I was honoured, recently, to launch a very special book by India's most eminent living film director, Shri Adoor Gopalakrishnan, written in Malayalam -- under the title Kazhchayude Suvishesham (The Gospel of Vision) -- by handing a copy to senior CPI-M leader and former Culture Minister MA Baby.

The book speaks of Adoorji's remarkable contributions to Indian cinema and the influences on his work of the great masters of world cinema.

Since it is going to be some time before this remarkable volume is available in English, I thought I should share its essence with my readers here.

The Gospel of Vision is not merely a book; it is a testament to the symbiotic relationship between a visionary artist and the art of cinema itself. It serves in some ways as a cinematic autobiography, encapsulating Adoorji's extraordinary journey and the manifold influences upon his creative life.

First as an enthralled viewer, then as a student of cinema at the prestigious Film and Television Institute of India, and finally as a director of growing international fame and worldwide recognition, Adoorji writes as a witness, a student and a practitioner of the art of cinema.

As he observes, "Cinema is the poetry of the visible: it captures not just stories but the essence of our collective existence."

The Gospel of Vision's early chapters take us back to Adoorji's adolescence, a time when he was a theatre artist, distanced from the world of film. He writes, "Cinema, for me, was a distant star -- a dream that one could only hope to touch."

In the first chapter, he nostalgically recalls the cinema-going experience of early Malayalam films, vividly describing the joyous atmosphere of the theatre, where every laugh and tear resonated with the audience.

He reflects on the heroes and heroines who once graced the silver screen, many of whom have since faded into obscurity. Through these recollections, Adoorji reveals his profound attachment to cinema, illustrating how it became the lens through which he explored his own identity and aspirations.

It was in 1962 that this dream crystallized into his profession, evolving into his life's calling. But he never ceased to be a student of the art. His book delves into how cinema has been shaped by significant global events -- world wars, scientific advancements, and cultural shifts -- creating a rich tapestry that reflects our shared history.

Through his masterful narrative, Adoorji brings to life the unsung heroes of cinema, detailing every nuance as if crafting a screenplay. His storytelling not only chronicles his entry into the cinematic realm but also the broader evolution of film in India and beyond.

The Gospel of Vision comprises 30 chapters, beginning with Balan and the early Malayalam films, providing profound insights into the genesis of our cinematic landscape.

Among the many treasures within its pages, he writes of the classic films that shaped the medium and profoundly influenced him, ranging from Bicycle Thief and Newspaper Boy to Pather Panchali and perhaps more surprisingly the work of Charlie Chaplin.

Adoorji devotes significant attention to Chaplin, stating, "In every smile, in every tear, Chaplin taught us the universal language of humanity" -- a depiction allowing readers to engage deeply with Chaplin's impact on the cinematic arts.

The book stands as an invaluable resource for understanding the history and evolution of cinema, both globally and specifically within India and Kerala.

Adoorji explores world cinema with acuity. On the rebirth of Italian cinema, he celebrates the magic of Fellini, while also contemplating the director’s profound themes such as time, memory, and the act of forgetting.

He reflects, "Cinema is a mirror held up to humanity, revealing both our dreams and our dilemmas." His discussion of Japanese cinema, with due deference to Kurosawa, and his analysis of various documentaries, further enrich this narrative.

In my own view, there is less of the magical surrealism of Fellini and the grand canvases of Kurosawa in Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s work than the book’s treatment would seem to imply.

From his own accounts, I would trace other influences in his work: his deep anchoring in the social and political evolution of Kerala, and his rootedness in the soil of rural life as well as the richness of Kerala culture, going back to his days as a student at the Gandhigram Rural Institute, seem to me to have much more to do with the social realism of Vittorio DeSica than with his compatriot Fellini.

Similarly, his minimalism owes much to Yasujiro Ozu, a Japanese filmmaker who captured the essence of everyday life with simplicity and depth, focusing on the subtleties of human interactions and emotions with a distinctive use of static camera shots.

In his own work, Adoorji clearly values the way Ozu's films explore complex human relationships and societal changes through straightforward narratives employing minimal camerawork, a far cry from the expansive epics of Kurosawa’s major films.

In some ways Adoorji also seems to be descended from the European neo-realist movement pioneered by directors like Robert Bresson, who focused on the internal lives of their characters and the gritty detail of their settings. Indeed, most students of his work associate Adoorji with minimalism and realism, which he is credited with introducing into Indian cinema.

But despite these influences, his strongly Malayali cultural ethos and his background in literature and theatre significantly influenced his narrative style, giving his films a theatrical quality reflected in the director’s strong emphasis on dialogue, narrative and performance.

In the process Adoor Gopalakrishnan created a unique cinematic language that goes well beyond the foreign film makers whose influence he so freely acknowledges.

An interesting parallel might well be with the Swedish director Ingmar Bergman, whose exploration of complex human emotions and relationships resonates deeply with Adoorji’s own thematic concerns and explorations of human psychology in the development of his characters. His triumph lies in using the medium of film to delve into the complexities of both human emotions and societal issues in a culturally authentic manner, while creating a cinematic experience that is compelling viewing, as well as thought-provoking.

It is striking that Satyajit Ray once urged Adoor Gopalakrishnan, given his early success, to start making a film a year, as Ray himself was doing at his peak.

While admiring Ray's storytelling, attention to detail and ability to portray both human emotions and social issues, Adoorji did not take his advice to cash in on his success. He remained himself, retaining a unique cinematic voice, blending everyday local concerns with universal themes and taking liberties even with his source material -- adapting works of literature so freely that the aficionados of the writers he reinvented, like Basheer and Paul Zachariah, accused him of literary sacrilege. Success never swayed him to depart from his original vision.

Through it all, then, Adoorji remained true to himself, producing just a dozen feature films of rare integrity and authenticity that will endure in the canons of Indian and world cinema for generations to come.

Kazhchayude Suvisesham is not merely a chronicle of Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s life; it is an invitation for each of us to reflect on our own connections to cinema.

As he eloquently states, 'To watch a film is to embark on a journey of the soul.' It is a privilege to accompany a great soul on such a remarkable journey.