Crowning Conflicts!

In the quest for freedom: A still from Chitrangada

“In the strict ranks
of Gay and Straight
what is my status?
Stray? or Great?” (Vikram Seth, Dubious)

Rituparno Ghosh’s Chitrangada : The Crowning Wish is a quest for the status: the status of a “great” or a “stray” artist and his search for “home”. Rituparno Ghosh introduces the film through a choric scene between his voice and the presence of his counselor Shubho. Rudra (Ghosh) narrates a part of the main story to him and Shubho asks him, “Eta Chitrangada ki kore bujhbe?” Rudra replies  “Golpota ta agei bole debo bolchho?” The premise of the wish-fulfilling story is set. Within the four walls of a nursing home, the introductory scene is a top-notch work of art. And as Rudra sits with his back facing the camera, switching on the 'channel' of his veins, the curtain raises, preparing the audience to enter a stage where Chitrangada, the 'text' from the Mahabharata and Tagore’s dance-drama, is used as a tool to subvert the notions of gender identity and body politics. Ghosh’s film emphasizes the age-old discourse on the conflict between biological sex and social gender. It is a movement, to put an alternative reality into praxis, beyond the limits of the theoretical bases. It becomes a “pain in pleasure” experience for the audience.

Rudra Chatterjee (Ghosh) is an obsessive, rude, “vivacious, energetic, eccentric” choreographer who wants to stage Chitrangada. As he is introduced to the junkie percussionist Partha (Jisshu Sengupta), both decide to “suffer” each other as the story progresses. Partha is Rudra’s Arjun and he is his Chitrangada, his Rudra Chatterjee, his Rudie. The first half gives a glimpse of the passion shared between the two men in the film and as Rudra narrates his past to Shubho, the narrative becomes interesting, merging the present with the past. Rudra and Partha encompass each and every nuances of a love story: brutal, emotional, physical and psychological at the same time. Yet the director chooses to retort to old-school in the depiction of their passion. A film that thrives on passion, the scenes of physical intimacy between the protagonists seem childish. Ghosh has always been bold, why does he keep things subtle here?

Things begin to change as Mala (Aparajita Auddy), a former performer in Rudra’s dance troupe comes to visit him. Aparijta in her brief role is marvelous. She breathes ease into the character of Mala who sees Partha and throws the million dollar question at him: “O tomar kodor korte parbe?” Rudra smiles at her and says, “Kodor to anekei kore, bhalobashar sahosh kojoner ache bol?” and as he sees Partha sharing his joy with Mala’s kids, Rudra comes to know how Partha is fond of children and he decides to go for  Gender Reassignment Surgery. The use of the word “Bhalobasha” however, dilutes the essence of the scene; the word “Ador” in Bengali could have been a far better usage.  Ghosh has been mistaken for his autobiographical elements in his latest films. Be it Arekti Premer Golpo or Memories in March, audience tries to seek the autobiographical traits of the director-actor in his films. True or not, that is a vague question, but the director here is intelligent, the word “kodor” makes the audience realize that here is the man who has transformed the aesthetics of the entire Bengali cine-going public with his Unishe April and the critics have constantly thwarted his recent efforts pathetically. Ghosh deserves a “kodor” from his audience, the audience to whom he has laid bare themes behind the “closet”, the audience who can still talk about him in the background, yet cannot stay away from his latest offerings. The artist in him demands that "kodor". And that Rudra has always been  a “perennial embarrassment” to his family and elsewhere is a slap on the face of the audience whose giggles and murmurs are transformed into silence as the film progresses toward intermission.

The second half of the film is a celebration of parenthood. Rudra’s parents played by Dipankar De and Anasuya Majumdar, are the show-stealers. If Indian Cinema has laughed at gay-jokes, it has also celebrated alternate sexuality under the garb of humour. If Kirron Kher as the mother could accept his son as a homosexual in a commercial flick Dostana, Rudra’s parents play a pivotal role in wish-fulfilment of their son, Khokhon (Rudra). The finest words are spoken by the mother to her son when she says that she has the right to know everything about his body since he exists because of her. Anasuya Majumdar and Dipankar De fit in every frame exhibiting their trauma, their anguish, and their fears and finally accepting their son, as he wants to be.

Ghosh uses the foot-motif artistically as he has done with his Noukadubi. And when Rudra and Partha engage themselves in a conversation regarding children and marriage, the constant background score of Sanai, symbolizing a “heterosexual” marriage reminds one of Mahesh Dattani’s play On A Muggy Night in Mumbai. The play mocks societal institution of marriage in the same way as does the particular scene in the film. The text of Tagore’s Chitrangada appears in the background to focus on the theme of gender identity. The transformation of Kurupa to Surupa is problematized and Ghosh brings in his vision of a wish fulfillment, weaving a saga of two “ostracized” and marginalized characters of the society, Rudra and Partha. However, being a strong story-teller, the literary metaphor could have been avoided, sometimes it seems a little stretched for an audience, who might not know Chitrangada too well.

Rituparno Ghosh’s Chitrangada is an example of a technically brilliant film. The man who makes these wishes come true is the cinematographer, and Ghosh’s favorite, Abhik Mukhopadhyay, who also shares the crown of assistant director of the film with Sanjoy Nag. The minimalistic use of brightness, the shades of grey and black, the sea-beach of Orissa, the nursing home room turned into a stage in a dream sequence: everything speaks of the master of this man, who had been missing in Ghosh’s film for the last few ventures. Debajyoti Mishra’s improvisations in Tagore songs and the uses of the songs in the film are aesthetically magnificent. Commendable is the selection of the songs that are not bound by gender specificity. Bodhu Kon Alo Laglo Chokhe, the instrumental refrain of Momo Chitte and Nutan Pran Dao show Ghosh’s directorial genius. Arghyakamal Maitra’s editing could have been better, editing out the scenes where the theme is constantly reminded of.

The basic question that remains unanswered to me is why did the man choose to play Rudra himself? He gives a breath-taking performance, even the gestures when he presses the keys on his cell-phone seem to follow a choreographed movement, that naturally comes to a dancer. ( It should be noted here that the director-actor, at his age, has taken the pains to train himself in the dance form, aided by Sharmila Biswas!) However, the choice of Rudra, from “heteronormative” crowd of actors could have delivered his intentions well. Ghosh, the director overshadows Rudra the choreographer. Or maybe, he really wanted to play Madan this time! The director’s approaches are self-explanatory and that has always made him stand apart from the crowd. 

The film can initially shock an audience who might not be comfortable with the theme. But hardly does a director have the courage to portray things he really wishes to show. Chitranagada: The Crowning Wish succeeds in making a wish come true, the wish of seeing the portrait of an artist fumbling to make his own choice. Rudra’s dilemma is universal; the two roads in life are but our choices. He can keep his engineering degrees locked up in his cupboard only to pursue his passion for dancing, which "fortunately" is not bound by gender. His choices in life come from the  sense of liberation that his Art form provides and he decides to live as he is, a "vivacious, energetic, eccentric"  male dancer, instead of that "half-thing".  Yes, Rudra wallows in self-pity a little too much, but his loneliness, his pain of rejection and his struggle for survival are brought on the same plane. Chitrangada remains a story in transition, it moves from the state of being to a new becoming, a story of celebrating one’s own shobhab and it’s ichchhe…its desire.

And, with the "gloss" and "spectacle", the film has a "soul" too: "Be what YOU want to be": hallucinate, fantasize, suffer, decide and do what YOU want to do!