Satyajit Ray, the cinematic genius

Not to have seen the cinema of Ray means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon.

— Akira Kurosawa

To Satyajit Ray, in recognition of his rare mastery of the art of motion pictures, and of his profound humanitarian outlook, which has had an indelible influence on filmmakers and audiences throughout the world. — From the Academy’s citation while awarding an Honorary Oscar to Satyajit Ray

I am not conscious of being a humanist. It’s simply that I am interested in human beings. — Satyajit Ray

In the very opening scene of the only Hindi film he ever made — Shatranj ke Khiladi in 1977 — where one sees Mir Raushan Ali and Mirza Sajjad Ali, the two protagonists/antagonists of the game, bending over a chessboard and making their moves, hookah stems in hand, the mastery of detail signifies perfection. There is not an unwanted wrinkle in the shawls they wear; the soft silken caps on their heads have not moved an inch from where they were; the sequins of their exquisitely embroidered sherwanis keep glistening with the same silvery intensity. Satyajit Ray (1921-1992) saw to it. That is because he saw everything.

When he decided to make this film, taking off on Munshi Premchand’s great story set against the crumbling background of mid-19th century Lucknow, he had hordes of people around, and working for, him. Beginning with Pather Panchali, he had already established himself as one of the most admired film directors, one of the brightest stars in the firmament of world films, but he wanted to do the research for the film himself, first-hand: the settings, the material details, the characters, the general ambience. A young scholar at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, Sarbajit Mitra, has tracked down how Ray went about his self-appointed task, accessed his notebooks, his visits to London to examine the records of the India Office Library going back to those times and to the manner in which the British plotted to take control of that kingdom, one of the last outposts of Indian power in that region. There is a bound notebook that he found with the words Shatranj ke Khiladi written on the cover in Ray’s own hand and, inside, page after page filled with notes by him. To Munshi Premchand’s story, Ray had decided to add ‘a parallel narrative which looked at the transfer of power to the East India Company from the perspective of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, the gifted but somewhat dissipate last ruler of the kingdom of Oudh, and Sir James Outram, the then English resident at Lucknow’. The demand of the film, thus, was painstaking research, ‘not just to be truthful to historical facts, but also for authentically recreating the period on screen’. Ray went assiduously about his task and devoted almost an entire year to research and in writing the script. Visual references had to be found; the language and the grammar of social relationship had to be studied; works of art specific to the period and the events that took place had to be consulted; the set and costume design had to be firmed up. Ray did all of that. Himself.

The Satyajit Ray Society in Kolkata apparently holds his extensive archives and shooting notebooks. Ray used handmade exercise books with distinct red cover, popularly referred to as Kheror Khata (traditionally used by the account-keepers in Bengal), for keeping his notes. The research notes, early drafts, even the shooting schedule for Shatranj ke Khiladi could be found, we learn, in the Kheror Khata for the film, spread across two volumes.

For achieving historical accuracy, Ray needed, obviously, to consult contemporary visual material. He began by first consulting the European and British oil paintings in the Victoria Memorial Hall in Kolkata to understand the portrayal of key political figures. Tilly Kettle’s portrait of Nawab Shuja ud-Daula of Awadh with his four sons, came in handy of course.

But for faithfully recreating Awadhi life, Ray chose to depend more on the artworks of anonymous Indian painters. And then he wanted to look at the paintings held in the India Office Library. In those records, he referenced eight paintings along with their accession numbers in his notebook. In 1976, he visited London, saw the paintings in the flesh. On the Indian paintings — of the period of Nawab Asaf ud-Daula, Wajid Ali Shah’s long-gone predecessor — Ray’s notes have a startlingly sharp entry: he says that ‘these paintings were made in the Murshidabad style (of eastern Bengal) as opposed to the Lucknow or Awadhi style’.

Ray seems to have made it his concern to keep studying accounts of Lucknow and looking at paintings. One painting, that of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah embracing the then Governor General of India, Lord Hardinge, in 1847 — not too long before he was finessed out of his kingdom — seems to have yielded especially rich dividends to Ray. For, in the film, he almost exactly reproduced it: the architectural setting, the riot of colour, the welter of confusion, the range of characters. Strangely perhaps, he also seems to have been at home with all this, with all the pretence, all the irony, all the sadness, which was embedded in it.

This is the way Satyajit Ray worked, and this is what worked for him: endless curiosity, a search for the authentic, a palimpsest of ideas and images, a concern for what the French call ‘la condition humaine’. I am not personally aware if there exist notebooks by Ray that relate to other great films of his: Aparajito, Apur Sansar, Charulata, Jalsaghar, Devi, Teen Kanya, Mahanagar, Aranyer Din Ratri, Agantuk, Ghare-Baire, Goopi Gyne Bagha Byne, Parash Pathar, Sadgati, Ganashatru. But if there are, an inexhaustible treasure, a virtual Kuber’s mine, is waiting to be explored.

But to end here with a nugget. When considering casting for characters in Shatranj ke Khiladi, Ray is said, while in London, to have contacted the great British actor Sir Richard Attenborough to ask if he would agree to play the small role of General Outram in his film. Attenborough’s response? “Satyajit, I would be happy to recite even the telephone directory for you.”