Documentary channel

The long and hard journey from Tamil Nadu to Singapore, told through sweat and some poetry

Vishal Daryanomel’s documentary is a macro study of migration through one man’s experience.

N Rengarajan moved to Singapore in 2014 to work as a labourer on a construction worker, and three years later, he already has strong opinions on his adopted home. In his poems, he describes his journey as “a pilgrimage that reeks of money,” reciting his Tamil poem Life Overseas: Pluses and Minuses.

Filmmaker Vishal Daryanomel’s documentary Between Pudukkottai and Singapore uses Rengarajan’s poems as the basis for an exploration of the hopes, dreams and anxieties of migrants in Singapore. Using Rengarajan’s three poems that primarily juxtapose his migration to Singapore and its effects on his personal life, the film is shot at places such cricket grounds and parks in the Little India district in the country. “We wanted to depict spaces where migrant workers would usually spend their time,” the director said. “And in Singapore, those spaces are limited. Some Singaporeans might not even frequent those places when it is really busy. So we wanted to use his lines and put a visual to it.”

The 18-minute documentary will be launched at the Singapore Writers Festival on November 10. “The goal for the film is to raise awareness about the human elements in our migrant worker population, which is sometimes lost in Singapore,” the independent filmmaker said. “It is to make people understand that they are not in Singapore just as labourers, but that they also have the dreams and talents that a lot of us have.”

A Singaporean of Indian descent, Daryanomel was drawn to the subject during his volunteering days at the Annual Migrant Workers Poetry event in 2014. Rengarajan was the only Indian poet at the event, competing against migrant workers from other countries. “His poetry resonated with me and that is why I thought we could go on this project together,” Daryanomel said. “The dynamic was very interesting because the Singapore migrant population is made up of Bangladeshis, Indians from South India and largely from Punjab. At the same time we also have migrant workers from Thailand and Cambodia. Being the only Tamil poet without a support system performing at the event was pretty great.”

The film uses observational footage to subtly point out the differences between aspirations and actualities. Between Pudukkottai and Singapore sticks with the poorer sections of the Tamil community in Singapore – the labourers who have incurred financial debt, have to face entry barriers in finding jobs, and general stereotypes about the Indian community. The Tamil-speaking community in Singapore has coexisted peacefully in the country except for riots in 2013, which were sparked off by an Indian construction worker’s death in a road accident.

But the film is not a sob story. In one of the film’s best sequences, Rengarajan describes the one thing he loves the most about his life away from his homeland. “Back in my country, if it is crowded, we tussle for a ticket and a place in the bus. But here in Singapore, we follow suit and don’t cut the queue,” he says with a smile.

Between Pudukkottai to Singapore (2017).
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Swara Bhasker: Sharp objects has to be on the radar of every woman who is tired of being “nice”

The actress weighs in on what she loves about the show.

This article has been written by award-winning actor Swara Bhasker.

All women growing up in India, South Asia, or anywhere in the world frankly; will remember in some form or the other that gentle girlhood admonishing, “Nice girls don’t do that.” I kept recalling that gently reasoned reproach as I watched Sharp Objects (you can catch it on Hotstar Premium). Adapted from the author of Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn’s debut novel Sharp Objects has been directed by Jean-Marc Vallée, who has my heart since he gave us Big Little Lies. It stars the multiple-Oscar nominee Amy Adams, who delivers a searing performance as Camille Preaker; and Patricia Clarkson, who is magnetic as the dominating and dark Adora Crellin. As an actress myself, it felt great to watch a show driven by its female performers.

The series is woven around a troubled, alcohol-dependent, self-harming, female journalist Camille (single and in her thirties incidentally) who returns to the small town of her birth and childhood, Wind Gap, Missouri, to report on two similarly gruesome murders of teenage girls. While the series is a murder mystery, it equally delves into the psychology, not just of the principal characters, but also of the town, and thus a culture as a whole.

There is a lot that impresses in Sharp Objects — the manner in which the storytelling gently unwraps a plot that is dark, disturbing and shocking, the stellar and crafty control that Jean-Marc Vallée exercises on his narrative, the cinematography that is fluid and still manages to suggest that something sinister lurks within Wind Gap, the editing which keeps this narrative languid yet sharp and consistently evokes a haunting sensation.

Sharp Objects is also liberating (apart from its positive performance on Bechdel parameters) as content — for female actors and for audiences in giving us female centric and female driven shows that do not bear the burden of providing either role-models or even uplifting messages. 

Instead, it presents a world where women are dangerous and dysfunctional but very real — a world where women are neither pure victims, nor pure aggressors. A world where they occupy the grey areas, complex and contradictory as agents in a power play, in which they control some reigns too.

But to me personally, and perhaps to many young women viewers across the world, what makes Sharp Objects particularly impactful, perhaps almost poignant, is the manner in which it unravels the whole idea, the culture, the entire psychology of that childhood admonishment “Nice girls don’t do that.” Sharp Objects explores the sinister and dark possibilities of what the corollary of that thinking could be.

“Nice girls don’t do that.”

“Who does?”

“Bad girls.”

“So I’m a bad girl.”

“You shouldn’t be a bad girl.”

“Why not?”

“Bad girls get in trouble.”

“What trouble? What happens to bad girls?”

“Bad things.”

“What bad things?”

“Very bad things.”

“How bad?”


“Like what?”


A point the show makes early on is that both the victims of the introductory brutal murders were not your typically nice girly-girls. Camille, the traumatised protagonist carrying a burden from her past was herself not a nice girl. Amma, her deceptive half-sister manipulates the nice girl act to defy her controlling mother. But perhaps the most incisive critique on the whole ‘Be a nice girl’ culture, in fact the whole ‘nice’ culture — nice folks, nice manners, nice homes, nice towns — comes in the form of Adora’s character and the manner in which beneath the whole veneer of nice, a whole town is complicit in damning secrets and not-so-nice acts. At one point early on in the show, Adora tells her firstborn Camille, with whom she has a strained relationship (to put it mildly), “I just want things to be nice with us but maybe I don’t know how..” Interestingly it is this very notion of ‘nice’ that becomes the most oppressive and deceptive experience of young Camille, and later Amma’s growing years.

This ‘Culture of Nice’ is in fact the pervasive ‘Culture of Silence’ that women all over the world, particularly in India, are all too familiar with. 

It takes different forms, but always towards the same goal — to silence the not-so-nice details of what the experiences; sometimes intimate experiences of women might be. This Culture of Silence is propagated from the child’s earliest experience of being parented by society in general. Amongst the values that girls receive in our early years — apart from those of being obedient, dutiful, respectful, homely — we also receive the twin headed Chimera in the form of shame and guilt.

“Have some shame!”

“Oh for shame!”




“Do not bring shame upon…”

Different phrases in different languages, but always with the same implication. Shameful things happen to girls who are not nice and that brings ‘shame’ on the family or everyone associated with the girl. And nice folks do not talk about these things. Nice folks go on as if nothing has happened.

It is this culture of silence that women across the world today, are calling out in many different ways. Whether it is the #MeToo movement or a show like Sharp Objects; or on a lighter and happier note, even a film like Veere Di Wedding punctures this culture of silence, quite simply by refusing to be silenced and saying the not-nice things, or depicting the so called ‘unspeakable’ things that could happen to girls. By talking about the unspeakable, you rob it of the power to shame you; you disallow the ‘Culture of Nice’ to erase your experience. You stand up for yourself and you build your own identity.

And this to me is the most liberating aspect of being an actor, and even just a girl at a time when shows like Sharp Objects and Big Little Lies (another great show on Hotstar Premium), and films like Veere Di Wedding and Anaarkali Of Aarah are being made.

The next time I hear someone say, “Nice girls don’t do that!”, I know what I’m going to say — I don’t give a shit about nice. I’m just a girl! And that’s okay!

Swara is a an award winning actor of the Hindi film industry. Her last few films, including Veere Di Wedding, Anaarkali of Aaraah and Nil Battey Sannata have earned her both critical and commercial success. Swara is an occasional writer of articles and opinion pieces. The occasions are frequent :).

Watch the trailer of Sharp Objects here:


This article was published by the Scroll marketing team with Swara Bhasker on behalf of Hotstar Premium and not by the Scroll editorial team.