'With his passing, Indian cinema has lost its most undaunted voice, a voice of unsettling truths, a window to history, a school of filmmaking.'
Sukanya Verma mourns the movie legend.
A striking image of a single red rose against a black screen over which a plain white font declares Bharat Ek Khoj by Shyam Benegal is etched in my childhood nostalgia.
Shyam Benegal was part of my happiest Sunday mornings as well as my window to history.
I learned more about India's roots and rise over the course of the filmmaker's sweeping adaptation of Jawaharlal Nehru's Discovery of India for Doordarshan than I did in any of my textbooks at school.
Fifty three hours of his exquisitely crafted drama chronicling India's rich mythology, ancient civilisation, complex geopolitics and independence struggle not only proved educational but made me appreciate his genius and legend back when I had no inkling this would be looked back as the golden age of Hindi television.
Although a hugely hallowed figure in my family -- my grandmother could never have enough of her all-time favourite Bhumika while my mother's profound admiration for Mandi, Manthan, Junoon and Kalyug can rustle up reams of recommendation -- his cinema wasn't as much a part of my growing up years as his television.
Besides Bharat Ek Khoj, there was Katha Sagar, which had some of our best filmmakers adapting short stories and literary works of noted authors around the world in one fulfilling episode.
Shyam Benegal was at the helm of quite a few including O Henry's The Last Leaf (later adapted into a movie called Lootera by Vikramaditya Motwane). There was Yatra too, set against the backdrop of railway journeys.
All of these works carry an informational, illuminating quality, which moulded an impressionable generation's sensibility and objectivity. Nothing about his content has a preachy, patronising tone but his clarity in addressing the complex and talking sense at all times reveals his deep sensitivity.
At the same time, there isn't any brushing aside of tough realities under the carpet.
As a kid, I came across a few clips from Ankur and Nishant on TV and felt uneasy looking at the depiction of physical brutality and sexual violence that made him one of the most intense voices of celluloid at the time.
Anant Nag whipping Shabana Azmi's husband in that final scene while she breaks into hysterical cries and curses in Ankur, an utterly traumatised Azmi watching Smita Patil offer her morning prayers behind a grilled window in Nishant -- the hurt and hypocrisy of these important scenes was lost on me but the feeling of humiliation they captured was not.
By the time I was old enough to seek his 'new wave' creations on my own and appreciate his insight and nuances, Benegal had graduated from influential to iconic.
The injustices highlighted in Ankur and Nishant are as disconcerting now as they were then but Benegal's potent commentary on caste and class aren't his only achievements.
Apart from social struggles and stories of empowerment, his versatility shone bright in detailed rich storytelling and versatile characterisations across genres like biopics, historical, satires and romance.
His gift to capture human impulses at their best and worst colours his portrayals whether telling the story of one or many.
Mahabharata of the corporate world (Kalyug), the challenges thrown at a brothel in Hyderabad's backstreet (Mandi), a village discovering the power of change is key to progress by forming a cooperative (Manthan), the hardships and heartbreaks of an actress (Bhumika), the disillusionment of a free-spirited romantic in a patriarchal cage (Zubeidaa), pains of Partition directly impacting an individual's life (Mammo), tracing a thumri singer's turbulent journey (Sardari Begum) alongside his brilliantly realised adaptations of layered books like Dr Dharamvir Bharti's Suraj Ka Satvan Ghoda and Ruskin Bond's A Flight of Pigeons (Junoon) are glorious examples of his diversity, aptitude and politics.
It's a tribute to his evolved mind and accessible intellectuality that the meaningful discourse across his movies -- whether commenting on the rampant misogyny, corruption, oppression, communal discord, power play, administrative policies or wobbly infrastructure -- a voice of reason and sanity found its way to the viewer.
Shyam Benegal's socialist preferences and sublime aesthetics reflect in his cinema of anger, unrest, reckoning and scepticism. Yet even at its most extreme, his characters aren't completely good or evil but complicated beings dipped in various shades of grey.
Son of a still photographer, Shyam Benegal's visual eye lends his thoughts a poetic fluidity further enhancing the excellence on display, which lend his movies the air of a novel even when they weren't an adaptation.
Frequent collaborator Govind Nihalani's strikingly composed shots understood this need spectacularly as did Ashok Mehta, the ace behind the moodily lit Trikal.
The naturalism in the cinematography of his films stands out as distinctly as their story-within-story ideals.
The raw charisma of the people inhabiting those frames -- the likes of Shabana Azmi, Smita Patil, Naseeruddin Shah, Om Puri, Rajit Kapur -- truly prospered under Shyam Benegal's masterful direction and responsible feminism.
Hailed as the backbone of the parallel cinema movement, I never found Shyam Benegal's movies alienating or following a strict idiom.
Music isn't always central to his storytelling but if it was essential, it found its place with ease.
From Bharat Ek Khoj’s haunting chant Shristi Se Pehle, Manthan's dairy anthem Mero Gaam Katha Parey to Zubeidaa's mehendi staple, Mehendi Hai Rachnewali at all weddings since 2001, the sound of Shyam Benegal's soundtrack is as eclectic as it is eternal.
The authenticity and sophistication in his storytelling, which is the recipient of countless accolades and awards, doesn't stem from highbrow engagement but sharp logic, sparkling honesty and eloquent expression where even the trickiest of discussions are reasonable while the most ambiguous of conclusions leave room for retrospection.
When I look back at Shyam Benegal's influences, it's not just his magnificent filmmaking but also the enormous learning this champion of art, cinema, culture, morality, society and humanity imparted on my growing and grown up individual.
With his passing, Indian cinema has lost its most undaunted voice, a voice of unsettling truths, a window to history, a school of filmmaking.
Shyam Benegal, sir, only gratitude for you.
