But why are we being told about Surjya Sen today? If we must pick some Bengali revolutionary leader outside the mainstream Congress ranks, then why not go for, say, Khudiram Bose or any of the followers of Anushilan? After all, Anushilan and Bose resonate more to Bengali Hindus today than Surjya Sen in distant Chittagong. But this is as much a film about Chandanpura as Lagaan was about Champaner. It's an all-India film in which geography and language are necessarily subordinated to the meta-narrative of the nation. But still, is it not curious that Ashutosh Gowarikar chose Surjya Sen, Congress district committee president of Chittangong and founder of the Jugantar unit there? On purely historical grounds, I admit, it is exceedingly difficult to find a satisfactory answer to that question.
But that question has a very contemporary answer. Here is what Gowarikar says about the film: "It's about the zeal of patriotism…the desperation to throw away the oppressor- the British Raj. The oppressor is there in present times as well…it may be the socio-economic factor, or it can be moral issues…there are several oppressors today. Even today we need to address all of that and different kinds of revolution do need to come in to fight the social evils we are facing at the moment." The socio-economic factor, moral issues, several oppressors, different revolutions. What is he talking about? Why is he being so vague?
What the film effectively does is to present a historical narrative that pits an oppressive state against a bunch of young, idealistic revolutionaries. For those who have seen Gowarikar's Lagaan, the narrative clearly builds on an earlier precedent. This is his Rang De Basanti, a film directed at metropolitan Indian youth to recognize an obscure patriot outside the Congress pantheon of nationalist historiography. The "moral issues" Gowarikar speaks of in today's India are linked to state oppression. The "social-economic factor," as he puts it cryptically, is a consequence of that state-directed oppression of Indian society. And the solution, he secretly suggests, is violence as an expression of idealistic revolutionary politics to overthrow the oppressive regime.
Reading between the lines in this way, one can appreciate why Surjya Sen is meant to matter in 2010. Consider the scene in which the enthusiastic young revolutionaries speak of their love for the motherland. When these boys then speak of their hatred for the government, Sen (the portly Abhishek Bachchan) chides them by saying that he merely opposes its unjust domination of ordinary people. Next, consider the scene in which the young men (and women) plot to seize the armoury and acquire enough weapons to cut off supply lines to Chittangong from Calcutta. Anyone today should be reminded of the parallel with guerrilla strategies being employed today in Dandakaranya or the Jangal Mahals. Lastly, consider the visuals of the revolutionaries on the run in the Jalalabad Hills even as they lose their comrades one by one. This is a tragedy, we know already, but the idea of revolutionary violence is meant to matter to viewers because it signifies sacrifices towards a better tomorrow. That tomorrow ought to be not only free from state oppression, but also one characterized by communal amity and gender equity. In this context, recall how Tarakeshwar Dastidar is nursed back to good health by a Muslim couple and the overall significance of Kalpana Dutta (the de-glamorized Deepika Padukone) in the film. These are the multiple revolutionaries Gowarikar hopes to ignite.
Sadly, much like his protagonists, the filmmaker too fails in his mission. Abhishek Bachchan is appallingly bad as Surjya Sen. The younger Bachchan resembles, as in many of his recent films, an overfed cow that has been disturbed from its regular chewing habits. While his comrades follow Anushilan-style military training, Bachchan is conspicuously absent. Chewing, presumably. His dialogues lack conviction and inspire no one. The enthusiastic boys outdo him by some distance. The other big star in the film, Deepika Padukone, is happiest playing badminton with her friend. For much of the film, however, she is drawn away from the court to sleepwalk through the revolutionary plot. It does not help that she mouths insipid dialogues, but even then, Padukone is hopelessly miscast. Imagine Ajay Devgan in place of Bachchan and Vidya Balan instead of Padukone. A far better film would have resulted. As it stands, however, Gowarikar flatters to deceive. A golden opportunity to reinterpret the past in the service of contemporary politics has been squandered. It is unsurprising, therefore, that the film has opened poorly throughout the country this weekend. What a waste of a storyline!
