Exploring the themes of Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali (1955)

 PATHER PANCHALI

by

Satyajit Ray

One thing I noticed while rewatching ‘Pather Panchali’, a masterpiece in every sense, is that even when I muted the audio (which I don’t recommend, as it would be a sin to eliminate Ravi Shankar’s heavenly score that intertwines with the imagery and weaves magic) I could make out what the film was saying. Yes, I’ve watched it before, with subtitles of course, but it is not just that. The reason behind this is that the film is fluent in the cinematic language, which is highly literary and colloquial at the same time. It is a singular achievement, but remember we are talking of Mr Satyajit Ray. And the ‘cinema’ of Mr Ray. After all, ‘true cinema’ is a story told in images. And images are a universal language.

Durga, in the paddy fields.

‘Pather Panchali’ does not have a plot, like many other films of the World cinema (Italian neorealist or French New Wave), or Indian parallel cinema of its time it is not narrative-driven, but image-driven and explores the human condition. It is more about the cinematic experience that is rooted in the lives of our main character and their habitat. It captures their behaviour. Film is behaviour, after all.

Our people are, Sarbajaya Roy, the housewife, mother of two: Durga, an uneducated, painfully hopeful yet joyful pre-teen village girl & Apu, a school-going, a 5-6-year-old boy who is too young & lively to make any sense of what is going around him. Though the film is filled with other characters, such as Sarbajaya’s husband Harihar Roy, a poor priest & aspiring writer who fails to provide for his family; her old food-stealing yet adorable & caring neighbour Indir Thakrun; and other villagers, it is the lives of the aforementioned characters the film explores the most. I said the most because, they are the people who share the majority of screen time while living a life that is not extraordinary, but vivid (at least the children).

Birth of Apu.

Sarbajaya (trans. firmness, earnestness and gallantry), aptly named, is a female character whose status is almost mythical present day. She is one of the strongest and the most heartbreaking female characters in the history of Indian cinema. I believe, she is the reason why ‘Pather Panchali’ stands out from its melodramatic contemporaries like ‘Mother India’, where the portrayal of ‘true Indian women’, even though widely acclaimed during the time of their release, is criticised now for the stereotypical connotations. In the case of Sarbajaya, no allusions are made to any Hindu goddess while she takes a firm stance, neither is her suffering exaggerated for a much dramatic setting, but her condition is very grounded and explored with honesty & sincerity. In fact, the resistance she offers is almost invisible, but it is strong nevertheless. When the film opens, we understand that she is a term mother, but even then she refuses help from a friend who offers to carry her bucket while she draws water from a well or money, later in the film from the same person when she is broke. When Indir, her old neighbour who shares her compound, gets a blanket gifted from another villager she gets frustrated about her inability to provide for her more than anything else. Her life is painful, she is regularly accused of theft, insulted for not repaying her debt on time, has to raise her kids by herself while her nonchalant husband makes it almost impossible to have a stable economic ground and above all, she had to give her dreams up. But, she never succumbs to these external pressures. She buckles but does not break. With Sarbajaya, the undeclared matriarch, Mr Ray questions: who is the actual head of the family? The male who is the source of money? Or the female who holds it all together even with the lack of his support? The setting of the film may not be a progressive one like Mr Ray’s other works like ‘Mahanagar’ (1965) but it is for sure in spirit.

A little after getting halfway into the film, there is a scene when Apu, who is now obsessed about being dressed as a prince makes himself a crown out of foil which he takes from Durga’s box without her permission. When she finds him with a crown she initially laughs, upon realising the source of the foil her smiles metamorphoses into a frown. It is pure joy to watch such humane moments executed to perfection. She beats him up. Their mother stops the fight. She teases him and runs into the field when Apu chases her. But they soon reconcile as Durga gives Apu sugarcane. After a while, and upon hearing a train horn they run to look at a steam engine, that passes through the paddy fields, which they always fantasised about. Apu manages to run all the way to the tracks, while Durga, stuck in the field, falls down. The actions are quite simple. A fight between siblings over petty issues that results in an inevitable reconciliation or kids getting excited about certain things which may be trivial to adults but those that mean a lot to them. Such things form the time of our lives, maybe unremarkable on the surface by it’s this behaviour that speaks volumes about us. And when observed, written and executed like this, makes for great cinema. As humans, we are aware that there exists an unconditional affection between siblings, but with his screenplay, Mr Ray establishes the closeness between Apu & Durga.

Busy mornings.

Durga is one of the most realistically charming child characters we’ll ever come across. She is not afraid of chewing tobacco that she is forbidden from, she is capable of finding a way out to buy a sweet her family can not afford, she quite affectionately gifts her old neighbour with the fruits she steals from their wealthy neighbour’s orchard. Even though she lives her life to the fullest, Mr Ray questions us about the persistence of her happiness. Her vivid, carefree life is “juxta-cut” with her mother’s suffering when we wonder how her future might turn out to be. We wonder if she’ll ever get to marry as she dreams as much as she herself does, even when we are aware of the poverty that debilitates her family. Mr Ray uses the character of Durga to examine the bliss of living even in the absence of luxuries, and concepts such as fate. While with Apu, he examines the sheer joy of lack of responsibility and the true essence of childhood. Apu’s character does not have a need and isn’t aware of what he is going through. School is fun. His sister is his best friend. Together they find jubilation in the most ordinary things. They live life as it must be. 

The stage performance Apu watches influences him beyond the time of this film.

Moments before Durga realises the source of Apu's foil crown.