LIDF

“May all beings be happy and create the causes of happiness,” sings a young boy from the Himalayas. This constitutes the key message of Donagh Coleman’s lyrical Stone Pastures – a story of one’s family’s struggle to make ends meet and ensure a better life for their children with good education. The theme seems familiar but the setting and cultural context of this film is not.

The place these nomads live in is so remote: apparently located somewhere in the Himalayas, in the disputed area around Kashmir, it does not even seem to appear on any map. Yet despite the setting and these people’s hard lives, the feeling throughout the film is one of utmost harmony.

“We have to remain as nomads because we are illiterate,” states the father, Sonam, as he herds pashmina goats across the desolate landscape. So the hope that their sons will be educated is also a hope for them to give away the nomad life and live in the city. It begs the question: how could a person who comes from generations of nomads suddenly decide to stay fixed? Surely, this infers a shift in culture.

The pashmina wool painstakingly combed from the backs of the family’s herd of goats is their primary source of income. A good harvest means the children can go to school; a bad one means they cannot. And even with the chance to go to school, Padma, the eldest son of Sonam and Phuntsok, is something of a rebellious teenager, running away from school time and time again. He is torn between the familiarity of the nomadic lifestyle and the intrigue of city living.

One remarkable aspect of the film is the family’s lack of frustration or anger at their difficult situation. The delicacy with which they display their emotions instills a feeling of such respect for them, and perhaps shame for the way we, in Western culture, are so quick to indulge in selfish and overly externalised emotional performances.

On the surface, these people’s lives seem so simple, the day-to-day existence almost instinctive, caring for the animals, which give them milk, meat and wool. Yet the softly-spoken and articulate mother, Phuntsok, speaking in earnest about her hopes for her children, quickly clarifies that this is far from a simple or average family. These people are not incapable of learning, ‘bettering’ themselves, as we might put it; they are sensitive, aware and ambitious, in the same way the most educated university professor would be. The sweet compassion Sonam has for his wife, his awareness of her needs and feelings, without her ever having to utter a word, is so finely portrayed. Similarly, the calm and even manner of Phuntsok, not repressed or forced, somehow evolved in her communication, is simply stunning.

The clarity with which Coleman captures the interactions between these people, no bells or whistles or effects needed, giving them the opportunity to just be themselves and let the audience see the elegance of their everyday life is breathtaking.

The spectacular scenery is cleverly woven into the background, depicting this stunning landscape, normally the sort of thing us Western city-dwellers would gasp at, as the simple back garden of a family. There is a strong sense of familiarity, and we realise how comfortable this wild landscape is for the nomads.

Clear communication, a simple yet often hard-to-grasp concept in modern Western culture, is the key to these people’s continued survival and harmonious existence. People address each other with a reverence, not in the least bit contrived or pretentious, but genuinely showing respect and a willingness to help. “Just listen carefully to the villagers,” is the kindly advice of the outgoing village chief, when questioned by the new one. “Then you will do well.” It is as simple as that – listen and communicate well. Despite these people’s lack of education and their seemingly simple existence, we, in the modern world could learn much from the fundamental principles by which these nomads live their lives.

With a subtle yet powerful, magical soundtrack, performed by the film’s central characters, Stone Pastures is an extraordinary insight into a quickly disappearing yet strangely harmonious, almost utopian way of life, not to be missed by anyone interested in people.

Katharina Chase
London-based Australian writer, linguist and social historian

To read our interview with director Donagh Coleman, click here.

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