The stunning reflections of a classical arched Victorian bridge in the still waters of a river in Bengal spellbind you while a man squatting on its banks talks to a young boy who is the son he has not seen since his birth, the anguish of a father who has lost the golden life in an Indian prison is palpable in this scene, the scene itself is a metaphor for the premises of the theme, the freedom struggle by the natives against colonisation, but the superlative is still to come as he narrates his experiences against the golden dusk setting over the river waters, a steam train whistles past over the bridge, thus completing the full circle of time itself.

The brilliance of this masterpiece perpetually follows this man from the perspective of others, as they view him as a lunatic, while he ponders on his youthful idealism and his disillusionment with the present-reflected in his poignant expressions, this is not an act but a true to life performance by Mithun Chakraborty.

The milieu of the movie is complex yet simple, the once prosperous Hindu family have been forced to immigrate to India after the partition in 1947, their financial ruin is complete as the father was imprisoned at that time for an offence in the struggle for independence, the teenage daughter works as a maid while the uncle exploits the family, the wife is no longer the erstwhile woman but regards him as mentally sick, only his son can comprehend his father’s predicament.

Mithun’s disappointment with the political and social structure is massive as he realises his sacrifices have been in vain and white tyrants have been replaced by brown faces.  This is a masterful account of the socio-political consequences of the post independence mess and through the eyes of a victim and this accounts for the incredibly poetic transformation of a great script onto the screen.  The child playing the son and Mithun are the heart and soul of this movie, the director has used the train and the stunning scenery as a symbol for nature and mechanical interaction in a very effective manner and yet he explores the mysteries of time in the rosy dawns and scarlet dusks of the Bengal sun.

The romanticism is mixed with neo-realism and it works wonders, as in Kamal Amrohi’s PAKEEZAH, and David Leans DOCTOR ZHIVAGO, the train is a vital part but while in those two it is a message, here it wails and reflects the frustration of the individual, the ordinary Indian in all his misery and it seems to be screaming its message across at the system.


This is Indian cinema at its best and easily comparable to the best of ray, yet its poetic in its pacing and camera movements which slowly sweeps across the rice paddies and train tracks, and reminds me of the best works of Gulzar and Amrohi like NAMKEEN and DAERA in essence.