{"id":10129,"date":"2025-11-04T10:10:02","date_gmt":"2025-11-04T04:40:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/learningandcreativity.com\/silhouette\/?p=10129"},"modified":"2025-11-04T10:10:02","modified_gmt":"2025-11-04T04:40:02","slug":"reason-ramblings-and-redemption","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/learningandcreativity.com\/silhouette\/reason-ramblings-and-redemption\/","title":{"rendered":"Reason Ramblings and Redemption"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Ritwik

Ritwik Ghatak as Nilkantha Bagchi, a broken intellectual<\/p><\/div>\n

Jukti Takka Arr Gappo<\/em> was made at a time when Bengal was burning, India was burning. The Naxalite movement was being suppressed and quenched by brutal police force, the influx of refugees from across the border was creating unforeseen pressure on the economy of Bengal, corporate houses began shifting their headquarters westward, factories went on lockout, the youth of Bengal began facing severe unemployment. On the national front, there was corruption and lawlessness. Voices against Indira Gandhi\u2019s regime were getting stronger. Situations were spinning out of control. Thus \u201cAami purchhi, brahmando purchhe, shob purchhe<\/em>\u201d (\u201cI am burning, the world is burning, everything is burning\u201d) became a refrain in the lips of protagonist Nilkantha Bagchi \u2013 an alter ego of Ritwik Ghatak, played by Ritwik himself.<\/p>\n

In this film, we find Ghatak behind the camera and in front of it as well. In front of the camera, he projects himself as a \u2018broken intellectual\u2019 who is disillusioned, isolated, frustrated and hopelessly addicted to the bottle. Yet, he has not given up on life. He is hopeful that the Bengal of his dreams will be born one day. He is hopeful that his son will carry the legacy of his beliefs and he calls the Naxalite revolutionaries the cream of Bengal, even though they are misguided. Behind the camera, Ghatak masterfully wields a wide-angle lens to construct his narrative around the core theme that defines him as an auteur. But he is in no mood to tell a well-rounded narrative. He alienates, shocks and breaks the fourth wall from time to time. He also occasionally quotes from his earlier films and teases his spectators to join the dots, to connect, to recall. Watching Jukti Takka Arr Gappo<\/em>\u00a0(JTG) is more of an intellectual exercise than a drama that brings an emotional catharsis. The spectators are not drawn into the world of the diegesis. Ghatak makes it a point that they do not identify themselves or empathise with any of the characters, least of all with the unkempt, tottering drunkard protagonist Nilkantha Bagchi.<\/p>\n

\"Jukti

Jukti Takka Arr Gappo<\/em> poster<\/p><\/div>\n

Nilkantha Bagchi does not elicit pity, sympathy or empathy either from his spectators or from any other character in the film. The trajectory of his seemingly aimless journey is not marked with coincidence and melodrama, which have been a hallmark of Ghatak\u2019s earlier films. Ghatak gives full agency to Nilkantha to decide his own fate, whether it is taking just ten rupees from the wad of money offered by his erstwhile friend or deciding to walk all the way to Purulia with his entourage. His co-travellers follow his footsteps without any question.<\/p>\n

Interestingly, Ghatak gives some of the most quotable dialogues to Nilkantha. Dialogues like \u201cBhabo bhabo bhaba practice koro<\/em>\u201d (\u201cThink, think, practise thinking\u201d) have become synonymous with the filmmaker. Ghatak knew somewhere deep down that JTG<\/em> would be his finale, his goodbye film. So, he comes out with all his disillusionment and dreams in this, layered with aural and visual signs that would require multiple viewings to decode.<\/p>\n

The film begins with titles written by hand on a \u2018dorma\u2019 \u2013 <\/em>a mat-like surface used for erecting walls of makeshift homes, to the accompaniment of tribal music. It raises an expectation that we are about to watch something very raw and makeshift, untouched by urban sophistication. However, to those who are familiar with Ritwik\u2019s oeuvre, the \u2018dorma\u2019 surface would kindle memories of Meghe Dhaka Tara, <\/em>a film about a refugee family from East Bengal. The \u2018dorma\u2019 walls were an important component of the mise-en-sc\u00e8ne<\/em> of their refugee home. In JTG, \u2018dorma\u2019 is the signifier of shelter or \u2018ashray\u2019, the ostensible goal of all the protagonists of the film.<\/p>\n

\"Jukti

The listless spectator who looks but does not see, sees but does not comprehend<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Jukti

The dancing trio try to arouse the listless spectator<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

Immediately after the title sequence, we see a haggard old man crouching underneath a makeshift shelter and gazing with tired eyes at something in front of him \u2013 almost looking into the camera. There is no pleasure or curiosity in his expression. If anything, there is only exasperation. What is he gazing at? The edit would have us believe that he is gazing at a spectacle of three dancers in body-hugging black dresses performing to the beat of an energetic \u2018Chhau\u2019 dance music. Their energetic dance is a contrast to the listless stoned appearance of their spectator. Whether the three dancers represent the Holy Trinity or the triumvirate Brahma Vishnu Maheshwar, they are unable to arouse their spectator from his stupor. They exit through the wings shaped like rocks and the diegesis begins to unfold.<\/p>\n

Nilkantha\u2019s wife Durga leaves him and she takes away his books and records so that he does not sell them off to buy the next bottle. The books will be the legacy through which their son Satya will know his father. In this scene of marital discord, we hear Beethoven\u2019s 5th<\/sup> symphony playing in the background. Perhaps Beethoven\u2019s 5th<\/sup> is among the records that Durga takes away. We would again hear the same music when the dying Nilkantha clasps Durga\u2019s hand for the last time after falling to the bullet fired by the police. Perhaps the music is a reminder of the happy home they once had. This is the first time in his entire oeuvre that Ghatak uses Western classical music. Beethoven\u2019s 5th<\/sup> serves as a refrain to underline a tender relation wrought with conflicting undertones.<\/p>\n

\"Jukti

Aami toder dujonkei pagoler moton bhalobashi<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

Nilkantha takes to the road with his two companions \u2013 an urban unemployed youth and a refugee girl from Bangladesh whom Nilkantha calls the soul of Bengal. If one strand of JTG<\/em> is about Nilkantha\u2019s nemesis, the other strand is about the bickering between Nachiketa and Bangabala \u2013 the two faces of Bengal \u2013 East and West, urban and pastoral. Sitting on a bench to rest his tired legs, Nilkantha hugs his two young companions and says, \u201cAmi toder dujonke pagoler moton bhalobashi<\/em>\u201d (I madly love both of you). The dialogue is reminiscent of Meghe Dhaka Tara <\/em>where Neeta tells her brother Shankar that she madly loves her family. In JTG<\/em>, this dialogue has deeper connotations. Nilkantha holds both faces of Bengal dear to his heart. He says, \u201cTora dujonei Bangladesher ekta ongsho. Je Bangladesh ekhono jonmayni<\/em>\u201d (Both of you are a part of Bengal \u2013 a Bengal that is yet to be born). This dialogue subtly suggests that he is not alluding to the new nation Bangladesh. He is dreaming of a utopian united Bengal.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Bangabala with the mask of Maa Durga<\/p><\/div>\n

Nilkantha and the two faces of Bengal are soon joined by another face \u2013 a retired schoolteacher from a village in north Bengal. He is a Sanskrit pundit who has internalized the scriptures. Jagannath Bhattacharya represents the Vedic legacy of Bengal. The foursome hit the street in search of a shelter. In Nilkantha\u2019s words \u201cEi hottomelar deshe kothao nijeke guje debar cheshta<\/em>\u201d (In this land of mayhem, we look for a crevice to squeeze into). In their meandering journey, Nachiketa keeps passing snide remarks at Bangabala. Their bickering rises to a climactic point in the abode of the \u2018Chhau\u2019 guru of Purulia.<\/p>\n

After walking for 80 miles the foursome takes a break at the humble abode of the guru who makes gorgeous \u2018Chhau\u2019 masks and struggles to keep the artform alive in these troubled times. He laments that city folks come and buy the masks for displaying them in their showcases. The masks are meant to transform mere mortals into gods during a \u2018Chhau\u2019 dance recital. Bangabala is all too keen to wear the mask of Durga, but the guru says that the scriptures forbid women from wearing masks. But Bangabala is persistent. Looking deep into her eyes, the guru has an epiphany. He says, \u201cDance, my girl. Dance. Unless the likes of you start dancing, nothing is going to change.\u201d Bangabala puts on her mask and the scene dissolves to a full blooded \u2018Chhau\u2019 dance performance, reminiscent of a documentary Ghatak had made earlier.<\/p>\n

\"Jukti

Collision between the Vedic ‘mlechchha’ and the indigenous son of the soil<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Jukti

Keno cheye achho go ma mukhopane<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

In the \u2018Chhau\u2019 guru\u2019s eyes, the Brahmin schoolmaster is a \u2018mlechchha\u2019, a foreigner to the indigenous land and Sanskrit is a foreign language. The two old men keep bickering over their praise for mother Goddess. The Sanskrit pundit waxes eloquent on the many names of the Mother Goddess in the Sanskrit scriptures. The \u2018Chhau\u2019 guru rejects them all in favour of simply \u2018Ma\u2019. As the two old men fight over the names of \u2018mother\u2019, Bangabala plays with the mask of the Goddess and there comes an abrupt transformation in her personality. She pounces on Nachiketa as he comes back hungry, demanding his meal. She throws the thali full of rice to him and the rice spills on the ground. Nachiketa gets up angrily and walks over the food. Nilkantha breaks into a song, \u201cKeno cheye achho go ma mukhopane<\/em>\u201d (Why are you looking at me, mother?) \u2013 a plaintive address to the motherland by Rabindranath Tagore, where the poet laments that none of her sons bother about the wellbeing of the mother, the motherland. They are all busy minding their own business.<\/p>\n

Songs play an important part in giving direction to the seemingly rambling narrative. Early on in the film, \u201cAmaar ange ange ke bajay banshi<\/em>\u201d (Who plays on rvery part of my body) takes us back to Nilkantha\u2019s youth. We witness a smitten Nilkantha in lustful embrace with Durga.<\/p>\n

\"Jukti

Nilkantha feeds his elixir to the camera<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cNamaj amar hoilo na aday<\/em>\u201d (\u201cMy pathway to my union with God is blocked\u201d) sung by a \u2018baul like mendicant makes him acutely aware of the changed times. Idealism has given way to corruption. Sacrifice has yielded to compromise. His comrades-in-arm of the past now peddle their creativity in the marketplace. When his erstwhile friend Satyajit Bose offers him scotch whiskey, he refuses. \u00a0Desi spirits of the indigenous variety are his elixir. At one point he offers a glass to the camera \u2013 \u201cI have this elixir to offer you. Do you want some?\u201d<\/p>\n

JTG<\/em> is splattered with many shades of the Bengali language. Nilkantha has his unique choice of Bengali words and phrases, his thoughts occasionally find their expression in English; Bangabala speaks an East Bengali dialect, the school master speaks Sanskrit and the \u2018Chhau\u2019 guru speaks the dialect of Purulia. All the shades of Bengali language must have their space in the land called Bengal.<\/p>\n

\"Jukti

The jotdar who accidentally kills the Sanskrit schoolteacher<\/p><\/div>\n

But soon, the bearer of an ancient language gets eliminated from the scene. The Sanskrit pundit succumbs to the accidental bullet of \u2018jotdar\u2019 Madhav Haldar. The language of the gods has no place in the land of philistines.<\/p>\n

At this juncture, the three dancers reappear and perform. The listless spectator looks on. The story continues because the search for shelter is not over.<\/p>\n

As the trio walk through a Sal forest, Nilkantha utters \u201cI am a humbug.\u201d Even as he feels shattered by the mayhem around him, he does little to bring about any change. He takes out the bottle to muster courage to knock at the door of Durga\u2019s new home. Durga has taken up the job of a schoolteacher in a village. They hear a passerby singing a familiar song, \u201cKalo meyer payer tolay dekhechhi tar alor nachon<\/em>\u201d, reminiscent of Ghatak\u2019s earlier film Ajantrik<\/em>. The passerby gives directions to the village school. Soon the three homeless arrive at Durga\u2019s door for a second break in their never-ending journey.<\/p>\n

In a close-up shot, Nilkantha admits that he is tired. But in the very next long shot, he resolves, \u201cI shall not rest.\u201d Before leaving, he makes a last request to Durga to come to the nearby Sal forest at the crack of dawn with some food and his son Satya. He wants to see Satya\u2019s face in the light of dawn and carry that image in his heart for the rest of his journey. Durga says, \u201cwe shall see\u201d and slowly turns her head towards the camera. The fourth wall is momentarily broken, and she makes eye contact with the camera. There is pathos and compassion writ large on her face \u2013 as if saying, \u201cI understand this man\u2019s anguish and agony.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the Sal Forest, the hiding place of the Naxalite guerilla fighters Nilkantha engages in an argument with the Naxalite leader and admits \u201cI am confused.\u201d Under another Sal tree, Bangabala yawns and dozes off and falls over the shoulder of Nachiketa. She wakes up and dozes off again. Camera keeps cutting from one Sal tree to another \u2013 from Nilkantha to Bangabala. The editing hints at the manifestation of dialectical materialism. At this moment the chemistry between Nachiketa and Bangabala suddenly changes from bickering to something like attraction. Both stand up and look at each other with longing. The frame alternates between a long shot and a close up. The soundtrack fills with the sounds of lovemaking, as if whispering the thoughts of the two. The two faces of Bengal at last see eye to eye. The new Bengal, as dreamed by Nilkantha, will synthesise out of the union of thesis and anti-thesis.<\/p>\n

This is followed by a police raid and a crossfire where the Naxalites give out a fight but eventually succumb. At dawn, as Nilkantha tries to meet Satya and Durga he is hit by a bullet. A tottering Nilkantha pours the remaining spirit in the bottle onto the camera lens. He has no need for this elixir anymore. But the spectators might need it. Nilkantha falls on the ground and clasps Durga\u2019s hand tight. Over the close up shot of the two hands clasping, we hear the bars of Beethoven\u2019s 5th<\/sup> Symphony.<\/p>\n

The dying Nilkantha utters for the last time \u201cShob purchhe. Brommando purchhe. Ami purchhi.<\/em>\u201d Before the last breath escapes him, he compares himself with Madan, the weaver, one of the characters of Manik Bandyopadhyay\u2019s short story \u2018Shilpi\u2019. Madan worked on a bare loom because he would not buy thread from a treacherous capitalist. Likewise, Nilkantha had isolated himself from worldly affairs because he refused to sell out to the corrupt world.<\/p>\n

The police come and lift his lifeless body. The leader of the police force instructs \u201cGently.\u201d A procession of the police, Bangabala, Nachiketa, Durga and Satya winds down the rugged rocky terrain. Ululation and beating of cymbals begin on the soundtrack. Camera faces Durga. She covers her head as if she is about to enter a place of worship.<\/p>\n

Three dancers appear again. They dance to the tune of joyous music. The haggard man slowly looks up into the camera \u2013 as if finally aroused. The \u2018dorma\u2019 of the title sequence reappears. Now it bears a swastika like sign. It is a sign of good omen.<\/p>\n

Ritwik Ghatak died two years after completing Jukti Takka Arr Gappo<\/em>. He was an incorrigible optimist. All his films, despite narrating tales of loss, separation, sacrifice and denial, end on a note of hope, promising resurgence. His last film is no exception.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Click\u00a0Ritwik Ghatak@100<\/a><\/h2>\n

for Critiques, Reviews, Interviews<\/h2>\n

\u2014 The Centenary Tribute Series<\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n