Basu Chatterjee’s cinema celebrated the common man and woman with gentle humour

Vidya Sinha and Amol Palekar in Chhoti Si Baat. (Express archive photo)

Inspired by Italian neo-realism, Basu Chatterjee was no stranger to social realism. Having learnt the filmmaking ropes under Basu Bhattacharya on Teesri Kasam (1966), he made his mark with the uncompromising Sara Akash in 1969. Influenced by literature (Sara Akash was based on Rajendra Yadav’s novel and even shot in his house), Chatterjee’s debut set a template for later films. Often, for his plots, he turned to books. The middle class became a strong subject because, as he once simply explained in an interview, “I am a middle-class person. My father was in the railways, and I myself travelled on trains and regularly commuted on busses. That’s the world I knew best and that’s what I sought to portray.”

Uncommon common man

In some of his most well-known hits from the ’70s, it was the ultimate simplicity of Amol Palekar that helped him relive his middle-class fantasies. Palekar was no Bachchan, but that was his sharpest suit (or a checked shirt, if you may). In these gentle comedies, Palekar played the common man, who gets into, at best, uncommon situations. In Chitchor, he falls for his boss’ (Vijayendra Ghatge) girl (Zarina Wahab). She innocently loves the poser — their young romance blooms under Yesudas’ soulful melodies — but her parents think it otherwise. The Barjatyas, who produced the film, tried a rehash with Hrithik Roshan, Abhishek Bachchan and Kareena Kapoor, but Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon (2003) was a glorious debacle, failing to match the original’s magic. It’s hard to believe that Palekar, who excelled at shy and awkward characters usually messy at handling female attention, managed to pass muster as a larger-than-life dude with a frat-boy personality in Chitchor. Only when you equate his character with Hrithik Roshan’s in MPKDH that you realise what a relief Palekar was compared to Roshan’s relentless hamminess.

Rajesh Khanna, producer Yusuf Hassan and director Basu Chatterjee on the set of film Chakravyuha. (Express archive photo)

Lightness of touch

What, however, made Chitchor a success was Chatterjee’s lightness of touch. The same ability to locate humour in the everyday animated Chhoti Si Baat and Rajnigandha. Both featured the inimitable Amol Palekar-Vidya Sinha pairing. Sinha, in her simple but sophisticated saris, was the ideal pinup for the Palekar types, a dream-come-true catch if ever the Gods of Love are so kind to shine on him. Once again, Rajnigandha was based on a short story. It gave us, in the shape of Sinha’s Deepa, a woman of agency. Torn between two men, she even fantasises about her lovers in a song wondering whom to choose and whom to forget. The song in question (“Kaeen baar yunhi”) is sung by the great Mukesh, perhaps a unique instance in Hindi cinema when a male singer gives expression to a woman’s inner feelings. Most of these films had a brilliant soundtrack. While “Rimjhim gire sawan” is definitely a rainy-day ear-worm, Chatterjee’s output is replete with evergreen music, like “Rajnigandha phool tumhare”, “Kaeen baar yunhi”, “Chhoti si baat”, “Jaaneman jaaneman”, “Thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai”, “Aaj se pehle aaj se zyada”, “Jab deep jale aana” and “Suniye kahiye kahiye suniye” among more.

Vijayendra, A. K. Hangal and Amol Palekar in Chitchor. (Express archive photo)

Along with the more popular Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Gulzar and Sai Paranjpye, Chatterjee is often called the father of middle of the road cinema, a movement that combined elements of commercial and artistic schools — a sort of middle ground but groundbreaking in its own way. Filmfare magazine once called him, ‘The God of small films.’ Incidentally, Chatterjee’s films are often confused with Mukherjee’s perhaps due to their middle-class sensibilities, but to those entrenched in Hindi cinema’s idioms they can’t be more different, both having their own distinct styles. In 2016, Chatterjee told Filmfare that he’s proud of being compared to the beloved Hrishida: “I respect him. He was a valuable filmmaker. I found myself making his kind of films, though not consciously. One advantage that Hrishida had was he often remade his Bengali hits in Hindi whereas I used to pick subjects from literature.”

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Besides his 40 odd films in Hindi and Bengali, the Ajmer-born director is also famous for his work on Indian TV, primarily the cult detective series Byomkesh Bakshi and the feminist Rajani starring the late Priya Tendulkar. The last great Chatterjee film was the madcap Chameli Ki Shaadi (1986), with Amrita Singh, Anil Kapoor, Pankaj Kapur and Amjad Khan cooking up a comic storm. Today, it has a cult following. A former political cartoonist with Blitz magazine (now you know where the humour comes from), Chatterjee retired only in the last decade but had continued to serve on award juries and film bodies. In a Rajya Sabha TV interview, asked to reflect on his illustrious career, he said matter-of-factly, “I made the films I believed in, some worked, others didn’t. Woh sab kashmakash chalta rehta hai (These ups and downs happen). But I am not unhappy.”