A Ray that never shone
Reviewed by Suresh Kohli

Satyajit Ray's Ravi Shankar: An Unfilmed Visual Script
Edited by Sandip Ray
Collins, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers India. Pages 108. Rs 399.

Satyajit Ray's Ravi Shankar: An Unfilmed Visual ScriptAs in life, so also in death. The mystery persists. When exactly Satyajit Ray worked on a visual script, A Sitar Recital by Ravi Shankar, for a possible film on sitar maestro, Ravi Shankar — before Pather Panchali, their first of the four collaborations, the other three being Aparajito, Paras Pathar and Apur Sansar after which the filmmaker also took over the mantle of the music director for his own films. His biographer, Marie Seton’s claim that the storyboard for the film had been done in 1951 has been disputed by other scholars, and not necessarily for wrong reasons. For the music maestro himself has indicated that "it was probably before he made Aparajito," which means sometime in early 1956. According to son Sandip: "The storyboard on Ravi Shankarji was a visual one, full of sketches drawn in the very manner that for Pather Panchali. The 32-page drawing book, containing over a hundred sketches and technical instructions on camera movement and other things" (reproduced here), and seasoned journalist, Shankarlal Bhattacharjee records in his introduction, "Unheard Melodies," that even exhuming the "after all these years does not reveal much regarding the visuals because we lack Ray's own narrative on the scheme." While the book contains articles by Ray himself and interview extracts from both the filmmaker and the subject on various aspects of their collaboration, and relationship both are silent about no progress on the project. While comparing Ray's other two documentaries (on Balasaraswati and Binode Bihari Mukherjee) and the proposed treatment, Bhattacharjee feels the one on the music maestro was expected to be "pure celebration of a genius artiste and the possibilities of a musical text." He also states that the script of the film was a "rough sketch. Although extensively laid out, almost shot by shot, it was perhaps only a core design that could develop into any manner of visual composition, depending on the unfurling of the musical text."

There is a reference of a Ray reaction in 1978 when the musical genius's photo-biographer, Aloke Mitra approached the great filmmaker with a multitude of images with a request for a cover design of the book. Looking at one of the pictures of the subject against the background of the Ganga in Varanasi, he heaving a sigh observed: "Oh-ho, he has gotten old!"

Sadly, while all Ray commentators have failed to elicit any information from tomes of both confessional and otherwise writings on or by the film maker, andthe two interviews with Ravi Shankar appended to the slim, elegantly produced, and eminently readable, visually compelling volume, give an indication of the possible reasons for fallout between mutually admiring friends, about the non-happening of what could have been another masterpiece on celluloid.

Imagine a synthesis of the ragas being played and a quick dissolve of corresponding images ranging from one swift camera movement focusing from the sitar to the tabla with only accompanist's hands then pulling the trolley back to include the full figures, ending with zooming on the maestro himself.

Imagine the interplay of the two forms complementing one another to produce a visual delight. In short, an invaluable addition to the Satyajit Ray memorabilia.





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