Ritwik Ghatak birth centenary: A river runs through it

The brilliant ‘bad boy’ of Bengali cinema, Ritwik Ghatak was born a century ago, on 4 November 1925. While most of the people who worked with him have passed on, Sourabh Sen caught up with Ghatak’s last-surviving producer Habibur Rahman Khan from Dhaka.

Khan produced Titas Ekti Nadir Naam (a river called Titas) in 1973. The film was based on the eponymous 1956 novel written by Adwaita Malla Barman. Set in pre-Independence India, Titas told the life stories of the riparian Malo community — stories of a shared Bengali heritage that push back against the divisive political narrative currently unfolding on both sides of the border.

Excerpts from a conversation about Khan’s memories of Ghatak, navigating the politics of an emerging Bangladesh and questions of linguistic and religious identity.

How did you meet Ritwik Ghatak?

In our younger days, we were divided into two groups — one worshipped Satyajit Ray, the other Ritwik Ghatak. I was a Ghatak fan since 1963. I even declared that if I were ever to produce a film, it would be directed by him. It was purely out of my admiration for the man. Cinema was not my business; my family was in textiles. My friends used to laugh at me, and ask, “Why would Ritwik Ghatak come to Pakistan?” To which I’d say, you’ll see, he’ll come here one day— but it won’t be to Pakistan.

Habibur Rahman Khan

You mean, back in 1963, eight years before the formation of Bangladesh, you believed East Pakistan would cease to exist?

Yes, that is what I believed. Those days, I was a member of Nucleus, an underground group that was fighting for Bangladesh’s freedom. I knew one day our country would be free. It was pointed out to us that Bengalis had no place in the founding fathers’ dream of Pakistan. Other than religion, there are no similarities between us and the Pakistanis. There was no valid reason for us to be part of Pakistan.

Coming back to why you admired Ritwik Ghatak…

I had not seen any of Ritwik-da’s films, but I admired him for his ideas. I was drawn to the ideas of a man who refused to accept the dividing of a people or a country.

The question that haunted me was: why am I divided? In Narayanganj, where I was born and grew up, only four houses belonged to Muslim families — all the rest were Hindus. There used to be four or five Durga pujas and I took part in all of them. I used to force my parents to buy me new clothes like everyone else around me did.

This was the environment in which I grew up. And then, when I saw my friends starting to leave, I wondered, why? This was my father’s country; this was their fathers’ country too. Then why did they have to leave for a foreign land? Most of Ritwik-da’s films were seeking answers to these questions while documenting the separation and the pain.

How did you meet him?

We first met on 21 February 1972, while hosting a reception for Satyajit Ray in Dhaka. Both Ray and Ritwik-da were on the same flight but not travelling together. I was also on that flight, as was Ray’s personal secretary, a man named Barun Bakshi. Barun asked me if I wanted to make a film with Ray. I told him I would only make a film with Ritwik Ghatak. Barun was probably a little annoyed!

After two months, he called me. In those days, it took two weeks to book a telephone call to Dhaka. Barun said he had found Ritwik-da in bad shape at Gaanja Park (in Kolkata’s Kalighat area), had taken him home and got him treated by a doctor. I came down from Dhaka to meet Ritwik-da. He said he wanted to make Titas. That was how our conversation began.

The rights were with Punthighar. Satyajit Ray was chairman of Punthighar’s [board of] trustees. Ray immediately gave his consent and that was how I got to see a movie camera for the first time.

Any memorable incidents during the shoot?

In November 1972, we were shooting at Brahmanbaria. Ritwik-da needed a generator. In our new war-torn country, there was only one trolley-mounted generator — kept as a power back-up for the President’s office. I went to the sub-station and told the engineer that I was taking the generator. I said, “I’m giving you two options — either I shoot you in the leg or I tie you to that chair.” “Why shoot me?” he replied, “Just tie me up.”

And so I did, but only after writing a formal application and leaving it in a sealed envelope in his cabinet… just in case! I never told Ritwik-da about this incident; he only signed the requisition, knowing we would somehow arrange it.

Do young people in Bangladesh know of Ritwik Ghatak?

Yes, they do know and have seen his films. Without them, we are nothing. Whenever we discuss cinema, names like Ray’s Pather Panchali, and Ghatak’s Ajantrik and Titas come up. How can you disregard them? They are part of our heritage.

Speaking of heritage, what message is Bangladesh conveying by destroying Ganabhavan (the official residence of ousted PM Sheikh Hasina) or desecrating Mujibur Rahman’s statue?

The message we are trying to convey is that we never endorsed the breaking up of Pakistan. The dwindling number of people in rallies and marches makes it clear that it never had popular support. [In India] Rahul Gandhi’s yatras drew crowds because they had a purpose. In Bangladesh, the only purpose was regime change [in exchange] for money.

What have Ritwik Ghatak and Titas meant to you personally?

They left me with the undeserving label and certificate of a film producer. More than half-a-century after its making, each time we see and celebrate the film as a world classic, my name comes up as the producer. I don’t deserve it, because film production is not my vocation.

Titas was shot and produced in Bangladesh. Most of the dialogue is in dialect. Would you call it a Bengali film or a Bangladeshi film?

I know why you are asking this question. I fail to understand — and so would Ritwik-da — how you can even make such a distinction. It’s not that I’m avoiding an answer, but the truth is: it never occurred to us that such a distinction can be made. Bengali nationalism is my political belief. Religion cannot be a marker of identity, because you can change your religion, which is a personal belief. But you cannot change your parents, your grandparents or your heritage.

Sourabh Sen is a Kolkata-based independent writer and commentator on politics, human rights and foreign affairs