Last week I saw Pather Panchali (Song Of The Road) for the nth time… I sat down and wondered about all that had been said and written about the film over the years and then felt like doing something to pay tribute to one of the most astonishing films in the history of cinema. I decided to make a collage of a few stills from the films that I could say was my way of paying tribute to this amazing film, even if it was in a very small way.
Along with this I also ended up paying tribute to the man who made this wonderful film.
The man who started off as a visualiser in an ad agency in Calcutta… the man who made 35 feature films and five documentaries… the man who won practically every award in filmmaking… the man whom both the British Federation of Film Societies and the Moscow Film Festival Committee named one of the greatest directors of the second half of the 20th century… the man who received the Oscar for Lifetime Achievement as well as the Bharat Ratna - Satyajit Ray.
Ray caught the attention of cinema connoisseurs worldwide with the release of Pather Panchali in 1955 after about three years of unceasing financial difficulties.
Ray never wrote a complete screenplay for Pather Panchali… he sketched most of it. Some of those sketches - series of wash paintings in the manner of comics - are displayed in the Cinematheque Francaise in Paris.
The film - first in the Apu trilogy - mirrors the life in rural Bengal seen through the eyes of two children - Apu and his sister Durga - born in an impoverished family.
Pather Panchali has some of the most visually stunning scenes I have ever seen... the first raindrops on the bald pate of an angler, the water hyacinths in the pond, Durga and Apu spellbound by a humming telegraph pole, the siblings running through the kash (white cotton flower) fields at the sight of an approaching train, Durga developing pneumonia and dying or the scene after Durga’s death when Apu on discovering the necklace that she had actually stolen, throws it into the pond so that it remains a secret forever that his sister was the thief she was said to be … I can just go on and on.
Along with this I also ended up paying tribute to the man who made this wonderful film.
The man who started off as a visualiser in an ad agency in Calcutta… the man who made 35 feature films and five documentaries… the man who won practically every award in filmmaking… the man whom both the British Federation of Film Societies and the Moscow Film Festival Committee named one of the greatest directors of the second half of the 20th century… the man who received the Oscar for Lifetime Achievement as well as the Bharat Ratna - Satyajit Ray.
Ray caught the attention of cinema connoisseurs worldwide with the release of Pather Panchali in 1955 after about three years of unceasing financial difficulties.
Ray never wrote a complete screenplay for Pather Panchali… he sketched most of it. Some of those sketches - series of wash paintings in the manner of comics - are displayed in the Cinematheque Francaise in Paris.
The film - first in the Apu trilogy - mirrors the life in rural Bengal seen through the eyes of two children - Apu and his sister Durga - born in an impoverished family.
Pather Panchali has some of the most visually stunning scenes I have ever seen... the first raindrops on the bald pate of an angler, the water hyacinths in the pond, Durga and Apu spellbound by a humming telegraph pole, the siblings running through the kash (white cotton flower) fields at the sight of an approaching train, Durga developing pneumonia and dying or the scene after Durga’s death when Apu on discovering the necklace that she had actually stolen, throws it into the pond so that it remains a secret forever that his sister was the thief she was said to be … I can just go on and on.
However, two scenes in the film have left the maximum impact on me.
One is the scene when the monsoon arrives and Durga dances exultantly in the rain while, the less-adventurous Apu, watches her admiringly, huddled under a tree in the distance. Soon Durga joins her brother and they huddle together.
And the second one is the scene of Durga’s death. Apu summons a neighbour saying his mother has called her as Durga’s condition has deteriorated. The woman comes to Apu’s house. Inside, Durga’s mother Sarbojaya is sitting, unnaturally still, staring with unseeing eyes holding Durga’s lifeless head on her lap. The neighbour picks up Durga’s hand, but finds no pulse. She sits down near Sarbojaya and then embraces her, stroking her hair in a gesture of compassion, sharing her grief. To me this is one of the most saddest scenes ever filmed in Indian cinema... unspoken, silent and yet everytime I see it I get a lump in my throat.
A critic had once said about Pather Panchali: “The images speak and we listen with our eyes.”
This is my tribute to the some of the most enduring images on Indian screen and the man who created them. Indian cinema has not and will never ever see anything like Pather Panchali.
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