You're looking at the two reasons why I make films.
Abah's 73, Mak's 72. They've been married 48 years. They still shower together. They sleep holding hands. They still have sex. Abah cannot sleep properly unless he's touching a piece of Mak -- hand, leg, face, hair, the edge of her pyjamas -- anything.
Three years ago, I got a phone call from Mak at dawn. "We're about to lose Abah," she said, in between convulsive sobbings. Abah was catatonic. He had collapsed from some severe diabetic complication.
He survived, alhamdulillah.
But that's when I decided... I wanted to make a film that mirrored their love. I wanted to amuse them with it; make it known to them that I loved them, in spite of, and maybe even because of, their bohemian ways.
I wanted the world to see what was possible. And so I made "Rabun" -- my love poem to my crazy parents.
I mean, look at them in the photo above. Just look at them. As soon as Abah knew I was pointing a camera at them (I had made the mistake of asking for a sweet, old couple pose), he made monkey faces at me, while Mak laughed her head off.
Now I 'm planning to make my third film "Gubra". You can be sure there'll be a "Mak Inom" and a "Pak Atan" in it somewhere, inshaallah. Why, the film I see in my head practically opens with that phone call I got from Mak at dawn, three years ago.
I hope "Gubra" will speak to your heart, something about the only thing that interests me, both in life, and in film.