NAGARIK 63
rated by the tune of the Internationale; Ramu is released from the thraldom of his own dreams. By taking up the position of a detached observer of his own tragic destiny, Ramu also delivers a profound shock to the sensibility of the average Bengali middle class filmgoer, trained to identify himself emotionally with the romantic hero. The latter, too, is directly invited to participate in a detached assessment of the situation, rather than to a passive acceptance of the romantic conventions of the film world. Ramu also tears up the calendar with the picture of the pretty bungalow in the midst of a vast green field with trees. The picture had represented his highest aspirations and had given him hope in moments of despair. It had been real to him. But as he stands at a distance from it before tearing it up in the final sequence, it is reduced to the fantasy that it really is. For the viewer, the picture also comes to stand for the unreal world of the conventions of the average film. As Ramu puts himself at a distance from it, the viewer himself is moved to scan it from a new, more realistic perspective.
Ritwik Ghatak's connection in the late forties and early fifties with the Indian People's Theatre Association (IPTA) and through it with the undivided Communist Party of [India was one of the most disturbing, and at the same time, the most enriching, episodes of his life. Nugarik seems to be a direct fruit of this connection. The question as to whether the Communist Party failed to utilize Ghatak's genius, or whether his genius was ^naturally antagonistic to any kind of political discipline, is one on which dust will not be allowed to settle for a long time to come. Be that as it may, the rare aesthetic discipline that we find even in his first film, and which contrasts strangely with the excesses of his personal life, testifies to the fact that his politicalization was not a hindrance, but a help to his genius.
MALINI BHATTACHARYA