24 Tagore Chaturanga Film
24 Tagore Chaturanga Film
24 Tagore Chaturanga Film
Amitava Nag
Film Critic, Kolkata, India
Abstract
This paper deals with Rabindranath Tagore’s 1916 novel Chaturanga and the film version of it
made ninety two years later. Undoubtedly one of the most complex novels of Tagore, Chaturanga
deals with individualism in confrontation with radical spiritualism and social rationalism. To
achieve this, he took refuge to Freudian interpretation of eroticism in dreams, weaving a complex
tapestry of love and life. Suman Mukhopadhyay’s film with the same name is extremely important
since he tried to make a period film out of the novel relying largely on the universality of appeal of
it. The article tries to bring to fore the parallels between the two media – not necessarily qualifying
any but trying to look holistically at the contemporariness of Tagore’s characters.
[Keywords: Chaturanga, Freud, film, Suman Mukhopadhyay]
a favourite amongst the Bengali film-makers, it was rather long that Suman
Mukhopadhyay finally made a film out of this complex novel as late as 2008.
Chaturanga (1916) : The complex novel
Santanu Biswas in his paper on Tagore’s rendition of Freudian thoughts
comments about Kalidas Nag and Tagore’s communication on the subject.
According to Nag, in reply to his question on the novel Chaturanga [Four parts]
(1916), Tagore first ‘explained in detail the relationship between Sachis, Damini
and Sribilas [three of the important characters]’ and then went on to say the
following:
To the authors of yesteryears life meant desire and frustration, union and
separation, birth and death, and certain other similarly imprecise events.
Therefore, the play called life had to end either in a cherished and revered union,
or with a scene devoted to death’s vast graveyard. Since a few days now, our
impression of our life has been changing—it seems we were so long loitering
about the entrance—after a long time we seem to have discovered the way to the
inner chambers for the first time. We are awake at the outer side of our
consciousness—there we are consciously fighting battles, striking others and are
being struck by others. But within these strikes and counter strikes, these ups
and downs, something is being created in our ignorance of it. The arena for that
gigantic game of creation is our submerged consciousness [magnachaitanyalok].
It is a new world, as if gradually coming into existence before us i
This is important since in the later part of the novel in an extremely important
juncture we find Sachis, Damini and Sribilas spending the night in a cave and
Sachis having an erotically libidinal dream. The positioning of a cave as a vaginal
symbol and hence that of fertility – the womb where Sachis and Damini’s
relationship can bloom to a practical wholesome fulfillment, is balanced with a
Freudian dream sequence of Sachis. An excerpt from Sachis’ diary reads:
After I don't know how long, a thin sheet of numbness spread over my
consciousness. At some point in that semi-conscious state I felt the touch of a
deep breath close to my feet. That primordial beast! Then something clasped my
feet. At first I thought it as a wild animal. But a wild animal is hairy, this creature
wasn't. My entire body shrank at the touch. It seemed to be an unknown snake-
like creature. I knew nothing of its anatomy - what its head looked like, or its
trunk, or its tail - nor could I imagine how it devoured its victims. It was repulsive
because of its very softness, its ravenous mass.ii
That ‘beast’ turned out to be Damini who probably came to Sachis to submit
herself to him. Chaturanga being Tagore’s novel with most explicit sexual
tensions, it remains obvious that the reference of cave from tantric mythology
and to the abundance of hair on Sachis’ numb physical identityiii are all teeming
with eroticism. The author on the one hand plays with the difference between the
rational didactic and the spiritual quest and on the other intermixes the tussle
between the infinite/formless and the finite/form. This conflict (dwanda) translates
to the spiritual polemics of the ‘body’ vs the ‘soul’. Damini, referring the ‘prakriti’
643 Chaturanga—the Complex Tapestry
or Nature (and hence the cave as well) is the worldly being and the main
hindrance of Sachis in his freedom amidst spiritual awakening. There is a long
debate between Sachis and Sribilas over this dichotomy where Sachis, forever
perturbed by the feminine ‘body’, wants Damini to be left behind.
liberty. Our misery arises because we don't realize this truth.' Damini and I
remained as silent as the stars. `Damini,' Sachis said, `don't you understand?
The singer progresses from the experience of joy to the musical expression of
the raga, the audience in the opposite direction from the raga towards joy. One
moves from freedom to bondage, the other from bondage to freedom; hence the
concord between them. He sings, we listen. He plays by binding emotion to the
raga and as we listen we unravel the emotion from the raga.
This is where we can probably hear Tagore’s own particular spiritual stance, his
own discourses. In a later deliberation of the same debate with Sribilash, Sachis
categorically mentions “My God can't be doled out to me by someone; if I find
him, well and good, otherwise it's better to die.” When Sribilas reminds Sachis
that a poet find poetry in his soul only and dosnt need to borrow it from others,
Sachis was emphatic – “I am a poet”. In this proclamation Rabindranath Tagore
put his own skin on that of Sachis. Though many have argued the relationship
between Lilananda Swami and Sachis as to that between Sri Ramakrishna and
Swami Vivekananda.v
However, Tagore didn’t make it very clear the reason’s for Sachis’
disillusion of Swami Lilananda and his decision of finding his awakening by
himself. It is also quite bleak why Sachis was not allowed to complete the union
with Damini. Damini’s marriage to Sribilash was hence a little contrived though
Sribilash’s overt interest in Damini and her reciprocating loudly to disrupt Sachis’
mental peace were apparent. In Damini’s death due to an unknown pain in her
chest (which she was carrying since the night in the cave – a heart broken?) and
her submission to Sribilash ( “My longings are still with me. I go with the prayer
that I may find you again in my next life.”) Tagore transcended both Damini and
Sribilash through tragedy.
film-maker’s point of view is how we get to see the movie. Hence association or
alienation with Sachis and/or Sribilash doesn’t take place. However, the film and
the novel primarily revolve round Sachis, Sribilas and Damini. I have mentioned
earlier Tagore’s probable reason of keeping Jyathamosai as a separate chapter.
The same is not obvious in the film. It doesn’t lend much insight to the triangle of
love and conflict between the three central characters – reference to Sachis’
agnostic past under western influences and Jyathamosai could have been dealt
with flash-backs and voice-overs. Suman here probably didn’t want to get into the
controversy that could have originated from his mutilating the Tagore novel.
The novel itself is lyrical and poetic – the renditions at Lilananda Swami’s
ashrama and that between Sribilash and Sachis are pregnant with colourful
observations of the world and the land – the way a poet may look into. Also in the
sensual tensions between Damini and Sachis one may recall Damini’s swing
between fiery lightning and submissive sweetness as close to erotic poetry.
Suman added to this by making the film a musical one. His usage of music had
been intelligent -adding Rabindranath Tagore’s own songs (one obvious
disadvantage that Tagore had to deal with in his novels mostly!) – Aamar Praner
majhe sudha ache chao ki as a thematic centre for Damini, Beethoven’s
symphony to shed a light on Jyathamoshai’s aristrocratic élan, Vaishnava songs
filling the soundscape with spiritual eroticism, and finally cutting across with the
profound Sufi song ‘Mil jaye rooh ko garh’. Also important is the song Lilananda
Swami sings just before the cave sequence. Whilst in the novel Tagore refers to
Pathe yete tomar sathe Milan holo diner seshe (whose last lines are kshanek
tumi darao, tomar charan dhaki elokeshe) that has a direct bearing on what
follows – the hairy ‘beast’ on Sachis’ libidinal dream-awakening, the film has
Matir buuker majhe bondi je jol miliye thake rendered by Swami Lilananda. This
song also bears reference of the tantric ideology in embracing Mother Nature as
the symbol of Shakti. At the centre of the inverted triangle (triangle formed by
Sachis, Sribilas and Damini) is Swami Lilananda as the ‘Purusha’ thereby giving
him a sexual identity which was absent in Tagore’s characterization of him. Albeit
repressed, Damini’s denouncing of Lilananda Swami finds a new dimension
here–Swami represents the patriarchal phallus which governs and dictates the
sexuality and identity of widows.
Similar smartness was expected in two other instances – the cave
sequence and when Sachis’ internal awakening assures him of the union of the
finite with the infinite. The cave sequence for instance is physical in its
interpretation – shadowy yet lifted directly from the novel. What the author got
away with citing ‘diary excerpts’ isn’t that easy for the film director. Similarly the
awakening sequence has Sachis uttering all the profound philosophical sermons
towards Sribilash and Damini and then running towards the horizon. This again
seems lacking in imagination.
The film is linear in the narrative with less experimentation with the form or
the content. Hence Suman wanted to connect the loose ends of Tagore’s novel.
646 Rupkatha Journal Vol 2 No 4
For instance, Suman defines Sachis’ intrinsic sway between rational positivism
and devotional Vaishnavism and then to self-meditation through deaths–
Nanibala’s and Jyathamoshai’s in the first case and the suicide of the wife of a
Lilananda Swami’s disciple for the latter. These definitive reasons make the
transition of Sachis somewhat logical. Similarly, instead of dealing with the mystic
allure of the novel Suman brings in sexuality as early as the first chapter –
Sachis’ masturbation after secretly watching Nanibala change her blouse. This
again helps in defining Suman’s version of Sachis which is more in flesh with
worldly needs than Tagore’s who is more idealistic. Probably that is the reason
why Suman’s Sachis is ordinary in his looks (a brilliant Subrata Dutta
nonetheless) whereas Tagore’s Sachis had been a ‘flame’ according to Sribilas
(as opposed to Damini being a ‘fire’).
The position of women as depicted by the film is in similar lines as Tagore
depicted. Damini’s being a widow and being forced to follow the Hindu norms are
a bit out-dated. The norms still bind women, but in different ways. In placing the
film as a period film and preserving the setting to one which is a hundred years
old there are few questions. Primarily, a novel by the very virtue of its form
depends much more on its content and on the storyline. The visual aspect is
played in the minds of the reader where he is independent to become the creator
of the characters to certain degrees. However, cinema being an audio-visual
medium the opportunities are plenty and the aberrations also, ought to be
minimal. Hence, preserving the contemporariness of Chaturanga – the novel in a
period film becomes difficult. If the basic question is the uncertain positioning of
self between spirituality and individuality, between love lost and love unattained,
between lust for the physical form and love for the boundless infinite, then it has
to be admitted that the film lacks it. It is probably because even if the questions
remain just the same after hundred years, somewhere, there is a potential
difficulty in identifying with the characters.
Tagore had concealed the seed of spirituality within the humanist trends.
Hence Sachis’ struggle for spiritual redemption and Damini’s self-abnegation find
humanist union in Sribilash. Tagore had reportedly mentioned that Sribilash was
a believer and initially was pained to know that Sachis was an atheist. Only after
Jyathamosai’s influence was he turned an agnostic in practice. Hence,
Sribilash’s staying back in Lilananda Swami’s ashrama had a logical progression.
Suman’s Sribilash seemed too agnostic right from the start and his inclusion in
Swami Lilananda’s ashram hence seemed a little forced upon.
Edward J Thompson while commenting on Rabindranath Tagore’s
concept of women suggested:
Woman is different from man, and therefore to him the modern outcries to make
her equal with man are meaningless. He would have her remain woman, a centre
of love and inspiration without which the world is poverty-stricken. But he has
never ceased to attack the injustice and cruelty which regard woman as inferior,
as unfitted for education or the arts.vii
647 Chaturanga—the Complex Tapestry
This belief had led Tagore to draw the female characters in his novels mostly
different, rebellious in their own ways and raising voice against the system.
Suman’s Damini also raised voice but it would have been better if Suman
realized that from 1916 till 2008 there had been paradigm shifts in our existence
as individuals and as social animals. The classical nature of the novel, hence,
ensured that the cinema made out of it is intriguing and a good watch, even
though the physical relevance of such a period piece remains a big question.
Sachis’ angst or Damini’s fire tend to be relatively unnoticed. It is probably
the ambivalence of Sribilash that we find worthy of identification in today’s world.
Notes
i
Santanu Biswas, ‘Rabindranath Tagore and Freudian thought’ , The International Journal of
Psychoanalysis, Volume 84, June 2003, Issue 3 (page 717-732)
ii
All the excerpts have been borrowed from Dr. Kaiser Haq’s translation of Chaturanga as
Quartet published by Heinemann International, Asian Writers Series, Oxford, 1993
iii
In his The Unconscious Symbolism of Hair (Allen Unwin. London. 1951), C. Berg comments
“Since abundant hair is a symbol of life power, the way one handles it is a marker of what one
does with this life power. The grooming or exhibition of hair, for example, has a pronounced erotic
element in Melanesia”.
iv
Uma Chakravarti, ‘Gender, Caste and Labour - Ideological and Material Structure of
Widowhood’, Economic and Political Weekly, September 9, 1995.
v
William Radice , ‘Atheists, Gurus and Fanatics: Rabindranath Tagore's `Chaturanga' (1916)’,
Modern Asian Studies 34, 2 (2000), pp. 407-424. Ó 2000 Cambridge University Press
vi
Translated from Shiladitya Sen, ‘Why Chaturanga?’, Anandabazar Patrika, 15 March 2008
vii
Edward J Thompson, Rabindrnath Tagore: His life and work, Kessinger Publishing, 2003 , p 74