First there were dreams. An emperor’s dream to construct the most magnificent edifice seen by human eyes. A blind potter’s dream to fashion the memories of his beloved into something tangible. Each an expression of love for the woman both of them treasured and ultimately, lost. And from that exercise in shared dreaming was born the Taj Mahal.

Such is the intriguing premise of German director Franz Osten’s silent film, Shiraz. Made in 1928 with an all-Indian cast and produced by British Instructional Films, Great Eastern Indian Corporation and Emelka Films, it was lost to the world before restorers from the British Film Institute stepped in and birthed it anew. The fruit of their labour was recently screened in Kolkata at Sangit Kala Mandir.

It was a part of the UK-India Year of Culture 2017 and organised by the British Council. One of Kolkata’s venerable performance spaces was bursting at the seams with people cramming the auditorium in their droves. And without an iota of doubt, most of them had come to experience cinema as it was meant to be seen by inventors of the art form — silent visuals with accompanying live music. The moving images were absolutely transformed by the music of Grammy-nominee Anoushka Shankar and her orchestra, comprising both Indian and Western instruments. But much more on that later as a peek into the plot of Shiraz is in order.

A royal caravanserai makes its way through a sparse desert but is attacked by a group of bandits. In the mayhem that ensues, a child gets estranged from her mother and is found by a village potter who takes her to his family. She is named Selima and the family raises her alongside their son, Shiraz. Years pass and both become inseparable companions but Shiraz and Selima’s lives are torn apart by slave raiders who abduct and sell her to Prince Khurram, the future Emperor Shah Jahan. One look at her and the Prince is smitten.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Shiraz comes all the way to Agra in order to “free” her from enslavement. But Selima is Mumtaz Mahal now and head over heels in love with Prince Khurram. She tosses aside Shiraz’s feelings but the gifted potter remains devoted to the Empress of India till her death 18 years later. From the first frame, Shankar’s otherworldly sitar elevates the visuals to stratospheric heights.

Sanju Sahai’s tabla beats in rhythm to the charging of hooves and Idris Rahman’s clarinet perfectly puts across the pain of separation. Danny Keane’s cello and piano alternate between expressing conjugal joy and unrequited love and the same goes for Preetha Narayan’s violin. Ravichandra Kulur’s plaintive bansuriinvests scenes with pathos while Pirashanna Thevarajah’s mridangam and ghatam emote the royal court’s scheming mechanisations. Christopher Kemsley holds all the strings together with his harmonium and synthesiser.

The soundtrack is nothing short of extraordinary and Shankar deserves the most credit for scoring it without a single false note. It enlivens Shiraz and tastefully compliments the director’s vision. But what makes it all the more great are snatches of silence when the actions on screen are allowed to speak. As Shankar’s first attempt at composing music for a film, it is no less than a wondrous masterpiece.

As Shiraz, pioneering actor and producer Himansu Rai (he went on to found Bombay Talkies in 1934) is the enigmatic presence at the centre of proceedings. On the other hand is the quiet but passionate Charu Roy as Prince Khurram/Emperor Shah Jahan.

As the woman of both their affections, Enakshi Rama Rau is brilliant but the beautiful Seeta Devi as the villainous courtesan, Dalia leaves an indelible mark. One of the most astonishing features of Shirazis that it was shot completely on location without any built sets and with only natural light. Cinematographers Emil Schunemann (who did Fritz Lang’s Die Spinnen) and Henry Harris frame the shots exquisitely, especially in the scenes where falling light touches the palace facades. The beauty of the photography makes it a lavish spectacle.

Another mind-boggling aspect of the film is the use of almost 50,000 extras! And nowhere are they more visibly employed than during the heart-stopping sequence where Shiraz is almost trampled by a charging elephant.

Archaeologist Sir John Marshall (who oversaw the Mohenjodaro and Harappa excavations) was called upon for expert advice but the film — based on a play by Niranjan Pal — is a romanticised rendition of the events leading up to the construction of the Taj Mahal.

It ends with a stunning shot of the Taj in all its pristine glory coupled with Shankar’s sitar and the orchestra reaching a crescendo. The evening couldn’t have come to a better conclusion as rousing applause rippled through the auditorium with everybody on their feet.

An incomparable cinematic experience, Shiraz will remain an unforgettable memory for those present at Sangit Kala Mandir. Unforgettable because the film and its score introduced one to the lyrical sound of silence.