The Maverick to a Millennial.
A market research organization, Beresford Research, classifies people born between the years 1981 and 1996 as millennials, and people born since 1997 as Gen-Z. In the shifting sands of generational identity, having been born in 1996, I find myself perched precariously on the fence, straddling the realms of millennial nostalgia and Gen-Z innovation. For those of us labeled as millennials, we were raised in the aftermath of historical tectonic shifts. The Berlin Wall crumbled before we could comprehend its significance, and the mighty Soviet Union dissolved like whispers in the wind. In our formative years, the grand narrative of equality gave way to the elusive promises of trickle-down economics. Mrinal Sen entered the glitz of Indian cinema in the 1950s, but he “gatecrashed into cinema” when the Naxalgic youth of the 1960–70s believed with conviction that the imminent, inevitable revolution was knocking on the door, and when a millennial like myself stumbled upon the cinema of Mrinal Sen in the 21st century, consumerism was more than successful in emasculating our intellect and the ideas of the former were largely alien to the latter.
A decade back, the saffron clad cacophonic tones of a politician, who aligned with the creed of “For the capitalists, by the capitalists,” echoed through our living spaces, endeavoring to seize our collective imagination. Such was the time when a young man who had just embarked on the shaky cantilever to adulthood watched in the inaugural frames of a film, a youthful protagonist, lament a millennium spent witnessing the relentless saga of poverty, despair, death — the enduring chronicles of suffering, degradation, and subjugation. In that moment, the Goliath of materialism vying for dominion over my thoughts met its match in a humble David. Simultaneously, the nascent consciousness poised at the threshold of adulthood embraced a gentler, more compassionate conscience. Thus, in Kolkata, 2014, an impressionable mind was introduced to the cinema of Mrinal Sen in Calcutta ’71.
After being informed about my privilege and the price of its associated luxuries through Sen’s “Calcutta ’71,” I delved deeply into his filmography, beginning with his earliest works and progressing chronologically. Now, I believe that anyone interested in exploring The Maverick’s cinema should follow this chronological approach. While it may not be necessary for the works of Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak, or Tapan Sinha, with Mrinal Sen, one can observe a distinct evolution in his perspective on political and societal issues over time. A temporal examination of Sen’s cinema illustrates a notable evolution: in his younger years, he emerged as a cinematic guerrilla, vehemently condemning the governing systems as mere shackles. Yet, as he matured, notably beginning with “Padatik,” Sen adopted a more introspective stance. He came to recognize that beyond external power centers, a significant influence on societal and political dynamics lay within ourselves — our affinity for compromise and our mortifying lust for self-centered flourish.
I have no desire to delve into the intricate details of Mrinal Sen’s cinema — the masterful use of documentary footage, his breaking of the fourth wall, his employment of jump cuts, or his innovative cinematography alongside K.K. Mahajan. Numerous film scholars and dedicated cinephiles have extensively explored these aspects, and interested readers can readily access their work. Instead, I aim to return to the essence of this blog’s title and reflect on what Sen symbolizes for a millennial like myself. My exploration of Mrinal Sen’s oeuvre resembled one of his signature storytelling techniques: akin to creating ripples on the surface of water, I embarked on my journey without a fixed destination, allowing the narrative to guide me. As I progressed chronologically through his films, reaching “Antareen,” a significant transformation occurred.
A quintessential Mrinal Sen-esque jump cut to 2016: Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury’s influential film “Pink” ignites conversations about society’s treatment of women and the importance of consent. A generation begins to embrace the notion that “No means No.” A jump cut back to 1980: Mrinal Sen’s “Ekdin Pratidin (…And Quiet Rolls the Dawn)” graces the screens, portraying the story of a family’s sole breadwinner, the eldest daughter, who doesn’t return home one night.The family and judgmental neighbors are thrown into turmoil, their minds clouded with crude assumptions about her absence. Sen, with characteristic astuteness, uses this scenario to expose the hypocrisies of the middle-class. When the woman finally returns, Sen deliberately sidesteps the question of her whereabouts, subtly challenging the audience’s right to know. Initially puzzled, with subsequent viewings, I came to realize that her choices were hers alone, and not mine to judge. Could Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury have crafted “Pink” without the influence of “Ekdin Pratidin”? Perhaps, perhaps not. What’s crucial, however, is the transformative effect “Ekdin Pratidin” had on me. In a society as patriarchal as ours, it taught me to be a better lover, a better friend.
The last scene of “Padatik (The Foot Soldier)”. The eldest son, once a brilliant student turned rebel against the State, finds himself a fugitive, evading the clutches of authority. Despite his noble intentions, he grapples with a profound sense of isolation; his fellow rebels are consumed by personal agendas, leaving his idealistic soul adrift. He returns home for a brief visit to oversee the last rites of his mother. His father calls him aside and asks him to leave as it is not safe. Summoning his son aside, his father imparts a crucial revelation: when pressured by his factory employer to sign a document quashing workers’ right, he defiantly refused. “Be brave, my son,” he counsels. Albus Dumbledore said, “..help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who deserve it”. in the face of adversity, such assurances are tested; oppressive forces thrive on isolating the oppressed. “Padatik” taught me that no matter how modest the support, courage is never without a friend.
In the realm of capitalism, humanity often feels reduced to mere statistics, our compassion overshadowed by the pursuit of profit. Love seems trivial, and ruthlessness reigns supreme. In this era, empathy can feel outdated, while selfishness takes center stage. This is the world many millennials have come of age in. It is in such times, some artists transcend the ordinary. They become prophets, capable of making a substantial contribution in shaping the worldview of an individual during the person’s formative years. Mrinal Sen is such a prophet. The Maverick is a prophet to a Millennial.
Mrinal Sen would have turned 100 today. His legacy, in this draconian day and age is like the title of his autobiography: “Always Being Born”.
P.S. The images have been downloaded from Google.
