"Moner Manush": Where’s this Arshinagar?

None can deny the indispensability of Lalan Fakir today. In the wake of communal violence that is ripping and tearing our country into uncountable pieces, Lalan’s philosophy of life and his world-view seem all the more relevant. While the Bengal Renaissance was bringing about unprecedented cultural transformation in the city, Lalan with his simplistic songs had brought in a revolution in the remote villages of Bangladesh, invalidating the caste-system and calling into question communal differences, especially between Hindus and Muslims, the two religious communities operating almost as binary opposites in the cultural consciousness of Bangladesh. Born into an orthodox Hindu family, and rescued and rejuvenated by a Muslim woman, Lalan graduated into a visionary who could not differentiate between communities. His utopian village in the heart of the forest turned out to be the Arshinagar (city of mirrors) of his song, where communal and gender differences were dissolved into an Anandabazar. However, his quest for Moner Manush (the man of the soul) continued till the very end of his life. It’s a union all great poets have always craved for, but have always felt a few yards short of achieving it: Milan hobe koto dine, amar moner manusher sone? was to be soon complemented by the heart-rending melody of Dariye achho tumi amar gaaner oparey/Amar sur guli paye charan, ami pai ne tomare…

Goutam Ghosh’s choice of subject is indeed remarkable. Sunil Gangopadhyay’s novel (or shall I say biopic?) on Lalan Fakir’s life, if read and understood, can act as a remedy to the contemporary disease of communal fundamentalism and associated violence from which our country has still not found respite. Structured like a bildungsroman (it may also be read as a kuntsleroman), the film traces Lalan’s journey from a simple village boy to a cultural icon of colonial Bengal. Because films are audio-visual, a lot could be said without the use of dialogues. The biggest flaw of the film is that more is told than shown, although the director’s expertise as a cinematographer shows itself in every single frame. Sticking too close to the written narrative, at 160 minutes the film seems to be testing your patience. Had it been a good 40 minutes shorter, Moner Manush would have been a classic piece of cinema. Sometimes, the film resorts to didacticism: the ‘preachiness’ of the dialogues could have been avoided by a smarter script. For instance, when Lalan comes back to his family as a Fakir, the conservative Hindu mother and his wife face a terrible crisis. They can neither give up on him, nor give up their jaat, for he has been nurtured by a Muslim family. The scene could have been made poignant had less been said; the pathos of the scene is totally marred by the in-your-face dialogues on caste and religion.

I am not too happy with Prasenjit’s performance; but, I do admit, he has tried to give his best. The vocal intonations were quite forced, and the voice-over (the songs) did not quite match with Prasenjit’s original voice. Paoli Dam is average, and looks funny in her first song, where she appears more like a lifeless puppet who dances as some unseen string is maneuvered from somewhere to help her make the moves. Indeed, the acting department is awfully poor. The songs are good, but not always used at the right sequence. The cinematography, as I already mentioned, is brilliant…the verdure green, the blue rivers of Bangladesh are brought to life by the camera that caresses them affectionately.

On the whole, Moner Manush is not bad; good for a one-time watch. But it does not leave any indelible impression as the expectation had been. No matter, how very much the Bengali film industry is raving about it, do not trust them. Or else, you would be disappointed. For, the film has not been able to leave the aftertaste of having truly visited Arshinagar.