As if 2020 already had not had enough, on November 15, veteran Bengali film actor cum stalwart thespian, Soumitra Chatterjee, breathed his last at the age of 85 in Kolkata’s Belle Vue Clinic. He succumbed to Covid-induced complications, and with this, comes the curtain call of Bengali cinema’s golden age.
Chatterjee, who happened to work with the legendry film-makers like Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen, and Tapan Sinha, is hailed at the stage of global cinema for his astounding contribution to the craft for a prolonged period of 62 years.
Though ‘The World of Apu’ (With Chatterjee’s maiden film Apur Sangsaar heralded the advent of his acting career in the hands of Satyajit Ray in 1958) diminishes in death, both literally and metaphorically, there thrives the legacy of the next-door Bengali hero captivating generations for years.
In addition to playing an iconic Apu, among the 14-films with Ray, in Chatterjee, Bengal found the rebellious Udayan Pandit from Hirok Rajar Deshe (The Diamond King, 1980), the keen detective Prodosh Mitter from Ray’s Feluda series, the perfect personification of the charming brother-in-law Amal from Charulata (1964), the cunning politician Sandeep from Ghare Baire (The Home and the World, 1984), the run-of-the-mill Brahmin teacher Gangacharan facing the calamitous Bengal famine of 1943 from Ashani Sanket (Distant Thunder, 1973) to name a few.
While scores are written on him and his craft, no amount of expression is enough to encapsulate a loss that is painfully yet endearingly ‘personal’ to Bengali film-lovers. Soumitra Chatterjee is as much an ‘emotion’ as an ‘icon’ satisfying cinema’s unquenching thirst for dexterity and passion.
Thus, we scratch the surface of the magnanimity of his personality by penning down a few lesser-known facts about him. As we make our efforts into collating the various facets of the persona, we hear his reverberating voice reciting poet Jibonananda Das’s Abar Asibo Phire Dhanshiritir Teere- Ei Banglaye” (Shall resurrect and return again to the banks of river Dhanshiri in this Bengal).
As The Journey Begins
Though born in Kolkata, the substantial days of his initial years were spent in Nadia’s Krishnanagar town, while the years of his school education were spent in Howrah. Known for his mischiefs, he claims himself to be a backbencher who also happened to be a curious soul and book worm. “I was a mischievous child. Had it not been for books, I would not have been made to sit quietly,” he narrates.
His artistic bend of mind was further exfoliated during his pursual of subsequent higher education, studying Bengali literature from City College and Calcutta University respectively. During the final year of his graduation, he was enchanted by Bengali theatre legend Shishir Bhaduri, paving the way for the pursuit of his acting career.
Though Chatterjee was introduced to Ray during the casting of Aparajito (Ray’s second film of the Apu-trilogy in 1956 portraying Apu in his adolescent years, Pather Panchali being the maiden of the series), Ray’s disapproval of Chatterjee stemmed from Chatterjee’s relatively older age. Perhaps, Ray was immediately sure of the apt fit for Apu as a young man to be none other than Soumitra Chatterjee.
His tedious quest for opportunities was even meted out with rejections. He faced rejection in the aftermath of a screen test for Nilachale Mahaprabhu (1957), a film based on the life of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu.
A Benevolent Chide From Ray
Like a mentor, like a mentee- 30 years after Ray (Commander), in 2017 his prodigy Chatterjee (Officer) was conferred with the Legion of Honour by the French Government. It is for the teachings of Ray that Chatterjee had been ever grateful. “In the map of existence/You are always, my pathway to beauty”, Chatterjee’s pen beautifully captures what Ray meant to him.
On one such occasion, Chatterjee received a piece of Ray’s mind, when a ‘picky’ and ‘snobbish’ Chatterjee laughed giving one of his back shots of a cliché romantic scene. While Ray never doubted Chatterjee’s intelligence, craft, and the suitability of the actor’s temperament with that of the director’s, Ray was aware of Chatterjee’s visible aversion towards inferior crafts.
“Manik da (Ray was fondly called), though did not see me laughing, he knew that I did. That day, I learned to renounce my ‘disdain’ for poor artistic choices,” says Chatterjee, while warmly remembering Satyajit Ray.
In fact, Ray had also put him to a task before the shooting for Charulata began, as he told Chatterjee to practice pre-Tagore era stylized hand-writing to cater to the pre-Tagore time-frame of the film. Ray even approved of Chatterjee’s language improvisation with the mix of colloquial Hindi words for the role of protagonist Narasingh, the taxi driver belonging to the marginalized sections of the society, from Abhijan (The Expedition, 1962).
“I was a backbencher myself and of course, not a conventional ‘good’ boy. By virtue of the very fact, I got the opportunity of befriending some of the boys belonging to the society’s most peripheralized sections. They, many of whose family members were involved in such professions, were not conventionally known as ‘good’ boys either. Our conversations helped me to shape the spoken language of Narasingh’s character from Abhijan“, he expresses his gratitude towards old friends.
An Affectionate Fallout With Uttam Kumar
“I was primarily his fan,” Chatterjee reflects upon his initial feelings towards the ever-green charmer of Bengali cinema, Uttam Kumar. Almost 9-years senior to Chatterjee, Kumar was no short of a brother-figure to him. But as both of them grew in the industry, they admittedly were members of the rival camps of the Bengali film industry. The fondness grew into rivalry without a dearth of mutual affection, respect, and regard.
“It was a different time then. Indeed, there were differences, though they were neither permanent nor unmitigable. The industry was like a family where discords were treated respectfully as differences of opinion,” says Chatterjee, shedding light upon his bitter-sweet relationship with Kumar.
In Tapan Sinha’s Jhinder Bondi (The Prisoner of Jhind, 1961), Chatterjee stole the show as an anti-hero cast against Uttam Kumar. Chatterjee expresses his gratitude towards Sinha for teaching him the basics of body language during the course of his work with him.
Admittedly, a sense of deprivation prevailed in Chatterjee when Ray cast Uttam Kumar for his National Award-Winning directorial venture Nayak (The Hero, 1966). Chatterjee’s short-lived grudges evaporated as soon as he watched the film, only to realize that none but Kumar could have been the ‘hero’ of Ray’s imagination.
An Ideologue
As a college student not only was Chatterjee a direct participant of student politics but was also a vociferous reader of Leftist literature. His left-lenient politics as an artist was evidently reflected in his crafts and deeds.
“Honestly speaking, in the immediate aftermath of India’s independence, when many of our hopes were shattered and we grew heart-broken observing the state of affairs, leftist ideology appeared to be the most appropriate direction to follow,” explains Chatterjee.
Needless to say, Chatterjee has been true to his political philosophy in an unapologetic manner despite hardships. In fact, his final literary contribution was made to the Puja volume of this year’s Ganashakti, the newspaper published at the behest of CPIM (The Communist Party of India Marxist).
Jack of All Trades Yet The Master of One
From being a second division hockey player and an avid reader of literature to starting his voyage as an All India Radio Announcer, the vastness of Chatterjee’s versatility is remarkable and reached beyond his acting skills. His liking for literature drove him towards writing, especially poetry.
“As far as acting is concerned, I can act in any state of mind. I have that much practice and control over it. But I don’t think I can do the same in my writing for which I probably need a little bit more tranquillity,” remarks Chatterjee in an interview with Amitava Nag.
An epitomic personification of culturally-keen Bengali gentleman imagery ripe with ingenuity, charisma, virility, and sophistication, Chatterjee had also been the co-founder and co-editor of Ekkhon, a literary little magazine and reciter of Bengali poems, especially the ones by Rabindranath Tagore and Jibanananda Das.
Though his acting-drive began on the stage of the theatre, it was only at the end of the 1970s that he returned on stage as a theatre artist and continued shining through as an actor, director, and playwright. “As a director, Soumitra da never told us how exactly to perform. The only thing he told us was to understand the philosophy of the character,” remarks Bengal-actress Labani Sarkar, sharing her experience of being mentored for theatre by Chatterjee.
While becoming ‘the master of one’ is commonly recommended instead of being ‘the Jack of all trades’, Chatterjee proves exceptional talents to be capable of combining both.
“Days afflicted with toil,
Groans of exhaustion,
Pain of futility
– all have been drowned now,
When that love bird returns to sing
A ballad of all six seasons stitched along,
My pain will extinguish sorrows
Reserved for long, in my heart cage”
These translated lines from Chatterjee’s poetry, express an utter longing for an eternal ‘freedom’ from sorrows.
From surviving cancer to fighting the ups and downs of life with grace and humility, mortality is incapable to capture Chatterjee’s undying spirit. To all the learners of life, do you hear Khid da (An iconic character of a swimming teacher played by Chatterjee in his 1984-film Kony) still calling out ‘fight Kony, fight’ relentlessly while drifting you ashore?