An ode to Pather Panchali

Jaara pore elo aage gelo ...
Hori din toh gelo, shondhe holo, paar koro na amaare.

Those who came before are gone
Am left behind a penniless beggar
Day draws to its close, night's mantle descends
Row me to the other side

These lines hummed by Indir Thakrun (the sister-in-law) leaves in me lingering memories, every time I see the movie Pather Panchali. Satyajit Ray painted a poignant picture of rural Bengal in the 30's through the eyes of a family, epitomizing the most consummate characterization ever portrayed on celluloid. Despite poverty, death, altercations, concealed suppressed wishes and dreams, vulnerability and profound grief the movie brings out the joys in simple things of exploring the jungles, of watching a distant train, of stealing mangoes, of a getting wet in the first rains, of sibling love and affection, of self respect and dignity, of festivals, forests and rivers, and a gamut of emotions.

I got drawn to Satyajit Ray's films (being an avid reader of his literary work later on) when Doordarshan showed a series of Ray movies when he passed away in '92. I was in std 9 and kept awake late to watch all the movies telecasted. What I best liked about his movies was the simplicity of the screenplay and yet the complex and intricate connotation in the characters lying underneath leaving a vivid impression long after.

Pather Panchali (The song of the road) features Apu (the protagonist) through his birth and childhood and his later life through the sequels/trilogy of Aporajito (The unvanquished) in his adolescence and Apu'r Sonsar (The world of Apu) the family man. Pather Panchali is about Durga the daughter of Sorbojoya and Horihor, a brahmin, Indir and the evolving character of Apu and his vivid observations.

Indir personifies the ego and self respect of a geriatric widowed lady who suffered her entire life and is now nearing her end. The dignity with which she walks away in vitriol from Sarbojoya's house because of constant beleaguering and tart remarks is stirring. She packs her paraphernalia (a small pack of clothes and a mat) and leaves Horihor's house the first time, only to come back on hearing Apu's birth. The second time she leaves forever. Durga and Apu on their way back from watching the Train find her dead. Durga watches in disbelief. She portrays the agony of a widowed outcaste and yet the inherent enthusiasm, the child like joy and the glimmering eye every time Durga steals fruits from the neighbour's garden and gifts her. She requests for a blanket because it is getting cold and is ecstatic when she gets one from a distant relative, flaunting it to all. Her smile speaks a thousand words bringing hope in despair. A classic portrayal by Chunibala Devi.

Durga is the central character. She epitomizes abundance of energy, innocence, mischief and zeal, while at the same time profuse love for her brother Apu. She has a soft corner for her Aunt Indir and steals mangoes for her. She has a look of disbelief and grief in her eyes on seeing the tragic death of Indir. Her adolescence and innocence is portrayed while she watches the marriage rituals her friend, their secret picnic in the forests, her stealing of mangoes for her aunt, their secret mission of watching the train they have never seen before, their following the sweet vendor with the dog behind and the wonderful scene of her secretly getting wet in the first rains. Soon after she contracts malaria and falls severely ill. The symbolic burn out of the diya is atypical of numerous movies but the effect can be felt only through a Ray movie; the feeling of being part of the dimly lit room throughout the night, with the storm outside creating an eerie air, sitting along with Sarbojoya treating Durga through the night, but waiting for it all to end. Apu watches with incredulity when he sees her beloved didi pass away. The next day he combs his hair on his own with deep anguish in his eyes at the loss of his sister. Uma dasgupta brought alive Durga.

Sorbojoya carries her daily chores with occasional gripe. She has lots of unfulfilled wishes. Lot of things she wants to do in life...ami onek kichu korte chai. She loves her children immensely and goes on sparse meals herself to feed them. Initially she hides Durga’s demise when Horihor is back but not for long. She cries hysterically in desolation when telling Horihor about the death of their daughter.

Pather Panchali was made on a shoestring budget (later funded by the government) with actors who had little or no acting expertise, with no formal script written (made with scribblings of Satyajit Ray), an ill Chunibala Devi and several other adversities. Finally made, the film was for the world to see and admire through generations.

PS: I keep Apu’s character for Aporajito.

Liquid Sunshine

On the last drop he always whined
though the urn was ever imbibed,
through the gory days and the comic nights

The Liquid flowed and overwhelmed
the contents of an in-content inveterate swine,
with profanity and love alike

Each devour meant more than he fathomed
assimilating the colour as part of his soul,
and play did he with the opulence of the malt

He ritually elated with the hang
hallucinating through the initial bedlam,
condescending in the surreal delight

He looked across through the glass
preoccupied with the Sunshine in the dark,
the dew drops embellishing in the lark

The golden liquid now felt like paradise
on a burning throat and an undiscerning eye,
a serene heart and an unobtrusive mind

He is now in a tranquil state
riding the rivers and flying the gates,
to languid away the abysmal fate.

A Walk in Pune

In my first endeavor to turn the green way and of self preservation I walked down to office today. It is not that walking is novel to my lifestyle. I walk often (I run more often but I will keep that for later). I amble, stray or brisk walk, this however being the first time that I walked with a destination. 5kms.

One of the advantages of having an office so close is that, you have several options to explore to reach the office other than the regular comfort of your car. Hitchhike, pick up by your colleague, a rickshaw, by bus (though I am not a great fan of PCMC/PMT buses), bicycle (next in plan), run or walk. Though I have been thinking to walk down for a couple months now I have realized that until you have a reason (my car being in the garage) even a Robin Sharma cannot motivate you to do so.

As I walked today I was thinking as I usually do. Walking gives me a more relaxed frame of mind to think, retrospect and plan, compared to a run. Being on foot and on the road which I have driven on all these years, gave me a first hand perspective to everyone who is outside the console of a car ... there is no place for pedestrians and they are vehemently neglected while planning the transport infrastructure. Walkways are dilapidated with bare manholes. Iron rods protrude out at free will on the edges. Trees are felled to broaden the roads but no heed is paid to plant saplings to replace the felled trees. Incessant honking by fellow drivers (as if their pants are on fire and they need to enter the office premises at the earliest in order to quench their burning bottoms) is a constant deterrent unless you are on an ipod with volume so loud that it deafens the noise. The dirt on the road blowing under a speeding car is no less than a desert storm. If you do not have a pollution mask on, consume an anti allergic prior to your expedition. Open garbage dumps lie scattered throughout the stretch; the stench was enough to drive me wild.

I sweated and gasped for fresh air as I finally made it to office. It is a pity that the green city Pune which it once used to be is gasping too for air and a life. The aggression of people during drive, the annoying traffic, the reprehensible surroundings and the grime, all put me off enough to think twice before I walk again.

I rather drive in the comfort of my car emitting CFCs, honking at will, driving through the maze, amused at the pedestrians and euphoric in accomplishment on making it to office every day.