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Al-Ahram Weekly 16 - 22 December 1999 Issue No. 460 |
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Debate Focus Profile Living Travel Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters No time for regrets
By Gamal Nkrumah
Aparna Sen is a rare bird, a writer deeply committed to a political ideology while retaining a fierce independence and originality in her films and in the extrovert milieu of Bollywood, Sen stands out as an intensely private person. Not content with being an actress and acclaimed director, Sen is also a scriptwriter. There is nothing, it seems, in the film industry with which she is not well-acquainted.
As a writer, scriptwriter, actress and director she works almost exclusively in her native Bengali. She is proud of her city, Calcutta, but regrets that it lacks a theatre. Sen loves nothing best than to perform on stage. "As an actress, I much prefer the theatre to the film-studio. I feel more in control and more in touch with my audience."
Sen is a self-made woman who demands that she be taken seriously. Her belief in her worth, and the significance of her work, are endearing qualities, but Sen insists that she should not be taken at face value. She spurns the label feminist, and sees herself as a leftist interested in women and film-making.
She divides her time between the United States, where her husband Kalyan Ray teaches, and India, where her career is firmly rooted. She also edits Sananda, one of India's most respected magazines. And still, apparently, she finds time to be friends with her daughters. She confesses that she could be an irascible companion at times, but her sharp memory and poignant observations makes her a compelling raconteur. Her family is invariably her first audience.
"But how did you manage to raise a family and write, act and direct? Did your career compromise your devotion to your family," I chipped in. You'll have to ask my daughter, she replies.
"Well she was fine as far as I'm concerned," says the youngest daughter. "She was a brilliant mum, but you'll also have to ask my elder sister, she might give you a different answer."
"I guess it was more difficult at the beginning, but I never felt that my career compromised my family in any fundamental way," Sen says, with an open-eyed smile.
Though she flies frequently to America to see her husband her heart, she insists, really is in Calcutta. "I have this love-hate relationship with Calcutta, but I cannot stay long away from it. I feel passionately about its many, many problems. Sometimes I feel very sad and depressed about the unresolved difficulties Calcutta faces. But still I would not live anywhere else."
A prolific writer and filmmaker, in her most recent success, Paromitar Ek Din ( House of Memories) Sen played the haunting, central role. "In India we like stories to have neat endings, a kind of narrative conclusion, long-suffering mothers and wives, goodies and baddies who always lose in the end. I could not go along with the stereotype," Sen explained. "Calcutta is arguably India's most cultured and sophisticated city. My movies fill a niche that can best be served from Calcutta. The rewards of writing for the Bengali film industry have been tremendous. It is fulfilling, and I feel I have a national role to play."
Indian actors and actresses are notorious for their idiosyncrasies. The narcissistic Amitabh Bachchan has had too many face lifts, the notorious former Tamil megastar Jayalaitha is reputedly India's most corrupt politician. But Sen does not behave like a prima donna. She is down-to-earth and practical. She is political, but does not dabble in politics. She prefers to stick to social and women's issues in her work.
Satyajit Ray was her mentor, and she hails from a "family of film-lovers". Today she speaks fondly of Satyajit Ray, the man who most influenced her career. She observed him at work and learned the secrets of his, and now her, trade. "My father, the film critic and historian Chidananda Das Gupta, was a founder member of the Calcutta Film Society, together with Satyajit Ray."
Sen soon realised that acting alone would not satisfy her though her debut as an actress, in Satyajit's Ray's 1961 film Two Daughters, received rave reviews. Child star Sen was hailed as India's answer to America's Shirley Temple and Egypt's Fairuz. She was the quintessential Bollywood Cinderella.
Sen, though, was dissatisfied. "I noticed things that directors missed," she says. "I was furious because they got all the little details wrong and details matter very much to me. I am a perfectionist by nature."
"Long ago, before I began directing, I was acting in some film. I was supposed to be a young, expectant mother rushed to hospital to deliver my first-born. I noticed that the doctor was dressed up as a dentist, and I pointedly told the director so. He was furious and said that I should mind my own business. But it was my business. I didn't want to be associated with a shabbily produced film. Experiences such as this prompted me to think seriously about directing my own films."
She was thoroughly dissatisfied with the typical Bollywood formula of endless costume changes and tacky tear-jerking. "I wanted to produce serious films. But, I also wanted my films to be entertaining. To me there is no contradiction between the two."
Sen pulled out all the stops to become a director. Her first feature film was 36 Chowringhee Lane, produced by Shashi Kapoor, the younger brother of Raj Kapoor.
The film depicts an elderly Anglo-Indian woman living alone with her memories. Played by the late Jennifer Kendal, she is utterly shattered by the betrayal and ruthless exploitation of her generosity by the young and worldly.
In Parama, 1985, the story of a married middle class woman with children who falls hopelessly in love with a photographer, Sen tackles a taboo subject. After much soul-searching she abandons her family for a man who is crazy about her. The illicit relation is reminiscent of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina.
"Do you believe in reincarnation," I ventured. She shrugged, and flung her hands in discomfiture "I am an agnostic, actually," she said by way of explanation.
"But if you did, what or who would you like to come back as?" I pressed. Her answer was quick and unequivocal.
"I would return as myself. I regret nothing that I did, and would not live my life in any other way."