{"id":8808,"date":"2024-10-08T06:30:50","date_gmt":"2024-10-08T01:00:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/learningandcreativity.com\/silhouette\/?p=8808"},"modified":"2024-10-03T11:53:54","modified_gmt":"2024-10-03T06:23:54","slug":"jatugriha-and-ijaazat-love-in-fragments","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/learningandcreativity.com\/silhouette\/jatugriha-and-ijaazat-love-in-fragments\/","title":{"rendered":"Jatugriha and Ijaazat: Love in Fragments"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Background<\/strong><\/p>\n

Back in the 1960s, matinee idol Uttam Kumar had floated his banner to produce meaningful films drawn from rich Bengali literary texts. Each of the films he produced was critically acclaimed and most of them also turned out to be box-office hits. This was still the golden era of Bengali cinema which witnessed some wonderful films under the banner of Uttam Kumar Films Pvt. Ltd. that gifted to us some classics like Saptapadi<\/em> (1961) and Uttar Falguni<\/em> (1963). Jatugriha<\/em>, is a moving film directed by Tapan Sinha that ought to have gained more popularity then. Released on 20th<\/sup>March, 1964, it was based on a novel by Subodh Ghosh (1909-1980) whose stories were very popular with top-ranked directors. Among the popular films based on Ghosh’s stories are Ritwik Ghatak\u2019s Ajantrik<\/em> (1958), Bimal Roy\u2019s Sujata<\/em> (1959),\u00a0Mrinal Sen\u2019s Ek Adhuri Kahani<\/em> (1972), Basu Chatterjee\u2019s Chitchor<\/em> (1976), Nabyendu Chatterjee’s Parashuramer Kuthar<\/em> (1989), Gulzar\u2019s Ijaazat<\/em>( (1987), a loose adaptation of Jatugriha<\/em>, Prabhat Roy\u2019s Sedin Chaitramas<\/em>(1997) and Sooraj Barjatya\u2019s Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon<\/em> (2003), an updated and more glamorized version of Chitchor<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Winner of the Sahitya Akademi Award<\/em>, Subodh Ghosh also won Filmfare award for the Best Story twice\u2014for Sujata<\/em> in 1960 and posthumously, for Ijaazat<\/em> in 1988.These films are a mere drop in the ocean of novels, novelettes and short stories penned by one of the more\u00a0popular contemporary writers of fiction in Bengali literature.<\/p>\n

Jatugriha<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

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Jatugriha<\/em> poster – 1964<\/p><\/div>\n

Jatugriha<\/em> is a fascinatingly subtle film on shifting emotions between a couple, Shatadal and his wife Madhuri, who married for love. But when the film begins, we find that the marriage has run into a silent storm. The film opens on the rain-washed streets of Kolkata showing Supriyo (Anil Chatterjee), a clerk in the office of the archaeological department of the government of India where Shatadal (Uttam Kumar) is a senior officer. Clad in a raincoat and cap, Supriyo is off to the market and always arrives late at his office.<\/p>\n

Shatadal drives himself to an empty home where Ramu, the servant, serves him tea. On his way home, he visits a lawyer discussing his impending divorce with Madhuri (Arundhati Devi) and the message that everything is not right in this marriage comes across.<\/p>\n

The subject of marital discord has rarely been treated with more finesse in Indian films than in Jatugriha<\/em> where neither the husband nor the wife is a negative character in any sense. They married for love, lived it out for six years, and then decided to separate ways. The reason is strange\u2014Madhuri cannot conceive and Shatadal loves kids. This comes across when he shows affection for the little son of a neighbourhood couple who are forever quarrelling in a marriage that hardly exists. Madhuri suffers from a deep sense of guilt at being unable to fulfil\u00a0her husband\u2019s love for children despite Shatadal\u2019s insistence that not all couples have kids and they are just one among them.<\/p>\n

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Shatadal shows affection for the little son of a neighbourhood couple<\/p><\/div>\n

Shatadal says he can live without children because he loves his wife. But she remains adamant and says that sometime in the future he will blame her for being childless. Shatadal finally gives up and, after a quiet argument where Madhuri suggests it is no use dragging a relationship that has run dry, goes to a lawyer. At one point, the lawyer suggests cooking up a case of adultery against his wife, but Shatadal, gentleman that he is, rejects the idea out of hand. The divorce proceedings are kept away and one fine day, Madhuri leaves home, leaving a small note behind.<\/p>\n

Soon after the film opens, we also find Shatadal supervising the construction of a house he had planned with much love with Madhuri. It is an ideal home being built with great care with each partner having contributed to the planning\u2014kitchen, balcony, study, garden\u2014with a lot of love. The slow and steady disintegration of the marriage takes place, ironically, against the backdrop of a house being built by the husband for them to shift into from their rented apartment.<\/p>\n

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The slow and steady disintegration of the marriage takes place<\/p><\/div>\n

When Supriyo asks Shatadal about the house, he says he will sell it off once it is complete. When it is ready, Shatadal, who by then has become\u00a0rather fond of the low-brow, lower-middle-class Supriyo, offers the house to him as a gift. Supriyo refuses, explaining it away as his desire to make it on his own. Shatadal then sells the house and quits his job. Sinha stays away from detailing the sale, keeping his focus on the two characters and their conflicts and pain. They are taken to be an ideal couple by outsiders, so their split shocks those who know them closely. Both Uttam Kumar and Arundhati are extremely dignified, both in their love and in their split.<\/p>\n

The film presents two subplots with two other married relationships to juxtapose against the marriage of Shatadal and Madhuri. One is that of Nikhilesh (Bikash Roy) and his screen wife (Binata Roy), who squabble without a break, disturbing the childhood of the sweet boy Shamik, who Shatadal is fond of. The other is a portrait of a happy, lower-middle-class family comprising Supriyo and his wife (Kajal Gupta) who live in a modest shanty with two growing children. The wife is pregnant with a third child. Shatadal observes closely, the sweet relationship between the husband and the wife though they are not well off. Shatadal had an impromptu meal with them once and was thrilled. It made him feel a warmth he perhaps misses in his own home.<\/p>\n

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Shatadal, Supriyo and Madhuri<\/p><\/div>\n

The family of Supriyo sings a beautiful Tagore number that goes, \u201cI know I have to give everything…all my wealth, all my words, I must give\u201d which offers a slice of happiness the family enjoys and shares together. The song, composed by Rabindranath Tagore, spells out the ideology of relationships holding the film together.<\/p>\n

The black-and-white cinematography with muted light effects, the flickering lights of a nightclub\/bar disturbing the darkness in Shatadal\u2019s flat as he sips his tea all by himself, the seamless editing that neither jars nor has jerks, the muted music with a theme tune playing in the backdrop all contribute to the film\u2019s ambience. The nightclub right opposite the residence in which Shatadal and Madhuri live might seem a bit out of place because bars and night clubs are hardly ever located in residential neighbourhoods. So, this was perhaps a cinematic license Sinha took to highlight the emotional disturbance and loneliness Shatadal experiences when he comes home from work and finds Madhuri is not there. Even when Madhuri is around, the relationship is suffused with a strange silence which spells out its own sadness that percolates down to the lives of this strange couple, leading towards an emptiness that can perhaps, never be filled.<\/p>\n

The long silences between the couple as they get on with their daily chores exchanging a minimum of words unfold the schism that was already there when the film began. There is a small insertion of a scene from Tapan Sinha\u2019s Kabuliwala<\/em> (1957), which Shatadal has gone to watch. But while the audience smiles at little Mini dancing to a Tagore song, Shatadal looks sad, perhaps reminded of his life without a child and its impact on his marriage. This is a beautiful touch.<\/p>\n

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Shatadal watching Mini in Kabuliwala<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

Nostalgia is rekindled when the couple\u00a0meets in the waiting room of Rajgir station seven years after their divorce. The script is silent about where their paths have led them for seven long years. That is irrelevant. Now, they are waiting to board trains going in opposite directions. To kill time, they wander off together to a river nearby and share anecdotes from a happy past aboard a stationary steamer, smiling and laughing together for the first, and last, time in the film. The scene raises hopes of a possible reunion, but it is not to be, and they leave on their respective trains,\u00a0leaning out of their windows, pain writ large on their faces, bringing the curtain\u00a0down on which had appeared to be an ideally matched couple.<\/p>\n

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Shatadal and Madhuri spend time smiling and laughing together<\/p><\/div>\n

Sinha’s specialty lay in the masterful use of symbolism. As the couple\u00a0leave on separate trains, the camera cuts to the waiter in the kitchen hanging up the tea cups they had used on separate hooks, far away from each other but looking very much a pair. A remarkable closing shot that sums up the tragedy of marital discord. The film draws from everyday life, detailing what happens when two individuals meet, quite unexpectedly, in the waiting room of a railway station, seven years after their divorce during which they have neither seen each other nor been in touch. This last touch is also seen in the final scene of the Vijay Anand-directed Kora Kagaz <\/em>(1974) starring Jaya Bachchan and Vijay Anand as husband and wife, and inspired from the Bengali novel Saat Pake Bandha<\/em> authored by Asutosh Mukhopadhyay and its Bengali film version directed by Ajoy Kar in 1963.<\/p>\n

Shatadal and Madhuri were once husband and wife. They are no more. Neither has remarried. Why? For Madhuri, it is because the obstacle that broke their marriage, infertility that leads to a childless marriage where Shatadal loves children, remains a thorn. For Shatadal, perhaps he was afraid he would not be able to love another woman after Madhuri. They have both aged with dignity and sobriety.<\/p>\n

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Lobby card of Jatugriha<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

Ijaazat<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Gulzar just took a thread of the original story and made his own interpretation naming the film Ijaazat <\/em>(1987). The difference between the two films\u2014the inspiration and the source\u2014comes across in the naming of the two films. Jatugriha<\/em> means \u201cthe house on fire\u201d while Ijaazat<\/em> means \u201cpermission.\u201d The former assumes the presence of a \u201chouse\u201d which also means \u201cfamily\u201d composed of at least two members while Ijaazat <\/em>presumes the presence of an interaction between two or more individuals though it does not necessarily imply the existence of \u201cfamily.\u201d The similarity between the two films lies in an estranged couple, once married to each other, meeting by chance in the waiting room of a railway station. Each of them is going to board a train that will move in opposite directions.<\/p>\n

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Naseeruddin Shah and Rekha in Ijaazat<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

The waiting room defines a framing device for the main story which has absolutely no similarity with the source story it has been inspired by\u2014Jatugriha.<\/em> The film also ends in the waiting room and then in the trains headed in opposite directions. The estranged pair lean out of the respective windows of their coupes and look at each other with pain in their eyes. The story that happens between this framing device has absolutely no similarity with the story of Jatugriha<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Ijaazat <\/em>is a subtle, poetic and very lyrical love story that involves a triangle with the husband getting entangled in a strange extra-marital relationship with a strange, beautiful girl named Maya. There is no indication of a physical liaison between the two.The wife finds it disturbing their marriage. But she is dignified about her discomfort but expresses it with great restraint. Rekha perhaps gives one of the most outstanding performances of her career. Her name is Sudha which means \u201choney\u201d which is perhaps a connotative name that suits the character she portrays.<\/p>\n

There is a strange feeling of surrealism in the presence and characterisation of Maya, performed beautifully by Anuradha Patel in one of her brief appearances in cinema. Her name is Maya which means \u2018illusion.\u2019 Is she for real? Or is she a fantasy figure created and therefore, visible only to Mahender (Naseeruddin Shah)? Her sudden disappearance happens when it is already too late for Mahender and Sudha to mend their broken life together. Sudha is firm in her decision to walk away from the marriage when she is convinced that Mahender is unable to estrange himself from the spell Maya holds over him though Maya is not a gold-digger or a flirt. She is much like the poetry she writes herself. She is like a will-o-the-wisp. Sometimes, one begins to feel, is she for real? Or, is she is the creation of Mahender\u2019s rich imagination of being in love with a lover who is as lyrical and as floating as a line from a poem, or a floating wave in the sea, or, a fairy one can only dream about? One never knows, really and these questions keep haunting you whenever you recall the film. Perhaps, her sudden and tragic death brings us back to solid earth, underscoring the reality that Maya was no illusion but was a reality.<\/p>\n

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Anuradha Patel in Mera kuch saaman<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n

The mystery of Maya and the clearly defined characterisation of Sudha are fleshed out but Mahender\u2019s profession as photographer is comparatively ambiguous. The songs and the beautiful lyrics set to melodious music are the outstanding feature of this film that makes it a classic film for the archives. Mera kuch saman<\/em> is one of the most romantic odes one has heard in the history of Hindi cinema. All the songs are beautifully sung by Asha Bhosle, investing life to this film. Maya’s poems add to the intrigue of the character and her relationship with Mahender. The film has four songs composed by one of the most ideal music directors for Gulzar\u2019s films, R D Burman. All the songs were sung by Asha Bhosle and are equally lyrical, poetic and romantic which carry a resonance of the ambiance of the film.<\/p>\n