An impromptu visit to the theater. After-effect: I wasn’t expecting to change. But possibly, I will never be the same post Jaatishwar. And post my discussion with Kabir Suman, who so very kindly gave me insights to the long-lost Banga Kabiyal tradition.
There have been biopics on lives of poets/authors/musicians before. There have been period dramas merged with the present as a backdrop before. There has been the goateed Uttam Kumar serenading Tanuja as Anthony Phiringee, looking every bit the part with his broken bangla and Manna Dey lending his lilting melody to the hero lip-syncing “tumi jaaminee, ami shoshee hey”. There have been flicks on past life regression too, in the past. And musicals galore. But nothing compares to the experience the new Bangla movie Jaatishwar, a Musical of Memories evokes in the audience – or in me.
The Kabiyal tradition and Kabir Suman
The film is sub-titled "A Musical of Memories". And is about a Kabiyal, the legendary Portuguese minstrel of the 19th century Bengal, Anthony Heynsman. And his present day rebirth as Kushal Hazra. Anthony, the son of a businessman, had fallen in love with the folk music tradition of Bengal and had settled down in Chandannagore, the then Pharashdanga (French settlement in colonized Bengal) emerging as one of the reputed troubadours/minstrels of Bengal himself.
Many perhaps do not know that Srijit Mukherji's film owes its origin to a song by Kabir Suman - Jaatishwar!
Kabir Suman’s music is possibly the all-encompassing magic that defines the musical. While he has used Anthony’s Durga bandana played to show how a foreigner under trying circumstances could have mastered the Bangla Kirtan traditions, he has also used “Jaat gelo, jaat gelo bole, eki ajob karkhana” to show the influence Lalon Phokir's music had on him. The movie starts with a camera eye roving on the locales of rural Bengal with “Khodar kasam jaan, ami bhalobeshechi tomae” playing in Suman’s mellifluous voice as the journey culminates into the shanty of Anthony. You can barely see the hand grabbing the jholi with a lute-like instrument popping out. The transformation of Kushal into Anthony and vice versa is magical too – it happens so effortlessly that never for a moment the transition comes across as sudden. It is the music that connects the switch of the plots.
I am deeply indebted to Sir Kabir Suman for opening the door to our rich Kabiyal heritage through this film's music. No one has ever done through a single film's music what Suman has achieved in this film. Our standard Kabiyal repertoire consisted of Mathur, Shokhishongbad, Lohor, Jigir, chapan utor. In the early 19th century the decadent "babudom" and the culture of the plebeians helped set in khisti-kheur, which is mentioned in the film by way of an inferior genre in musical duel. Poets/Kabiyals would only take recourse to kheur to attack the opponent personally, when all other measures to defeat had failed.
What is interesting in the film is to watch great Kabiyals like Raam Boshu, Bhola, Gorokkhonath, Joggeshwori and Anthony use genres that didn't consist of merely attacks and counter-attacks, and was far away from Kheur. What Bhola and Joggeshwori played in this movie was closer to Kirtan. They are rich with lyricism and imagery and they deal with the Radha-Krishna theme, with emphasis on Radha's longing and then her union with Radhanath.
Kabir Suman, who has directed the music of this 'musical of memories' used Kirtan, ancient Shyamashongeet, Palaa-gaan, Tappa, Baul, Stage song melodies, Padaboli Kirtan, Dhop Kirtan, Folk melodies, Raga melodies for all the 13 Kabi-gaan. Never before have so many Kabiyal songs been so comprehensively presented in any Indian movie before. I am tempted to see what remains of the film if you take away these 13 Kabiyal songs. So the Kabiyals Srijit has portrayed in his film were not kheur-wallahs, but poets and musicians in their own rights. The Kabiyals songs you hear in this movie were not only melodious resonating with Padaboli Kirtan, Dhop Kirtan, Folk melodies, Raga melodies, Palagaan, and Tappa, but also had mythical and classical allusions made easy in popular lingo, without which the rural audience in those days wouldn't have accepted and enjoyed such heavy texts.The Kabiyals had to undergo rigorous training in Hindu and Muslim scriptures, in the Shastras and in mythologies. There are word plays that presuppose a sound knowledge of Bangla, Sanskrit and Persian. There is no notation or recording available to have brought these ancient Kabi-gaan to life and Kabir Suman had to recreate the melodies and music for all 13 Kabiyal texts that Srijit had hand-picked for his film. No one in India has ever undertaken such a musical feat.
While the film owes its birth to Suman's song Jaatishwar itself, without these 13 songs, and "prothom aloy phera" and "e tumi kemon tumi" the film would possibly not be as credible to watch and believe in. It is Kabir Suman who successfully creates a deserving salute to our great Kabiyal heritage.
Anthony Heynsman and Kushal Hazra
Prasenjit Chattopadhyay – who plays dual roles of Anthony Heynsman and Kushal Hazra – has proved again that he is indeed the boss of Tollywood. The man who had once frolicked with forgettable heroines under rains and around trees, had arrived long ago at the pinnacle of versatility and maturity with films like Baaishe Srabon and Aparajita Tumi. Here he is different material altogether. He is Kushal Hazra, the nondescript librarian of the Chandannagore central library. And our protagonist the Jaatishwar, hurting under the burden of haunting memories of a past life - as Anthony Heynsman. His makeup, with a receding hairline and a blotch of bald, makes it difficult for us to recognize the ultra-glamorous matinee idol that he in reality is. The slight limp in the walk, that hesitance in his gait, his left hand going to the left side of his chest - are proofs of the two cerebral strokes that he speaks to have undergone as a result of his mnemonic trauma. Kushal Hazra is a fugitive – trying to escape the torment of his memories of a previous birth - as Anthony. One day destiny brings Rohit Mehta (Jishhu Sengupta), a student of Portuguese studies, to him, in search of books on Anthony Heynsman. And Kushal finally can hope of a possible release from his agony in the eager listener.
Narration and the narrator
Jaatishwar is narrated via various techniques. And there is meta-narration or narration within/about narration. Like there are typed in names and descriptions of the characters in comic sans font designating stereotypes for “optimally nyaka" Sudeshna (played by the frail Ria Sen) and the “chintita stree" (as the perennially concerned mother played by Chaitali Dasgupta), there is also Rohit, who helps to tie in the two love stories – of Anthony and himself – his, with a happy ending and Anthony’s that ends in tragedy and loss.
There is another narration, and the most important one. Prasenjit’s narration of Anthony’s life – the visions that have been haunting him, threatening to dislocate his sense of self completely. Only reading yesterday that Wikipedia is losing readership, I chuckled aloud today when Kushal (Anthony re-incarnate) tells Rohit (who is writing a dissertation and hence looking for information on Anthony) that not everything, which Google says is true or right. The point where Kushal and Rohit merge as credibly of the same breed is where both being of non-Bong origin, display sheer love for Bangla music – Anthony for the sake of his love for Bengali folk music, Rohit for the sake of his love for a Bengali lass, Maya (assayed by Swastika).
The film is well-researched, bringing forth kabi’r lorai (poets' duels) of Bhola moyra, Heeru Thakur, into life. There is very little documented history available on Anthony for researchers. The film depicts a film within, when Rohit goes on a quest with a handycam to capture trivia on Anthony’s life in Chandennagore and finally draws a blank. Using unconventional camera techniques, the past and the present are juxtaposed within one single frame, where Kushal sits on the 19th century stage opposite Anthony, bringing in the time dilution into brilliant play. You are transported to the thakur-dalaan of Shobhabajaar Rajbaari in a flash, where the Kabiyal repertoire is unfurled in front of your eyes.
Reincarnation more believable now
The best part of the story is - although re-incarnation is a debatable issue, with not many believers in the concept; the film makes you feel the whole story is plausible, so real. Anthony’s life is well documented, interspersed with shots of Rohit’s life – parallels in a connected love story. Even the final fight for poetic supremacy in Anthony’s life with veteran poets in a public duel runs with a parallel of Rohit’s final battle in Banemonium, a band competition organized by Radio Mirchi. Such is the delight when you watch movies by intelligent directors, who are well-read themselves and are willing to go that extra mile to give you that additional touch of brilliance through their hard work and thoughtful craft.One complaint though – I would have loved it if the song sung by Rohit at the band contest was a song gifted by Kushal. Though “E tumi kemon tumi, chokher tarae aayna dhoro” is about births and rebirths, somewhere I was left feeling asking for a more direct connect between Kushal and Rohit as far as the song was concerned. But then again, wouldn’t that make the film too predictable and average? Well, yes.
We are not told if Rohit won the contest. We know he won his lady love. Ironically, as a foil, Anthony had won the public duel against Bhola Moyra, but had lost his wife Soudamini to a team of vengeful Hindu villagers setting their house on fire. The story comes full circle in Soudamini reincarnated as Maya – having ended Kushal/Anthony’s search for his lost Mini. Kushal is cured of his demons of the past, but chooses to play the fop till the end, so that he is allowed his final peace from intrusive gaze. It is amazing story-telling, stylish camera work, superb witticism in the script and awesome characterization all culminating into a movie that is must-watch. Maybe more than once. And since “collective unconscious” is mentioned by way of diagnosis of past life regression, we may live in hope that movie makers of future will keep Srijit’s endeavor in mind, when they make biopics on little-known historical characters.
Prasenjit Chatterjee, Sir, yes, you are indeed the Industry!
Srijit Mukherji, Sir, take a bow!
Kabir Suman, Sir, you have brought back the music of the lost Kabiyals of yore! Thank you!
There have been biopics on lives of poets/authors/musicians before. There have been period dramas merged with the present as a backdrop before. There has been the goateed Uttam Kumar serenading Tanuja as Anthony Phiringee, looking every bit the part with his broken bangla and Manna Dey lending his lilting melody to the hero lip-syncing “tumi jaaminee, ami shoshee hey”. There have been flicks on past life regression too, in the past. And musicals galore. But nothing compares to the experience the new Bangla movie Jaatishwar, a Musical of Memories evokes in the audience – or in me.
The Kabiyal tradition and Kabir Suman
The film is sub-titled "A Musical of Memories". And is about a Kabiyal, the legendary Portuguese minstrel of the 19th century Bengal, Anthony Heynsman. And his present day rebirth as Kushal Hazra. Anthony, the son of a businessman, had fallen in love with the folk music tradition of Bengal and had settled down in Chandannagore, the then Pharashdanga (French settlement in colonized Bengal) emerging as one of the reputed troubadours/minstrels of Bengal himself.
Many perhaps do not know that Srijit Mukherji's film owes its origin to a song by Kabir Suman - Jaatishwar!
Kabir Suman’s music is possibly the all-encompassing magic that defines the musical. While he has used Anthony’s Durga bandana played to show how a foreigner under trying circumstances could have mastered the Bangla Kirtan traditions, he has also used “Jaat gelo, jaat gelo bole, eki ajob karkhana” to show the influence Lalon Phokir's music had on him. The movie starts with a camera eye roving on the locales of rural Bengal with “Khodar kasam jaan, ami bhalobeshechi tomae” playing in Suman’s mellifluous voice as the journey culminates into the shanty of Anthony. You can barely see the hand grabbing the jholi with a lute-like instrument popping out. The transformation of Kushal into Anthony and vice versa is magical too – it happens so effortlessly that never for a moment the transition comes across as sudden. It is the music that connects the switch of the plots.
I am deeply indebted to Sir Kabir Suman for opening the door to our rich Kabiyal heritage through this film's music. No one has ever done through a single film's music what Suman has achieved in this film. Our standard Kabiyal repertoire consisted of Mathur, Shokhishongbad, Lohor, Jigir, chapan utor. In the early 19th century the decadent "babudom" and the culture of the plebeians helped set in khisti-kheur, which is mentioned in the film by way of an inferior genre in musical duel. Poets/Kabiyals would only take recourse to kheur to attack the opponent personally, when all other measures to defeat had failed.
What is interesting in the film is to watch great Kabiyals like Raam Boshu, Bhola, Gorokkhonath, Joggeshwori and Anthony use genres that didn't consist of merely attacks and counter-attacks, and was far away from Kheur. What Bhola and Joggeshwori played in this movie was closer to Kirtan. They are rich with lyricism and imagery and they deal with the Radha-Krishna theme, with emphasis on Radha's longing and then her union with Radhanath.
Kabir Suman, who has directed the music of this 'musical of memories' used Kirtan, ancient Shyamashongeet, Palaa-gaan, Tappa, Baul, Stage song melodies, Padaboli Kirtan, Dhop Kirtan, Folk melodies, Raga melodies for all the 13 Kabi-gaan. Never before have so many Kabiyal songs been so comprehensively presented in any Indian movie before. I am tempted to see what remains of the film if you take away these 13 Kabiyal songs. So the Kabiyals Srijit has portrayed in his film were not kheur-wallahs, but poets and musicians in their own rights. The Kabiyals songs you hear in this movie were not only melodious resonating with Padaboli Kirtan, Dhop Kirtan, Folk melodies, Raga melodies, Palagaan, and Tappa, but also had mythical and classical allusions made easy in popular lingo, without which the rural audience in those days wouldn't have accepted and enjoyed such heavy texts.The Kabiyals had to undergo rigorous training in Hindu and Muslim scriptures, in the Shastras and in mythologies. There are word plays that presuppose a sound knowledge of Bangla, Sanskrit and Persian. There is no notation or recording available to have brought these ancient Kabi-gaan to life and Kabir Suman had to recreate the melodies and music for all 13 Kabiyal texts that Srijit had hand-picked for his film. No one in India has ever undertaken such a musical feat.
While the film owes its birth to Suman's song Jaatishwar itself, without these 13 songs, and "prothom aloy phera" and "e tumi kemon tumi" the film would possibly not be as credible to watch and believe in. It is Kabir Suman who successfully creates a deserving salute to our great Kabiyal heritage.
Anthony Heynsman and Kushal Hazra
Prasenjit Chattopadhyay – who plays dual roles of Anthony Heynsman and Kushal Hazra – has proved again that he is indeed the boss of Tollywood. The man who had once frolicked with forgettable heroines under rains and around trees, had arrived long ago at the pinnacle of versatility and maturity with films like Baaishe Srabon and Aparajita Tumi. Here he is different material altogether. He is Kushal Hazra, the nondescript librarian of the Chandannagore central library. And our protagonist the Jaatishwar, hurting under the burden of haunting memories of a past life - as Anthony Heynsman. His makeup, with a receding hairline and a blotch of bald, makes it difficult for us to recognize the ultra-glamorous matinee idol that he in reality is. The slight limp in the walk, that hesitance in his gait, his left hand going to the left side of his chest - are proofs of the two cerebral strokes that he speaks to have undergone as a result of his mnemonic trauma. Kushal Hazra is a fugitive – trying to escape the torment of his memories of a previous birth - as Anthony. One day destiny brings Rohit Mehta (Jishhu Sengupta), a student of Portuguese studies, to him, in search of books on Anthony Heynsman. And Kushal finally can hope of a possible release from his agony in the eager listener.
Narration and the narrator
Jaatishwar is narrated via various techniques. And there is meta-narration or narration within/about narration. Like there are typed in names and descriptions of the characters in comic sans font designating stereotypes for “optimally nyaka" Sudeshna (played by the frail Ria Sen) and the “chintita stree" (as the perennially concerned mother played by Chaitali Dasgupta), there is also Rohit, who helps to tie in the two love stories – of Anthony and himself – his, with a happy ending and Anthony’s that ends in tragedy and loss.
There is another narration, and the most important one. Prasenjit’s narration of Anthony’s life – the visions that have been haunting him, threatening to dislocate his sense of self completely. Only reading yesterday that Wikipedia is losing readership, I chuckled aloud today when Kushal (Anthony re-incarnate) tells Rohit (who is writing a dissertation and hence looking for information on Anthony) that not everything, which Google says is true or right. The point where Kushal and Rohit merge as credibly of the same breed is where both being of non-Bong origin, display sheer love for Bangla music – Anthony for the sake of his love for Bengali folk music, Rohit for the sake of his love for a Bengali lass, Maya (assayed by Swastika).
The film is well-researched, bringing forth kabi’r lorai (poets' duels) of Bhola moyra, Heeru Thakur, into life. There is very little documented history available on Anthony for researchers. The film depicts a film within, when Rohit goes on a quest with a handycam to capture trivia on Anthony’s life in Chandennagore and finally draws a blank. Using unconventional camera techniques, the past and the present are juxtaposed within one single frame, where Kushal sits on the 19th century stage opposite Anthony, bringing in the time dilution into brilliant play. You are transported to the thakur-dalaan of Shobhabajaar Rajbaari in a flash, where the Kabiyal repertoire is unfurled in front of your eyes.
Reincarnation more believable now
The best part of the story is - although re-incarnation is a debatable issue, with not many believers in the concept; the film makes you feel the whole story is plausible, so real. Anthony’s life is well documented, interspersed with shots of Rohit’s life – parallels in a connected love story. Even the final fight for poetic supremacy in Anthony’s life with veteran poets in a public duel runs with a parallel of Rohit’s final battle in Banemonium, a band competition organized by Radio Mirchi. Such is the delight when you watch movies by intelligent directors, who are well-read themselves and are willing to go that extra mile to give you that additional touch of brilliance through their hard work and thoughtful craft.One complaint though – I would have loved it if the song sung by Rohit at the band contest was a song gifted by Kushal. Though “E tumi kemon tumi, chokher tarae aayna dhoro” is about births and rebirths, somewhere I was left feeling asking for a more direct connect between Kushal and Rohit as far as the song was concerned. But then again, wouldn’t that make the film too predictable and average? Well, yes.
We are not told if Rohit won the contest. We know he won his lady love. Ironically, as a foil, Anthony had won the public duel against Bhola Moyra, but had lost his wife Soudamini to a team of vengeful Hindu villagers setting their house on fire. The story comes full circle in Soudamini reincarnated as Maya – having ended Kushal/Anthony’s search for his lost Mini. Kushal is cured of his demons of the past, but chooses to play the fop till the end, so that he is allowed his final peace from intrusive gaze. It is amazing story-telling, stylish camera work, superb witticism in the script and awesome characterization all culminating into a movie that is must-watch. Maybe more than once. And since “collective unconscious” is mentioned by way of diagnosis of past life regression, we may live in hope that movie makers of future will keep Srijit’s endeavor in mind, when they make biopics on little-known historical characters.
Prasenjit Chatterjee, Sir, yes, you are indeed the Industry!
Srijit Mukherji, Sir, take a bow!
Kabir Suman, Sir, you have brought back the music of the lost Kabiyals of yore! Thank you!
Brilliant piece, impeccable! makes me wanna watch .
ReplyDeleteThank you Dipanjan :-) Please do watch it.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteSudeshna, well written. You might enjoy this video interviews with Kabir Suman on the subject. (I don't know if the earlier one posted so I am posting again.)
ReplyDeletehttp://alalodulal.org/2014/06/25/kabirsuman/