PUTTING RAY ON PAPER
A book adaptation of a film classic turns out to be a wonderful read
Asuperstar from the movies gets on a train and sees his life unravel. The Satyajit Ray classic made in 1966, starring Uttam Kumar and Sharmila Tagore is a psychological drama with all the characteristics of a Ray masterpiece. The confined space of a train journey is the perfect setting for a close look at what was happening to people not just in Bengal, but in India in the 1960s. So it takes a brave writer with a very thick skin to turn this classic into a book. For one, there are Ray fans and fanatics all over the world (not to mention Bengal) who will instantly compare the book with the film to see if it delivers on the layers and story as Ray does. And it is a wonderful read.
I read it without having seen the film and decided to dive into the book as if it were just another story. Does it hold? On that score, there is no question about it. Even if we were to assume that the writer has very limited skills and that is not the case here; the story Ray originally wrote is so powerful and so tightly woven that even a literal transcription would make for a riveting read. But Bhaskar Chattopadhyay is an accomplished writer and translator and a serious Ray aficionado. So he delivers what is expected of a novel when reverse engineered from a film.
The opening out of the screenplay in order to explore its full potential as a novel requires considerable dexterity. When to hold back and when to expand on what is in the film. The one place where Bhaskar gets it right is the build up to the film’s most talked about dream sequence. Or nightmare to be precise. Instead of giving the reader a cue that the actor or Nayak is slipping into a nightmare, he leads the reader into it without any clear warning and delivers a much more powerful narrative in the process. And it fits perfectly since this is a surreal, nightmare sequence that lends itself to exactly that sort of writing. The gentleness in the build-up is worth applauding.
For the fussy reader, there are however a few off-notes that need to be ignored. Where the writing slips. In lines like this. “The light seemed to have a life of its own, and it changed every second – waxing and waning of its own free will.” Or this. “The Rolex ticked on unperturbed, its ivory dial watching Arindam’s plight with mute objectivity.”
There is also the build up to perhaps the first crucial climax in the film, where the actor feels something stirring uncomfortably within him as he encounters the skeptical non-fan magazine editor played by Sharmila Tagore. Ray’s finesse in dealing with this scene is not matched by Bhaskar’s over-written one.
But I am putting these triflings out there not to deter you from picking up the book. But as a gentle warning of what you can easily skip in deference to a powerful story full of complexity and storytelling of the best sort. Tentativeness. The ephemeral, fleeting quality of people and times in a constant flux. The human condition observed by the best.
Read it as I did on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It’s a three-hour trip that is nostalgic even if you are 20. It makes you wistful about the way stories unfolded once upon a time. It will of course lead you straight to the film, after you’re done, whether you’ve seen it before or not.