'Aar Ekti Premer Golpo': Shall we say ‘a good start’?

Rituparno Ghosh’s Roop asks Indraneil Sengupta’s Basu if they are invited to appear at the Habitat together at the same time when his pregnant wife Rani (Churni Ganguly) wishes to go out for biriyani at Karim’s, who is he going to choose. Basu does not have an answer; in fact, he cannot have. For, both Roop and Rani are equally important and indispensable to him. Kaushik Ganguly captures with subtlety the tragedy of the bisexual man who oscillates and exhausts himself in maintaining the balancing act between his wife and boyfriend. While the whole world has labeled Aar Ekti Premer Golpo as the first Bengali ‘gay’ feature film, and in its review seems to tilt more towards delineating the vulnerability of the films two gay characters − Roop, the film director and Chapal Bhaduri, the veteran folk theatre actor, the vulnerability of Basu, the bisexual cinematographer is almost elided, as if he did not exist. What is remarkable is that the film does not stereotype Roop’s lover as exploitative or manipulative, but sensitively handles his character which, commendably enough, does not verge on the perverse. Basu’s tragedy is that he is caught between two relationships, one, socially approved, the other not; but the emotional quotient involved in both is equal. The last scene where Roop and Basu kiss and cry before they separate the reality of this in-between-ness and the very impossibility of finding a remedy to it becomes all the more conspicuous; and perhaps, it is here the film scores the most, notwithstanding its sensitive handling of the homosexual men as well.

So, let’s not call Aar Ekti Premer Golpo, a gay love story; let’s be a little more term-sensitive, and call it, a queer love story. However, the irony is, while the title of the film makes a laudable endeavour to dispense of with the sexual identity of its protagonists (underscored by the words aar ekti translated as ‘just another’), terms such as ‘gay’, ‘bisexual’, or ‘queer’ cannot be done away with in interpreting the film. At one point Roop is questioned by a media-person whether the focus of his film is on Chapal Bhaduri’s sexual life; he annoyingly retorts that had he been making a film on Amitabh Bachchan, would he have asked him the same question. Do we refer to say, You’ve Got Mail or say Saptapadi as a heterosexual or straight love story? We don’t. But in case of a film dealing with same-sex relationships say, Brokeback Mountain, some branding such as ‘gay’, ‘lesbian’ or ‘bisexual’ is found almost indispensable. Can we stop being queer or feminist, and just be humanist? Perhaps labeling is indeed necessary to advance an identity politics in a world which is essentially sympathetic only to heteronormativity. The debate may continue endlessly, as to whether labeling of alternative sexual inclinations is necessary or not, but I am going to leave it to that, and turn on Aar Ekti Premer Golpo as of now.

Roop, the self-proclaimed liberated gay film director from Delhi who effortlessly cross-dresses and is very assertive about it, is, in a way, the alter-ego of Chapal Rani, the yesteryear folk-theatre actor of Bengal, who impersonated female characters on stage. At one point in the film, Momo (Raima Sen) tells Basu that Roop is using the story of Chapal Rani’s life as a peg to hang his own story. Such an observation, though refuted by Basu, is, I feel, true; for, Chapal Bhaduri has all of a sudden drawn much attention from filmmakers and cultural commentators in the wake of LGBTQ studies becoming ‘fashionable’ in India. He has, almost overnight, graduated into an object of study, owing to his sexual fluidity. Then again, his story is also needed to be told, and yes, the focus is severely upon his sexual life. No matter how vehemently Roop denies (in a penchant to be politically correct) that he would not highlight the actor’s sexuality, he ends up, childishly demanding Chapal Rani to be honest with his sexual life. The ambivalence in Roop becomes most palpable if one juxtaposes two scenes:

(1) At the very beginning of the film, Roop compassionately tells Chapal to stop telling his tale if he finds it very painful.

(2) In the end, Roop flares up with anger when Chapal refuses to expose some very private details of his life.

The undercurrent of exploitation is there, no matter, how much Roop and Chapal Bhaduri connect with each other. Or shall we say, queer people do hunt out stories (and it is necessary) that reflect their own lives in order to empower the rebellion against heteronormativity?

What is interesting is that, though Roop may appear as Chapal’s alter ego in the film (an observation that is strengthened by the film-with-the-film), both are different. While Chapal feels like a woman trapped within a man’s body, Roop celebrates his sexual fluidity. Both are gay, but not in the same way. Besides, locating the characters in history is also very important. The reality of having alternative sexual inclinations is not same for an English-educated, financially liberated, urban film director of the new millennium and a closeted, uneducated, economically handicapped folk-theatre actor of rural Bengal. Momo is right when she says that although Roop doesn’t admit to himself, he is as closeted as Chapal deep within. But superficially at least, Roop is considerably liberated, although he, like Chapal, remains lonely till the end.

Some of my friends were skeptical that the film might end up leaving the wrong message that gay people are essentially effeminate and are always victimized. The suggestive gayness in Jisshu Sengupta’s Uday who gradually falls in love with Roop perhaps saves the film from reasserting the stereotype. Many queer activists might find ridiculous how a young Chapal is always inclined to emulate heterosexual marital bonds in his relationship with his lovers. He cooks, washes clothes, looks after the house and the kids, and acts passive in bed. But it should be borne in mind Chapal could not have been otherwise, given his spatio-temporal location, and his lack of ‘community’.

Rituparno Ghosh’s acting debut is just about okay; someone younger could have been better, perhaps. Indraneil Sengupta is as usual mind-blowing, especially in the film-with-the-film. Jisshu Sengupta with a characteristic nonchalance would definitely take the cake. Raima Sen with her sheer effortlessness is gradually emerging as a good actor. Churni is fantastic as paraplegic in the film-with-the-film.

Aar Ekti Premer Golpo is definitely a good start; though not iconoclastic in the true sense of the term, it does open up new avenues for future directors to experiment on the same lines.

PS: The scene where Chapal and the paraplegic Gopa dance to Pran bhoriye trisha bhoriye would stay with you forever.