Intolerance of tenderness

Illustration/Uday Mohite

Buddhadeb Dasgupta, one of India's finest auteurs, and a poet, whose films were internationally acclaimed, passed away on June 10, at 77 years, in Kolkata. A contemporary of Satyajit Ray, film society circles discussed him, along with Adoor Gopalakrishnan, as a possible inheritor of Ray's mantle. Dasgupta and I had met over the years - when we welcomed his films at the Berlin Film Festival; as fellow jurors on the National Film Awards jury in Delhi; in Kolkata, during a shoot. In his remembrance, I revisited one of my favourite films of his, Charachar (Shelter of the Wings, 1994), starring Rajit Kapur. Charachar may not be counted among his heavyweight films, but it is an exquisite, philosophical film that deeply questions notions of masculinity, freedom and happiness. Screened at the Berlin Film Festival, and winner of the National Film Award for Best Film in 1994, it is streaming on amazon.com, erosnow and online.

Dasgupta's passing is a significant loss for world cinema. While rooted in realism, his films, mostly in Bengali (with a few in Hindi), were distinctive for their surrealism and visual poetry. They were feted at top festivals worldwide, including the Berlin, Venice, Locarno and Toronto film festivals. His impressive body of about 37 films includes Uttara (The Wrestlers, 2000), which won the Silver Lion for Best Director at the Venice Film Festival. He had five films at the Berlinale, including Mondo Meyer Upakhyan (A Tale of a Naughty Girl), Tahader Katha (Their Story), Phera (The Return), Charachar (Shelter of The Wings) and Kaalpurush (Memories in the Mist). His other notable films include Bagh Bahadur (The Tiger Man), Grihajuddha (Crossroads), Lal Darja (Red Door) and Janala (The Window). In India, his films won 12 National Film Awards.

Charachar quietly overturns notions of masculinity. But it also observes that neither men nor women can tolerate tenderness in a man for long. Kapur is unforgettable as the gentle bird-catcher Lakhinder, who, guilty after trapping birds, keeps setting them free. Obsessed with birds, and unable to make a living, he loses his wife Sari (Laboni Sarkar) to Notobar, a middleman. Although Lakhinder/Lakha and Bhushan (Sadhu Meher) are traditionally bird catchers, Lakha says the birds ask him, "There are so many jobs in the world. Why do you catch us? And put us in cages? And sell us?" He dreams of his long dead son Netai, who buried a dead bird, so it would become a ‘bird tree.' "By now, maybe I love birds even more than I loved Netai," he reflects poignantly. Unable to compete with his mistresses, the birds, Sari weeps, "You have the birds. I have no one." In a magical shot, when Sari leaves Lakha, the latter awakens to find scores of birds - parakeets, fan-tailed pigeons and munias - have moved into his home, clambering over him in bed, chittering and pottering about his house, as if consoling him, but also reclaiming their rightful space in his life. In short, Charachar is the furthest, compassionate counterpoint to Alfred Hitchcock's malevolent The Birds.

'Spoiler ahead. Bhushan tells Lakha that if he is a man, he should beat up Notobar and bring back his wife. There's a philosophical exchange on love and happiness between Lakha and Sari when Lakha and Notobar get into a scuffle. Sari tells Lakha, "Stop. I'll go with you…Why do you want me, do you love me?" "Are you happy?" he asks her in reply. "I get two square meals, some clothes, a roof; if that is happiness, yes I'm happy." "Go, he's waiting for you." "How will you manage?" "There's the earth, the sky, the marshes, the birds. They'll take care of me," he shrugs. In the climax, he races towards the ocean, his arms open wide, his heart embracing the earth, sea, sky, all of it. 'Spoiler ends.

Written and directed by Dasgupta, adapted from a novel by Prafulla Roy, Charachar is an expansive film, treated with a light touch. There's an extraordinary scene, when it rains, and Lakha lovingly strokes a tree trunk, saying, "The trees smell so nice…I haven't petted them in a long time." But society is intolerant of this sahridaya compassion towards all living beings, that draws deeply from Buddhist and Jain philosophies. Soumendu Roy's cinematography is marvellous, contrasting Lakha's dark home interiors with the bright open skies; his glorious twilight silhouettes underlining the haziness of our ideas of freedom and happiness. Ujjal Nandi's editing keeps a low key pace, allowing you to absorb the bigger ideas. Biswadeb Dasgupta's discreet, folksy music enriches the atmosphere. Thank you to the producers, Shankar Gope and Geeta Gope for this jewel.

Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist. Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com