The other instance was the extraordinary last sequence of Sonar Kella. Had it been any other director, he would have asked us to stay on for a couple of days to finish the shoot. Not Manik-da. When he realized that I had to go back to Kolkata, not for a moment did he think of asking me to extend my stay. Rather, by doing what he did on the last day, he encouraged every member of the unit to surpass themselves. This ability of his to lead from the front made the task of working with Manik-da that much more special.
After Joi Baba Felunath did you not want to play Feluda? I have heard that Bibhas Chakrabarty, who did Feluda for television, found it hard to convince you?
Yes, I was rather reluctant to play Feluda when Bibhas Chakrabarty approached me. It was for no other reason but age. I had lost a lot of hair by then, and had also started to put on a bit of weight. As far as I was concerned, I was not in the best physical shape to play Feluda, and I did not want to do injustice to the character. Also, I did not want to give people a chance to compare it with Sonar Kella and Joi Baba Felunath and say I was not good enough any more. Manik-da, however, wanted me to play Feluda, and had even told me so on more than one occasion. In one of our conversations when I complained to him about losing hair and suggested that was one of the reasons why I should not play Feluda, all he said was I should go back to using the wig he had designed for me during Felunath. That told me he wanted me to keep playing Feluda for the time being.
At the time you played Feluda, you were also an established romantic hero. But Feluda does not have a love interest. In fact, women don’t seem to interest him at all. Nor does he ever think of getting married. Was that a problem for you?
No, it wasn’t. I have always loved playing different kinds of characters and that’s how I approached my work. Yes, the absence of women in Feluda stories is indeed a noticeable thing, but that was never something I was bothered about. Because Ray wanted Feluda to be read and watched by school-goers, he was conscious not to introduce women or romance into the ambit to the Feluda adventures. Some people have been critical of this but, personally, I never had any issue with it.
What about the two other Feluda’s after you – Sabyasachi Chakrabarty and Abir Chatterjee? What’s your take on them? Do you think they have done justice to the character?
People have enjoyed watching them and I think both of them are very talented actors. Sabyasachi, who played Feluda after me, had a great voice and also had the physique to play the character. I remember speaking to him on occasions about Feluda. The one thing he did not do to start with was use his eyes. Because he always wore spectacles, it would anyway be more difficult for him to use his eyes better. However, in the later films, I was impressed to see him use his eyes more. That made him a much better Feluda.
Abir is a very good choice. He has the looks and the height to do justice to the character. Also, he comes from a theatre family, and it should not be difficult for him to grow into the character. Finally, he is at the perfect age to play Feluda. He can easily play the character for the next decade or so. I must confess I have not seen Badshahi Angti yet, but having seen some of Abir’s other films and having worked with him on a couple of projects, I am optimistic about his success.
While we are talking about the men who have played Feluda, one should also remember that the great Shashi Kapoor played Feluda in the tele-series Joto Kando Kathmandute. Despite his presence, the series was not received particularly well. In fact, I remember meeting Manik-da the day after the first episode was broadcast. He too did not seem too enthused, and said he was apprehensive the Bengali audience would not take it well. If I think back to why this was the case, the most likely reason is Shashi Kapoor had put on a lot of weight. He had aged by the mid-1980s. Frankly, he was not the Feluda we knew from the stories. While to a non-Bengali audience it was okay, because they did not know the books or the two Bengali films that preceded the tele-series, to the discerning Bengali audience and Feluda fan, it was difficult to appreciate Joto Kando Kathmandute.
A word on Lalmohan-babu please. And here I am referring specifically to Santosh Dutta. The success of Sonar Kella and Joi Baba Felunath also owes to the greatness of Santosh Dutta as an actor, doesn’t it?
Oh, of course. Santosh Dutta was absolutely brilliant. It is as if the character of Lalmohan-babu was modelled after him. In fact, I wouldn’t be wrong if I say no one, and that includes Rabi Ghosh, managed to do justice to Jatayu once Santosh Dutta had left the scene. Bengali cinema has always had a history of great clowns or men who could make their audience laugh. Take Bhanu Banerjee or Jahar Ray, for example. They have acted in a lot of average or even poor films. It is because of their individual brilliance that these films turned watchable. Actors like Tulsi Chakraborty, Bhanu Banerjee, Jahar Ray come once in a generation and the Bengali film industry must consider it blessed that all of them worked in the same era to enrich the industry. Santosh Dutta was of the same calibre and class as some of these legends. His sense of humour, wit, intelligence and subtle mannerisms made Lalmohan-babu one of the most loved characters of all time. Had Santosh Dutta not divided his time between his legal profession and films – he was a reputed lawyer as you may know – he would have become a legend in his own right. Utpal Dutta too was absolutely sensational as Maganlal. Kanu Bandyopadhyay as Mandar Bose and Utpal Dutta as Maganlal were absolutely critical to the success of Sonar Kella and Joi Baba Felunath.
If there is one Feluda story that you would have wanted to see being made by Satyajit Ray, and one that you would have loved to be part of, which one would that be and why?
Kailashe Kelenkari. I would have loved to do Kailashe Kelenkari for the one simple reason that I mentioned earlier. Felu takes up the case on his own to ensure Indian national treasure is not siphoned off by a group of miscreants. That’s what appealed to me a great deal. In fact, it is also why I personally like Joi Baba Felunath more than Sonar Kella. While Sonar Kella has its own romance, Joi Baba Felunath conveys a number of very important messages, which will always have lasting values in our lives.
Finally, as Feluda turns fifty, what do you think lies ahead for Ray’s immortal creation? Do you think he is finally turning old?
There are some things that cannot happen. Feluda turning old is one of them. His fans across the world will not allow it to happen. I don’t know what lies ahead for the franchise, but I can surely tell you I was privileged and fortunate to have played Ray’s sleuth in my career. It made me universally acceptable across the spectrum of Bengali society, and for that reason I will be indebted to Feluda.
‘In My Mind, I Was Feluda’
Boria Majumdar in Conversation with Sabyasachi Chakrabarty
Fans had almost given up hope there would be another Feluda film. Soumitra Chatterjee was too old to play the character, and Santosh Dutta was no more. But then, Sabyasachi Chakrabarty decided to relocate to Kolkata from Delhi, and even summoned the courage to go up to Satyajit Ray and suggest he wanted to play Feluda. Ray asked Chakrabarty to speak to his son Sandip instead, saying he had decided not to do a Prodosh Mitter adventure without his favourite Jatayu. The rest, as they say, is history.
Chakrabarty, with his baritone and build, standing a good 6'1" tall, was tailor-made to play the character when Sandip Ray finally mustered the pluck to make Feluda in 1995 on the occasion of the sleuth’s thirtieth anniversary. ‘Everything else in life has come to me but this is the one character I was desperate to play, and I kept reminding Babu-da to give me an opportunity,’ says Chakrabarty as we settle down to talk over multiple cups of tea. There is no Srinath to serve the tea, but Chakrabarty is indeed wearing kurtapyjama and smoking a cigarette as the conversation turns more and more fascinating. ‘I was extremely nervous during Baksha Rahasya,’ he says. ‘That’s the reason why I am always serious rather than trying to bring in the subtle sense of humour that is so integral to Feluda. This is something I consciously tried to change from the next film onwards, and if you see my later films, Bombaiyer Bombete, Kailashe Kelenkari, etc
., you will see Feluda far more relaxed and at ease with himself.’ Chakrabarty, who still plays Feluda on stage, but isn’t sure how long he can continue to do so with age gradually showing on his face, attributes a lot of his success in his three-decade-long career as an actor to playing Feluda for close to two decades.
As a child you grew up in Delhi. When is it that you first heard of Feluda?
It was my father who first mentioned Feluda to me and the earliest Feluda adventure that I had read was not Badshahi Angti or Sonar Kella but Gongtoke Gandogol, first published in 1971. In Delhi, Sandesh and subsequently Desh, where the adventures were published before they started to get published as books, were only available in the Gole Market area and that’s where my father got them from. As a child I had grown up with Famous Five and Enid Blyton, and here was something that was far more interesting. I was hooked on Feluda from the first adventure itself. I loved the setting, the fact that the prose was easy and accessible, and that teenagers of my age could read and enjoy them on our own. Byomkesh was difficult to understand and enjoy. In that sense, Feluda brought in a whiff of fresh air in Bengali mystery writing. Sensing my enthusiasm, my father mentioned that there were a few more stories published earlier, and if I was interested, he could try and get those as well. I was delighted.
As a high-school student I had already started smoking and my brand was Charminar. In my subconscious, I was trying to be Feluda all the time – and the choice of the brand was a clear attempt to do that. Also, my friends often suggested to me that we should go and watch a film together, and invite a few girls with us to make it all the more interesting. Girls, inevitably, would put me off. I was firm I would not go for a film with girls. Rather, I preferred to be on my own, or go and watch a film with only my male friends. There was no girl in Feluda’s life and I had to do the same. I was conscious never to allow a girl to come near me. In my mind, I was Feluda and was trying to do things like Feluda did. Finally, when I was in my late teens – and I must say by then I had started to break bricks and practise the nunchaku – my best friend and I started playing the role of the local vigilante. We hated eve-teasers and would wait to catch them and teach them a lesson or two. We would usually give them a few slaps and banish them from our vicinity with the threat that the next time the punishment would be far more severe. My sister, whom I hardly ever played with for the reasons mentioned above, was my bait in trying to play the neighbourhood saviour. Again, in my mind, trying to maintain order was something Feluda would have done. Only when we realized that we were being extremely childish did we stop playing the moral police.
Most interesting. So when and where did you watch Sonar Kella and what impact did the film have on you?
Interesting you ask this. I first watched Sonar Kella in Delhi with my family. Again, it was father who revealed to us all that the film had been released and suggested that we go and watch it as a family. I was in college by then and was excited at the prospect of watching Feluda on the big screen. I loved Sonar Kella. I loved the way Soumitra Chatterjee played the character, and it has stayed with me since. I loved Jatayu, and the Jaisalmer setting was just dazzling. Sonar Kella was released in 1974, just a year before the iconic Sholay. By then Mr Bachchan was already a huge star, and his mannerisms and way of dressing – loose boot-cut trousers, short denim jacket, long hair – had become a craze with men our age. I was also smitten by the Bachchan phenomenon until I watched Feluda, who provoked a serious rethink. Father too had once asked me why I was wearing clothes of a particular kind, and pointed out that the style would inevitably change in a matter of months. Would I yet again change the way I dressed to keep up with the fashion? Feluda, on the other hand, wore his kurtapyjama and dressed like my father or grandfather dressed. This style had an element of continuity. As I result, I started wearing kurta-pyjama or the kurta with jeans like Feluda did, and decided not to change the way I dressed just for the heck of it.
I had also started to act by then and was involved in group theatre when all of a sudden my father passed away. I was barely twenty-six and faced with the responsibility of looking after my mother and running the family. That meant I had to decide whether to stay on in Delhi or go back to Kolkata. I had uncles and aunts in Kolkata, and Feluda as you know lived with Topshe’s parents, having lost his own as a child. It was time to bid Delhi goodbye and go back to Kolkata. This decision was also prompted by the fact that my extended family was extremely supportive and offered all kinds of help in getting my career started. They could help me look for a job or get me involved in the family business if I went back to Kolkata. The decision had been made and Feluda had a role in it.
So how did acting happen? How did you get to realize your dream of playing Prodosh Mitter?
Once I was back in Kolkata, I was keen to join mejo pishi and pishemoshai (uncle and aunt), Chhanda and Jochhan Dastidar, and continue with my acting. Rather than wasting time at Gariahat in the evening smoking and indulging in inane adda, this seemed a nice way to keep myself occupied. I had always wanted to do something creative. Then pishi and pishemoshai launched Sonex and started making Tero Parban. I was called one evening and was literally ordered to come the next morning with a suit and act in the serial. I had a solitary suit, tailored for my sister’s wedding, and landed up in that the following morning, knowing very little of what I might be asked to do. That’s when I was asked to play Gora, a character that literally changed the course of my life. People loved Tero Parban and Gora was an instant hit. Perhaps it was the very everyday nature of it that people liked to watch.
I loved playing Gora because in many ways he was similar to Feluda. He was upright, honest and was a man of integrity with serious social commitment. Also, up to a point he did not have any dealings with women. It was only after the serial had turned into a rage that women come into Gora’s life. I did protest and said the character would lose steel as a result. However, it was explained to me that Gora needed to be involved with a woman. I was not convinced, but could do precious little because it was my job, which paid for my living expenses. However, I was not enthused by the idea that a woman would drop a handkerchief and Gora would pick it up to hand it back to her. I found it silly, and was gradually starting to get done with Gora. In my mind, Gora was Feluda and could not do silly things. He was imbued with a certain kind of maleness that was getting destroyed as a result of all that was being done to him.
Sensing my discomfort, and frustrated at my repeated protestations, I was given a very different role in my next serial, Udanchandi. I was the negative guy in Udanchandi, where Uttiya Raut played the hero. I was a wagon breaker, deliberately getting into fights and far removed from women. Again, this had the effect of bringing me closer to Feluda, and helped do away with the temporary disappointment of Gora getting caught up in the all-too-familiar web of the traditional Bengali family melodrama.
I was cast as the detective in my next foray in Siddhartha Chatterjeer Antordhan. Playing Somak Sen in this serial, I was gradually getting closer to Feluda. It may have been Somak Sen for the audience, but in my mind I was actually playing Feluda. Soon after my career as an actor on the small screen had taken off, I summoned the courage to meet Satyajit Ray in his house. I requested permission to make a serial using stories penned by him, his father and grandfather. I wanted to call it Tin Purush, and it was meant as a tribute to the Ray family. While Sukumar Ray and Upendrakishore Roychowdhury were no more, I needed permission from Satyajit Ray to be able to do the project. To my pleasant surprise, he said he had seen me act and needed time to think about the proposition. He asked me to come back later and do so after giving him a call. I did exactly as advised, expecting to be turned down. Ray, an obsessive perfectionist, would not want to see his stories made if he was the least bit unsure of the quality.
I was right. Ray suggested to me that quality of the work on Doordarshan was poor, and he wouldn’t want his stories done for television. I decided to take one final chance and asked if I could shoot a pilot an
d show it to him for approval. It would not be for telecast and would only be done to show him and seek his approval. Once again, he said he would think about it and asked me to get in touch later. Just as I was about to leave, I asked Satyajit Ray if he would ever do a Feluda film again. He said no, not with Santosh Dutta no more. Ray felt that without a good Jatayu, Feluda would not work on the big screen. ‘Shudhu ekta lok goendagiri kore jachchhe eta loker bhalo lagbe na. Santosh nei, ami ar Feluda korbo na.’ (One man just trying to solve case after case, people won’t like it. Santosh is no more. I won’t make another Feluda.) In my desperation, I suggested that there were others who could play Jatayu.
‘Who?’ Ray asked me.
‘Rabi Ghosh,’ I said.
‘Rabi. Na na. Rabi Jatayu korte parbe na. Tumi barang Babur (Sandip Ray) sathe katha bolo,’ (No, no. Rabi can't play Jatayu. You better talk to Babu,) he said, and stood up to show me to the door.
As we stood standing facing each other, he asked me my height. I said, 6'1", to which he replied saying he was 6'4". I said, ‘I know, sir,’ and made my way out. Since then I started chasing Babu-da, telling him every few days that he should keep me in mind whenever he decided to make Feluda. Finally, in 1995, Babuda decided to make Baksha Rahasya and asked me over to discuss the possibility of me playing Prodosh Mitter.
So did you have to give a formal screen test of sorts? Was your selection a foregone conclusion?
I was called to Babu-da’s house and was somewhat surprised to see both Lolita Ray (Babu-da’s wife) and Bijoya Ray (Satyajit Ray’s wife) present there. Sreedas, the well-known make-up artist, was also there, and Babu-da asked him to do up my eyes. I have very few eyelashes on my lower lid, and in general my eyelashes are poor. To play Feluda I needed to do up my eyes to have a lasting impression on the audience. Once Sreedas was done, Babu-da asked Bijoya Ray for her opinion. She said, ‘Bhaloi toh lagchhe.’ That sent an electric signal through my veins. I asked myself, ‘Does that mean I have passed the test?’ It actually did, and soon Babu-da handed me the script for Baksha Rahasya and asked me to go over it a few times before I met him next. I was visibly nervous. Much as I had wanted to play Feluda, I knew it would be the most challenging role of my career. A comparison with Soumitra Chatterjee was inevitable, and that was enough to put serious pressure on anyone. Babu-da must have anticipated my state of mind, and said that I should not watch Sonar Kella or Joi Baba Felunath any more. All I needed to do was read the script, and if I wanted to do more, he advised me to go back and read the original novel and look at the illustrations carefully. There were many illustrations of Feluda in the novel. He said Sonar Kella and Joi Baba Felunath had been made by another film-maker, and in them Feluda was played by a different actor. He may not be as good as his father, but between him and me, we would make an honest effort to do the film well. It was heartening to see Babu-da show such faith, and thereafter, mentally, I started to imagine myself as Feluda.
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