To celebrate the centenary year of Satyajit Ray, arguably the most remarkable filmmaker born on Indian soil, Firstpost will explore the lesser known aspects of his life.
In the first three parts, we look at his relationship with his filmmaker-son Sandip Ray, through anecdotal and visual inputs provided by the latter.
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Towering filmmaker Satyajit Ray’s relationship with his son Sandip sprouted very early in the latter's life. Customarily, famed filmmaker Ray would be in his study, immersed in his ‘lal kheror khata’ (red cloth-bound notebook). Of course, the ‘kheror khata’ surfaced from Aparajito (The Unvanquished), Ray’s second film in his Apu trilogy.
Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road) was written in the format of a storyboard which every producer had turned their backs on when Ray approached them for finance. Till the West Bengal government, led by the legendary Bidhan Chandra Ray, stepped forward to resuscitate a film which went on to make movie history.
The exceptionally subtle man that Ray was also shone through the bond that he had with his son from when Sandip was a child. Sandip realised this much later in life when he leafed through his father’s movie scripts to digitise them. In the end pages of some of the early scripts like Aparajito, are doodles of steam locomotives and other quaint sketches.
“I realised far later that those were moments when I had invaded father’s study, leading him to put off work for a short while to make amusing sketches for me,” says Sandip with a nostalgic smile. The sketches peep through from early scripts like Aparajito and Paras Pathar (The Philosopher’s Stone), which turned out to be Ray’s third film.
The shooting of the cocktail sequence in Paras Pathar remains etched in Sandip’s mind. This was in 1958. “Father was up on a crane with his cinematographer, Subrata Mitra, shooting the scene. Since I was very young, everything seemed magnified. The crane was like a huge toy to me, and I wished I was up there, too, with father,” Sandip says with a laugh.
Sandip also recalls Apu’s room in Apur Sansar (The World of Apu). He was six years old then. The room was built in the studio on a two-feet elevation to create an element of cinematic depth because of neighbouring houses. Even two feet was quite a bit for a boy of six. That fascinated Sandip, and sticks in his mind.
Obviously, at such a young age, Sandip was accompanied by his mother to the studios. Ray’s son also remembers the day when his mother (Bijoya Ray) forbade him from watching Ray shooting the scene of Apu (enacted by Soumitra Chatterjee) and Aparna (Sharmila Tagore) after their first wedding night. “It’s for grown-ups,” Bijoya had told Sandip.
After Apur Sansar (The World of Apu), Sandip used to visit his father’s shootings and music recordings regularly. “Father would smile and wave at me everytime I walked into the studio,” says Sandip. “Going to the studio was like baby’s day out.”
Before Ray moved to the HMV (now Saregama) studios in Calcutta, he would record his background music at the iconic New Theatres movie studios in the city. The ambience at music recordings at New Theatres captivated Sandip. There were tripod stands with the score sheets, and a sprawling carpet with takias (long pillows) on which people reclined enraptured with the tracks which filled the air. “It reminded me somewhat of Jalsaghar (The Music Room) later in life,” Sandip remarks.
New Theatres was the hub where all of Ray’s early movie compositions emerged – till Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne (The Adventures of Goopy and Bagha). “New Theatres was where Pandit Ravi Shankar scored for father,” says Sandip. Editing was also a delight: Apur Sansar, Teen Kanya (The Three Daughters), Abhijan (The Expedition), Kanchenjungha... Sandip would connect the frames flitting across the Moviola editing machine’s screen to the locales he travelled to during the shootings of Teen Kanya, Apur Sansar, and Kanchenjungha — the mysterious mists of Darjeeling in Kanchenjungha and Krishnanagar in Apur Sansar, where a forlorn Apu lies under a tree in the descending twilight. The stretched-out tracks, on which the camera rolled, stand out vividly in Sandip’s mind. And, of course, the climactic final sequence in Apur Sansar, where Apu finally unites with his son Kajol, and carries him on his shoulder against the backdrop of a flowing river and a boat full sail.
“I remember watching parts of Abhijan’s editing. Marie Seton (the British writer who authored the first biography of Ray, titled Portrait of a Director) was working on the book on father, and stayed with us for a long time to watch father working,” says Sandip. "My granduncle, Subimal Ray, grandfather Sukumar Ray’s younger brother, was still alive, and Marie Seton learnt a great deal of our family history from him,” says Sandip.
The Ray family changed residence to Lake Temple Road (in south Calcutta) around 1959 during the making of Apur Sansar. Sandip was used to his father smoking. But he was fascinated with a lady writer like Marie Seton typing the manuscript of her book on Ray with a cigarette pressed between her lips.
“Father was editing Abhijan in New Theatres (One) studio when someone came, and informed him that Chhabi Biswas (the great Tollygunge thespian) had passed away. Father immediately stopped editing, put me in a car, and left with his assistants in another car. I remember this incident like it was yesterday. This was way back in 1962,” recalls Sandip. Ray’s film shootings are etched as indelible impressions in Sandip’s mind. “In fact, father probably understood that I was slowly developing an interest in filmmaking. But he never pressurised me into taking up any particular profession,” stresses Sandip.
Sandip found most of his friends amongst Ray’s unit members. Relatively, he had very few school or college friends. Traditionally, unit members spent time interacting in Sandip’s room. None would walk into Ray’s study unless absolutely necessary. As a result, Sandip’s relationship with the film crew blossomed. One of them, Ramesh Sen (who was Ray’s assistant director and passed away recently), was working with Sandip till 2019.
Interestingly, Ray always wanted his family, wife Bijoya Ray and son, to be with him while shooting. Therefore, he attempted to slot his shooting schedules to coincide with Sandip’s school vacations, be it summer or winter.
Away from filmmaking, Ray’s favourite holiday haunts were the BNR Hotel in Puri (the sea resort) and Oberoi Mount Everest in the hills of Darjeeling. The maestro would also pen his movie scripts in solitude in these locales, and also at the Oberoi Hotel in Gopalpur on Sea. He wrote the screenplay of Charulata (The Lonely Wife) screenplay in Gopalpur.
Beginning with films, Sandip’s relationship with his father bloomed further when the family magazine Sandesh was born again, and Ray began writing and illustrating systematically for it. “Father’s life as a full-blown illustrator also took off with Sandesh. Signet Press, for which he would also illustrate covers, was, of course, before my time." Ray would often share story ideas that were germinating in his mind with his son.
“With Sandesh, I discovered my father as a writer. To me, this was his new face. His writings for Amrita Bazar Patrika date back to the '40s. So Sandesh came as a fresh reward in my life,” says Sandip. When Ray was illustrating his first sci-fi novel Byomjatrir Diary (Diary of a Space Traveller) revolving around the scientist Professor Shanku, Sandip suggested inserting a rocket in the title logo. Ray took to the idea, and incorporated it. On another occasion, Ray “accepted” a subtle change that Sandip “dared” to air in the cover illustration of Sandesh. It was around the time Ray’s bestselling sleuth, Feluda, arrived on the scene.
Gradually, the maestro began fathoming his son’s inclination towards the making of films. “So if my school was closed on a particular day when father happened to be going out location-hunting, he would immediately alert me about his plans, and inquired if I was keen on accompanying him.
I would naturally grab such an opportunity. I remember travelling to all the locales where Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne was shot. But before zeroing on a location where a film would unfold, one had to scour various places with an open mind,” observes Sandip.
The pre-production exercise for Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne, especially picking out locations, was exhaustive. If one dwells just on Rajasthan, Sandip recalls crisscrossing with his father, and some unit members across Kota, Bundi, Bharatpur, Jaisalmer, Jaipur, Jodhpur and Pokhran to list a few. “In short, we lapped up Rajasthan in its entirety. And, one must factor in the virtual absence of travel guides, not to mention that the internet was a far cry in the late '60s. So the search was that much more painstaking. But all said and done, it was hugely informative and enlightening,” says Sandip.
Interestingly, Sandip mentions that they discovered a hermit in Bharatpur who lived with a pet snake! “Later, father went on to write a short story, titled Khagam, drawing blood from this experience. In fact, quite a clutch of father’s short stories or novels enjoyed a connect with experiences during crafting a film. His two favourite haunts, as I mentioned, were Puri and Darjeeling. (Ray spent a phase in Lucknow in his childhood). The first Feluda novella, Feludar Goendagiri (Danger in Darjeeling) centers around Darjeeling. After shooting his documentary Sikkim, he had penned the Feluda title, Gangtoke Gongdogol (Trouble in Gangtok). Father’s first original film screenplay, Kanchenjunga, again unfolds in Darjeeling. Many years later, he had written Hatya Puri (House of Death). Therefore, he would revisit places he had travelled to even as an author from a different angle, of course,” underlines Sandip. Sonar Kella (The Golden Fortress), again, had emerged from the Jaisalmer that the master filmmaker had soaked up while filming Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne, adds Sandip.
According to him, his father had expressed that "he would make Felu journey to his (Ray’s) favourite haunts, while Shanku would be travelling to climes which he had never visited or were beyond his reach, but yearned to explore." Thus, in a flash of inspiration, Ray pushed back all barriers and rocketed into the far reaches of the universe with his maiden Professor Shanku novel, Bomjatrir Diary (Diary of a Space Traveller) in 1961.
Curiously, Ray’s Feluda novels were so replete with details, from the viewpoint of information, that they also functioned like travelogues for tourists who later went for a vacation to these locales, says Sandip. “For instance, it’s no exaggeration that some of these vacationers called up to tell me that they had carried father’s book Sonar Kella on a trip to Rajasthan. Despite being an adventure-mystery novel, Sonar Kella is also a classic example of a travel guide. While writing a book, father not only relied on his experiences during location-hunting, but also followed it up with further research at the National Library and bookstores which he occasionally frequented,” Sandip recalls.
He would also write to friends within the country and overseas for back-up material like roadmaps, picture postcards, brochures, leaflets, and the like, for additional data. “Since such exchanges would, in those days, all transpire through the postal network, it was obviously time-consuming. But father waited patiently. Sometimes, he would write the initial draft of a book, and then incorporate the minutest details and come up with the illustrations after they arrived. It was customary to find mailed packets reaching our home when father had embarked on writing a novel, novella or even a short story. The entire exercise was extremely exciting, and laced with a fun element. It was far more thrilling than sourcing everything with the click of a mouse or button,” drives home Sandip.
Intensive research work, he stresses, was an integral facet of his father’s filmmaking process and life as an author. “During the pre-production phase of Shatranj Ke Khilari (The Chess Players), we had travelled to Hyderabad although there was no shooting schedule planned there. This was simply because father wanted to visit the Salarjung Museum just in case he would stumble upon some data related to the film,” emphasises Sandip. “And, all through, I tried to draw on these experiences as a keen observer,” he underscores.
“Another aspect I must dwell on briefly is my equation with father’s crew members. As father went about his work, especially during shootings, if I ran into any trouble comprehending the goings on, I would approach someone who was part of his unit or team for clarification. They would invariably help in clearing the fogginess in my mind. Actually, before anyone else, they were the first individuals who had walked into my life as friends. My relationship with them was extremely warm,” says Sandip with a tinge of emotion.
Another factor which struck Sandip as “unique” was the approach of his father to put up with all his unit members in the same hotel during outdoor shoots. “Father believed that staying together in one place facilitated effective coordination between the director and his crew. Unless a hotel was running out of rooms in accommodating all the functionaries in the unit, where one was compelled to split between hotels or guesthouses, even the spot boy would be seen with all the others in the same living quarters,” Sandip recalls. “We never found an instance of discrimination between the director and his unit. This helped in knitting together everyone as an inseparable family.”
Ashoke Nag is a veteran writer on art and culture with a special interest in legendary film-maker Satyajit Ray.
All photos by Satyajit Ray Archives
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