TEHELKA

A Legend Passes

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

Posted on Jan 19, 2009

In his lifetime, legendary director Tapan Sinha always lived under the shadow of Satyajit Ray

SHANTANU GUHA RAY

For years, the annual Dada Saheb Phalke award has been a part of a glittering ceremony in the Indian capital frequented by the country's tinsel world. But last year, the then Information and Broadcasting Minister, Priya Ranjan Das Munshi, traveled to Kolkata to handover the same to an ailing Tapan Sinha at his home. The state governor, Gopal Krishna Gandhi, who had accompanied Das Munshi to handover the nation’s best film citation to the ailing 84 year-old, octogenarian was surprised to see Sinha whispering into the ears of Das Munshi: Ami choley geleo cinema thakbe.. eta thambe na (which translates into: “Even if I am gone, cinema will live. It will not stop.”).

But early this year, when his secretary told Gandhi about Sinha’s death in a city hospital, the governor told his aide: “Cinema has stopped in Bengal.” Those in the room found it a fitting tribute to Sinha, whose movies picked up a record 19 national awards in a career spanning almost five decades.

Mandatory and customary condolence messages flooded Sinha’s home. President Pratibha Patil called his movies classy and said she remembered Kabuliwala and Ek Doctor Ki Maut while Bengal chief minister – who shut himself in his room for more than an hour on hearing Sinha’s death – called his death the worst news of the year. His grieving son Anindya told reporters in Kolkata that his father would be remembered for his films that reflected life, hope, aspirations and tensions of commoners.

But for film cognoscenti, Sinha was a man who always delivered without credit. The Dada Saheb Phalke award came inordinately late and the news was drowned in the din of the trust vote that took the nation’s attention. In his lifetime, Sinha remained relegated to the second bench because Bengal had the legendary Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen and Ritwick Ghatak and both the intelligentsia and media talked more about their works than those from the stable of Sinha.

That never bothered the balding filmmaker whose works were mostly earthy depiction of the struggles of the common man. And he managed it with the standard Marxist agenda filmmakers follow in the eastern Indian state. Sinha, interestingly, started as a sound recordist and gradually shifted to direction. He learnt filmmaking from the Pinewood Studios of London and worked with the legendary Charles Cryton when he filmed The Hunted.

Sinha was largely influenced by Rabindranath Tagore and earned laurels when Kabuliwalla bagged the music award at the Berlin Film Festival way back in 1956. Sinha’s Ek Doctor Ki Maut (Death of a Doctor) won the National Award for Second Best Film in 1991 and landed him the best director’s award. Some of his movies like Jatugriha, Apanjon, Goplo Holeo Satti have been re-made into Hindi classics (Ijazat, Mere Apne and Bawarchi in that order).

Not just filmmaking, critics say besides being a great filmmaker, Sinha had a great sense of acting and – like Ray – would often enact the scenes himself to the minutest detail before a shoot. For example, the parting train shot between Uttam Kumar and Arundhati Devi in Jatugrihi that explored complexities of marriage was re-enacted many moons later by Gulzar when he made Ijazat, whose last, melodramatic scene was also shot at a railway station. That was the magic of Sinha. He made many remember life and its pains and happiness. Old timers recall how he picked up Robi Ghosh, one of Bengal’s top comedians, for a portrayal of a cook and a homemaker and made a rollicking Golpo Holeo Satti in 1966: it inspired Hrishikesh Mukherjee pick up Bollywood’s top star Rajesh Khanna to enact a similar role in Bawarchi.

In his death, India has lost a quintessential filmmaker whose great story-telling capability helped him exhibit both cinematic adventure and experimentation.

Death of Jaganmoy Mitra brings an end to the golden era of Bengali romantic songs

The recent death of Jaganmoy Mitra brings an end to the golden period of Bengali romantic and love songs that was distinct by its marvellous combination of poetic lyric and melodious tune.

The period I am referring to start around late thirties when there was a mood to write and compose romantic love songs. It was a period that was gifted with a cluster of highly talented poets, music composers and singers We had great music composers such as Himangshu Dutta, Kamal Dasgupta, his brother Subol Dasgupta and Raichand Boral who gave the most romantic tunes to the most romantic lyric written by Pronab Roy, Mohini Chowdhuri and others.

Jaganmoy Mitra commenced his journey as a singer in that period with other legends namely K.L Saigal, Pankaj Mullic, Krishnachandra De, Sudhirlal Chakravatri, Sachin Dev Burman and later joined by Hemanta Mukherjee, Dhanonjoy Bhattacharya, Akhil Bandhu Ghosh, Satinath Mukherjee and Manobendra Mukherjee. All of them have sung different types of songs, but one thing that is common amongst them is their romantic love song. Those songs have been so popular that at present the Bengali modern song market has been revitalised with a product called “Remake”. It is those immortal songs that are now being recorded again by singers of this age.

Jaganmoy, who was born in 1918,produced his first disc in 1939- Shaono Rate Jadi the very famous song of Nazrul, which also became immortal in Jaganmoy's golden voice. In addition to that, he is remembered by his countless admirers for his other evergreen hits such as Chithi (Tumi Aaj Koto Dure ), Ami Duranta Baishkhi Jhar, Premer Tajmahal, Saathti Bachor Age, Saathti Bachor Parey, Tumi ki Ekhon dekchi Swapan, Bhalobasha More Bhikhari Koreche, , Ami Dekhechi Swapan Kal Rate and many more. He sang Rabindrasangeet as well and did record his voice singing Bande Mataram twice in chorus with others.

Towards late fifties he moved to Bombay where he was popularly known as Jagmohan. He was equally famous for his songs in Hindi, Gujrati and Marathi. In a career over spanning over 40 years, he has recorded over 400 discs.

He died at the age of 85 at his residence in Bombay.

Actress Riya Sen was the showstopper on Day Two of Kolkata Fashion Week II for designers Kaushik and Pallob and for Abhishek Vyas. Here is what she told Sreya Basu about her ramp-walking experience and sense of style. Photograph: Avishek Mitra.

What suits you more -- walking the ramp or acting?

I am cool with both. I love acting, but I can't also ignore the live attention I get when I walk the ramp (giggles).

Have you done back-to-back showstopping in a single show before?

No...and trust me, I was a bit tense about how I would manage changing clothes so fast. Although the two shows were merged into one, it was difficult because the two themes were poles apart. While Kaushik and Pallob's collection Royal Highness was more about panache, Abhishek Vyas' Natyosala was about the drama companies of rural Bengal. So the looks were completely different.

Talking about panache and style, what's your style quotient?

I have this fusion of Eastern and Western going always. I love gowns and Western outfits, but I also can't resist trying on a beautiful sari.

Is your sister Raima also like you?

She prefers more Indian wear.

Do both of you fight a lot over dresses and accessories?

Accessories, at times; dresses...no. We have our own individual choices.

Who wins the fight over accessories?

That depends on the situation...actually, Raima loves me too much to say 'no' to me (winks).

Do your mother (Munmun Sen) and grandmother (Suchitra Sen) interfere with your dressing style?

They don't interfere, but at times guide both Raima and me on things like which garment suits what occasion. Those are tips we really look forward to, especially from grandmother.

Your mother always makes it a point to be present just by the ramp during all your shows...

Yes, mother is always scared. She keeps telling people around: 'I just wish she (Riya) doesn't trip with those big heels!' (bursts into laughter).

Being the granddaughter of Suchitra Sen, you face a lot of comparisons with her. How do you manage?

I just turn deaf to those comparisons...no one can match Suchitra Sen. She is elegance personified

All India Radio is 75. Soumitra Das reports why AIR Calcutta’s present does not compare with its glorious past

PAST PERFECT: Birendra Krishna Bhadra (extreme left), Ahindra Chaudhuri (second from left), Jahar Ganguly (second from right), Durgadas Banerjee (extreme right) and others at a radio play. Picture by Parimal Goswami   In the early 1940s, when electricity used to be supplied by Bihani & Company to a limited number of consumers in Malda town for about 12 hours after 6 pm, the radio, which was a great novelty, could be heard only after dark. But so popular were Galpa Dadur Asar and Sangeet Shikshar Asar, a music training programme conducted then by Pankaj Kumar Mallik, that the ladies of the small town had jointly petitioned the district magistrate to allow power to be supplied to their houses for some time on Sunday mornings. Equally heart-warming were the gripping hour-long plays that once used to hold paras in thrall on Friday evenings, and Anurodher Asar, a bouquet of Bengali songs.   The popularity of radio plays 40 years ago is comparable with TRPs of BR Chopra’s Mahabharat on Sunday afternoons in the late 1980s, or of KBC hosted by Amitabh Bachchan. AIR or All India Radio, established in 1936, has become part of national history and our collective memory.   A contemporary RJ hosting a programme at Akashvani Bhavan. Picture by Sayantan Ghosh Talk theatre artiste Jagannath Basu, who was for years associated with the Calcutta station of AIR, has another story that gives an indication of the one-time craze for radio plays. “For years, professional theatre shows at Hatibagan used to be held on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. But the Friday evening radio play became so popular that theatre shows were shifted to Thursdays.”

AIR owes its existence to amateur pioneers who formed radio clubs in the Indian metros. The privately owned Indian Broadcasting Company (IBC), set up on the lines of the BBC, started India’s first broadcasting studio and office in Apollo Bunder Road in Bombay and it went on air at 6pm on July 23, 1927.

The Calcutta station of the IBC initially opened at Temple Chambers opposite the high court, but then moved to 1 Garstin Place and started broadcasts from August 26, 1927. Programmes were labelled “European” and “Indian” and music and dialogue were broadcast every evening for three to four hours. The small building, which gradually turned into the city’s culture hub, was torn down in January 1997, but the Calcutta station had shifted long before on September 15, 1958, to its immense Eden Garden building.

According to H.R. Luthra’s book titled Indian Broadcasting, the Calcutta station’s first director was CC Wallick of the BBC and Nripendra Nath Majumdar was the producer of Indian programmes. Rai Chand Boral was one of Majumdar’s assistants. The other, Rajendra Nath Sen, was also half-back in Mohun Bagan Football Club.

Birendra Krishna Bhadra, who is synonymous with the evergreen Mahishasuramardini to be aired this year on September 27, was associated with AIR for several decades till he resigned as producer (drama). Pankaj Kumar Mallik sang his first song from the Calcutta station in 1927.

Lend me your ear

The blind singer Krishna Chandra De started his music lessons there in 1930, and it was continued famously by Pankaj Mallik. These names give us an inkling of the vast pool of talent — one would not know where to begin if one were to make a listing of the great musicians, actors, commentators, announcers and producers once associated with it — that the AIR, or Akashvani, had created over the years. Incidentally, the name Akashvani, it is said, was derived from the radio station of the same name owned by the princely state of Mysore.

Debabrata Mukherjee, who had joined Akashvani Siliguri in 1976 and is still known for his Monday morning programme Gaaner Bhelay devoted to Indian classical music, says he first went to the Garstin Place radio station in 1955 when Indira Debi, adored for her opening lines expressing her love and affection for her young listeners, used to be in charge of Shishu Mahal. When he joined AIR, Sudhir Sarkar used to conduct Palli Mangal for the rural audience with great aplomb. Accompanied by the fictitious characters Kashinath, Gobinda and Mangalmoy, they discussed farming problems, the sayings of the astrologer Khana, and injected humour and variety by introducing a comic character and taarja gaan (a folk music form) performances.

Some great musicians like Ustad Keramatullah Khan, Ustad Mohammad Sagiruddin Khan, Laddan Khan were employed here, and Jnan Prakash Ghosh and V.G. Jog were producers. Akhil Bharatiya Karyakram on Saturday nights and Radio Sangeet Sammelan brought together master musicians from all over the country. Among the announcers were elocutionists Partha Ghosh, Shankar Ghosh, Debasish Bose and Mihir Bandyopadhyay. Debabrata Mukherjee feels that “unless radio programmes have some aesthetic value they are not of much use. Programmes have become synthet

ic today because of excessive formalisation. There is hardly any freedom now.”

Jagannath Basu says at one time, apart from classics of Bengali literature, the best of world literature used to be turned into radio plays and thereby these reached even the unlettered. All the greats of theatre like Chhabi Biswas, Jahar Ganguly, Ahindra Choudhury, Sarajubala Debi, Sambhu Mitra, Ajitesh Bandyopadhyay and Basanta Choudhury performed here. The Calcutta station created many talk theatre artistes like Mita Chattopadhyay, who specialised in dialogues in dialects, and Anamika Saha, whose sensuous voice turned her into a successful romantic heroine on radio.

Bulbul Sarkar, who retired in 1984 as deputy chief producer, Western music, AIR, and whose conversations with Satyajit Ray on Beethoven and the auteur’s favourite music are still broadcast, recalls in her article My AIR days remembered the celebrated musicians from Benjamin Britten and Yehudi Menuhin to soprano Leontyne Price and pianist Rosalind Tureck, whose performances were often broadcast live when they performed in the city, and not infrequently at the AIR studio as well. Her reminiscences have appeared in Kolkata Betar edited by Bhabesh Das and Prabhat Kumar Das. Sarkar doesn’t know if her radio works any longer.

Others associated with AIR’s golden days recall anecdotes. Sobhan Pathak, who began his career as a sub-editor of Betar Jagat, a listing of radio programmes along with other articles, says Birendra Krishna Bhadra was once beaten up by hawkers when he tried to sell Betar Jagat in the Dalhousie area. Playwright Manoj Mitra has a story about Birendra Krishna too.

Mitra had produced many successful plays for the Calcutta station and recalls the devotion of men like Banikumar, who would read out each and every letter from the piles received every week. In his college days, Mitra had protested when Birendra Krishna had produced a play Mitra had penned after changing a couple of words. Birendra Krishna, always in a crumpled dhoti and snuff-stained chador, shot back saying if he could take liberties with Rabindranath and Saratchandra, he could certainly do the same with Mitra’s plays. At the same time he asked Mitra to take his pick of the books before him and turn it into a play.

Mitra says the AIR management now is not clear in its thinking on programmes.

Saoli Mitra has acted in umpteen radio plays from childhood but she complains that the AIR A channel transmission is so poor that sensitive voice modulations become warped. And Juthika Roy, whose songs were heard continuously from 1940 to 1980, says she cannot listen to Calcutta Station performances because singers have no sense of sur (tune) any longer, and tabla players are without any sense of loy (tempo).

Little wonder that if one takes into account Radio Audience Measurement or RAM, according to this week’s assessments, of the “total universe” of 85 lakh listeners in Calcutta, AIR FM Gold attracted a maximum of 12.5 lakh listeners, and AIR A a minimum 2.5 lakh listeners. Private FM channels are way ahead. But station director Pradip Kumar Mitra ignores RAM and depends instead on the AIR’s Audience Research Unit. According to its findings, the reachability of Aaaj Rate on FM Rainbow is 16 lakh, that of the Central news from Delhi on Calcutta A 14,87,107 in the morning, and of regional news that follows 10,37,062.

One reason for the drop in AIR’s reach is very poor transmission. Ranabir Datta, 55, a visually challenged listener and railway employee of Kharagpur, says the radio was an “eye-opener” for him but he is unable to tune in to Calcutta A programmes and Vividh Bharati, the commercial station.

Suchismita Roy, deputy director, engineering, AIR, admits that A, B and Vividh Bharati channels are more than 30 years old. Hence the inaudibility. They will be replaced in the next five-year plan with digital transmitters. But replacement of Vividh Bharati’s transmitter has not been approved yet.

The blind singer Krishna Chandra De started his music lessons there in 1930, and it was continued famously by Pankaj Mallik. These names give us an inkling of the vast pool of talent — one would not know where to begin if one were to make a listing of the great musicians, actors, commentators, announcers and producers once associated with it — that the AIR, or Akashvani, had created over the years. Incidentally, the name Akashvani, it is said, was derived from the radio station of the same name owned by the princely state of Mysore.

Debabrata Mukherjee, who had joined Akashvani Siliguri in 1976 and is still known for his Monday morning programme Gaaner Bhelay devoted to Indian classical music, says he first went to the Garstin Place radio station in 1955 when Indira Debi, adored for her opening lines expressing her love and affection for her young listeners, used to be in charge of Shishu Mahal. When he joined AIR, Sudhir Sarkar used to conduct Palli Mangal for the rural audience with great aplomb. Accompanied by the fictitious characters Kashinath, Gobinda and Mangalmoy, they discussed farming problems, the sayings of the astrologer Khana, and injected humour and variety by introducing a comic character and taarja gaan (a folk music form) performances.

Some great musicians like Ustad Keramatullah Khan, Ustad Mohammad Sagiruddin Khan, Laddan Khan were employed here, and Jnan Prakash Ghosh and V.G. Jog were producers. Akhil Bharatiya Karyakram on Saturday nights and Radio Sangeet Sammelan brought together master musicians from all over the country. Among the announcers were elocutionists Partha Ghosh, Shankar Ghosh, Debasish Bose and Mihir Bandyopadhyay. Debabrata Mukherjee feels that “unless radio programmes have some aesthetic value they are not of much use. Programmes have become synthetic today because of excessive formalisation. There is hardly any freedom now.”

Jagannath Basu says at one time, apart from classics of Bengali literature, the best of world literature used to be turned into radio plays and thereby these reached even the unlettered. All the greats of theatre like Chhabi Biswas, Jahar Ganguly, Ahindra Choudhury, Sarajubala Debi, Sambhu Mitra, Ajitesh Bandyopadhyay and Basanta Choudhury performed here. The Calcutta station created many talk theatre artistes like Mita Chattopadhyay, who specialised in dialogues in dialects, and Anamika Saha, whose sensuous voice turned her into a successful romantic heroine on radio.

Bulbul Sarkar, who retired in 1984 as deputy chief producer, Western music, AIR, and whose conversations with Satyajit Ray on Beethoven and the auteur’s favourite music are still broadcast, recalls in her article My AIR days remembered the celebrated musicians from Benjamin Britten and Yehudi Menuhin to soprano Leontyne Price and pianist Rosalind Tureck, whose performances were often broadcast live when they performed in the city, and not infrequently at the AIR studio as well. Her reminiscences have appeared in Kolkata Betar edited by Bhabesh Das and Prabhat Kumar Das. Sarkar doesn’t know if her radio works any longer.

Others associated with AIR’s golden days recall anecdotes. Sobhan Pathak, who began his career as a sub-editor of Betar Jagat, a listing of radio programmes along with other articles, says Birendra Krishna Bhadra was once beaten up by hawkers when he tried to sell Betar Jagat in the Dalhousie area. Playwright Manoj Mitra has a story about Birendra Krishna too.

Mitra had produced many successful plays for the Calcutta station and recalls the devotion of men like Banikumar, who would read out each and every letter from the piles received every week. In his college days, Mitra had protested when Birendra Krishna had produced a play Mitra had penned after changing a couple of words. Birendra Krishna, always in a crumpled dhoti and snuff-stained chador, shot back saying if he could take liberties with Rabindranath and Saratchandra, he could certainly do the same with Mitra’s plays. At the same time he asked Mitra to take his pick of the books before him and turn it into a play.

Mitra says the AIR management now is not clear in its thinking on programmes.

Saoli Mitra has acted in umpteen radio plays from childhood but she complains that the AIR A channel transmission is so poor that sensitive voice modulations become warped. And Juthika Roy, whose songs were heard continuously from 1940 to 1980, says she cannot listen to Calcutta Station performances because singers have no sense of sur (tune) any longer, and tabla players are without any sense of loy (tempo).

Little wonder that if one takes into account Radio Audience Measurement or RAM, according to this week’s assessments, of the “total universe” of 85 lakh listeners in Calcutta, AIR FM Gold attracted a maximum of 12.5 lakh listeners, and AIR A a minimum 2.5 lakh listeners. Private FM channels are way ahead. But station director Pradip Kumar Mitra ignores RAM and depends instead on the AIR’s Audience Research Unit. According to its findings, the reachability of Aaaj Rate on FM Rainbow is 16 lakh, that of the Central news from Delhi on Calcutta A 14,87,107 in the morning, and of regional news that follows 10,37,062.

One reason for the drop in AIR’s reach is very poor transmission. Ranabir Datta, 55, a visually challenged listener and railway employee of Kharagpur, says the radio was an “eye-opener” for him but he is unable to tune in to Calcutta A programmes and Vividh Bharati, the commercial station.

Suchismita Roy, deputy director, engineering, AIR, admits that A, B and Vividh Bharati channels are more than 30 years old. Hence the inaudibility. They will be replaced in the next five-year plan with digital transmitters. But replacement of Vividh Bharati’s transmitter has not been approved yet.