Raincoat (2004)

Some movies are hard to write about. They deal a kind of blow to the heart, something you can’t quite manage to absorb. Rituparno’s ‘Raincoat (2004)’ is one such film. At the beginning, instead of ‘starring’ or ‘cast,’ I saw ‘players.’ Something new. Against the film’s backdrop, Shubha Mudgal’s voice singing ‘Piya Tora Kaisa Abhiman’ and Gulzar’s recitation spread a particular emptiness through the mind. For the one you loved but couldn’t have, you’d give everything if needed, yet you can never diminish yourself before them. You cannot speak of your own pain, cannot accept theirs. What you cannot take yourself, can you give to another? Living by swallowing your suffering, showing the world how well you’re doing! How easily the mouth says, Look, I’m living so happily! A sigh in the heart: Ah, happiness!…Those who live in happiness—how I long to see them. Haven’t they gone to the museum yet?

You know I don’t like leftovers. Isn’t that true? Does the heart accept such reasoning? I’ve heard that love will even eat leftovers. But really—can the beloved ever become leftover? What remains in the body, does any staleness remain in the mind? Love lives in the mind, not the body. What lives in the body—how much of that is love? Why does the mind think so much about the one I didn’t get, will never get? Why this restlessness? Praying for them every moment—does this mean nothing at all? Where I am, where they are—our paths lead in opposite directions. Yet loving that person with everything, gracefully accepting defeat before them, doing for them what the entire world combined couldn’t make me do for anyone else…is all this merely madness? So be it! How many people live as madmen. Look closely—they’re not mad, they were in love.

I hear he’s good-looking. Six feet tall. Has a good job. You tell me, how do I stop this wedding now?

What do you mean how? Are you a child that they’re dragging you by force to get married?

Please Mannu, don’t shout.

Tell them clearly that you don’t agree to this marriage. Come on, I’ll speak to your mother about this myself.

Please Mannu, try to understand, your health isn’t good.

Forget all that! Everything about your wedding was settled just two days ago, and you’re telling me today!

Believe me, I didn’t agree willingly. I thought if I told you, you’d be hurt.

So? Am I feeling good now?

You’ll feel bad for a few days, then everything will be fine.

You mean, you yourself want to get married.

All parents want their daughter to be settled in life. Isn’t that right, Mannu?

We’ll get settled too, Neeru.

Next month the company will give him a car. They announced this two days ago. Look, a Diwali gift. Could you have given me such a ring?

I could. Just give me some time, Neeru. I can arrange everything. I’ll buy you a diamond ring. These days you can buy cars on loan. Neeru, I’ll buy you a car too. My height is also six feet. Look, Neeru…

The Neerus don’t see. They cannot see. The Neerus get married into other homes. Mannu kept trying till the end. He couldn’t manage it. Neeru left. How many loves, stepping outside family and society, finally lead to marriage? No matter how much the heart weeps, how much the soul writhes, you have to let go of the hand. This society doesn’t know how to extend a hand; it has learned only to make you release yours. When the hand is lost, does love get lost too? Can you bind the heart in chains? Once the heart gives someone a place, how can it give that place to anyone else? The one I wanted but didn’t get, or the one I lost and then realized I had wanted—life passes thinking of them. I don’t know if I would have been happy getting them, but I know that not getting them has filled life with such regret. What slips away becomes sweetest! Isn’t this how it is? Isn’t it?

No job. Having trouble getting by. Friends don’t even recognize me anymore. No money in hand to start any business. I decided I’d beg. If I get some money, I can manage somehow. Many of my friends are doing well. If I beg, won’t they give something? I begged. Got something too. There’s nothing else I have beyond this.

Not even rice to cook at home. Ten months of rent overdue. No trace of the husband’s whereabouts. Fired from his job. Drinks and lies around here and there. Sometimes returns home. A foolish girl, stays home without eating. Nothing in life but tears. Has kept aside some small jewelry. That’s all there is.

I had read an O. Henry story. ‘The Gift of the Magi.’ The story of Jim and Della. They’re very poor. No saved money to buy Christmas gifts. But love exists. Love makes people do so many things! Della’s hair was very beautiful. She sold it. With that money and the little she’d saved by bargaining with vegetable vendors, she bought Jim a wonderful watch chain. His expensive watch had no chain, so the poor man kept it hidden in his pocket, couldn’t wear it.

Della didn’t even have a good comb to arrange her beautiful hair. But where would Jim get the money needed to buy a good comb? Jim’s most valuable possession was that watch. He sold it. With that money he bought an expensive comb for his wife and came home.

…Then what? The watch chain lay on the table, the comb. Where would the chain be used? What would the comb arrange? They would be of no use anymore. Yet no one in the world had ever bought anyone more wonderful gifts than these.

Let me return to Mannu and Neeru’s story. Their marriage didn’t happen—does this mean they can’t share their sorrows either? Love teaches us to share in suffering. Six years after Neeru’s wedding, Mannu went to see her. They didn’t let each other know about their troubles. They acted. Very happy. Have money, comfort, happiness. What more could one want? Yet nothing remained hidden. Nature couldn’t tolerate the concealment. With everything they had, they shared each other’s pain. Secretly. This isn’t penance, not revenge either—this is love. A simple raincoat protected the relationship’s warmth from the rain.

Art will have ambiguity. Looking at art from different perspectives leads to different conclusions. This film too has some ambiguities. We can accept or reject art’s elements as we see fit. What answers everything isn’t called art, it’s journalism. Meena’s character in this movie is very intriguing. Seeing her raises questions in our minds: does she love her husband? Or does she have some special attraction toward Mannu? Is Meena unhappy in married life? Will Mannu take the business money from his friends? Well, why was Neeru so eager to marry some unknown rich person? When Mannu went to Neeru’s house, why didn’t I see any excitement in Neeru upon seeing her former lover after six years? With expressionless eyes, Neeru called Mannu into the house: Come in. Yet Neeru isn’t an indifferent character. It seemed as if Neeru knew Mannu would come, had been waiting just for Mannu. Of course, it could also be that seeing someone she’d had a relationship with six years ago suddenly appear at home, Neeru was so startled that apart from “Come in,” she couldn’t think what else to say in that moment. Will Neeru’s landlord keep his word at all? What’s the role of the rickshaw in the final scene? The various symbols shown in this movie—like the raincoat, rain, jewelry, train, wallet, doorbell, cell phone, saree, letter, furniture—each could be written about, each has its own significance.

What is this movie’s theme really? Doubt? Love? Separation? Regret? Self-respect? Despair? Failure? Or all of these? Are there gaps in the movie’s story? Well, when Neeru left the room to buy lunch, why didn’t Mannu look around the room? Is he reserved by nature? Or when Neeru told Mannu all those fabricated things about her situation, didn’t it once occur to her that leaving Mannu alone in the room while going outside would let him understand her financial condition? Maybe Neeru is somewhat childlike, so it didn’t occur to her. In this film, Mannu and Neera tell many lies, hide many truths. And while watching the cinema, you keep feeling that what they’re doing is right. Their psychological position and situation would naturally make them act this way. This is where Rituparno succeeds as an artist.