“Think, think… practice thinking…”
This iconic dialogue from the film ‘Jukti Takko Aar Gappo' resonates with timeless relevance, urging us to reflect on its profound foresight, logic, and philosophical depth. These words, born from the intellect of Ritwik Ghatak, stand as a testament to his unparalleled genius—an artist, thinker, and filmmaker far ahead of his time. Through Ghatak, Bengali cinema, and by extension Indian cinema, witnessed a renaissance that redefined its purpose. Moving beyond the glamour of the silver screen, he transformed cinema into a realistic document of human life, introducing revolutionary changes in characterization, dialogues, and narrative depth. Ritwik Ghatak’s mastery extended beyond storytelling; his innovative use of music in films was transformative. For him, music and background scores were not mere embellishments but integral to the soul of his narratives. His extraordinary musical sensibility allowed him to align compositions seamlessly with the emotions of his stories and characters, creating an unparalleled cinematic experience.
As we celebrate Ritwik Ghatak’s birth centenary in 2025, we honor a visionary born on November 4, 1925, whose legacy continues to resonate deeply. His films, steeped in themes of partition, displacement, and human resilience, remain timeless explorations of societal upheaval and personal turmoil. His unique fusion of music, imagery, and social commentary redefined the language of cinema, making him a beacon of artistic integrity and a powerful voice for the marginalized and uprooted. The dire poverty, despair, and humiliation following the partition of Bengal in 1947, coupled with the stagnation of a society burdened by political turmoil, deeply unsettled Ritwik Ghatak. These struggles found a powerful voice in his creative expressions, with his music direction providing the perfect accompaniment to his narratives. Inspired by Rabindranath Tagore's humanistic and philosophical outlook, Ghatak understood how to use Indian music in cinema to transcend dialogues and performances, giving voice to emotions that words alone could not express. His work, blending realism with artistic innovation, remains a monumental contribution to Indian and world cinema, continuing to inspire generations of filmmakers and audiences alike.
Ritwik Ghatak's first full-length feature film ‘Nagarik' (1952) is recognized as the first so-called "art film" in Bengali cinema, with music directed by Shri Hariprasanna Das. Set against the backdrop of post-independence Kolkata, the film portrays the harsh realities of unemployment, social decay, and familial despair. Through the central protagonist Ramu, the film vividly captures the conflict between hope and despair experienced by an entire generation. The extraordinary use of music in the film, including the violin, sitar, and folk songs, enhances the depth of its scenes. The final scene, hinting at Ramu’s ongoing struggle, conveys that the cycle of urban life's hardships and survival is perpetual. The music—particularly the use of the violin and sitar—uniquely captures the tensions, melancholy, and aspirations of urban life. The rhythmic sounds of a blacksmith hammering iron, the tolling of bells, the sorrowful strains of the violin, and revolutionary songs are all products of Ritwik Ghatak's meticulous planning. The violin’s melody, seemingly played by an unseen violinist, becomes a symbol of Ramu’s loneliness and dreams. Lullabies like ‘Khoka Ghumalo’ and Hindi songs sung by beggars reflect the stark realities of the time. The use of classical ragas, particularly Bhairavi and Nat Malhar, adds profound emotion to the scenes. To depict the inner turmoil of the characters, the struggles of the city, and the crises of middle-class life, Ghatak masterfully blends instruments like the dhak, cello, piano, and revolutionary songs, elevating the film to a higher artistic plane. In the final scene, as Ramu’s family abandons their home and the violin string snaps, followed by the emergence of a revolutionary song, Ritwik Ghatak’s philosophy of life becomes evident—the struggle never ends. ‘Nagarik’ is not merely a film; it is an unparalleled document of middle-class life.
Ritwik Ghatak's ‘Ajantrik' is a milestone in the history of Indian cinema, where the protagonist is not a human but a broken-down 1920 Chevrolet Jalopy. Based on Subodh Ghosh's short story, Ritwik Ghatak masterfully blends music, sound, and realism to create an unparalleled world. The exceptional contribution of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan as the music director elevates the film to a new artistic height. From the use of a Santali wedding song to the interplay of sarod, sitar, flute, jal tarang, and subtle applications of classical ragas, the film's soundscape comes alive. The opening scene features a Santali wedding song that adds a touch of humor, while the scenes with tribal laborers resonate with the struggles of life through the rhythmic beats of the dharmasha and shinga. Through the journey of Bimal Master and his beloved jalopy, ‘Jagaddal', the film beautifully captures the landscapes of Rarh Bengal, tribal culture, and the joys and sorrows of life. The scene of a newlywed couple traveling to a resort is imbued with the tender emotions of love, evoked by the magical tunes of the sitar and jal tarang. In contrast, the Nabanna festival in the forest, with tribal dances set to the beats of dhamsha, madal, and shinga, alongside the sorrowful strains of the sarod, becomes a song of unity between nature and humanity.
The use of music in the final sequences carries profound emotional weight. In the scene at the Christian cemetery, the lament of a tribal woman blends with the tolling of church bells to paint a poignant picture of death. As Bimal Master tries to repair Jagaddal, the interplay of jal tarang, mechanical noises, and the fast-paced melody of the sarod creates an atmosphere of struggle. However, when ‘Jagaddal' is finally dismantled and taken away by the scrap dealers, the mournful strains of the sarod in Darbari Kanada symbolize Bimal's shattered dreams. In the final scene, the sudden honk of Jagaddal's horn, accidentally pressed by a playful child, seems to say—“It’s not the end, even after the end.” The sorrowful sarod melody merges with tribal songs and the beats of the dhamsha. ‘Ajantrik' concludes, but Ritwik Ghatak’s artistic vision and Ustad Ali Akbar Khan’s music remain an eternal echo of life’s conflicts and beauty.
Ritwik Ghatak’s ‘Bari Theke Paliye' (1958), based on Shri Shibram Chakraborty’s short story, is a unique film that opened new horizons in Bengali cinema through the seamless blend of music and visuals. Under the musical direction of Shri Salil Chowdhury, the innovative use of sitar, violin, dotara, dhol, flute, harmonium, harmonica, and percussion transformed the film into an aesthetically enriching experience. The character of Haridas embodies a fusion of folk tunes and modern music, bringing pastoral reminiscence and nostalgia to life. Notably, the song ‘Haridaser Bulbulbhaja' symbolizes both the joy of childhood and the folk traditions of Bengal. The use of instruments like the dholak and dugdugi during the madari’s performance beautifully captures the rural charm of the film.
Ritwik’s creativity shines in the use of Hindustani classical music. The playful song ‘Are! Loton Gache Loton Loton Phool Phutiyachhe', sung by the comic character ‘peyada' (played by Jahar Roy), and the Bhojpuri-inspired Holi folk song from the Bihar-Jharkhand region, mesmerize the
audience. Similarly, the simple tune and lyrics of the song ‘Ami Onek Koriya Sheshe Ailam Re Kolkata’, sung by a Baul (voiced by Shri Kali Dasgupta), paint a unique image of Kolkata in the hearts of Bengalis. To express the protagonist Kanchan’s loneliness, poverty, and yearning for his mother, the melancholic strains of the violin, dotara, and flute are employed. The contrast between the slogans of political rallies and the music of aristocratic wedding bands reflects Ritwik’s deep understanding of social realities. The inclusion of Shri Annadasankar Roy’s poem ‘Teler Shishi Bhanglo Bole' is a remarkable example of the director’s poetic finesse. In the final scene, as Kanchan returns home, the melodious blend of sitar, flute, and dhol poignantly conveys maternal affection and familial joy. This multidimensional use of music elevates the film beyond being merely a children’s movie, transforming it into an extraordinary work of art. The experimental collaboration between Ritwik Ghatak and Salil Chowdhury marked a new chapter in the role of music in Bengali cinema, making ‘Bari Theke Paliye', a timeless masterpiece.
The iconic Rabindra Sangeet "Akash Bhora Surya Tara", featured in Ritwik Ghatak’s 1961 masterpiece ‘Komal Gandhar', continues to mesmerize audiences with the stellar performance of actor Shri Anil Chatterjee and the unparalleled rendition by the legendary Rabindra Sangeet exponent, Shri Debabrata Biswas. The sheer brilliance of the song, particularly the recurring use of the word "bismoye" (wonder), sends shivers down the spine, as subtle shifts in emotion are captured through George-da’s (Debabrata Biswas) masterful vocal modulations. Right from the beginning, the word "bhora" (filled) evokes a profound sense of grandeur and serenity, as if it embodies the vast expanse of the sky. Yet, when the lyrics transition to "bishwobhara pran" (life pervades the universe), George-da’s voice delicately conveys the tender pulsation of life, akin to the soft caress of a feather. The precision with which words like "chomok" (wonder), "pran" (life), and "bismoye" (awe) are articulated is a testament to Debabrata Biswas’s unparalleled artistry. Ritwik Ghatak, a connoisseur of true genius, recognized this and wasted no time in crafting this unforgettable collaboration. The Ghatak-Biswas duo remains irreplaceable in the history of Bengali cinema, even today. Equally noteworthy is the contribution of the film’s music director, Shri Jyotirindra Maitra. The Rabindra Sangeet begins with the simple ambiance of the tanpura, preserving its pristine beauty. As the song progresses to the antara (second stanza), the seamless and unembellished inclusion of the sitar amplifies the song’s essence, giving it a profound, tangible presence.
Another Rabindra Sangeet featured in ‘Komal Gandhar' is "Aaj Jyotsnarate Shobai Gechhe Bone". In a pastoral setting, amidst a folk tune, the sudden emergence of Shrimati Sumitra Sen’s soaring vocals halts everything in its tracks. The fleeting lightheartedness of the folk melody vanishes, and the mood transforms into one of poignant introspection. The subtle strains of the esraj perfectly complement the melodic meend (glides) of the song. Interestingly, "Aaj Jyotsnarate", written by Rabindranath Tagore, was born out of the grief of a father mourning the loss of his son. The philosopher-poet reflected on the solitary nature of personal sorrow, while the eternal rhythm of the universe continued unabated. The poem underscores the futility of clinging to worldly attachments, advocating instead for unity with the divine as the ultimate truth. However, Ritwik Ghatak interprets the song from a completely different perspective in his film. Here, the protagonist is not mourning loss but awaiting the arrival of a future lover, ready to embrace the bonds of earthly life. This is the true glory of art—when it lends itself to multiple interpretations, each imbued with unique perspectives, the depth of its artistry becomes evident. Moreover, the interpreter’s genius lies in reimagining a well-known creation in a completely novel light, illuminating it with fresh insights. This is where Ritwik Ghatak’s brilliance shines.
The use of music in Ritwik Ghatak’s ‘Komal Gandhar' is a masterful experience. Under the leadership of Shri Jyotirindra Maitra, the contributions of musical stalwarts like Shri Salil Chowdhury, Shri Bijon Bhattacharya, and Shri Hemanga Biswas elevate the film to an unparalleled musical zenith. The blending of Rabindra Sangeet, IPTA songs, folk tunes, and classical melodies weaves an extraordinary tapestry of sound. The film opens with a stunning orchestration of sarod, sarangi, and Surshringar, instantly captivating the audience. The rural Bengali wedding song “Amer Talay Jamur Jhumur” recurs throughout the film, symbolizing the harmony of union even in moments of separation. The refined movements of the sarod, the plaintive notes of the flute, and the tender strains of Raga Bhairavi lend each scene a profound depth. Notably, Ustad Bahadur Khan’s sarod compositions leave an indelible impression on the audience. Set against the backdrop of the IPTA movement, songs like “Esho Mukto Karo” and “Heyyo Ho”, performed by Hemanga Biswas, breathe life into the emotionally charged theater sequences. Similarly, Shri Ronen Roychowdhury’s Bhatiyali song “Epar Padma Opar Padma” infuses unparalleled vitality into the boat race sequence on the Padma River. Shri Salil Chowdhury’s composition of Sukanta Bhattacharya’s “Obak Prithibi”, sung by Shri Hemanta Mukhopadhyay, creates a deeply evocative atmosphere in moments of sorrow. The final sequence features an exquisite fusion of Baul and Islamic music with “Ami Ki Chhule Jal Ante Gelam” and “Sure Achhen Suleman”, embodying the theme of eternal unity. The music of ‘Komal Gandhar', particularly the use of the sarod, stands as a testament to Ritwik Ghatak’s creative brilliance. This film also marked the debut of Shri Debabrata ‘George’ Biswas, heralding his rise as a luminous star in the musical firmament. Through its rich musical landscape, ‘Komal Gandhar unveils the deeper essence of art and life.
On April 14, 1960, Ritwik Ghatak's ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara' was released, marking an unforgettable chapter in the history of Bengali cinema. Based on Shri Shaktipada Rajguru's novel, this film poignantly portrays the pain, sacrifices, and existential crises of refugee life with profound emotion and artistic finesse. It remains one of Ritwik Ghatak’s most popular and commercially successful films, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of Bengalis.
The film’s music, directed by Shri Jyotirindra Maitra, adds a unique dimension by incorporating Hindustani classical music. In the opening scene, Pandit A.T. Kanan’s alap in Raga Hansadhwani beautifully represents the musical talent of the protagonist Nita’s brother, Shankar. During Nita’s first appearance, as she struggles with a torn slipper, the combined background of the sitar and sarod poignantly reflects the struggles and helplessness of refugee life. The Rabindra Sangeet “Ghorette Bhramar Elo Gun Gunie”, sung by Nita’s younger sister, offers a fleeting moment of solace amidst the hardships of small-town life—like a ray of hope piercing through the darkness. Another remarkable aspect of the film’s musical artistry is the use of the sarod. The masterful playing of Ustad Bahadur Hossain Khan is used by Ritwik Ghatak to deepen the emotional resonance of the narrative. During the scene where Nita reads her lover’s letter, the interplay of the sarod and flute weaves a melancholic melody of love and longing. Similarly, in another moment, Shankar’s rendition of a Bhatiyali tune evokes the fluidity of a river, filled with a quiet sorrow. Life, much like the river, must flow forward, overcoming every obstacle in its path—a profound truth captured in the film’s music. Through its evocative musical language, ‘Meghe
Dhaka Tara’ transcends cinema, becoming a deeply emotional and artistic exploration of life and survival.
On a rainy night, in a dark room, Shankar sings Miyan Ki Malhar or ‘Na Jaga Ho Raja’ in Raga Khamaj with a tanpura in hand—every scene in the film comes alive through the combination of A.T. Kanan’s soulful singing and Anil Chatterjee’s brilliant acting. When Shankar sits by the riverbank and sings the vilambit bandish “Gayi Ma Te Pritam” in Raga Hansadhwani amidst the morning atmosphere, his song becomes a symbol of the impoverished family’s struggle for survival. It is a fight to live, a fight to overcome time. Why does Hansadhwani recur throughout the film? There is a proverb: “Hansa Madhye Baka Yatha” (a crane among swans); however, in this film, the context is reversed. Amidst a self-centered and distressed society, the true artist Shankar, like a swan, spreads his artistic wings and tastes the essence of transcendence. Is this why Ritwik Ghatak centered the essence of ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara' around Hansadhwani?
The discordant notes of the tanpura and the depth of the surshringar amplify the poignancy of Nita’s silent protest. Alongside classical music, the director skillfully incorporates Bengali folk music. In a crowd, a wandering baul strums his ektara and sings, “Dushomoye Dinguli Aiyaa” (the days of despair have come). Rendered by Shri Ronen Roychowdhury, this song profoundly reflects the turbulent times of the 1950s and ’60s. Similarly, the subtle divide between love and betrayal is captured in the tunes of jhumur songs. The mournful notes of the sitar and flute echo the heartbreak of Nita. With exceptional skill, the director blends raga music and Rabindra Sangeet to create an unparalleled artistic masterpiece. On a rainy night, when Nita visits Shankar, they reminisce about their childhood and sing together: “Je Rate Mor Duarguli Bhanga Lo Jhure”. Sung by the venerable Debabrata Biswas and Geeta Ghatak, this song transcends time to become eternally memorable. This moment is not just about music but also a reflection of the depth and emotions of their relationship. Alongside, Smt. Supriya Devi’s extraordinary acting enhances the scene. In the climactic moment, when Nita’s despair resonates with every word of the Rabindra Sangeet, the background sound of whipping lashes—a projection of Ritwik Ghatak’s creative genius—pierces the soul.
When tuberculosis-stricken Nita sings another song rendered by Smt. Geeta Ghatak, “Jani Tomay Parini Bujhite”, echoes her profound sorrow and the cruelty of fate. In the film’s final scenes, Shankar returns from Bombay and, while walking along the riverbank, sings “Lagi Lagan Patisakhisan”. Sung by A.T. Kanan with the accompaniment of the sarod, this song symbolizes Shankar’s success and his deep love for his sister. Returning home in search of Nita, he finds a blood-stained handkerchief. Nita, who sacrificed her life for her family, eventually leaves her home. In the background, a Santhali jhumur song plays: “Aay Chole Aay / Ma Kole Aay” (Come back, come to Mother’s lap), symbolizing nature’s call to take Nita back into its embrace. In the final scene, Nita is seen sitting amidst the hills, at the edge of her life. Her dream of Shillong’s hills is shrouded in mist, with shadows of sunlight in the distance. She breaks down in tears, holding Shankar’s hand, crying, “Dada, Ami Bachte Cheyechilam” (Brother, I wanted to live). Her cry reverberates through the mountains, becoming the voice of her unspoken agony. The clouds rumble, and the mist thickens. This scene is not just about Nita but the eternal symphony of life’s joys and sorrows, which never fade.
This story is not merely about music; it is a profound reflection of dreams, love, pain, and sacrifice. Together, these elements make ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’ not just a film but an extraordinary testament to the Bengali soul. It resonates with every joy and sorrow, every sacrifice and struggle, and every hope and despair of our lives, leaving an indelible mark on our hearts. Ritwik Ghatak’s creation reminds us that art is never just entertainment; it is a quest for the profound truths of life.
Ritwik Ghatak's ‘Subarnarekha' (1965) is a remarkable artistic portrayal of the sorrow, struggle, and human conflicts of post-Partition refugee life. Although completed in 1962, the film was released in 1965. It was created through a collaborative story by Ritwik Ghatak and Radheshyam Jhunjhunwala, with Ustad Bahadur Hossain Khan as the music director. The exquisite use of the sarod, sitar, flute, tanpura, clarinet, and folk music enriches the film with deep emotions and expressions.
The film opens with a shloka from Shankaracharya’s Mohamudgara in Raga Kedara, transporting the audience into a mystical atmosphere. In the scene where the Bagdi woman is separated from her child, the jhala of the sitar intensifies the grief and anguish. The Santhali nobanno (harvest) songs, accompanied by the flute and dhamsa, vividly depict the joyous moments of rural life. In the scenes of Sita and Abhiram’s love, the Rabindra Sangeet “Aaj Dhaner Kheter Roudra-Chhayay” reflects the profound intermingling of life’s joys and sorrows. During Sita’s wedding, the shehnai in Raga Yaman Kalyan transitions from joy to pathos. In Ishwar’s mental breakdown, the discordant notes of the tanpura and the sound of a whip poignantly express his torment.
The cabaret scene on Park Street offers a unique experience with the fusion of Western instruments like the saxophone, cello, and drums, alongside Bengali dhak and dhol. In the final scene, by the banks of the Subarnarekha River, the conch sound, recitation from Mohamudgara, and Binu’s rendition of “Aaj Dhaner Kheter Roudra-Chhayay” symbolize a new hope for life. Under Ritwik Ghatak’s direction, Subarnarekha is not merely a tale of Partition’s pain; it is an extraordinary amalgamation of music, imagery, and human emotions.
Sri Advaita Mallabarman’s timeless novel ‘Titas Ekti Nadir Naam’ (A River Called Titas) was transformed into an extraordinary film under the masterful direction of Ritwik Ghatak. The struggles of the fishing community along the banks of the Titas River were brought to life with epic grandeur through Ritwik’s artistic brilliance. Another remarkable feature of the film was the collaboration of folk artists from East Bengal. The film was produced by Habibur Rahman Khan, with a musical score that wove together the mystical essence of Lalon Fakir’s songs, Baul melodies, and rural tunes. In the opening scene, where young Basanti is winnowing rice, the use of a wedding song from the Mymensingh Geetika adds significant depth, seamlessly blending the joys and sorrows of rural life into the narrative. The vast expanse of the Titas River resonates with the plaintive notes of the flute, echoing the river’s eternal melancholy.
The scene of the Dol Jatra (Holi festival) is imbued with the vibrant sweetness of Ras-Kirtan and the sitar, portraying the colorful simplicity of village life. In the moment of an unexpected encounter between Kishore and an unknown young woman, the jhala of the sarod breathes life into the emotional turmoil of their hearts. During their wedding, the Sylheti wedding song by Sri Radharaman, “Leelabali Leelabali Bhar Juboti Soigo Ki Diya Sajaimu Tore,” adds a new dimension to the tradition of rural melodies. On a stormy night during a boat journey, Lalon’s songs, followed by the morning light in Raga Bhairavi with “Rai Jago,” herald a new beginning in life. Kishore embarks on a journey along the Titas with his new bride. The storm forces their boat to stop in a creek, where the tune of Baul's songs captures the oscillations of life. Suddenly, river pirates abduct the bride. Overwhelmed with shame, she jumps into the water, and Kishore fails to save her. The sorrowful strains of the sarod reflect his mental collapse. However, the bride survives, rescued by the fishermen. The passage of time flows along the Titas, accompanied by the wistful notes of the flute.
Basanti, though widowed, remains resilient. Meanwhile, the deranged Kishore is consumed by memories of his lost bride. One night, husband and wife meet face-to-face, yet fail to recognize each other. Still, a strange attraction stirs between them, and in the background, “Leelabali Leelabali” plays once more. The sorrowful notes of the sarod merge with the pain and memories of life. By the banks of the Titas, life’s stream flows on, its melodies reflecting a fusion of joy and sorrow. ‘Titas Ekti Nadir Naam’ is not just a film but a sensitive document of the folk life of East Bengal. Ritwik Ghatak, in his unique style, elevated the film into a masterpiece of art.
Ritwik Ghatak’s final artistic expression, ‘Jukti Takko Aar Gappo’ (Reason, Debate, and Story) (1974), is a revolutionary artist’s quest for self-discovery. Portraying the character of Nilkantha Bagchi himself, Ritwik weaves a narrative that serves as a mirror to the conscience of the Bengali middle class amidst the backdrop of Partition, the Liberation War, and the refugee crisis. It is simultaneously an introspection of Ritwik’s own life. The music, composed by Ustad Bahadur Khan, features the voices of Debabrata Biswas, Arati Mukherjee, and Sushil Mallik, adding profound depth to the film’s atmosphere. Much like Van Gogh’s self-portraits, this film stands as an artist’s self-reflection. Its uncompromising tone and the tension between self-awareness and conflict make it timeless. ‘Jukti Takko Aar Gappo' opens with the bewildered face of a helpless old man, symbolizing the stunned amazement of the destitute towards a world filled with abundance. Through the use of shadow play, the emptiness of time, space, and humanity is conveyed, enhanced by the solemn beats of the dhak and the evocative strains of the sarod. Nilkantha, an intellectual drunkard, narrates his separation from his wife, with his anguish expressed through a fusion of Eastern and Western musical motifs.
The appearance of Bangabala, symbolizing the lost soul of Bangladesh, is accompanied by auspicious notes of the sitar. When Nachiketa speaks of the future, the melancholic strains of the flute in Raga Pilu embody their despair. In a nighttime Kolkata scene, three homeless people engage in conversation, blending folk tunes played on the flute with Nilkantha’s memories of Rabindra Sangeet, particularly “Amar Onge Onge Ke Bajaye Banshi” (Who Plays the Flute Across My Being?). Together, these layers unfold the nuanced depths of Ritwik’s musical vision. In the final scene, as dawn breaks over Kolkata, the sun hymn to Lord Jagannath, paired with the soul-stirring notes of the sitar, transforms Ritwik’s internal turmoil into a poignant work of art.
A Baul sings by the Ganges, “Namaz Amar Hoilo Na Aday” (I Could Not Offer My Prayers), evoking the spirit of communal harmony. In one scene, a refugee woman bathes her child in a pond, and the melancholic notes of a flute weigh down the atmosphere. Bangabala, reminiscing about her homeland, sings the Sylheti folk song “Baitam Tori Deshe Jaitam” (I Wish to Sail Back to My Land), which gains a profound depth in the voice of Smt. Binapani Devi. Hearing the song, Nilkantha decides to return to Kanchanpur in Purulia, and he sets out with his companions. In
Purulia and Chhau dancers are engaged in a struggle against land grabbers. Nilkantha and his group find shelter in the house of Panchanan Sardar, a Chhau artist, where tribal music and flute melodies fill the air. Panchanan laments the decline of Chhau dance, and Bangabala expresses her desire to dance wearing a Chhau mask of Durga. Despite it being against tradition, Panchanan grants her permission. In one scene, Nilkantha and Nachiketa venture into the village, only to face suspicion from the landlord Madhab Haldar. During a ‘Chhau’ performance, a child is seen playing the nakara drum, symbolizing rebellion.
Later, at Panchanan Sardar’s house, Bangabala serves food, but a furious Nachiketa refuses to eat, leaving her deeply hurt. In this poignant moment, Debabrata Biswas’s rendition of Rabindra Sangeet's “Keno Cheye Acho Go Ma Mukho Pane” (Why Do You Gaze at Me, Mother?) captures the emotional depth. Nilkantha questions the moral decay of society, and the strains of the Santhali flute reflect his inner turmoil. Nilkantha is killed during a gunfight with Naxalite revolutionaries. Before his death, he utters, “Everything is burning, the universe is burning, I am burning,” reminiscent of King Lear’s famous lament. In the end, the police carry away Nilkantha’s lifeless body, and the film closes with the sound of ‘uludhvani’ (ritualistic ululation), symbolizing the dawn of a new era and the promise of change.
In Ritwik Ghatak’s films, music transcends mere melody; it becomes a profound expression of philosophy, thought, and humanity. The seamless interplay of sound, silence, and melody unveils the multifaceted truths of life, creating an enduring symphony of existence.