Rituporno Ghosh had written and acted
in Sanjoy Nag's 2010 debut film Memories in March that deals with a
mother's (Arati) discovery that her deceased son (Sid) was a gay. The film
deftly touched upon the changing dynamics of Arati and the gay partner of her
son (Ornob) - Sid always remained as the backdrop. In one of the initial
interactions between a female colleague of the son (Sahana) and Arati, Sahana
told Arati about her crush for Sid. Then she straightened her dress and quietly
challenged Sid’s mother, “Do you think, I am upto the mark for him?” What Arati
replied is un-important. What is important perhaps is the singular dialogue
puts the matter of Gender in perspective – the patriarchal society looks at woman
as a commodity even in an otherwise attempted asexual film. This preamble (and lending the content from
my previous critique of Memories in March) is necessarily important
since Rituporno Ghosh, the writer picks up the threads left in Memories in March
and weaves a neat tapestry in Chitrangada – the Crowning Wish.
Chitrangada, like many of Ritu’s earlier films as
well has a ‘film-within-film’ narrative structure, only this time the
film-within is Tagore’s epochal epic Chitrangada - the saga of the Manipuri
princess who was brought up as a son by the King and who after meeting Arjun
desired to reincarnate in her primordial gender state. Ritu understandably
dabbled with Tagore’s own interpretation of the Kurup-Surup dichotomy and
re-interprets within the rubrics of Gender identity and more importantly the
question of ‘Wish’. In the very initial stages of the film, while rehearsing
the dance drama (the film-within), the director Rudra (played by Ritu himself)
proclaims that Chitrangada’s interpretation is that of the ‘Wish’ – the
birth, death and re-birth of it. The Tagorean narrative is used henceforth less
as a fulcrum and more to give a pleasant visual and aural experience. This is
indeed cinematically unique to blend the other forms of art – not for
inter-textual references but more for reception pleasures.
The reason why Memories in March
is to be kept in mind is not because it’s written by the same author, but more
importantly, the questions and the homo-eroticism absent there in lieu of grief
(of Arati and Ornob) are not kept aside in Chitrangada. Here also, the
parental agencies find it difficult to accept and pass through the five stages
of grief as observed in psychiatry - Denial, Anger, Bargain, Depression and
finally Acceptance. These all are the steps towards the ‘self’. Not only the
parents move through them, so does Rudra in his acceptance and rejection of
Partho (the Arjuna). Like, the mother confesses that they never allowed Rudra
to be himself, they always wanted him to be someone they would have liked to
see. Most scenes involving the parents – the bridge with them and to one’s own
self misplaced at some point but regained in the end, are riveting and laden
with emotional undercurrents. Most striking however is when the mother says: "I
gave birth to this body, which is yours... I have a right to know, whatever
goes on in this body. I have a right to know, if it is changing,
transforming..." This is indeed intriguing since here the person coming
out of the ‘closet’ is not the gay individual. Rather the patriarchal agency
which opens up. This role reversal of the agencies of patriarchy demands an
insightful reading of the text which as I mentioned above is a
re-interpretation of the Tagorean classic.
In 1869, the German homosexual rights
advocate Karl Heinrich Ulrichs introduced the idea of self-disclosure as a
means of emancipation. He claimed that being unheard was the primary problem of
being accepted in the public domain and he insisted that gay and homosexuals
need to reveal their same-sex affinity for a larger societal acceptance. The
situation hasn’t changed much in the exterior. In the inside however there are
occurrences like in Chitrangada where we as audience embark in the next
level where the disclosure of ‘self’ comes predefined, the crux lies in
confronting the ‘self’. Thus Subho, the councilor is the alter ego of Rudra who
tries to place him in front of the alternatives like a pack of cards to pick up
from, and most importantly the sex change decision of Rudra. The journey of
self-identification and belief, in disclosing the inner voice is crucial to
lift the problem from sexual orientation to gender identity. Rudra in the end
did understand that the sex change will not change the gender and just like
gender is subverted in an individual’s identity so is his/her sexual
orientation. Hence the betrayal of Partho doesn’t affect the soul since in
Partho’s rejection of the physical sexual organs lies the bigger betrayal of
non-recognizing Rudra’s gender identification and in the larger context, the
notion of ‘home’. Rudra had been homeless so far and now (s)he wants to go back
to a home – ‘home’ stands as a metaphor here, the place one yearns to live in
sunshine as opposed to the dark ‘closet’. Rituporno the writer hence, uplifts
the narrative from being mundane gay film to a more philosophical journey of
quest and longing.
The reasons for Rudra to go for a sex
change operation (rather a series of them) is not something that is well
developed in the film. The question of adoption rule in the country and Rudra’s
decision to take up this challenge is a bit rushed up. However this minor
blemish sets up the film’s philosophical journey which is where the film
marveled.
There are some previous examples of
films in India
where the creation is for and by one individual - Nayak (dir Satyajit
Ray) is of Uttam Kumar’s, Mera Nam Joker is of Raj Kapoor’s to name two.
These films are of these individuals only and are not generic texts of similar
people. Chitrangada, like these films is not about ‘any’ gay individual.
It is Rituporno’s story altogether and it doesn’t really matter how far of it
is actually Ritu’s reality.
Rudra talks about impermanence a few
times. As time fleets, life flirts. So does the ‘wish’es. This means the
initial premise of a person fighting to lead a life based on one’s own ‘wish’
is subject to scrutiny as well. This dynamism of the ‘self’ as ‘home’ in
relation to the ‘world outside’ is what makes life uncertain and worth
experiencing.
Rituporno Ghosh, tried to put up a
slice of life topped with contradictions and anomalies – he succeeds fairly and
Chitrangada will remain an important film in Indian cinema for raising
the question about identity – sexual and/or gender.
(This article was originally published in Dearcinema possibly in September 2012. )
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