Orphaned Land - Mabool

Genre: I'd actually just write "grand great music", but on second thoughts, label it as progressive middle-eastern folk metal. The wrong thing about this tag is that it only describes half of the album's content. The other half is just, well, music!

Rating: 10 on 10. No doubts about that!

Commentary: To start with, let me state that I generally abstain from death metal, especially the brutal/technical death metal genre. Fine, they are very accomplished musicians, just that such extremely intense music is not my cup of tea exactly. Till this day, I've been able to appreciate only a select few death metal bands, and all of them are in my favourites list only because they are progressive in nature. So their kind of music is a mixture of fast and slow, intense highs and soothing lows-- basically, contrasting styles, and because these bands incorporate elements from various genres of music (folk, jazz, blues, classical et al); blending everything perfectly to give a nice enjoyable product. Opeth is one such band, and so is Cynic and Atheist. And well, if you didn't figure out, there's Orphaned Land. Also, the lyrics these bands write are a lot more meaningful in nature than the lyrics typical death metal bands write-- which almost always revolve around blood-and-gore, to my extreme distaste.

It took Kobi Farhi and Co. almost seven years to come out with Mabool in 2004 after their 1996 album, El Norra Alila (which, I must add, is also quite brilliant). Must say that the wait for old-time OL fans must've been quite fulfilling. The reason for this long production period is explained by the album itself-- the music unfolds itself in so many different layers that it's quite amazing how you hear something new everytime you give the album a listen. In the period between El Norra Alila and Mabool, OL got Eden Rabin on keyboards. This inclusion was crucial because Rabin gave the album the whole ambient/symphonic background with some very commendable keyboard-work.

The lyrical theme of Mabool centres around The Great Flood-- the Lord's wish to purge the Earth of it's sins with a sweep of divine retribution. The story revolves around how three brothers belonging to the three main Abrahamaic faiths (Judaism, Islam and Christianity) try to warn their own people of the coming flood, in vain.

The reasons for Mabool being a great album are many. Firstly, maybe this is the only album that mixes genuine middle-eastern and oriental jewish folk music with heavy metal riffs (okay, Melechesh does this too; but only upto this! Not the next part) as well as western classical music (no, not your neo-classical music; but proper classical music sans those "neo" influences!). This unique combination of very different musical styles often in the scope of a single song is a great advantage to the album. Then there are the vocals. Admittedly, I was never much of a fan of growly vocals. This was probably the first time when I became a fan of growled vocals. But umm, maybe, that's because vocalist Kobi Farhi's growls are never unbearable in the way, say, a Lord Worm or "Corpsegrinder" song is. But wait, not unbearable is not a reason good enough for one to actually love Farhi's growls. Truth is that there's a certain sweetness or grandiose (I am not quite sure which!) in the way he growls that makes me like him. Besides, his use of growled vocals is situational-- they are there only when the growls make sense in the context of the song. And on second thoughts, maybe his growls are more like him speaking in a somewhat hoarse way. Anyway, did I mention that the album has possibly the widest range of vocals ever seen in any album ever done! There's Farhi's brilliant clean vocals (actually, I am quite confused how one man can have such a nice low-end voice and also a brilliant high-register. And he uses these two vocal styles almost alternately in some songs. Wow!), and choir passages (both oriental and english), and spoken recitations from the Bible. Not to forget splendid female Yemenite vocals (wait, I'll get to her soon!) and some local chants too. Quite some range surely. Lest I forget, possibly this is the only album where you get to hear middle-eastern folk instruments (like the oud, saz and bouzouki) duelling with guitars! And the output is, quite simply, mindblowing.

Okay, enough in praise of the album. Let's get to the songs. I have so much to say about them, I'm afraid people may think that I have literally put the whole music translated to words-- that is, if that is quite possible. But believe me when I say that my review would seem incomplete to me if I don't explain why I love this album so much. So here's it. Please bear patiently with me.

The album starts with the song Birth Of The Three (The Unification) which is an out-and-out death/doom metal song with lots of prominent folk influence. Lyrically, it signifies the birth of the three brothers-- each one into a different Abrahamaic faith. The song starts with a middle-eastern female distantly chanting some oriental melody and the song suddenly (but not abruptly) changes into a dense metal riff playing in absolute sync with a middle-eastern folk instrument (don't know which one). The song flows rather smoothly with folk interludes between death/doom parts and midway through the song the whole riff takes the form of beautiful chug-beat rhythm which keeps on mesmerising me for reasons I am unaware of. Farhi's vocal variety on this song is absolutely mindblowing-- from his throaty growls to his highest vocal registers to mid-range crooning. First ball and I'm bowled out! Oops, I forgot to mention that this song has one of the catchiest guitar chord progressions ever. And there's also a choir singing to metal riffs somewhere in between. The best possible way the album could have started.

Next on, there's Ocean Land (The Revelation). Which starts with a folk instrument playing a very nice and instantly likeable riff. And then comes that duelling of folk stringed instruments and downtuned Sabbath-ish guitars. Also, this song has some of the best guitar solos on the album. By now, the lyrical context has switched to God wishing for divine intervention seeing that His hallowed land is marred by the sins of men-- and He chooses the three brothers to dictate his Holy decree. The song ends with it suddenly (again, but not abruptly) switching to a man plaintively crying out to the Lord in Hebrew to purge the land of it's sins-- along with, I must add, some really commendable oriental percussion adding to the pathos in the man's voice.

The Kiss Of Babylon (The Sins) is the lament of the three brothers as they walk through the land seeing the terrifying state it has been brought to. Inspite of their attachment to the land, they concur with the Lord that divine retribution is sadly required-- there's no other way that the earth can be purged of wrongdoing. Musically, this is one of the most interesting songs in the whole album. Probably, the most pure doom-metal offering here-- it has it's moments of superlative brilliance. Some rather nice folk-instrument-guitar duelling again; as well as backing arabic vocals. A complete mystic experience. Farhi and the backing choir abandon lyrics for a long stretch just doing vocal calisthenics with a simple "na-na-na" being chanted on and on. But strangely, that does not get boring. The best thing about the this song is it's ending though-- the chug-chug doom metal riff slowly fades away to the gradually rising voice of Shlomit Levi singing a plaintive hebrew folk tune.

A'salk is in complete continuation with the flow of The Kiss Of Babylon, and has the most amazing vocals in the whole album. Yes, Shlomit Levi is completely mindblowing. There's possibly no voice as divine as her (maybe, just maybe, she beats Lata Mangeshkar too!), at least from what I have heard till now (though Paula of the Brazilian folk metal band Ashtar comes a close second there!). This is the only out-and-out mid-eastern folk song in Mabool, accompanied by eastern percussion and strumming. One thing is guaranteed-- any, and I mean just any, music lover in this world will love this song. Lyrically, this song is a sad prayer repeated over and over again to God by a devotee who seeks forgiveness for all the sins of mankind.

Halo Dies (The Wrath Of God) is the most dense of all songs in this album and yet is enchanting in it's own way. Again, some beautiful folk strumming from Yossi Sharon. As well as Kobi Farhi at his growling best: a friend compared his vocal delivery aptly with a lion angrily roaring. There's his clean vocals too-- brilliant and other-worldly as they are! The story has advanced to the Lord showering his anger; hence the aptly growled curses... (remember something about situational vocals?). Some memorable downtuned riffing and blistering guitar solos are, of course, there for people who enjoy metal. And there's also Rabin adding his ambient keyboard work. All in all, a great track representing the metal half of the album's music.

Next up, A Call To Awake (The Quest) is the last song of the "heavy" first half of the album (save A'Salk). Starts with a nice memorable guitar solo. But to be frank, my least favourite song in the album. Not that it is bad-- it has it's moments (nice vocals, the by-now-common folk-instrument-guitar duelling, doom riffing, good solos, nice keyboard-simulated ambience et al), but just that I would have preferred a soothing song after the very heavy Halo Dies. Anyway, not a skippable track by any means. (Heck! Skipping even a single track on this whole album means losing out on a whole lot of great music.) One can call it the least among all the great songs on offer in this album. Meanwhile, the three brothers are roaming around the land warning the people of the coming flood. (a funny way to put it, I know! :D)

Whoa! Now the second soothing half of the album begins (which, though, has heavy parts too!). Building The Ark is a very easy-on-the-ears song, with a choir singing in Hebrew and English to the background of a superb acoustic/folk melody and keyboard/light percussion ambience. The classical influences show prominently here. The story has meanwhile proceeded to the Lord ordering how the Ark, for carrying the lone survivors of the storm, should be built.

Norra El Norra (Entering The Ark) is one of the best songs on this album. Starts with some acoustic strumming and gradually skips to metal mode with downtuned guitar riffing; but for a surprise, accompanied with fullblown choir vocals instead of Farhi crooning. And then, the song leaves metal mode and enters classical mode. Rabin's classical piano solo accompanied by acoustic guitar and light percussion is one of the watermarks of this whole album. The piano solo keeps playing on in my mind even when I am asleep these days-- yes, it's that enchanting and addictive! Oh yes, there's Shlomit Levi doing some soulful background vocals (yeah, I am smitten by her voice-- if you can't make that out till now). And well, you should be able to interpret the lyrical theme from the title of the song itself.

The Calm Before The Flood is, as the name suggests, a rather quiet song. No drumming or percussion. Just a minimalistic instrumental with a long acoustic guitar passage accompanied by, I suppose, a keyboard too! And oh, there's a strong gale flowing in between. In short, sets the mood for the upcoming disaster-- naa, not a musical one! :D Really love the sound of rain and splashing water at the end of the track.

And with that we move on to the title track, Mabool (The Flood)-- a brilliant song depicting the Great Flood. Starts with a burst of thunder, and violins playing an epic classical tune which has the essence of a catastrophe in the brewing. Love the way the violin riff slowly fades away giving way to the same riff played on guitars with the tempo rising by the second. The whole song depicts the storm in it's rage and magnitude-- the downtuned doom metal guitars do exceptional justice to the mood of the song. A storm could not have been signified by music in a better way, honestly. Ah, then there's the ever present voice of Kobi Farhi giving voice to the ferocity of the flood-- again a nice melee of his growls and clean vocals.

The Storm Still Rages essentially continues in the same way as the title track (by the way, the two songs are even musically connected-- The Storm Still Rages picks the cue up from where Mabool (The Flood) left off); just that it portrays the human side of the catastrophe while also describing the flood in detail. To accentuate the feeling of sadness and pathos, Yossi throws in the best guitar solos (there are at least five or six of them!) of the album-- all of which I will remember for a long time, I can assure you. "Moving" is the right word-- the guitar literally weeps in prayer to the Lord to take care of His orphaned child. The lyrics portray much the same. Quite some vocal variety in here too-- and, possibly, my most favourite choir passage of the whole album. The best track Orphaned Land have ever done, period.

It's Rainbow (The Resurrection) now-- a fitting last track to a classic album like this. Like The Calm Before The Flood, it is also a soothing instrumental. Just that while the former was a dark one signalling the advent of a disaster, this one is an uplifting one. With birds chirruping in the background, new life is seen again. The earth is on it's way to resurrection. The Flood is over. The wait begins yet again.

(And I patiently wait for the next OL album coming up in 2008. Yes, I am pretty excited!)

Last word: If you are an open-minded music lover even remotely accustomed to heavy metal music, this is the album to have. If you aren't, sigh!

P.S.-- First music album review. Hope it's not that bad! By the way, for the lyrics, visit this site. Quite some amazing poetry there... You'll be in for a pleasant surprise seeing that even metal musicians can write really commendable literature.

God, Religion and Belief

There have been times when I have written something because I felt the need to do so, and there have been times when I have written because I felt that if I didn't do so, something great would go terribly amiss from my life. The latter thing happens considerably less frequently with me, and it's occurring now.

The existence of God, and the merits of religion have long been debated and discussed. I am not trying to merely repeat all that. This time, I'll question my inner self for the answers that I need. There are a lot of questions in my mind regarding faith, and the sooner they are solved the better. I would consider myself lucky if some of my readers cared to help me in my search, for it's a long and arduous one, and has been going on and on for years no one can possibly count. If not in me, in the minds and hearts of those who pause to think why birth and death exist. For I believe that ultimately every odyssey on the path of religion and spiritualism ultimately leads to the two elementary and yet unquestionably important questions: birth and death.

Let me try to elaborate to the best of my abilities. Birth, I believe, is not wholly synonymous with the appearance of the first "living" being on the universe. When I use the word "birth" I take it in a wider sense-- the genesis of the universe. Yes the very same vast vessel which is home to everything that is known and unknown to us. The funny thing is that we aren't even unaware of life beyond our universe, if you do understand what I mean! But let's not stray from the topic at the core of this essay. Scientists have long accepted the Big Bang Theory as the most plausible explanation for the birth of the universe, which states that the whole of matter was condensed in a extremely small and highly heated volume and for some reason that matter suddenly expanded giving rise to galaxies, and constellations-- planets, stars, nebulae and every single celestial body we know.

Now, here's my question: what made that earliest "atom" expand all of a sudden? I am not much aware of any explanation about this particular question. Most research about the cosmological birth of the universe is about how it all happened. But my question is, why did it happen? Or rather, what made the big bang happen? Could not the theoretically assumed condensed mass of matter remain in the same way for eternity? And it's precisely at this point where I think that the existence of some otherworldly force becomes relevant. (As a parallel idea, think about this: the book of Genesis says, "God said, 'Let there be light'; and there was light".) Some supposedly scientific-minded people have always steadfastly maintained that one cannot be scientific and religious at the same time-- that believing in God is ultimately rejecting the cold logic of science. How then could the authors of the Bible predict the same theory that 20th century scientists have formulated and proved long after the Bible was written? Does this small example not somehow convince one that religion and science ultimately do point to the same direction: and that it is ultimately a choice between what you like to believe you are following. The religiously inclined rational man knows that he is almost as much scientific in his thinking! No wonder that one of the foremost proponents of the Big Bang was a Roman Catholic priest named Georges Lemaître.

Now comes the most important question: what is God, and if at all he exists where can one find him? Frankly, I don't have definite answers to any of the two above questions, but I do know what I want to believe. Confusing, ain't it? Let me elaborate. I believe God is omnipresent and omniscient, like so many scholars before me have said. It's not in any specific place that God resides. He is everywhere. Basically, that would be calling every single atomic and sub-atomic particle in the whole universe a manifestation of God (though, I am not asking one to "reduce" the whole grand concept of God to such a dry scientific fact at all: given a choice, even I would refrain from doing so). God is hence present in all physical and chemical processes, and every single thing in our lives is therefore a direct wish of what God wants us to do. Again, let's go back to the Holy Book. It says that humans are made in the image of God. The simplicity in what I believe is therefore vastly useful-- it proves (one can exclaim, "very scientifically!") that we are indeed made of God, since we are after all a cluster of cells! If the remarkable conclusions of this simple belief is not enough, let's delve even deeper.

How does God affect our decisions? Or is He at all instrumental in deciding our actions? The answer is 'yes' again. I shall explain quite simply. If one is indeed so devoid of humour and charm to reduce the human thought and decision process to chemical reactions inside the brain, so be he. The very fact that every single process in the universe (including chemical reactions inside our brain!) is ultimately a series of changes between particles, their configurations and energy states simply shows that God (the aforementioned elementary particles) ultimately affects our decisions. Having said all this, let me say that I believe in a greater God! Oh no, I am not going into another foolish debate regarding whose God is better, and whose religion is more foolhardy (two recommendations in this regard: Tolstoy's short story The Coffee House of Surat and Narayan Gangopadhyay's comic masterpiece Tin Bidhata). When I say "greater God", I refer to a more complete representation of the Almighty: a representation not only limited to the basic physical state of Him, but also to the inner self of God himself. And this representation, I know, is conscience. If we were all created in the image of God, I believe we all have God trapped in our souls. And this God is our own inner voice: the guide that is omnipresent (got the connection now?!), always waiting for us to seek it's help. Even in the darkest of nights, there is but one who can guide us to light. For light is God, and God is light! And light is the ultimate realisation of life-- the enlightened one assimilates into the greater universal self leaving his worldly remains behind! Which brings me to the second part of the two all-important incidents: death.

And so here's a poser again: can anyone tell me what will finally happen to the universe, which is scientifically generally believed to be expanding ever since it's inception? Or as an afterthought, where do we go after we die? Now of course, religion has an answer ready for that: according to the righteousness of one's deeds, his soul enters one of the two gates of Heaven and Hell. I don't believe that physically either of the two exist. They are, as explained by countless philosophers before, merely two states of the mind. The guilty goes through living hell, and the righteous man knows mental peace a.k.a. Heaven. But beyond that, I am quite clueless. And I believe that so is everyone! For if we discover the secret behind our genesis and ending, the purpose in our lives will be lost. Here are my questions regarding the matter: where does that soul go after all, say after it's tenure is over in heaven or hell? Or does it come back as proposed by the karmic circle? And if it does, what exactly decides which body the soul will enter in it's next life? Yes yes, my questions almost border on childishness, but believe me when I say that I am not being facetious.

Just a final thing to say: is it necessary to believe in God? Even if God does not physically exist, which is a very safe assumption, after all? And I firmly answer, yes. Because one does need something to cheer him up during the darkest of times; because without belief, one may lose his identity when he has no one to help him. Only those who have known death and suffering closely will probably completely understand what I mean, and possibly better than me since I have myself never been through too much trauma. Take the Israelites during the Exodus for example, had they not believed in a greater power, they could not have won their land against all odds. (Thanks to Leon Uris and Exodus for this nugget!) God is the ultimate realisation, I believe. A realisation that permeates all worldliness. God is there in nature, in music, in poetry. Just open your eyes and feel Him. But do NOT for God's sake turn your belief into fanaticism. No God ever preached that he is greater than somebody's else's God. All humans are equal, as are their consciences. And so is their own God! I would prefer sane and hardworking atheists over religious fanatics anyday, said Suvro Sir. I second him.

And let me end this with a thoughtful line, that should hit one with a bang:"There is no believing in God, we either know him or we don't". (source: Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts)

P.S.-- A relevant post on religion and spirituality by Sir.

The Other Half of the World

Images: Two faces of womanhood

It’s 8th of March and I turned 18 last December; and having grown up and lived in the Indian society, I couldn’t help but wield up my pen to vent out my repulsion, part-remorse, yet part-happiness and pride in being a girl/woman on this Women’s Day. Firstly, let me make it clear to the readers that this is not coming from any ‘rational feminist’. No, I detest some people of my gender in a lot of aspects at that, and I’d rather say that women are bringing down the fate of other women, than blame the backwardness solely on men.

Female infanticide. That is, some are not allowed to born - not allowed to born because they are ‘girls’. The moment a female foetus is diagnosed, it is aborted. Or even if they are born, they are killed. Some grow up a little, grow up much to realise the vibrating life in them, but then are killed – rather their souls are killed the moment they are sold to the greedy ‘dalals’ because they are feminine physically and will consequently mature to please the hunger of some masculine beasts – the so-called ‘man’ of the society. (Now, again, this is another mystery of the universe! This is the same man – the same gender - who gives the feeling of security to a girl and comes in the form of an affectionate father or an inspiring teacher or a good friend. The latter kind is even worthy of worship!) Anyway, where birth itself is such a ridiculous tragedy, what to talk of life!

Some are clearly given the signal that they are to be married not after long, that they are to go to school, that they aren’t to think or feel, that they must stop dreaming about the nature and smelling the blissful breeze blowing, instead they should learn to fuel the charcoal ‘sigri’ and wiping the floor (from my own experiences in Bihar)… Coming to the much better-off section of the society, the general middle class mentality seems to go more orthodox as time passes by. Even if girls are sent to schools, they are preferably sent to traditional girls’ schools so that they may be kept well-apart from the opposite gender to avoid the obvious bubbling-over of ‘feelings’ in their adolescence. When they work hard to understand Physics or Chemistry or Maths, mothers insist that it’s no use and rather it’d be better to learn a bit of cooking and house-keeping (I must add that I find nothing inherently wrong in learning to do a bit of household chores: just that women must not be reduced to mere brainless housekeepers!)

To go one step higher, I see typical aunties busy with gossip-scandals of Mrs. This and Mrs. That day in and day out, or glued with their T.V.s watching the K-serials. To go a level still higher, there are models sporting in least possible piece of garments and making the world a more dangerous place for other women to live in-- therefore catalysing the dreadful process of commercialisation of the female body. That the beauty and chastity of a female human form is being used to sell cars and soap is a slap in the face of God-- something created aesthetically and beautifully is thus reduced to just a tool to boost sales figures.

What I ask is: are girls all about this??? Even asking this question poses a source of embarassment to women like Mahashweta Devi, Mother Teresa, Ashapurna Devi, Kiran Bedi, Sunita Williams, Kalpana Chowla and a lot more. To add to these well-known achievers, there are numerous unknown (rather ‘nameless’ in the world of fame) women I know who live their life with a greater mission – I’ve come across my mother, many Catholic Sisters and married and unmarried Ma’ams and Misses who have discovered joy and fulfillment in broader things of the world. But, day by day, it seems their count is falling low…

Now, again, a point on the contrary about the type I mentioned somewhere near the end of the fourth paragraph: I didn’t mean that section of my gender who so proudly claim to be focused on their 'careers' and have in their heads some aims to get an MBA or an engineering /medical degree, that subtle emotions lose importance for them. Most of them think looking at the sky and smiling (because it looks so beautiful today with white fluttering clouds) as damn silly and stupid. Ask these girls to read a novel, you’ll get a scowl in return. Ask them to see a classic black-and-white movie, again get a scowl. Ask them to listen to some Rabindrasangeet, welcome that lovely scowl the third time! Now, of course, they aren’t wrong – my liking or disliking really doesn’t grade people (absolutely NOT!). Just that I hope they were a bit less absorbed in such materialistic things, and certainly a bit more appreciative of philosophic brilliance.

I wonder why I hear so few girls yelling aloud, “Hey, I want to sing today! I want to go out in the rain and feel the storm today! I want to go out in the fields and stand on the grass in bare feet! I want to spend the day doing nothing – nothing at all. (Maybe, I do sound a bit hopelessly romantic here, but that's what I am; and I am happy that I am so!) I want to fall in love with the nature-- with the world!”

Of course, it’s not about escapism or laziness – it’s about opening the gates of mind and loving life most simply and being a human most naturally. It’s about rejuvenating our lost sensitivities and feelings. Women are treasured with enormous power to love selflessly and sustain pain endlessly – why not be a woman more truly? Why not make our inner selves purer, more selfless and ‘beautiful’ in the real sense? After all, we make the other half of the world and the world dearly needs more of goodness.

E.T. - The Extra Terrestial

If I had to name one of those movies that I shall remember fondly all throughout my life, E.T. is a must on that list. Not because it's sweet: many films are just sweet. E.T. is much more than that-- it touches my heart everytime I watch it. Even yesterday, as I watched the film for the umpteenth time in two years, I felt tears swelling up in my eyes. But I don't rate the film so highly just for it's very emotional content: I am an ardent fan of it because the film so beautifully shows us that even the weakest of beings on earth, in fact the universe, have a huge power in them. A power that beats the darkest of thoughts: love! Simple as it may sound, I feel that no other emotion is as brutally tortured and profaned (as Shelley said) as love. But I won't go into how most of us have profaned the greatest of all emotions: there'll be a separate post for that coming up in a few days (since Valentine's day is just round the corner). And since the film is such an old one, I don't have any qualms in revealing spoilers. I shall talk about the film in detail, and hopefully in it's whole entirety.

The film begins with a group of alien botanists collecting bio-samples in a California forests. As US government agents arrive at the scene, the aliens hastily flee in their spaceship leaving one of their kind behind. Meanwhile, in a California suburb, a young boy named Elliott has to cater to the orders of his elder brother, Michael, who is having a round of games with his pals. As Elliott rushes out to fetch pizza, he notices a strange creature by the house. While Elliott is himself quite frightened to see the alien, the alien is also initially quite terrified to the boy, most probably because he (and his kind) has already been chased by humans (US government agents). Elliott's family doesn't believe when Elliott tells them how he had spotted something strange roaming around the house. Just to prove his suspicions right, he lures the alien into his house by leaving candies in the forest leading into his bedroom.

Elliott discovers that inspite of his initial fears, the alien is a friendly being. To amuse the young boy, E.T. imitates the movements of Elliott. The two strike a sudden kinship, and a very tired Elliott finally doses off to sleep on his sofa. Next day, to avoid school, Elliott feigns illness, and spends the day playing with his new friend. That day, Elliott also introduces E.T. to his elder brother, Mike, and very young (and very cute!) sister Gertie. The three siblings ask E.T. about his home, showing him their own location on the map and the globe. E.T. levitates some balls to show that he is from outer space and points to the representation of the solar system in the encyclopedia. E.T. also heals a withering plant to show his powers of healing the dying.

Elliott and E.T. now share a psychic link, which becomes apparent because Elliott begins referring to himself as "we". Because E.T. drinks quite an amount of beer, the psychic link to Elliott makes the boy feel extremely drowsy at the dissection class. Under a sudden impulse, Elliott decides to free the frog to be dissected by him-- an example soon followed by his classmates. As E.T. watches two lovers kiss each other on T.V., the psychic link works again-- this time leading Elliott to kiss his crush at school!

Meanwhile, E.T. learns to speak by watching Sesame Street on T.V., which amuses the little girl Gertie very much. She tries to tell mum several times that her friend E.T. has learnt to speak (though, mum is totally unaware even of the existence of E.T. in the house!), but mum is so busy that she can't even stop for a moment to listen to her daughter. A very fitting and notable portrayal of usual parental attitude towards children: that of negligence. Elliott and Michael arrive at home to see E.T. not present in Elliott's room, much to their worry. And then they discover their friend in the toy-store of their little sister. Gertie cheerfully tells them that she taught E.T. how to speak, and just to celebrate that occasion she has dressed E.T. in a brilliant women's attire (again, much to the dismay of the two brothers). Both Elliott and Mike are happy to see that E.T. has learnt to speak like humans: and they hope to have some free conversations with their friend. But E.T. only keeps on muttering 'E.T. phone home', by which Elliott understands (as a loner himself) that E.T. is feeling terribly homeseick by now and wants to go back to his own home. And so he and his elder brother decide to devise a 'phone' to contact E.T.'s own kind. They chance upon some trash in the garage, in the process also discovering an abandoned shirt left behind by their father, who recently has had a messy divorce with their mother. The shirt re-awakens some lost happy memories of early childhood in both Elliott and Mike. Elliott has his hand cut by a sharp-edged gearwheel, but E.T. heals that in an instant with the miraculous power of his glowing finger (while Elliott looks on disbelievingly).

On Halloween, Mike and Elliott dress E.T. up as a ghost, and lie to their mother that the ghost is actually Gertie (who separately leaves for the halloween party). With their crude model of the 'phone', Elliott leaves for the forest with E.T. on his bike, with the promise that he shall return home before the evening ends. Meanwhile, on the way to the forest E.T. uses his powers of telekinesis of make Elliott's cycle fly-- a stunt that the boy is initially afraid of (due to his fear of heights), but later ecstatically enjoys. The brilliant and historic scene of Elliott's cycle against the backdrop of the huge white moon remains on of my most favourite cinematic moments. But the call to E.T.'s home takes a lot of time, and Elliott can't help but break the promise he had given to his brother about returning home in time. Meanwhile at home, mum is worried about Elliott's absence, and she calls in the police for help. Mum thinks that Elliott must've fled due to the emotional turmoil he has undergone due to the recently concluded divorce. Elliott sleeps in the forest through the night, and wakes to find his dearest friend missing. He returns home a sad boy, much to the relief of mum. Mike meanwhile goes to the jungle in search of E.T., followed slyly by a government agent, and finds the alien in a very ill state. Back home, with both Elliott and E.T. very ill, the siblings decide that it's time to reveal the truth about E.T.'s identity to mum. Her reaction is that of panic-- she thinks that the presence of an alien is nothing but a danger to her children, inspite of their assurances that the creature is a friendly and harmless one (I vividly remember how E.T. smiled at mum, inspite of it's visibly impoverished state!).

But as she is about to flee with her children, government agents surround the house and enquire about E.T. A huge contingent of scientists arrive, with their frighteningly developed machinery; and they quarantine both Elliott and E.T. Elliott cries in vain for the scientists to leave him and his friend alone, but in vain. Elliott feels the psychic link between him and E.T. suddenly disappear as E.T. collapses into a condition of near-death. It further pains the boy when his friend is subjected to almost inhuman medication and treatment. But just as the scientists give up on E.T. declaring him dead, Elliott notices a withered flower suddenly regain its life. He visits E.T.'s 'coffin', only to find in surprise that E.T. has been able to establish contact with his own kind, and that he has miraculously healed. When E.T. is put in a van to be taken as a (dead) specimen of living beings from outer-space by the government- authorised scientists, Elliott and his brother Mike devise a plot to take E.T. to the waiting spaceship in the forest by 'hijacking' the very van the scientists use! Mike signals his friends to wait for them at the park with two extra bikes. What follows is a game of cat-and-mouse chase-- Elliott and his friends on bikes competing with the agents in cars. And just as the boys near a capture, E.T.'s telekinesis saves thair day! They all fly to the forest on their bikes to find E.T.'s spaceship waiting for them. Meanwhile, mum also arrives with Gertie and a sympathetic agent, Keys, on the spot. E.T. bids a very emotional farewell to every one of the family, and especially to Elliott, saying 'I'll be right here' with his glowing finger pointing to the heart... A rather poignant, very emotional and brilliant cinematic moment: again, one of my eternal favourites. A subtle statement that all one needs to follow throughout his/her life is the heart: the epicentre of all emotions, thoughts and ideas. Above everything, a fitting tribute to universal love. And with that, E.T. leaves his dearest friends behind, which other than Elliott and his family, also includes the thoughtful and emotional viewer (like me)!

But still, you don't leave the cinematic journey with a heavy heart: at least, I never do. After all, there is so much to and be happy about in this superb film: firstly, that without love, life is nothing but a dull and dreary drag-on. Secondly, the film so brilliantly and simply shows the Christian concept of a messiah from another world arriving and pumping in a whole lot of happiness and love in our troubled lives. In fact, a lot of film critics still do equate E.T.'s character with Jesus Christ. Thirdly, the film also subtly (albeit minimally) shows what is wrong with parenting today: most parents don't even care to listen to what their children have to say, even if they mostly speak very childish and simple things.

I think it would be apt here to mention that some of my classmates have opined that the film is extremely childish, and rather boring. I can't figure out why: have the children in them already died? And have their imaginative capabilities gone so dry that they have trouble accepting the basic fact that a alien can exist in reality? As far as I know, even the greatest of scientists won't dare to oppose the theory that aliens do exist in some part of the universe we are yet unaware of. In fact, a lot of them would stress that rather strongly! Or should I take it this way: that every non-masala or non-action film is a waste of time for them? I am also quite unsure of the fact if they would have been appreciative of the movie had the alien been replaced by some human? In any case, it doesn't take away the fact that I like the movie, and so do the greatest of movie critics in the world.

P.S.-- I am aware of the fact that Satyajit Ray had penned a script called The Alien to be made into a Hollywood film: a project that finally never saw the light of the day. But that doesn't reduce the value of this Spielberg classic-- even if I assume that Spielberg had a copy of Ray's script to his aid, if it were not for his brilliant direction, this movie would not have been the classic it is.

And yes, I didn't like the Bollywood version of this film-- Koi Mil Gaya, simply because it had too many unnecessary scenes and sequences. The only positive factor I found in KMG was Hrithik Roshan's commendable act as a mentally-retarded boy. That's all for now!

Taare Zameen Par - A Child's Review

There are films that make you laugh, and there are films that make you cry terribly. Having grown up in India, a country reputed for a film industry churning out either mindless laughathons or melodramatic sob-stories, it's difficult to get to watch the genuinely funny, or genuinely emotional film. And Aamir Khan gifts us both! Taare Zameen Par gives one lots of reasons to both laugh out loud and feel extremely sad. It's a story that relates to everyone of us in the world who have biologically grown up and yet never cease to look at the world through the eyes of innocent children: we can all see the Ishan Awasthi in ourselves, and with more or less intensity, we have all felt the same emotions cross our mind. And that is where TZP succeeds: it brilliantly connects with the viewers. While the antics of Ishan are sure to draw many a laugh (not through spurious rib-tickling humour, but the eccentricity which defines a fantastic childhood), his sobs are also quite certain to melt the hearts of those who have even a tiny morsel of love left in themselves.

To put the theme quite simply: this is the story of a dreamy boy. A boy who had the courage (and I don't say 'courage' because I don't find a better word) to look at the world through different eyes. Someone who could spend his day staring at a puddle of mud stuck in the craters of a road, or the birds flying high in the sky. Or even the little unknown fishes swimming in the drain by the road. This is a story of how the boy, inspite of his markedly different attitude towards life, still managed to attract criticism and wrath for being different. This is a tribute to the Apu-s blossoming in the jungle of bricks and amongst the 'racehorses' running life's 'race' in the cities of India (even if you think the parallel to Pather Panchali is too much, kindly wait till I end this post!). This is the story of Ishan Awasthi.

[Warning: I am revealing a lot of details about the film. So, forgive me for the spoilers!]
The story starts with all the teachers reading out the marks that the students have got in class tests held in Class III, St Xavier's School, Mumbai. And each time Ishan Awasthi manages to score the least of the lot! But no, Ishan isn't worried even a bit about his marks. The day at the school ends, and Ishan is by the drain outside his school, catching little fish using a homemade net, and putting them inside his water bottle! Ishan reaches home, discovers his favourite couple of dogs in his garden and without a bit of hesitation feeds them his test-papers! And that's just a little fun that Ishan has all throughout the day. And so he carefully pours out the fishes from his waterbottle into his personal collection of guppies, and then deliberately annoys his mother. Ishan's life is in complete contrast with that of his brother Yohan, the class-topper, avid sportsman and in short, Mr. perfect-son. But inspite of their differences, Yohan has a soft corner for his brother, whom he dearly loves. The only member of the family not happy with his less-than-genius freaky boy is Ishan's father-- who can't bear to think that while his elder son is everybody's favourite, his younger son is at the end of everybody's complaint: from teachers to neighbourhood parents. And while everyone in house is running about preparing for another day of hardwork, Ishan sleeps peacefully and blissfully in his room amidst an assortment of colours, paintings and toys.

Inspite of Ishan's mother's best efforts, she can't help her son with his studies because he easily forgets everything he learnt the previous day. Ishan can't follow his teacher's orders of opening page no. such-and-such and chapter no. such-and-such, which annoys her-- she thinks that the boy is deliberately pretending not to be able to follow her simple instructions. Worser still, Ishan can't read a word out of his English book! He's ordered out of the class, but given the 'bindaas' boy Ishan is, he takes the opportunity to indulge in his childish pranks. (Needless to say, punishments never perturb Ishan: he has grown both used to and rather fond of them!)

On the day his test-papers are distributed, Ishan cuts his classes-- roaming around in the streets of Mumbai by himself; staring at the pigeons flying, the ice-candyman spraying brilliant colours on balls of crushed ice, and even the most ordinary and common man making his way through the street. That night he cajoles his brother Yohan to write a false absence note for him. But Ishan's misdeeds are discovered by his parents, and when they visit school, they find a barrage of complaints against Ishan waiting for them. And hence Ishan's father decides that he'll have his son sent to a boarding school, in which one of his friends is a trustee. Ishan, of course, is quite angry with his father (brilliant expression of anger from Darsheel, by the way!), but nothing can dissuade his father now.

And hence inspite of all his wishes, the little boy is sent to a boarding school. Ishan can't bear the pain of separating from his family, and especially his mother (the person he loves most). The scene where the family leaves Ishan behind is brilliant and full-to-the-brim with emotion: the viewer can feel, almost tangibly, the pain wrenching Ishan's heart. The song 'Maa' brilliantly brings out the emotions that swirl around in Ishan's heart-- and kudos to Prasoon Joshi, the lyricist, for immortalising the feelings of a child towards his mother (I think Shankar Mahadevan also deserves special mention for his excellent and soulful vocal performance on the track).

It's too much for a little child to resist the heart-break of staying away from the family, and when that is compounded with a feeling of desperation and extreme loneliness, Ishan starts feeling that his mother deliberately left him back. He cries every night in the hostel bathroom, but no one can help him. Ishan's reception at his new school is the same as his old one. He still can't follow lectures, obey instructions, or for that matter, even read out a few lines from his reader! During the hindi class, the teacher orders Ishan to sit beside the topper of the class Rajan so that the company of a 'good boy' may help Ishan with his studies. That, quite incidentally, is a blessing in disguise-- for in Rajan, Ishan finds a confidante and a friend who understands his needs. Moreover, Rajan realises that Ishan has an inherent ability to see beyond the ordinary-- the only problem with the boy is that he cannot properly comprehend or express everything. Ishan is still regularly punished by his teachers, most notably the one teaching arts, which of course complicates matters for the already gloomy and depressed boy.

All until one day when the arts teacher leaves for New Zealand and a stand-in man named Ram Shankar Nikumbh is brought in to temporarily fill in the role. And Nikumbh is none other than Aamir Khan! (Aamir shows us that he is more of a dedicated director in this movie rather than an actor, and that is why he chooses to enter the scenario only at intermission, placing the huge responsibility on carrying the first half almost entirely on Darsheel's shoulders: of course, a job that Darsheel more than ably accomplishes.)

Nikumbh is vastly different from the other teachers in the school. He is originally one of the teachers associated with the Tulip's school: an institution for the mentally retarded and physically challenged. While the other teachers are engrossed in their 'duty' to make 'racehorses' for life's 'race'-- Nikumbh understands that children must be allowed the freedom to imagine and make their own decisions. The role of the teacher is limited to that of a guide only-- children cannot simply be spoonfed some knowledge, or dry facts, and be expected to really shine in life! But above everything else, it's his attitude towards the students in which he is most different from others: he lets the kids have their share of fun, laughter, music and dance (another brilliant song 'Bum Bum Bole' actually expresses Nikumbh's feelings about education, Wordsworth-style!). The children are overjoyed to have such a friendly teacher, who not only lets them sing and dance, but also gives them the freedom to express whatever they want, in whichever way they wish to! But Nikumbh notices that a boy sits quietly throughout the arts period. Through his interactions with Rajan, Nikumbh comes to know about Ishan's problems with dyslexia and loneliness. Having been a dyslexic in his early life, he realises how suffocating the world must seem to Ishan, and therefore he sets foot on a mission to save the boy from emotional collapse.

Through a thorough study of Ishan's notebooks, Nikumbh spots a distinct trend in the mistakes the little boy commits. Since such a delicate matter needs the counsel of parents, Nikumbh himself reaches Ishan's house. Upon reaching, he is clearly dumbstruck. Firstly, he discovers the avid interest in art that Ishan has, and yet failed to show in the previous few weeks. And secondly, also more sadly, Ishan's father just refuses to believe that his son has learning problems: he still opines that Ishan must be seeking for excuses to skip studying. Nikumbh is much disappointed after his conversation with Ishan's parents, and especially his father: he discovers another one of those pathetic parents who are so concerned with (quite literally) cultivating/growing geniuses in their homes, that they forget the basics of human understanding and compassion. But Nikumbh does give a cheeky reply to Ishan's father before he leaves for his return back to school.

Nikumbh talks to the principal about the boy's weaknesses and personally requests for separate examination procedures for the boy, at least for the time being. He persuades the principal with strong arguments: showing him Ishan's brilliant paintings, surely the sign of a boy with above-average intelligence! And finally he personally undertakes the responsibility to train the boy in developing good language and mathematical skills. Somewhat hesitatingly, the principal agrees. And hence begins Ishan's journey towards overcoming the problems that threaten to destroy the very essence of his life. As the days pass by, Ishan slowly and steadily progresses until he can read and write for himself. Meanwhile, Ishan's father comes to 'visit' Ishan: actually meaning to remind Nikumbh that as a parent he was doing his part-- how? He proudly declares that his wife has read every article about dyslexia on the net. To which Nikumbh gives a tongue-in-cheek reply: something that is too much for the shameless man to stand. As he is about to leave Nikumbh's art-studio, he discovers Ishan quietly reading out a notice from the pin-board. The man is so moved to tears at his own foolishness and insensitive nature towards his own son that he can't bear to stand there for even a second.

Meanwhile, Nikumbh arranges for an Art Mela. Open for everyone, especially for the school staff and students, along with the Tulip school-children. The teachers do attend, most of them with a wish to just show the principal that they had attended the mela, but something forces them to stay back (Shan't reveal what, for that'll take away half of the fun regarding the Mela!!). But Nikumbh can't spot Ishan. The boy arrives after a long time and willingly chooses a lonely corner of the place. And Nikumbh starts his portrait of his own reflection, a student he had seen grow up before his own eyes in a certain sense: his dear Ishan. Funnily enough, even the initially unwilling teachers have their share of 'art' (You'll laugh till your stomach aches as you see them draw, and that's a guarantee!!). Both Nikumbh's and Ishan's paintings are shortlisted as the best but Ishan is ultimately awarded. Ishan can't bear the emotions overwhelming his simple mind, he breaks down and embraces his teacher! And all I can say is, that was brilliant!! The film ends with Ishan going back home with a happy family with the promise that he'll return to school later. I think it wouldn't be unjustified to say that the footage accompanying the end-credits was truly excellent: an honest portrayal of childhood in all its innocence and glory.

Darsheel is the best child-actor seen in Bollywood in decades. I shall miss him in case he doesn't do more films henceforth. On the other hand, I shall also eagerly wait for Aamir to direct more films. This man never ceases to outdo himself as the days pass by! Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy get their due credit with a mighty nice soundtrack-- the songs were touching and very relevant to the essence of the movie.

Now the inevitable comparisons with Black. Aamir himself is much critical of the film, and going by the recent trend of comments on other blogs I visit, most people have rated Black as the 'greatest ham-movie of all time'. I disagree. Black shall still remain one of my most favourite hindi-movies inspite of everyone's verdict against it. For one, I believe in my own heart; and Black moved me really well (perhaps, more on the defense of Black later!). And so did TZP. The two stories compare because at the core of the matter, both are about student-teacher relationships. And both are about the triumph of human spirit against all odds: and as such, both are brilliant in their own ways.

Wait, I remember saying something about Pather Panchali back at some point in my post. I don't take that one back! Yes, Ray was much more accomplished a director than Khan is, but in both their debut films, these two men chose to deal with different and sensitive subjects: that of children losing their identity and imagination in this big, bad and insensitive world. Apu was born in Nishchindipur, Ishan in Mumbai: and yet both were kings in their own worlds of imagination. Both loved the mysteries of nature, and both were enchanted by the colours of life. And in that sense, Apu and Ishan are just two names for the same person: only the time and place have changed, nothing else has changed much! Interestingly enough, Aamir himself graciously accepts the superiority of Ray over himself: and if you ask me, I have no problem in embracing such honest and hard-working (should we also add 'perfectionist'?) an actor and director as Mr. Khan.

And finally let me end with an observation of mine. I'd been to the cinema to watch this movie and the guy sitting next to me went out with his cellphone ringing at least ten times throughout the whole duration of the film. At the end of two hours, he asked his girlfriend an all-important question: "darling, what is this film about?" :) And finally forty minutes before the film ended, the couple left altogether for good. That's what Indians come to the cinema for! :D

P.S.-- You may also like to visit the film's official site, http://www.taarezameenpar.com/

Samapti

[Given above is a shot from the beginning of the film: Mrinmoyee looking out on the river, staring at Amulya, who is making his way towards the bank on a boat.]



A Ray shortfilm, and the final part of the 'Teen Kanya' series adapted from the short stories; Samapti startles one with it's simplistic portrayal of life, and the wide range of emotions the human mind can scale...

Amulya, played by the legendary Ray-favourite Soumitra Chatterjee, is a young man from a village who returns from the city to visit his mother, Jogmaya. Jogmaya wants Amulya to get wedded soon: since he is on a two-month vacation, and there is an auspicious date for a wedding just around the corner. She has already decided who she wants as a daughter-in-law, and inspite of Amulya's unwillingness to tie the knot so soon, she coaxes him to visit the girl's house once.

And so Amulya makes his way through ankle-deep mud towards the girl's house. All the while, he is followed by a carefree and whimsical young village girl named Mrinmoyee (played by a very young Aparna Sen), who likes roaming with the village-children, swinging all day long, catching and playing with squirrels, climbing up trees and so on (and hence, she has earned the moniker: "Puglee"). Mrinmoyee is amused to see a well-dressed babu like Amulya finding it difficult to make his way through the mud. Amulya is received warmly by Kishori, the prospective bride's father (played brilliantly by my personal favourite, Santosh Dutta), who amuses the spectator quite a lot with his mannerisms-- especially, the 'he-he-he' smile that accompanies each line Kishori speaks! The visisbly shy and uncomfortable Amulya has to sit before an excessivley coy girl who can't articulate what to speak; and all the while Mrinmoyee stands an amused witness to the comic situation of sorts.. Just to make matters even funnier, Puglee launches her pet squirrel Chorki at the coy bride-to-be. What follows is a comedy of errors!

To cut the long story short now, Mrinmoyee's numerous pranks on Amulya convinces the young man that none but Puglee must be his bride. Ah! of course, Amulya's mother is devastated that her whimsical son has finally decided to marry a tomboyish girl who isn't modest in the least, and moreover considered by all and sundry as a freak. Finally though, she somehow warms up to her son's wishes. Meanwhile, Mrinmoyee can't stand the thought that she has to leave all her little friends, Chorki, the trees and playfields of the the village to become a housewife; and in a vain attempt to stop the marriage she chops her hair off. On the wedding night, a very patient Amulya explains how he'd like his new wife to be, and that he won't force her to do everything, but that doesn't stop the carefree Mrinmoyee to escape Amulya's house. She visits her little squirrel Chorki, and the swing by the river which she so loves. In the soft caressing love of Mother Nature, she falls blissfully asleep. Meanwhile, there's mayhem in Amulya's home as everyone discovers that Mrinmoyee has fled in the shadows of the night. They find her back and Jogmaya locks her up in a fit of rage. Inspite of his mother, Amulya frees his wife and says that he will leave her back at her father's house and leave for the city. If ever Mrinmoyee wants Amulya back in his life, she must only write him a letter. To show his love for the carefree girl, Amulya also says how he'll be happy if Mrinmoyee addresses him as "tumi" rather than "aapni".

Quite unexpectedly, Mrinmoyee loses the strong affinity she had for her little friends, Chorki, and Mother Nature and willingly resigns herself to a fast. Jogmaya is worried she won't see her son again, and hence on the advice of one of her friends, she writes to her son about an imaginary illness she's suffering from . Amulya returns to find out the truth, and obeying his mother's request to enquire about Mrinmoyee, he visits her father's house. But Mrinmoyee escapes in the meanwhile-- disappointed to learn that Amulya has returned not for her but for his own mother. On a stormy day, Amulya searches for Mrinmoyee all day long and returns disappointed. But just as he enters his room, he finds a note from Mrinmoyee saying "tumi fire esho". And the biggest surprise is that: Mrinmoyee is back, the same way she'd disappeared on the night of her wedding!

Samapti scales an amazing portion of the whole range of human emotions and psyche: love of nature, and love between humans. Again, a masterpiece from the master: Satyajit Ray.

Anyway, Christmas wishes to all my blog-readers, if any!! :)

P.S.-- My friend Sayantani has written a superb comment on my short review-of-sorts. I'd like the reader to go through it too!

Apur Sansar

Courtesy Zee Studio, I got to see this timeless classic by Satyajit Ray this Sunday. And inspite of the examinations looming over my head, I just can't suppress the urge to have my say on the movie.

Ray's third film, and the final instalment of the Apu Trilogy, begins with a portrayal of Apu staying in a rundown shabby quarter in Kolkata. He has no fixed job, just a few tuitions thrown here and there to earn himself enough money to have a meagre meal each day. Apu also writes an occasional short story and sends it to literary magazines-- and that's what pleases him most about his life. Even in this life of extreme poverty and deprivation, nothing can suppress his indomitable, and yet apprehensive and shy, spirit-- he has not lost his dreams of becoming a great author. When Pulu, Apu's best friend, arrives and offers him assistance in finding a fixed job, Apu expresses his dissatisfaction over the idea. Apu has realised that his life's goal is to remain free and thoughtful-- not bound to a job he doesn't like doing (he quotes names of great men who never once in their life 'settled down', to prove his point). Nonetheless Apu agrees to go to Pulu's mamabari (maternal uncle's house) at Khulna with him for Pulu's cousin's wedding ceremony. On the way to Khulna, Apu shows Pulu the manuscript of a novel he has started writing-- a work of art that Pulu admires quite a lot after giving a read. However on Pulu's cousin, Aparna's, wedding-day, it's revealed that her bridegroom is mentally unstable. Aparna's mother disagrees to surrender her daughter to a madman. In a strange turn of events, Apu somewhat unwillingly yields to the pressure of marrying Aparna-- for if he refuses, no one shall ever marry her again. On their first night together, Apu openly talks to his new bride, and honestly says that he is nothing more than a poor, thoughtful man with a penchant for writing stories-- who has nothing more than a few pennies and a ramshackle quarter to his name. Apu says that Aparna may have to adjust to living such a deprived life. Aparna willingly accepts her fate-- determined to be happy even amongst such poverty.

When Aparna is brought to Apu's Kolkata quarters, she suddenly realises the magnitude of his poverty-- and the hardships that await her. But as she gazes down the window through tearful eyes, she sees a poor child smiling and playing on the street with his mother-- and this cheers her up. Apu understands how hard it must be for Aparna to see the sharp contrast in lifestyles-- but when he asks her about the same, he is greeted with a warm smile, which reflects the love and respect Aparna has for Apu, and also the readiness with which she accepts her new life. Special credit must go to Satyajit Ray here for a cinematic metaphor which only geniuses can conceive-- in place of Apu's erstwhile tattered and dirty window-curtain hangs a clean one. The visually improved condition of Apu's household couldn't be portrayed better. There hasn't been much financial betterment since his marriage, but Apu's life has become more arranged, orderly and beautiful-- something which only a soft feminine touch of care and concern can bring about. After several blissful months together, Aparna leaves for her maternal home due to pregnancy. In the following two months, Apu and Aparna exchange warm letters of love-- their craving for each other almost seems childish at times. Apu's promise to visit her at the end of the month remains unfulfilled however-- while delivering their child, Aparna dies due to labour pains. Apu is so much aggrieved to hear the news that he can't stand the truth anymore-- in a trance of unspoken and unbearable pain and sorrow, he leaves Kolkata and wanders on meaninglessly. Suddenly, Apu's life and love lose all meaning to him-- he throws away the manuscript he so thoughtfully and carefully wrote at one point of time.

Several years pass by, and in the meantime Apu and Aparna's son Kajal grows up in the Khulna-house under the care of his maternal grandparents. The little child is just like his father-- carefree, imaginative, capricious and endearing. Aparna's father soon develops a grudge against Apu-- he can't bear the fact that a father never once came to take his son with him. Even the child, named Kajal, starts regarding his father with contempt-- people taunt him due to him being practically 'fatherless'. Pulu, Apu's old friend, comes back to Khulna from abroad and finds the house in a poor state-- his mama is old and nearing his end, while Kajal remains 'fatherless' and uncared for by the old man (who naturally can't run after the naughty child and cater to all his childish whims!). Incidentally, Pulu discovers Apu in the vicinity of Khulna and learns that Apu has been doing a job to somehow sustain himself. Apu is torn between his pain due to the loss of his beloved Aparna and his duty towards his son-- he can't stand the fact that he has to love a child whose birth resulted in the death of his beloved wife. (This explains Apu's negligence towards his child.) Apu therefore requests Pulu to arrange for his son's education in some boarding school, the expenses of which he is ready to bear. Because Pulu is in a hurry to leave the place and can't keep his friend's request, as a last plea, he urges Apu to visit the Khulna-house once and at least see his son for one time. Somewhat unwillingly, Apu does so. But when Apu sees Kajal, he discovers an affection for the boy hidden in some obscure corner of his heart and overshadowed by his immense bitterness towards his fate-- but on the contrary, Kajal is not ready to accept his father's affection. Touchingly, Apu presents his son with a toy-train (those who remember Pather Panchali remember how both Apu and Durga were fascinated with trains as children), but the child throws the gift away. Just when Apu is about to leave the place, broken-hearted for a second time, Kajal hesitatingly asks if Apu is ready to take him to his father in Kolkata (which actually shows that Kajal doesn't actually believe that Apu is his own father, but still touchingly discovers love for Apu too-- if not a father, Apu still is a close friend to the little one).

The film, quite simply, is poetry on celluloid. Ravi Shankar's touching sitar chords and the brilliant camerawork only make the film better. All the actors, and especially Soumitra Chatterjee and Sharmila Tagore (for both it was a debut-- and a debut couldn't have been better!), deserve plaudits for their natural and superb performances.

Again, some of my favourite scenes in the film deserve special mention. When Apu and Aparna come back from the theatre in a horse carriage, Apu stares at his beautiful wife's expressive eyes and lovingly asks "Tomaar chokhe ki aachhe?". With a charming glint in her eyes, she evades the real essence of the question, and answers "Kajal". And hence the name of their child-- the fruit of their immense but short-lived love-- finds a special meaning.

A second favourite scene would be the one in which Apu tries to befriend a reluctant and bitter Kajal, in the same room in which he had first talked his heart out to Aparna. The expression on Apu's face as Kajal threw the toy-train away in anger reflects how hurt he is-- a symbol of his love (both for his child, and for his lifelong fascination: trains) is so hastily dismissed by his own son.

The final scene is perhaps the grandest one: Apu gets his son-- the last physical manifestation of his undying love for Aparna, Kajal not only finds his father but a close friend, and Aparna's father sees his little dream of Apu and Kajal staying together come true-- he smiles as he sees father and son go away to their land of dreams. What happens thereafter to Apu and Kajal is left for us to imagine and decide.