When I read manto letters just now, I felt that we are still in 1950 not in 2008. The situation is same.

this is no doubt a universal writer.

Thanks.

Two of Ritwik Ghatak‘s films – Meghe Dhaka Tara (Cloud-capped Star, 1960) and Titash Ekti Nadir Naam (Titash, the Name of a River,1972) have been issued by the BFI, London. In addition they have also issued a film on the life of Ritwik Ghatak directed by a Geneva-based Indian filmmaker, Anup Singh. This film is called Ekti Nadir Naam (Name of a River, 2003). The film has been written – script, dialogues and lyrics – by my teacher Madan Gopal Singh who incidentally has also composed music for the well-known Pakistani film Khamosh Paani.

Ajantrik (Inadequately translated as “Pathetic Fallacy” 1958) as indeed Nagarik (Citizen,1952-53), Subarnarekha (1964) and Jukti Takko ar Gappo (Arguments/Stories, 1975) have only recently become available in both Calcutta and New Delhi. One shop from where they can be bought is shop no 36 in the Palika Bazaar of what was once Connaught Place of New Delhi. I am sure these films have since become available in the US and parts of Europe.

Sigh, how come the best writers seem to die so young?

Look, the story is disturbing, some would say sordid, because Ismat does not prettify anything. But I still fail to see the mocking or a judgemental indictment of homosexuality anywhere in the narrative. I still see it as the story of a lonely woman whose brain was slightly addled with idleness and sexual neglect. It is a pitiful story.

I suspect you are very knowledgable about Indian movies. I am glad that you agree about Garam Hawa’s credentials as a movie even though Sathyu may not deserve creative praise. I myself opined only on the movie, not on who deserved the credit. Can you tell me if and how I can get DVDs of Meghe Dhaka Tara and Komal Gandhar? I saw both as a young girl. I would love to see them again through adult eyes. I don’t recall if I saw Subarnorekha but I am familiar with the name. I would love to also lay my hands on Ghatak’s Ajantrik. Anything else of recent vintage that you recommend, let me know. I am quite out of touch. Rather than use this forum for this communication, you can email me from my blog’s “about” page. Thanks.

And yes, Garam Hawa is an important film – primarily because of Balraj Sahni‘s performance. I would think of GH not so much as a Sathyu film but rather the result of Shama Zaidi‘s and Kaifi Azmi‘s joint and creatively charged effort. Sathyu has done nothing of consequence since. In fact, his subsequent work is so unbelievably shoddy that one begins to wonder if GH is his work in the first place. Within the film world there is many an insider who may enlighten you as to who the real director of GH is.

About Mrinal Sen and Govind Nihalani the less said the better. It would generate unnecessary debate. These two are cinematically too minor to deserve separate columns.

But Ritwik Ghatak remains the absolute thinking and emotional genius of Indian cinema. This Ritwik Ghatak , who did a partition trilogy – Meghe Dhaka Tara (The Cloud Capped Star, 1960), Komal Gandhar (Inadequately translated into English as E Flat, 1962) and Subarnarekha (literally The Golden Line named after the small rivulet in a remote place called Ghatshila in Jharkhand, 1964) – did not win a single National award and his work was never showcased by the Indian Government in any of the International film festivals. These officially driven spaces were completely occupied by Shri Satyajit Ray and Shri Shri Mrinal Sen. This fellow died a unsung alcoholic but remained deeply loved by generations of students at the Indian Film Institute of Pune.

I did not compare Ghatak with Sen and found next to the likes of Sen a little dismissive of someone who has directed Baishey Shraban, Genesis, Akaler Sandhane, Khandahar and Ek din Pratidin.

I would like to say something about the comment you left on Amardeep’s quieter blog about Ismat and Lihaaf. (I am not terribly familiar with the S. Asian literary scene. I read solely for my own solitary enjoyment. The only time I discuss Indian authors is with my sister and on Amardeep’s blog.) So I do not know about the fly by night feminists and their glorification of Lihaaf. What I know is that it was the men around her who never let Ismat forget Lihaaf.

I have read the story. It is not even Ismat’s best effort. But it is a remarkable story nonetheless. Sure, it is not “Brokeback Mountain” or “Giovanni’s Room”, but as I see it, she neither glorified nor mocked lesbianism. In the end, it is a sad story – more about loneliness, idle lives and sexual frustration. The lesbian angle may have caught the critics’ imagination because the author is explicit in describing the physical act. But did no one notice the allusions to Nawab Sahib and his preoccupation with the fair, slim waisted, gossamer shirted young boys under his tutelege right in the beginning? Was that not what ate at Begum Jan’s heart before she submits to Rabbo’s body massages? Why is there no mention of that anywhere? I would think that the fact that Ismat got branded with this early story despite the fact that she went on to write prolifically afterwards, was a double edged sword. It marked her as fearless writer and also had the negative effect of becoming her calling card. And tell me if there is any other Indian author of that era or of more recent vintage, who has tackled homosexuality in the unselfconscious manner as Ismat did in Lihaaf? I wouldn’t be too quick to dismiss the feminists and their eager defense of lesbianism. The fact that Ismat was hounded by men for her “transgression,” is testimony to what many suspect. That men are more threatened by homosexuality (both male and female) than they care to admit.

Manto for me remains a grossly overrated writer.

Don’t forget, Ghaatan, one of the worst and obviously sexist stories written by him. No matter what the people say, one of the finest stories ever written on partition is by the unsung Mohan Rakesh. His Malbe Ka Maalik does not follow the formulaic conveniences of a mental asylum and the barter of its residents across the no-man’s-land along religious lines that Manto’s Toba Tek Singh so unabashedly does.

It seems to me to be a bit disconcerting to throw Mrinal Sen, MS Sathyu, Givnd Nihalani and Ritwik Ghatak into the same partition-films basket. For God’s sake – not Ritwik Ghatak. His work is far too precious to be placed next to the likes of Sens and Nihalanis.