Jatiswar: Reincarnated.

Film: Jatiswar (A Musical of Memories)

Dir: Srijit Mukherjee

Cast: Prosenjit Chatterjee, Jisshu Sengupta, Swastika Mukherjee, Abir Chatterjee, Kharaj Mukherjee and others.

Music: Kabir Suman, Indraadip Dasgupta

Gujrati boy Rohit Mehta (Jisshu Sengupta) is apparently in love with Mahamaya ('Bengali with a vengeance')  played by Swastika and goes out to learn Bengali and compose a song for her in Bengali as challenged by her. Rohit takes up the challenge to do the same and woo her lady love. This cross cultural love story between a Gujrati boy and a Bengali girl is the apparently simplistic premise of this film by Srijit Mukherjee. However, what follows weaves another tale and gives the plot another dimension. In a bid to complete his dissertation and learn Bengali language and music, Rohit travels to Chandernagore (erstwhile Pharashdanga) to study about Hensman Anthony, better known as Anthony Phiringee or Anthony Kobiyal. There he meets the simple and unremarkable and yet mysterious Kushal Hazra, the assistant librarian. When in search of Anthony Kobiyal, and accidently bumping into Kushal, hardly does Rohit know that his search of the elusive Portuguese poet and singer from the forgotten pages in history would lead him to a ‘Jatiswar’, a reincarnated Anthony Phiringee. On the one side, is Rohit and the other is a demented, schizophrenic Kushal Hazra. As the forgotten pages of late 19^th Century colonial Bengal comes to life, Kushal Hazra played immaculately by Prosenjit Chatterjee slowly disintegrates as the memories of his past life haunt him in the present and slowly obliterates his very existence, physically and mentally. Kushal’s reminiscence of his past life is recounted through disjointed delirium and episodes of paranoia; and through him a forgotten period of Bengali music and tradition is enlivened, and which is the protagonist of the film.

The film is definitely not a reprisal of the famous Uttam Kumar starrer, and neither is the film wholly about Anthony Phiringee, though his shadow looms large over the entire film. The main protagonist of the film is the Music and the tracing of the lineage of ‘Bangla gan’ from its Kobiyal days to the contemporary. Composed by Kabir Suman, the music was meant to be the true highlight of the film and it definitely is. The narrative is woven around the music; the film is the music. Composed with the touch and precision of an astute historian by arguably the greatest composer of our times, our very own ‘Nagorik Kobiyal’ brings to life the ‘kali kirtan’, ‘tarjai’, ‘akhrai’, ‘toppa’ and ‘kheur’ of the Kabigaan era with effortless ease. Without any verifiable notations available, or any ‘teacher’ who would trace this source, what Suman achieves is remarkable to say the least. The nuances, moods, and the witty duels that were composed with impromptu songs are brought to the fore. The forgotten past is rendered lively and the erstwhile colonial Bengal is brought alive for all to see, from Pharashdanga to Sovabajar Rajbari. The 13 kobiyal songs, and the opening song, ‘Khudar Kasam Jaan’ sung by Suman, takes one in a journey to the past, into the mind and music of the Kobiyals through whom we trace a tradition of music. Srijit carefully places the modern composers, band musicians in the film and traces them back in sequences with the Kobiyals of the past. Bengali music is rich in its tradition of poetic talent, and philosophy (which Anthony quite aptly points out in the film, that apart from the music and the words, a very large part of the song is left to philosophy); and hence from that tradition is poured out ‘Khriste ar Kriste kono tofat naire bhai’ or ‘Jaat galo jaat galo bole/ eki ajob karkhana...’. Time is woven as the text in this film, where music is the thread that binds all together. Bhola Moira, to Jagneshwari, to Ram Basu to the majestic Haru Thakur, to Manna Dey, to Sandhya Mukherjee to Rupam Islam and Kabir Suman himself.  Srikanto Acharya as the voice of Anthony Phiringee is wonderful to say the least, Kabir Suman lends his voice to Haru Thakur, revelation as a singer was none other than Suman Mukhopadhyay in whose voice we hear ‘Age Jodi shokhi janitem...’. Sromona Bhattacharya deserves mention as the voice of Jagneshwari and of course Rupankar as the voice of Rohit sings the soulful ‘E Tumi Kamon Tumi’ composed by Kabir Suman himself . Kharaj Mukhopadhyay, one of the most brilliant yet underrated artistes in the Bengali scenario, as Bhola Moira is effortless both with his acting and with his voice. Born out of his cult song of the same name, the soul of the film however goes to Kabir Suman.

On the acting front, Prosenjit as the dual presence of Anthony Phiringee and Kushal Hazra had the hazardous task of essaying two characters 177 years apart in the same film! Though at times, his portrayal of Anthony Kobiyal appears a bit ‘orchestrated’ and lacks an effortless ease; as the demented librarian torn between two worlds, trapped in the memories of the past and on the verge of losing sanity and any contact with verifiable reality, Prosenjit is outstanding. By being on a strict diet, the almost bald, broken look that Prosenjit got for the film without prosthetic aid, would usher in a new high in method acting in Bengali cinema. However, one fault would lie that as Kushal Hazra he gets very little screen time. Possibly to give due credence to the Rohit- Mahamaya love plot, Kushal Hazra the ‘Jatiswar’ has been a bit relegated, whereas it should ideally been him around which the plot revolved. Jisshu with his restrained approach and Swastika with her part does well. Being tutored by Rituparno Ghosh almost during  the final phase of his cinematic life , Jisshu Sengupta has come a long way as an actor and it showed.

Smart photography has always been a hallmark of Srijit Mukherjee and this film is no different on that count. Srijit is brilliant at penning sequences and especially the scene at Rohit's house where Kushal Hazra recouts the last phase of Anthony's life in delirium under a red haze of night lamp is remarkably shot. However, there are certain elements in his films, which he would be ideally better without. For example, the speech bubbles and some almost enforced ‘uber coolness’ in certain characters appear to dilute the film. Credit though should be given to the tracing of locations and the premise and the final expose at the end. The film ends with Kabir Suman who is the 'Gaanola' of modern times, who has no qualms about proclaiming “sokole bolchhe likhchhe Suman/ ashole likhchhe Lalon” combining tradition and individual talent in one unfathomable harmony. Jatiswar is borne out of Suman and fittingly ends with him:

Amarotter prottasha nei nei kono dabidawa
Ei nosshor jiboner mane shudhu tomakei chawa
Muhurto jai jonmer moto andho jatiswar
Goto jonmer bhule jawa smriti bisrito akkhor
Chhera talpata puthir patae nisshas fele hawa
Ei nosshor jiboner mane shudhu tomakei chawa…

Image Courtesy: 'Jatiswar' facebook page.