Tagore’s Short Stories Come Alive In Anurag Basu’s Work

By Melanie P. Kumar.

Rabindranath Tagore’s Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded largely for his collection of poems, the “Gitanjali.”  But, if there was a Booker or something similar in those times, Tagore should surely have been granted this award for his short stories.  Recently, non-Bengali speaking viewers were thrilled to have these stories come alive on the small screen.  Rendered into Hindi by compatriot, Anurag Basu, the stories reveal a depth of emotion and understanding of human nature that could earn Tagore the sobriquet of Bengal’s Shakespeare, though my Bengali friends believe that had he written in English, he would have surpassed the Bard of Avon.

Basu has to be credited with maintaining the tone and tenor of the period when Tagore wrote his stories.  Especially charming are the protagonists’ costumes- the men in their Bengali dhotis and the women in their lace-trimmed, puff-sleeved blouses and the saris worn in the typically Bengali style, with even the small detail of the key bunch, hanging from the end of it, if it is the lady of the house.  The sets involving period furniture, appropriate locales, the use of Rabindra Sangeet and the dropping of Bengali words, give the stories an authentic flavour.

Satyajit Ray, Tapan Sinha, Hemen Gupta, Rituparno Ghosh are among the directors who have attempted to transfer Tagore’s stories into celluloid,  Under the circumstances,  it is a brave attempt by Anurag, knowing full well that he will have to deal with the comparisons.

“Kabuliwala,” was made in Bengali in 1957 by Tapan Sinha, followed by the 1961 Hindi version by Hemen Gupta.  Anurag’s interpretation beautifully brings out the affection between the young girl, Mini, and the Afghani dried fruit seller whom Mini chooses to call “Kabuliwala,” as he hails from Kabul.  The Afghani is drawn to Mini, as she reminds him of the daughter he has left behind.  The last scene in the serial is poignant, as seeing the grown-up Mini reminds Kabuliwala that his daughter must have grown up too and probably forgotten him.  The character of Mini in the serial seems a little more contrived than the girls who played the part in the movies, notable of them being Tinku Thakur, who is none other than the sister of film icon, Sharmila Tagore.

At the start of the serial, Anurag speaks of the “strange sense of gender equality” that permeates Tagore’s women characters.  It is clear that Rabindranath Tagore has tried to understand women and given deep thought to their emotional needs and desires especially in a story like “Chokher Bali,” or the “Grit in one’s eye.” Here the heroine, Binodini, is neither black nor white but seems to lose everything in the end, which does seem unfair, considering that Mahen, the male protagonist, who comes through as selfish and spoilt, gets away lightly.  Was Tagore trying to indicate that those who desire to possess and take revenge can only come to grief? Radhika Apte turns into Binodini in the serial, picking up all the cues of her character, along with a deeply moving sense of vulnerability.  She plays the part more naturally than perhaps Aishwariya Rai does, in the Rituparno Ghosh version. 

The short story, “Athiti,” speaks of the wanderlust of a young Peter Pan-like character, Tarapada, who cannot stay in one place and runs away from a family that has befriended him and given him a home.  One could speculate whether this story is in some way autobiographical, given Tagore’s love for travel and leaving behind home shores.

“Samapti” is the story of a young man, Apurba, refusing the girl chosen for him by his mother and opting for the village’s tomboy, Mrinmoyee, as his bride.  Apurba leaves his bride behind, when he goes to the city to pursue his studies, after realizing regretfully that she is not interested in him, or being married.  Mrinmoyee resents her loss of freedom and vents her unhappiness and her resentment on her mother-in-law, too.  But over a period of time, she realizes that she is missing her husband.

The girl to woman transition that Tagore intended is explored differently by Anurag, as he touches sensitively on the issue of sexuality in a marriage.  The story ends with a passionate lip-lock between the young couple, which Basu actually manages to pull off, without the Censor Board’s scissors interfering in the process.  Despite Satyajit Ray, having turned this story into a film, with a very young Aparna Sen, as its heroine, Basu acquits himself creditably with this one.

The story, “Charulata,” is based on Tagore’s “Nashtanir” or the “Broken Nest.”  The film revolves around a bored housewife who grows fond of her brother-in-law, Amol, who has been asked to spend time with her and teach her music. Her fondness for him becomes all-consuming until Amol realizes the complication of their relationship and agrees to a marriage proposal in another town.  He leaves behind a heartbroken Charu, whose husband, Bhupati, is just not able to win back her affection.  Amrita Puri is competent and very attractive in the role of Charu but still no match for Madhabi Mukherjee, who essays the same role in Satyajit Ray’s interpretation of the story.  Madhabi uses her eyes expressively and in understated fashion, conveys so many emotions.  She also seems less callous than in Basu’s interpretation of the character of Charulata.

The story, “Dui Bon,” or “Two Sisters,” seems to bear a resemblance to the previous one but with a change in genders.  Here it is Urmi, the younger sister, who gets involved with her older sister’s husband, Shashank, when she comes visiting their place.  Sharmila, the older sister, is devastated when she finds out what is transpiring but does not show her sorrow, instead suggesting that the two get married, since she feels that she may not last long on account of health problems.  Soon Urmi realizes how she has come close to ruining her sister’s marriage and moves out of the way.  Shashank too becomes aware of the selfless love of his wife and does all he can to make up to her.  What is remarkable here is the way that Basu handles such a complicated theme.

That Tagore should think of attempting such a story is even more amazing.

In “Tyaag” or “Sacrifice,” a non-Brahmin girl, Kusum, is brought up in the Brahmin household of Chatterjee Babu.  Later, in an act of revenge, someone reveals Kusum’s real caste to her in-laws, resulting in complete chaos in that household.  The courage of Kusum’s husband, Hemant, who refuses to allow Kusum to leave the house, saying that he would rather forego his caste, is impressive.  In this story, Tagore influenced perhaps by the rationalism of the Brahmo movement, appears to be poking fun at customs like the practice of a Brahmin offering to eat cow dung, as a means of reparation.  Basu deserves credit, for picking up the nuances in this story.

“Aparichita” or “The Unknown” touches upon the pernicious practice of dowry and the extent of greed to which the groom’s family can resort to, like asking the girl to remove all the jewelry that she is bedecked in, as a bride, so that it can be evaluated by a jeweler, for purity.  Here, the father, Shambhunath, shows pride and great dignity, in calling off the match.  For the times that Tagore lived in, this again is a story of great courage.

Anurag Basu deserves kudos for resurrecting these stories and succeeding to pick up the layered interpretations that Tagore probably intended. The stories clearly indicate the high esteem that Tagore had for women.  Whilst, he did understand that this was the gender from which society had the greatest expectations, he also tried to look at their emotions and their sense of helplessness in matters of personal choice, especially with regard to marriage.

Many of Tagore’s stories also succeed in revealing the strength of character of women and their indomitable spirit. To Basu goes the credit of picking up stories of another period and making it relatable to present times.  The attention to detail and the authenticity make all the stories believable, as if they had really happened, to someone we knew and loved.  The effective use of Rabindra Sangeet rendered by singers like Arijit Singh and Shan, give another dimension to these short stories, which are likely to remain in the public imagination for a long time to come.

Rabindranath Tagore, India\\\’s first Nobel Laureate, besides being a poet and novelist, was also a dramatist. His dance dramas had poetry, for which he composed the music himself. There is no aspect of human emotion that Tagore has not managed to cover, in his vast repertoire of poetry, novels, short stories and dance dramas.

Tagore was most of all a Universalist. His \\\”Religion of Man,\\\” a compilation, drawn from his Hibbert lectures, delivered at Oxford, beautifully reflects his views on universality, which stem from his spiritual sense of the interconnectedness of human beings. These thoughts have even more relevance for today\\\’s India, the United States and other parts of the world, which are turning increasingly insular.

It would be good to conclude in Tagore’s own words, \\\”What is unique in man is the development of his consciousness, which gradually deepens and widens the realisation of his immortal being, the perfect, the eternal. It inspires those creations of his that reveal the divinity in him, which is his humanity in the varied manifestations of truth, goodness and beauty, in the freedom of activity, which is not for his use, but for his ultimate expression. The individual man, must exist for Man the great…\\\”

Melanie P. Kumar is a freelance writer based in Bangalore.