mysonamartya

Indian cinema has frequently explored the plight of widows, both in arthouse and mainstream traditions. Notable examples include Antarjali Jatra (Bengali), Prem Rog (Hindi), and Swet Pattoher Thala (Bengali), among others. Adding a powerful voice to this theme is the Assamese film Adajya (The Flight, 1996), directed by Dr. Santwana Bardoloi and based on a story by the renowned writer Indira Goswami.

Set in pre-independence Assam, Adajya focuses on the lives of three widows, with the central narrative revolving around Giribala, a recently widowed young woman. After the death of her husband, Giribala returns to her native village to live with her Brahmin family. Her independent spirit clashes with the rigid orthodoxy imposed on widows during that era-customs she finds suffocating and unjust. Her father, played by veteran actor Bhisnu Kharghoria, is a devout priest and wishes to send her back to her in-laws' home, further underscoring the societal constraints placed upon her.

An intriguing subplot involves a British scholar (played by Tom Alter), who visits the village to study ancient Assamese manuscripts. Giribala's interaction with him introduces her to the liberal values of the West, offering a stark contrast to her own repressive reality. These exchanges provide her with new perspectives on freedom and womanhood. Parallel narratives of the other two widows unfold alongside Giribala's, enriching the film's emotional and cultural depth.

One of the most striking moments in the film occurs when Giribala is bitten by a snake-an incident that symbolically and literally pits traditional beliefs against modern medical understanding. The film does a commendable job juxtaposing entrenched religious practices with emergent liberal thought, without being overtly didactic.

Adajya offers a searing, layered depiction of widowhood-perhaps among the most poignant in Indian cinema. Trisha Saikia delivers a deeply affecting performance as Giribala, capturing her inner turmoil and quiet defiance with subtle grace. Bhisnu Kharghoria, though in a supporting role, leaves a strong impression. His versatility is remarkable, whether in Bonani, Khonikor Ramdhenu, Baadhon, Hkgoroloi Bohu Door, or Adajya, he inhabits each role with ease and conviction. He reminds me of the great Bengali actor Bikash Roy, known for his ability to seamlessly adapt to diverse roles.

Rating: 4.3/5.

I recently watched Switzerland, a 2020 Bengali film directed by Sauvik Kundu and starring Abir Chatterjee, Rukmini Maitra, Ambarish Bhattacharya, Arindam Ganguly, and others. It's a light, feel-good film with Abir and Rukmini portraying a young couple raising two school-going daughters. Abir works in sales, while Rukmini is a schoolteacher, hailing from a well-to-do family.

Tensions surface whenever they visit Rukmini's family, as an elderly widowed aunt (played by Alakananda Roy) takes every opportunity to belittle Abir with cutting, snobbish remarks. In a moment of quiet defiance at a family dinner, Abir impulsively declares that he's taking his entire family on a trip to Switzerland - leaving his in-laws and relatives utterly stunned.

The film then follows Abir's often brave and challenging efforts to arrange the funds for this extravagant promise, leading him into a series of adventures and difficult situations. Running just about two hours, Switzerland offers engaging performances from Abir and Rukmini, with a memorable cameo by veteran Arun Mukhopadhyay as their elderly next-door neighbour. At its heart, the film is a warm family drama about the lengths one will go to keep their loved ones happy.

A few days ago, Shaji N. Karun, the acclaimed Malayalam filmmaker, passed away. Before venturing into direction, Shaji had already established himself as a gifted cinematographer, collaborating with the legendary G. Aravindan on several of his notable works. I vividly remember watching Shaji's Piravi (The Birth) years ago - a film that left me utterly spellbound. Yesterday, I felt compelled to revisit it.

Imagine this: an elderly father, full of hope, sets out to receive his son. He boards a local boat to cross a river, walks a long, arduous path to the bus stop, and waits endlessly until dusk for his son who never arrives. With heavy steps and a heavier heart, he retraces his journey back home in the same weary manner. The agony of anticipation lingers, much like Hachiko, the loyal dog who waited for his deceased master, unaware of his fate. In both stories, the impossibility of reunion transforms love and longing into quiet desolation and a slow, irreversible decline.

Piravi is said to be inspired by the real-life Rajan case - a tragic episode during India's Emergency period in the late 1970s. A young student in Kerala, accused of dissent for singing a protest song during a Chief Minister's visit, was taken into police custody and never returned. While the film's political commentary remains understated, the focus lies on the personal tragedy - the father's anguish, his desperate hope, and the carefully concealed horror of the truth, shielded from him by those fearing his heart would not endure it.

Interestingly, Shaji's narrative style in Piravi echoes the approach of Mrinal Sen, whose films like Ek Din Pratidin, Kharij, and Khandahar also feature an absent central character - a presence felt through absence.

Visually, Piravi is exquisite. Shaji captures Kerala's lush, rain-soaked landscapes with an artistry that contrasts nature's serenity against the bleakness of human suffering. The incessant rain becomes a powerful metaphor for the father's inner torment, a reflection of grief that seeps into the very earth of God's Own Country. Premji, portraying the father, delivers a performance of remarkable restraint and poignancy, his face a canvas of silent suffering.

Piravi remains a rare cinematic gem - a film of haunting beauty, moral courage, and deep human empathy.

Rating: (4.5/5)