the house,
get some fresh air?

Okay.

In that case, send over
some sleeping pills for me.

Didn't I send some last month?

-There are only a couple left.
-This is not done, Ms. Qala.

Why don't you try sleeping
without the pills?

-I suggest you warm some milk and--
-No milk!

She doesn't drink milk.

Okay, fine. Then add some nutmeg
to a glass of warm water and--

-Just send the sleeping pills.
-Just stop overthinking things.

You're stressing yourself out too much.
You are such a phenomenal singer. Sing.

Sorry, Mama.

-I'll sing again.
-Set the lute down.

-Mama, please. Let me try once more.
-Set it down now.

Brains? Zero. Beauty? Zero.

Zero talent.
The least you can do is work hard.

And you can't even do that.

We have to go to Solan
the day after tomorrow.

You have to sing in front
of the maestro, Mansoor Khan.

You can't even get your basics right,
Qala.

Ma, I know it.

Please just listen to it once.
Just once, Mama.

Mama, I'm sorry.

Sorry, Mama.

Mama, sorry.

This is the first time

Diwan Manjushree's daughter
is going to show her vocal talent.

And for that, such a small crowd?

Gandhi is visiting Shimla,
so all the surrounding villages are empty.

They have all gone to see him in hordes.

Besides,
this is Hindustani classical music.

Not some gyrating film song
that will attract a large crowd.

This music is not for regular ears.

You worry too much. Come.
Look at the ones who have come.

Great connoisseurs of music and poetry.
The ones who should be here are here.

There is one more singer performing today.

Jagan Batwal.
He belongs to Solan, a local boy.

But, sir,
today was meant to be Qala's day.

-How can someone else sing?
-This boy is an orphan.

He learnt how to sing
in the local Sikh temple.

He is getting a chance
to sing in front of you.

But if you have an issue
with his caste or birth…

No, no.

After all, an artist is not identified
by his caste or birth.

And besides, you have decided
that he will sing today, so I will listen.

I can't refuse your wish.

Dear father

Dear father

Dear father, why am I losing

My mother's home?

Dear father

Dear father

Why am I losing

My mother's home?

Dear father, why am I losing

My mother's home?

Come, child. Sit. Well done.
You sang beautifully.

You have your mother's voice.
The same sweetness.

How many hours do you practice a day?

-Around eight hours a day.
-Eight hours…

I thought you said

no one will come
because Gandhi is visiting.

I did say that, but--

Oh, to die like this

Is not an ending my friend

The world doth die every day

Yet does not fade away

Who knows when the end will come

And how death will visit me

If my lord lives in my heart

I will gently fade away

I will gently fade away

Fade

Fade away

Where do you wander in your search?

His shadow walks with you

Yet you die with every breath

And fall apart more than coming together

Each breath a formless hymn
Sung without fear

Heard without hate sung without fear

Each breath a formless hymn
Sung without fear

Heard without hate sung without fear

Every protection falls short
Of shielding you

Don't worry, the shroud will suffice

What your hands can hold is all you have

The rest the invaders can take away

When you feast on false dreams

Everything turns to ashes

Yet you die with every breath

And fall apart more than coming together

Each breath a formless hymn

Sung without fear

Each breath a formless hymn

Heard without hate

Heard without hate

Heard without hate

Sung without fear

Urmi.

Urmi.

Why so lost?

-What do you think, sir?
-She has a sweetness in her voice.

And this classical form
is your family's forte. Your legacy.

No!

I want her to have her father's legacy.

She is not a maestro.

Like…

Like that boy.

They are both good in their own way.
She has her kind of talent. And he, his.

Why must you compare the two?

Qala, where are you going?
Go get some warm milk for Jagan.

It's really cold here.

More than Solan.

And it snows much more than in Shimla.

I've heard that you also sing?

I missed your performance that day,
but your mother told me.

What… What did Mom say?

That you sing too, and that you will
accompany me on the lute.

Why have you come?

Who told you to follow me
into the cold night?

If you have a fever…

it's not my fault.

Do you always get scared,
even before someone blames you?

What do you think you are doing?

He thinks he might have a fever.

Child, lift your arm up a bit.

Slowly.

This has mercury in it.
Mercury in a singer's mouth?

He could lose his voice.

Sorry, Mama.

If only you had a genuine connection
with music,

then maybe you would have understood
what you were doing wrong.

What happened?

Nothing. Everything is okay.

I want you to remember two things.

First, if you keep everything
that you feel or think hidden inside,

suppressed till it drowns,
a day will come when the dam will burst.

And the second thing?

The word "okay"
just means "on kerosene duty".

It doesn't mean that you're fine.

Got it?

-Okay, fine.
-My friend.

Where are the lyrics?

Just wait.
I've brought an entire compendium.

Yeah, right.

I bet he wrote it in a rickshaw
on his way here.

He can write a song in the time
that it takes him to smoke a cigarillo.

I'd like to state that speed
is no indication of a person's talent,

or the lack thereof. Here's your song.

Let's hear it.

Here you go.

-From here?
-Yes, my love.

Sudha, dear.

Just go and tell Mukherjee
to get some savories and some tea.

Of course.

Greetings.

Listen. Why don't you hire Gorasaria
as a secretary?

Most of the stars have done so.

Should I hire him
because he is good at his job

or because he is not a woman?

No, no. I didn't mean it like that.

But still, a female secretary?

You can just say secretary.

Do you really need
to add the prefix "female"?

All it takes is to unlatch that doorway

To let the lost light in

To take shredded dreams

And sew yourself a technicolor coat
Of the night

I am done with making excuses

Singing mournful dirges

Sorrowful songs sung slowly

Brilliant!

The third verse is beautiful, Majrooh.

The sad truth is that no one listens
to the third verse.

It's never played on the radio.

If you were to hang yourself
from the third verse,

no one would find your body.

It's sounding a little cluttered,
isn't it, Naseeban? It's too alliterative.

Almost like a tongue twister.

It will be difficult to sing.

Mr. Rai, the sentiments of the scene
are clearly and beautifully

reflected in these lyrics.

Besides, how can we argue
with a poet about his poetry?

Ma'am, Mr. Sanyal passed away.

What?

ADDITIONAL BENGAL NEWS

THE INTOXICATING VOICE GOES SILENT TODAY:
CHANDAN LAL SANYAL PASSES AWAY

This is All India Radio.

I am sure our listeners have already read
the sad news in today's newspapers.

One of our most beloved singers,
Chandan Lal Sanyal, is no more.

And today, in our studio,
we have Ms. Qala Manjushree with us.

-Ma'am, welcome.
-Thank you.

I would like to know.

You never had the privilege
of working with Mr. Sanyal?

No. Sadly, I never got the opportunity.

Liar!

I have a fondness for breaking apart

Come gather me, my love

Do you know the lyrics of this song?

Who doesn't?

Then sing.

I have a fondness for breaking apart

Come gather me, my love

I drown in you

Like a word submerged
In an unspoken conversation

Son…

I drown in you

Like a word submerged
In an unspoken conversation

One look at you and the winds

Themselves have caught their breath
Like I would your hands

The river of the night
Pools into your eyes

And fells me to my knees

I have a fondness for breaking apart

Come gather me, my love

Shall we practice our music?

Not today.

Qala, listen.

No one can argue with you on thumri,
you yourself are an enchanting melody.

Why are you standing so far away?
Stop talking and come to me.

From our hills, especially for you.

What does Mom want with Mr. Sanyal?

Why is she sitting with him?

For me.

She has a dream that I should sing
in the film industry like Mr. Sanyal.

I could get a chance to work
with Mr. Sumant Kumar.

Only a precious few
get such an opportunity.

And the Golden Record,
I could even be honored with that.

Just imagine.

I could finally sing
to my heart's content.

I'll fill the whole of Calcutta city
with my songs.

I want to do that too.

I want all of that too.

That… That golden award…

that Mom wants, I'll get it for her.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

You know, Qala,

Devendra Narayan finished
his education in England.

And he's with the Royal Air Force now,
right?

And Queen Mandira was telling me
that he is very fond of music.

Have you ever been to our place?

No.

That's okay. You'll be living there now.

She's going to love it.

And what about your plans?
Back to the hills?

No! I'll be staying here from now on.

Qala will be with you.

And I'll be with Jagan,
guiding him in his music, his career.

For now, everything is in Calcutta.

Himachal will have to wait.

Why don't you both get
to know each other a bit better?

Urmila, I'd love to go and chat
with your young protégé.

-Yes, please.
-Shall we?

-Let's go.
-Please come.

So, you like music?

No.

I hate it.

The who's who of the industry
will be coming.

You'll get to meet everyone, Qala.

And of course…

Jagan will sing.

It'll be so nice.

Shall I sing something too?

You know what kind of girls sing
in front of the film industry people.

-But Jagan is singing.
-He is a boy.

So, the rules are different.

-Shall we go back home?
-What?

Back to the hills.
Just the two of us? Let's go home.

You will get married,
and go to your husband's home.

But my home is with you.

The son stays with the mother.
The daughter stays with her husband.

In that case, I'll marry Jagan.

So I don't have to ever leave you. Ever!

Do you have no shame?

How can you even think
of marrying your own brother?

Brother?

I can't believe this.

I hope you're not putting ideas
into his head.

Disgusting!

Jagan's performance is about to begin.
What are you doing standing here?

Go and get some warm milk for him.

How are you?

You can see me?

I thought I was invisible.

How can anyone not take notice of you?

You can see me.

But have you ever heard me?

I sing too, you know?

You're going to regret it.

You are planning on launching Jagan.

Remember, he's very good
at replacing people.

Jagan might replace me.
Just as someone will do the same to him.

Just like I replaced someone before me.

Only music remains. Always.

All this fine talk!

But when you get spat out like
so much phlegm because of Jagan,

when no one will want to listen to you,

no one will even recognize
or remember you because of Jagan.

It will take to the skies

It will take to the skies

It will take to the skies

The lonely swan will fly away

The lonely swan will fly away

Leaving the spectacle of the world
A mere fair

It will take to the skies

The lonely swan will fly away

It will take to the skies

The lonely swan will fly away

It will take to the skies

It will take to the skies

When my life ends

Only then will I stop getting cowed down

The agents of death are too strong for me
How to free this tangle of death

It will take to the skies

The lonely swan will fly away

It will take to the skies

The lonely swan will fly away

Son. What happened?

-He's burning up.
-My God.

-Fever.
-Let's take him inside, come.

Easy. Easy, son. Come, let's go inside

Easy. Easy, son.

-I'll call the doctor.
-Yes.

Yes. It's-- It's an emergency.

-Come as fast as you can--
-I'll be there as soon as I can.

Thank you. Yes, please.

How is he now?

What should we do about the guests?

Just ask all of them to leave.

Urmila, do you realize how fragile
their egos are?

It takes little to nothing
for them to be displeased.

We have to think about the future.

Today he might be unwell,

but tomorrow Jagan
will need these very people to succeed.

That's how it works.
You can't just ask them to leave.

Then let them wait
for as long as they want.

Does it look like I care?

I won't tug at your strings

I won't tug at your strings

Nor unravel your clouds

I won't unlatch the windows to your heart

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

I will not chase the light

No more will I dance drenched in rain

I will bind the burning fireflies
In my hair

Your threshold

I will not dare to cross your threshold

Your threshold

Nor ask to be held in your shade

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just stay don't turn your gaze away

Just don't turn your gaze away

Just don't turn your gaze away

Just don't turn your gaze away

Just don't turn your gaze away

Have some almonds.
They are from our own orchards.

That song I heard that day.

I swear the voice
is still echoing in my head.

You didn't finish the song. But still.

You left an EP with Mr. Sanyal, a hymn.

"Without Fear, Without Hate".

Majrooh heard it. He said it sounds
like the voice of divinity itself.

You are too kind.

-I did mention it on our call--
-I just could not believe it

How can anyone or anything silence him?

Even God couldn't commit such a travesty.

You will get your voice back.
You will sing again.

And you will record
your first professional song with me.

I'll take your leave now.

Wait.

It's snowing.

And it's quite late too.

Why don't we ask him
to stay the night, Mom?

He can leave when the weather improves.

How remiss of me.

Of course, she is right.

Please stay the night.

So very kind of you.

From our hills. Especially for you.

What is it?

What happened? Are you feverish again?

Not fever.

Just noise…

here!

And fear here!

I feel like something inside me is broken.

Shall I call the doctor?

You sleep.

I'll leave now.

Everything will be better tomorrow.

The recording is in three days’ time.

Okay. I'll be there.

Good.

No smoking, all right?

Urmila, ma'am.

Your daughter sings like the cuckoo.

Cuckoo.

True. She is that.

Well, then I'll take your leave.

Bye-bye.

Believe in yourself.

He is absolutely right about you.

Cuckoo.

A bird that never makes her own nest.
Always steals what belongs to others.

Never puts in any effort
to create something of her own.

Takes what doesn't belong to her.

Sir, what are you doing there?
Please, come in.

Hello.

Is Qala home?

Yes. She is.

The thing is I've got a film in hand
after a long struggle. So…

If Qala could sing just one song--
I mean…

If she could give me some dates.
Even a single day. I'll fit it into that.

Yes, yes, of course, sir.
I'll figure out a date that works.

Please come in and have a seat.
I'll call ma'am.

-Fine.
-Please, come.

Ma'am,
Mr. Sumant Kumar has come to see you.

Tell him I'm not home.

He was saying
he's got a film after a big gap, so--

Ma'am…

Is everything okay?

Actually, I just realized
ma'am is not at home.

I thought she was, my mistake.
I didn't see her leave.

-The moment she comes back, I'll--
-Thank you.

-Hello.
-Hello.

A lightning trunk call
to Mrs. Urmila Manjushree, please.

-Did you say Urmila Manjushree?
-Yes.

-What is the location?
-Debisthan, Himachal.

Okay. Can you please repeat the number?

24343.

Please hold the line,
we're connecting the call.

Okay.

I will hold.

-Hello.
-Mama…

Mama…

Something's wrong with me, Mama.

I think I need help--

How can you be such a bitch, Qala?

I made you! You were nothing!

Everything you have today
is because of me.

If I hadn't been there for you then,
you would not be here now.

I came for Jagan.

Had he not lost his voice,

it would have been him
in that recording studio, not you, Qala.

Oh, to die like this

Is not an ending my friend

The world doth die every day

Yet does not fade away

Who knows when the end will come

And how death will visit me

Mama.

Mama.

I have to go to Calcutta for a recording.

Leave.

Get out.

And never come back here.

This house has no place for a courtesan.

Then how are you living here?

You left music.

For all this.

So, how is it my fault?

Why are you taking it out on me?

I'm your daughter.

Shouldn't you love me. Unconditionally?

But you don't…

What will it take, Mama?

Whatever I do…

It's never enough.

Mama.

Sorry, Mama.

Sorry, Mama. Sorry.

I didn't mean it, Mama. Sorry.

Please.

Mama.

How does one tell him now

-That no means no--
-Cut, cut, cut, cut!

You seem a bit nervous. Don't be.

We are all here for you.
And we are in no rush.

So relax. And sing.

Ready?

Let's start.

How does one tell him now

That no means no

-My impatient amour--
-Cut, cut, cut!

All good, nothing to worry.

The scene for this song

is about a flirtation
between the hero and his lover.

He is wooing her. And she is playing coy.

It's a game.
There is a yes hidden in her no.

So, nothing much.
You just have to have fun.

Just imagine yourself
in the heroine's place.

Don't just sing.
Imagine you are the lover.

Let's try again.
It's going well. Don't worry.

Nervous?

It'll come. Okay. Ready?

-Yes.
-Okay, good.

How does one tell him now

-That no means no--
-Cut!

Hey, I said cut.

This is the 11th take. What are you doing?

Wasting the producer's money.

Manoj, sir,
have you forgotten your first recording?

I wasn't this bad.

-Why don't you take a short break?
-Sir, just one more time.

-Please.
-Yes. We will. We will.

-Sir, she is not working out at all.
-I made a huge mistake.

I don't think she's cut out for it.

Qala, please don't mind me
saying this, but…

I don't think you're ready yet.

Sir, I am ready.

I can sing.

I… I can’t go back home.

Sir, last chance, please. Last.

Hey, Majrooh. A moment.

I just had a chat with her.

Nothing major, she just got
a little nervous. That's all.

But you are right.

There is something about this girl.

We can use her.

A chance to work with Mr. Sumant Kumar.

Only a precious few
get such an opportunity.

I want to do that too.
I want all of that too.

That golden award that Mom wants,

I'll get it for her.

-That's hardly a reason.
-That's easy for you to say.

-Even you're always singing for Mom.
-I don't sing for her.

I sing because it's like breathing for me.

I sing for myself!

Have you ever tried
to sing just for yourself?

How does one tell him now

That no means no

Here he comes riding his high horse
My impatient amour

Here he comes riding his high horse
My impatient amour

"Oh, my plaintive heart isolated
In the crowd silent in the roar."

"Singing a litany
A broken note at a time."

-Beautiful!
-What's so beautiful?

It's too complex and poetic.

Write something simple.

Listeners should at least understand
what's being sung.

Did you understand a word?
Okay, tell me, what's a litany?

Nothing is going right today.

Everyone, just leave me alone
for a bit, please.

Please, leave.

And thus the poet leaves his mark.

Qala, not you.

Get the door.

He weaves wildflowers into her hair

Just to come a tad bit near

This is but a ploy and game

Wish I knew how to play 'em

His eyes belie his lying words

He doesn't take no for an answer

Just sulking frowns on this clown
How does one tell him now

Here he comes riding his high horse
My impatient amour

Here he comes riding his high horse
My impatient amour

How does one tell him now

That no means no

Here he comes riding his high horse
My impatient amour

That song you composed…

The lost ways of the wayward heart

-It's beautiful.
-I created that melody with you in mind.

Your voice would have been perfect for it.

But then Mr. Sumant Kumar said
you weren't available.

Why don't you keep a secretary?

People can talk directly
to her for your dates.

I don't know anyone here.

Give me your number.

-224--
-Hello, madam.

-Hello.
-So, you have managed to meet?

Qala, a moment.

What were you two talking about?

You are from a good family.

And girls like you should not mingle
with women like her.

And that courtesan's work
is not worth talking about.

If you allow it, it will continue.
If you stay quiet, it'll keep happening.

Today, he is at the zenith.
Tomorrow you will be.

Today, people like him go unpunished.

Everyone unsees the abuse.
But times will change.

It's an old trick it has.

Ma'am…

The car is parked at the back.
I'll get it.

-Look, look. Qala, ma'am…
-Qala, ma'am, how are you, ma'am?

What is your next film, Qala, ma'am?

There are rumors that you have refused
to sing in Mr. Dey's next film.

Is that true?

Why did you kill yourself?

All you lost was your voice.

My voice was my identity.

My life. My dreams.

And here you are living them.

Are you happy now?

Mama is still not with me.

It's a semi classical melody. Mid-tempo.

Mr. Rao, you tend to run,
regardless of the tempo.

Since Qala is singing,
we should wrap early.

But we do have the studio
for the entire shift.

-Shall we begin?
-Yes, madam.

Qala.

Is everything okay?

Darling child, the recording
can be postponed if you aren't up to it.

I can sing.

I will also sing.

-From here?
-Yes.

-From here, right?
-Qala.

What's wrong?

I can't hear anything.

Mr. Rao, please play the flute.

Can you please move the mic
closer to the musicians?

Of course, love.

Qala.

Qala.

-Ma'am. Ma'am.
-What happened, child?

What happened, child?

-Qala. Look at me…
-Ma'am.

If you don't tell us what's wrong,
we won't be able to help you.

She never says anything
about what's upsetting her.

Ma'am. Ma'am. Ma'am.

Ma'am.

He's practicing his music.

Who?

He'll want warm milk.
Before his performance.

Milk…

Ma'am…

Sorry, Mama. I didn't mean it.

And now, dear listeners,
let's hear a snippet

from the slightly disturbing interview
with Qala Manjushree.

There are rumors that you have refused
to sing in Mr. Dey's next film.

-Is that true?
-Why did you kill yourself?

All you lost was your voice.

My voice was my identity.

My life. My dreams.

And here you are living them.

Are you happy now?

Mama is still not with me.

-Hello? Dr. Goenka?
-Yes?

It's Qala.

What's wrong, Sudha? Hello?

-Something has happened to her.
-What happened?

-I don't know.
-Okay.

Can you please come as soon as possible?

Ma'am, come here.

Shall I call someone?

Naseeban, perhaps?

Ma'am, would you like some water?

I'll get you some water.

Don't do it! Don't do it! Don't do it!

Don't do it!

Don't do it!

When my life ends

Only then will I stop getting cowed down

The agents of death are too strong for me

How to free this tangle of death

It will take to the skies

The lonely swan will fly away

Ma'am! Ma'am!

Hello.

Madam, lightning call from Calcutta,
please hold.

Hello, am I talking to Mrs. Manjushree?

-Mrs. Urmila Manjushree?
-Yes.

This is Dr. Goenka,
I'm calling from Calcutta. Your daughter…

-Hello?
-…Qala…

-Hello?
-Hello. Can you hear me?

Yes.

Qala is not well…
I am sorry to say…

She is mentally unstable.

She even tried to take her own life--

-Hello?
-Hello. Can you hear me?

I said she tried to commit suicide,
Mrs. Manjushree.

Hello… Hello… Hello…
Mrs. Manjushree?

Mama… Mama…

Something's wrong with me, Mama.

I-- I think I need help. Help.

I-- I think I need help. Mama…

Mama.

Dr. Goenka.

Qala's mother.

How is she?

She's in bad shape.

But don't worry.

I've already taken the liberty of speaking

with a psychiatrist
at R.G. Dhar medical college.

We should get her admitted immediately.

I know. But what we can do?

We don't really have any other option.

In fact, the ambulance is already here--
-My daughter will go home with me.

Not to some mental institution.

Madam, I don't think you are grasping
the seriousness of the situation.

She needs help.

We have to admit her. Madam!

Qala.

Qala!

No, no, no, no…

Please, Doctor. Please, Doctor, help her.
Somebody help her, please!

My mother asks

Oh, my darling girl

What makes you so wan so pale

What makes you so wan so pale

Oh, Mother in the yonder forest

A peacock does sing

He has stolen my dreams away

He has stolen my dreams away

My baby girl should we find a weapon

Should we hunt him down

And kill him now

And kill him now

Let's not kill him Mother

Let us just silence him somehow

Let us trap him in a cage now

Let us trap him in a cage now