Saif Ali Khan Case: Auto-rickshaw driver who rushed Saif Ali Khan to hospital unaware of actor’s identity; says, “A man who was covered in blood came out…”

A day after actor Saif Ali Khan was stabbed by an intruder at his Bandra residence, an auto-rickshaw driver Bhajan Singh Rana, who took him to the Lilavati Hospital, said he was not aware that the passenger he was taking to the Hospital was film actor Saif Ali Khan. He said, “I drive my vehicle at night. It was around 2-3 am when I saw a woman trying to hire an auto but nobody stopped. I could also hear calls for a rickshaw from inside the gate. After I took a U-turn and stopped my vehicle at the gate, a man who was covered in blood came out. 2-4 people also accompanied him.” He added, “They put him in the auto...They decided to go to Lilavati. I dropped them off there...I then came to know that he is Saif Ali Khan...I saw him bleeding from his neck and back.” #WATCH | Attack on #SaifAliKhan | Mumbai: Bhajan Singh Rana, autorickshaw driver who rushed the actor to Lilavati Hospital after the attack, says, "I drive my vehicle at night. It was around 2-3 am when I saw a woman tryi...

Vaychiletik review – beautifully-shot Mexican folk music study in the high arthouse style

A tender film about the music of Mayan descendants is hampered by the alofty adherence to a documentary aesthetic where nothing is explained

This film about a flute player and farmer named José Pérez López from Zinacantán in Chiapas, Mexico, teems with beautifully shot images of folks playing music, embroidering, participating in days-long community rituals, and tending their crops of flowers in polytunnels – pretty normal everyday stuff. It feels a little more elevated because it affords a glimpse into the life of descendants of the Mayans who practice ancestor worship and polytheistic beliefs but also have shrines with Catholic saints. The film’s website has a handy chunk of text about Bats’i son ta Sots’leb, the traditional music of Zinacantán, described in fascinating musicological detail.

It’s a shame that kind of explanatory background can’t be found anywhere in the movie. In fact, the subtitles and dialogue never even give the names of the people we are observing for most of the running time. You can only work out that the old guy is named José, and the woman who laughingly scolds him for drinking so much is Elvia Pérez Suárez, presumably his wife, and that they also live with a hard-working younger man named Esteban Pérez Pérez (presumably José and Elvia’s son) and some even younger kids: Esteban’s children? Random kids from next door? Who knows, because this scrupulously verité-style film is determined to adhere to the high-arthouse documentary aesthetic wherein nothing is explained, nothing is contextualised, and there’s no sense of what point or purpose this all serves other than a little digital tourism to a far-flung corner of the globe.

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