The timeless cinema of Ritwik Ghatak

There is something deeply satisfying and at the same time poignant about celebrating the birth centenary of Ritwik Ghatak, the maverick filmmaker, thinker, and writer. He made films not out of love for the medium but to reach more people. His work is reaching a wider audience now than it did in his lifetime. His films have stood the test of time. But it unfortunately also means that the problems he highlighted have not been solved to this day.

The Ghatak trilogy — ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’ (1960), ‘Komal Gandhar’ (1961), and ‘Subarnarekha’ (1965) — depicting the lives of people displaced during the Bengal partition, has gained greater relevance today when conflicts and crises have turned citizens from across the world into refugees.

We are surrounded not just by refugees like Neeta (‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’), Bhrigu and Anasuya (‘Komal Gandhar’), and Ishwar, Sita and Abhiram (Subarnarekha), but also Ramu (‘Nagarik’, 1977), Haridas (‘Bari Theke Paliye’, 1958), Sanat, Montu (‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’), and Nachiketa (‘Jukti Takko Aar Gappo’, 1974), who are not able to find jobs despite being well-qualified.

Though Ghatak claimed the purpose of his art was to “record the great changes”, clearly his works go beyond that. Even when his intent was documentarian, his deep understanding and creative genius make his works speak truth beyond facts.

Poverty, a burning problem even today, is a big concern in Ghatak’s works. But to him, poverty was not just an economic condition. He saw how the desperation and uncertainty caused by poverty dehumanised people to the point where it could kill a woman’s motherliness (Meghe Dhaka Tara) and erode the tender romance between two lovers (Nagarik).

In today’s world, where humans are tethered to devices, ‘Ajantrik’ (1958) finds great relevance and reminds us that an imagination igniting the humanness within us is more important than technological advancements that mechanise humans.

For Ghatak, the medium of cinema held “no value”, only “the content, the message” did. In his opinion, “all art expressions should be geared towards the betterment of man”. So, while making ‘Titas Ekti Nadir Naam’ (1973), his last film, he effortlessly deviated from his character- and plot-driven approach to make a film in the style of an essay. Like a river breaking into tributaries, the thin narrative of the film broke into tributaries and told the story of an entire community, and reached a point where it spoke about civilisations.

Even while following single characters in his earlier films, he found ways to reveal that he was telling a larger story. ‘Nagarik’ ends with the protagonist overhearing the conversation of a family moving into the house where he previously lived, which makes him and the audience realise that many share the same fate as that of the protagonist. Similarly, ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’ in its last scene shows an unknown woman’s footwear getting broken the same way as protagonist Neeta’s used to. It states that there are many more Neetas out there.

Since Ghatak was not interested in telling stories of individuals, humans became important not for what they were but for what they did. In his 1963 documentary about sarod maestro Ustad Allaudin Khan, his focus is less on the musician’s life and more on his legacy. The spark of inspiration triggered by Lenin became more important to him in ‘Amar Lenin’ (1970) than the man himself.

Ghatak saw life in long shot too, and not just in close-up. Hence, in ‘Ajantrik’, even when Jagaddal, a dilapidated taxi, is sold as scrap, the child playing with the horn brings a smile on Bimal’s face. Even after losing his sister Sita and losing his job, Ishwar’s face lights up seeing his nephew’s enthusiasm to find a home by the Subarnarekha river. And even when dying of thirst on a riverbed, Basanti is overwhelmed to see a child run in the paddy field.

According to Ghatak, “There is no eternal truth. Every artiste has to find his own personal truth through a painful personal process. And that is what he has to convey.” His personal truth was that he was a Bengali who hailed from East Bengal and was forced out of his place of belonging. Interestingly, in his mind, through the lens of creativity, he saw everything undivided. This, perhaps, was his unconscious protest against the divisions created by the world.

Ghatak seamlessly moved from ‘The Internationale’ (communist song) to a harvest song in ‘Amar Lenin’. And in ‘Komal Gandhar’, he wove together the ache of Anusuya’s divided mind, the tension between divided teams, and the pain of divided Bengal — for he could see patterns of similarities and connections in the web of life. He could also contain opposites together — the mother in ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’, who is the birth giver and also the destroyer, the village and the city in ‘Bari Theke Paliye’ that cares and also scares, and Durga in ‘Jukti Takko Aar Gappo’, who provides shelter and also punishes.

Such creation is possible only when one has an epic sensibility and mythological inclination, and is in tune not just with the world but also with life itself.

(The author teaches screenwriting at FTII, Pune)