A Mirza and a Mitra Sit on a Branch, Singing their Farewell Songs

In this reflection on two iconic swansong performances — Salim Mirza in Garam Hawa and Manmohan Mitra in Agantuk — I explore how Balraj Sahni and Satyajit Ray, nearing the end of their journeys, crafted characters that offered more than closure. They offered continuity: of pluralism, introspection, and human dignity. Both men would have celebrated their birthdays this week, and this piece is my small tribute to their eternal gaze.

A poster of “Garam Hawa” (“Scorching Winds”)

What connects a gloomy-eyed shoe trader in Agra to a bleary-eyed wanderer in Shantiniketan? Is it the fact that both Salim Mirza (the lead character in the 1973-movie Garam Hawa) and Manmohan Mitra (the lead protagonist in the 1991-movie Agantuk) were products of a culture that swear by eclecticism, both of them disciples of leaders and litterateurs such as M.K. Gandhi and Rabindranath Tagore? Or is it the fact that when confronted with a present that threatened the ideals of their past, they choose not to pontificate but to reflect upon it with a certain sagacity that sometimes comes naturally with age? Or is it an impression that they are two restless raconteurs who, when asked to choose between cynicism over their dark present and optimism for the future, opt for the latter? In my opinion, it is the fact the two characters represented a consolidation of the worldly philosophies of two gentlemen-polymaths — Balraj Sahni and Satyajit Ray — at the twilight of their lives.

Balraj Sahni, playing Salim Mirza, in “Garam Hawa” (“Scorching Winds”). Source: Screenshot from YouTube

Sahni and Ray, the two relentless seekers, were capable of not just finding common ground with the masses amidst chaos, but also educate the next generation about this common ground. These two figures — born around eight years apart — would have turned 112 and 104 respectively this week had they been alive. And this piece is a testimony to the creative restlessness that kept these figures alive despite turmoil in their personal and professional lives.

Born in May, Died in April

Sahni died around a month before he would have turned 60, leaving behind a life of some fulfilled and many unfulfilled ambitions. Ray died less than a year after he turned 70, accomplished as an artiste but for whom greater accomplishments lay in store in future if he lived. That they were born in the same month, May, though eight years apart, and died in the same month, April, though 19 years apart, was providence’s way of telling the observer that they were intellectual cousins whose beliefs represented a good mixture of the Western and Eastern philosophies.

Utpal Dutt playing the lead character in “Agantuk” (“The Stranger”). Source: Screenshot from YouTube

Balraj Sahni, while of Punjabi origin, was more of an 19th-century Bengali reformation intellectual who could live at places as diverse as Gandhi’s Warda Ashram, Tagore’s Shantiniketan, and BBC Radio’s headquarters in the U.K. He found creative expression not just in the prose of Punjabi literature — a language in which he wrote travel diaries such as Ek Safar, Ek Dastaan (A Voyage, and its Tale) and Gair-Jazbaati Diary (A Non-Emotional Diary) — but also in the poetry of Bengali literature. Despite achieving professional and material success as an actor — the kind of success that he could only have dreamt of as a teenager in Punjab — he remained a reluctant performer. His success did not keep him away from turning a critical eye towards the creative bankruptcy that many of his colleagues exhibited, as he does in this speech on creative realism, neither did it turn him into an elitist individual who could not empathize with the man on the street through performances such as Do Bigha Zamin (Two Bighas of Land).

Artistic Expression in Realism

Sahni could see that in a country such as India, where a majority of the population lived in poverty and hunger, artistic expression had to be found as much in Pather Panchali (A Song of the Road) as in Waqt (Destiny) or Seema (Boundaries), the fact that these movies were artistic efforts in their own right but did not turn into vehicles for political propaganda. His beliefs in the ideals that gave his own personality its true shape was reflected in his performance of Salim Mirza in Garam Hawa, one that would turn out to be his swansong, one where he channeled all his beliefs and life experiences. This included his faith in the egalitarian ideals of the Indian freedom movement; his secular thinking and his commitment to humanism; the devastation caused in him by the death of a young daughter; and an unwavering belief that reconciliation could be found among diverse interests.

The cover page of a biography by Parikshit Sahni, Balraj Sahni’s son. Source: Amazon

The movie is about the Mirza family, which once had a prosperous shoe-selling business but, post-Partition of the Indian subcontinent, finds itself on the verge of almost being exiled from a neighbourhood they have known for generations. At various points in the story — especially after losing his daughter — thoughts do come to Mirza’s head of moving to the other side. However, at each point, he chooses not to escape to a far-fetched unknown. He, instead, finds comfort in the company of the struggling millions seeking basic rights in his own home city. In the process, he becomes one of a equity-seeking wave. As Kaifi Azmi’s raspish voice says at the end of Garam Hawa (Scorching Winds)

“Jo Door Se Toofan Ka Karte Hain Nazara, Unke Liye Toofan Wahan Bhi Hain aur Yahan Bhi, Dharaon Mein Mil Jaoge To Ban Jaoge Dhara, Ye Waqt Ka Elaan Udhar Bhi Hai aur Idhar Bhi.”

“Those who watch the storm from afar will find chaos on both sides. But if you merge with the currents, you become the current. This is time’s declaration — whether you stand here or there.”

Given a choice between staring at destiny from a distance without having any voice of their own and becoming part of a bigger whole as someone with an agency, Mirza — and his son Sikandar — become part of a wave of masses that are seeking equality in terms of food, shelter and the other basic necessities of life, and an equality of opportunity. This was not just Mirza, this was Sahni telling himself that he was not alone. He was part of a creative movement that was bigger than his personal self, that he could opt for something bigger in the future despite the death of his daughter. Sahni the writer could not find further expression and left behind many untold stories. However, the predictions of Sahni the cinema commentator somewhere came true when creative realism in cinema started getting promoted with the birth of the New Wave movement, one of whose pioneers, Shyam Benegal, made his debut only a few years after Sahni’s death. It was the industry’s way of taking forward the legacy of Sahni.

The cover of “Gair Jazbaati Diary” (“A Non-Emotional Diary”), a Punjabi book written by Balraj Sahni. Source: Flipkart

Ray’s Commentary on Human Civilization

Speaking of Manmohan Mitra (played by Utpal Dutt), the lead character in Agantuk (The Stranger), it was Ray expounding his philosophy on not just an individual’s life but also human civilization as such. Ray had suffered a stroke a few years earlier which had made him confine himself to his home. His last few movies were primarily shot indoors. However, his physical inability to move around did not come in the way of his intellectual ability to play a troubadour. It was this troubadour who spoke through the fantastic character of Mitra, who comes as a stranger into the family of the Boses and brings about a sense of reflection in them about their present and future selves, who teaches them the pleasures that could be found in the small everyday comforts.

A poster of “Agantuk” (“The Stranger”). Source: Satyajitray.org

In Agantuk (The Stranger), it was Ray speaking on behalf of Mitra and reflecting upon a life well-lived — as an artist, painter, musician, director, writer, and essayist — and yet having the feeling that there was a lot left to achieve. This was also Ray telling through Mitra, an anthropologist who studies Indigenous communities in South America, that the Indigenous worldview demanded as much attention as the Western worldview. Mitra the individual departed towards the latter part of the story and so would Ray a while after the movie’s release. However, the creative restlessness shown by them would live independent lives in the hearts and minds of artistes to come in several future generations.

Satyajit Ray shooting with his camera. Source: Satyajitray.org

The lives of Mirza and Mitra were testimonies to the multicultural artistic milieu that privileged the intellectual as much as the material. When this self comes in conflict with an ephemeral present that values primarily material and religious possessions, it seeks escape into the eternal. It reflects upon the present, expresses lament and anguish but mostly hope, and just like a bird who wants to fly away when the nest turns a jealous rival to the sky, the soul flies into the eternal unknown. However, in the process, the polyglot, polymath auteur in them leaves behind it a movement that would survive for generations, if not centuries to come.