Symphony of Style and Substance

Mrinal Sen (1923-2018)

I had the good fortune of inteacting with the legendary filmmaker while he was in our midst, with his sense of humour and courage of conviction intact even in his 90s, notwithstanding the debilitating blows of age and ailment.

His study of Physics may be a ‘scratch on the surface’ by his own admission, yet he’s one of the very few students worldwide who have fathomed the depth of what the celebrated physicist Niels Bohr said: ‘Confidence comes from not being always right, but from not fearing to be wrong’.?

His filmography, among other things, reveals the endorsed confidence in full measure in telling his stories his own way, unfazed by the lure of adulation or fear of rejection. No wonder, his biggest challenge in filmmaking is self-imposed.

He remarked, “I am committed to my own time. That is the biggest challenge in my filmmaking. Time changes, so do I. So do my content and form. I look upon my life and work as part of the social and political fabric of my own time. I try to capture moments of crisis, moments of truth in the ordinary lives of ordinary people.”

But what about the producers and censor board? No challenge on that front?

“I had never had to scout for ‘well-meaning' producers. And throughout my career I played cat and mouse with the stupid diktats of Censor Board. I have seldom accepted censorship of any kind.

Mrinal Sen is known for his unconditional accessibility, a diminishing trait especially among public figures.? Braving the flip side of a congenial dialogue with the common audience, he strikes a dialogue only to speak his mind, never to colour the ensuing interpretation. Ditto for his films.

He observed ‘We have made films. Interpretations are yours, the viewer. Are you not a part of the creative process? I think you are.”

But did he face problems with his own interpretations at times??

His admission was characteristically unqualified.

“I’m the first spectator of my own films, I always look upon my films as dress-rehearsals. That’s the reason why I feel like making them all over again. Besides, I need to correct my own conclusions. I ask you to treat my statement as absolutely positive.

He’s invariably played the role of an activist through his films, whether by causing a big dent into romantic notions of poverty, exposing the deep-rooted colonial hangover and feudal mindset even in urban milieus or by taking the establishment by its horns. Would it be right to call him an activist filmmaker given the non-conformist stance of his films??

“Who is not an activist in the genuine sense of the term?”, he remarked.?

Sen's films are stylized and yet the cause drives them. How does he achieve this blend??

“Both are intertwined. For me, one doesn’t negate the other.”

Sen shared a brutally honest connect with director Satyajit Ray which the media labelled as a love-hate relationship. But even the level-headed followers of Ray and Sen were intrigued by the long running ‘Statesman’ debate over Sen’s film ‘Akash Kusum’?

In hindsight, how does he look at the whole episode? Did both unknowingly go overboard with it or was the extended deliberation much called for?

“I must tell you I do not see the controversy emanating from a love-hate relationship. This was how it began. A review appeared in the city’s leading daily, The Statesman. It was not very positive, but, by no means, negative either. The author of the?story wrote a sharp rejoinder. Honestly, I had no reason to instigate him, which was not my business.

It was Ray who called me and said he was going to write a short piece without hurting me. That was it. But that set the ball rolling. In his inimitable style, Ray made a sarcastic comment about the author of the story and was obliquely a bit critical about the film too. Though a long-time friend of Ray, the author hit back.

And, I too, for no reason enough, joined the fray. A sort of word-play, to start with, dropping names at times like bombs and missiles. And the battle continued. It went on for about two months. About hundred people joined the ‘game’ for and against. We were three to cross swords, the others to comment.

All in the columns of The Statesman. It was a wordy battle, signifying not much. Finally, it was nobody’s gain, nobody’s loss either. But the edited version of the controversy involving just three of us featured in the special edition of a book,?Les visitors de Cannes?in 1992. All beyond my knowledge and belief! Great fun!”

?Ray, Sen and Ghatak comprise the triumvirate which represents the cinematic Renaissance of India. Would it be right to say that Ghatak was largely ignored by the Indian and International media despite making such incisive films on social turmoil and moral anguish??

“In thoughts, in ideas,?Ritwik?still remains the same larger-than-life Ghatak, reckless Ghatak, heartless Ghatak, unruly Ghatak, inimitable Ghatak, and, above all, the adorable Ghatak”, Sen vaguely reminisces.

Does he find the Anurag Kashyap brand of cinema a resurgence of the parallel wave of 70s and 80s, albeit in a new avatar??

He puts it straight, “I am sorry,?so far I’ve not come across? any of ‘Anurag Kashyap’ brand of cinema.?

Mrinal Sen was a rebel without a pause who thrives on approximation rather than precision, who depicts events in cinema as potent triggers to portray human conflict and complexity, who defies established notions of narrative structures in the process.

Well past 90, he was what he had always been. Always being born.

A closer look at Khandahar (The Ruins) 1984, arguably one of Sen's best works

It's interesting how Sen was drawn to the story in one faltering-turned-decisive moment of a sleepless night. Post Kharij, the beautiful film on the impotent sense of guilt typical of the civilised world, Sen was on the lookout for the next theme. His producer was as keen on the next venture and ready with money too, a rather comfortable situation for an offbeat filmmaker but this motivation didn't make the search any easier.

Mrinal Sen was among the very few filmmakers who care to share their innermost feelings concerning their film making. For me to come up with an appropriate subject at the appropriate time had always been a nerve-wracking exercise, he says without reserve, in his aptly-titled memoir 'Always being born'.

He woke up with a start in the middle of one pensive night and walked towards a large wooden cabinet packed with books. As he was eyeing the treasures inside, one book seemed to be staring at him more than the others, an anthology of Premendra Mitra stories. In one particular story that he had read countless times before, he suddenly found cinema hidden in and between the lines. This story was Telenapota Abishkar.

The fascinating discovery made way for a peerless screen adaptation, hats off to Sen for the way in which he transformed the fantasy of the original story to conceive a modern-day tale of fascinating intrigue and poignant resignation. Accordingly, the angler in Mitra's tale of a fictional place called Telenapota became a professional photographer Subhash in Sen's film who, at the behest of his friend Deepu, sets off to the ruins, taking a chance break off the rigours of city life.

Synopsis

Once a sprawling mansion of Deepu's ancestors, the royal estate is now a decrepit structure of peeling crust and crumbling walls, nevertheless home to an intriguing mother-daughter duo. The bed-ridden mother is blind and paralysed but not yet bereft of hope, that a distant nephew will come to fetch the daughter to honour a yesteryear pledge.?The daughter Jamini knows the truth that Niranjan, the man in question, has consciously reached the point of no return, he's long married and settled elsewhere.

The city visitors inadvertently add depth and dialogue to the drama when the mother mistakes the photographer Subhash for Niranjan and instinctively weaves a relieving tale of fruition in her mind. Subhash won't dare to correct the old lady's illusion, trapped that he is in a delicate moment of reckoning. The abrupt chaos makes way for heated debate among the three friends on their supposedly moral and practical positions in the matter.

It's only the final, fleeting encounter that subtly highlights Jamini's towering maturity, a poignant contrast to the run down environs. Even before Subhash can explain his plight in as many words, she's quick to relieve him of his awkwardness while locking horns with the reality of her life with grace and dignity. Subhash gets back to work and a photograph of Jamini, clicked against the backdrop of the ruins, consequently becomes his prized studio possession.

Shabana Azmi, who played Jamini, won the National Award for her portrayal. She was wonderful as ever but needlessly underlined her act in umpteen scenes like the one in which she says in her typical?now muttering, now stuttering fashion "photo to li hi nahi abhi tak maa ki"(you haven't clicked my mother's snap as yet?) unlike the brilliant scene in which she shouts back at her mother "Halla gulla karke khana bana rahe hai, banane do na ma" (They are relishing their cooking extravaganza, do let them please)

Ever since Satyajit Ray appreciated her superlative act in Benegal's Nishant, Azmi has consistently escaped a scrupulous critique in most of her subsequent offbeat films.

The support cast of Khandahar deserves special mention. Gita Sen was outstanding as the ailing mother, her heavy accent and laboured gestures beautifully conveying the psyche of the forlorn mother: anxious for her daughter's wellbeing and unknowingly a nuisance herself.

Naseer was inimitably terrific as the photographer Subhash. Can we ever forget his introductory monologue right after the photographic paper reveals a young woman amidst the ruins whom we later come to know as Jamini? His baritone does full justice to Sen's astute direction and Bhaskar Chandavarkar's lingering background score.

Pankaj Kapoor stood out as Deepu, despite the fact that there was little opportunity for him to demonstrate his prowess. Annu Kapoor was impressive as the third friend (zillion times preferable to the Antakshiri-inflicted caricature of current times) but lent a certain negative shade to his nonchalance which his character could have done away with. In contrast, Rajen Tarafdar was absolutely brilliant as the forsaken man Friday, his resigned mannerism perfectly rhyming with the desolate surroundings.?

We just thought the scene of Subhash mistaken for Niranjan appears a tad theatrical if not unconvincing; what with the mother repeatedly interrupting Dipu and Jamini the moment they try to unveil the truth. One also fails to understand why should the well-meaning Dipu blame Subhash for the goof up in hindsight, one that he and Jamini triggered in unison, appears somewhat forced in the otherwise awesome narrative.

Almost every scene comes alive on screen most realistically, a team effort under Sen's able stewardship and screenplay including K. K. Mahajan's cinematography, Nitish Roy's art direction and Bhaskar Chandavarkar's music.

We moralize among ruins, said Benjamin Disraeli, Mrinal Sen's Khandahar adds: that?we often moralize among ruins to little avail.