Synopsis
Kolkata 1981; Palan, a minor, working as
a servant in a typical middle class household
is found mysteriously dead in the locked
kitchen. The sudden death plunges the happy
family of Anjan (Anjan Dutta), Mamata (Mamata
Shankar) and their son Pupai (Indranil Moitra)
into a traumatic situation. Circumstantial
evidence points to carbon monoxide poisoning
but police enquiries, nosy and irritating
neighbours, expected legal hassles and their
own guilt create a horrifying psycho-social
nightmare. The arrival of Palan’s
father further deepens the shame and moral
crisis. Finally, the post-mortem report
confirms death due to accidental monoxide
poisoning. All are absolved but the scars
remain…
The film
The 4 films that Mrinal
Sen made during 1979 - 1982 constitute
perhaps his most matured and creative phase
as a filmmaker. In these films he discards
his late 1960s and '70s style of a freewheeling,
politically involved and didactic cinema
and opts for introspection which he described
as "a ruthless business."
By turning his cinematic gaze inwards, Sen,
in these films exposes the foibles and hypocrisies
of the Bengali petit bourgeoisie of the
period. He defined Kharij, the
last in this series, as "a social
commentary on certain households who shabbily
treat their servants." The film
uses a realistic idiom to portray the immorality
and inhumanity of employing child labour.
It is also conscious of the issues that
perpetuate this crime as an unavoidable
social reality. The banter between Anjan
and Mamata, that comes just after the title
sequence, in which she declares that a servant
boy is her primary need of the hour and
the nonchalant manner in which the couple
list the numerous but considerable duties
of their future servant points to the dire
need of such labour for a working couple
with a small child. In the scene that follows,
the admission of Palan’s father of
poverty being the prime reason for putting
his youngest son into service though pedagogic
in its nature serves as the proper exposition
to the socio-economic background of the
phenomenon.
 Kharij
is a film with a minimal plot built around
the unexpected death of the young servant
boy, Palan, and the responses it generates
in his middle class employers, their neighbours,
Palan’s father, his peers and another
set of characters and institutions like
the local doctor, the police and judicial
system. The disruption educes a chain of
events which are logical and expected under
the circumstances – inquisitive outsiders
who abuse the sanctity of their apartment,
the lackadaisical police enquiry, tea and
sympathy from helpful neighbours, consultations
with a lawyer and even the pathetic break-down
of Palan’s father – but together
they add up to rip apart the comfortably
pretentious world of the Bengali bhadralok
class. In the film there is no direct charge
of complicity in the demise of Palan -the
police never implicate the couple - yet
their life comes crashing down because of
the ethical and moral remorse arising out
of their absolute disregard of the small
boy which led him to take refugee in the
unventilated but warm kitchen on a freezing
winter night. Characteristically, they attempt
to shift the blame first on their landlord
for not providing a ventilator in the kitchen
and when that fails because the old man
defends himself vigorously, the couple bare
their fangs on each other arguing about
their duties and responsibilities towards
the unfortunate servant. In Kharij,
the debates and defences offer no redemption.
As the film progresses Anjan, Mamata, their
neighbours and even the audience (who are
made to empathise with the protagonists'
misery by the film’s gripping story-telling
that creates an atmosphere of suspicion
and suspense) realise the futility of raising
the accusing finger. The scene in which
Anjan accompanied by his helpful patriarchal
neighbour (Bimal Chakraborty) goes to seek
advice from a lawyer (Charuprakash Ghosh)
encapsulates the most lucid examination
of the attitudes and behaviour that led
to the tragedy. In a clinical fashion the
conscientious legal luminary lays bare the
offence of negligence that led to the servant's
death. He also admits the impossibility
of providing Palan and his ilk their due
legal-moral rights and privileges that come
naturally to Anjan and Mamata’s son
Pupai. His ironical assurance that a legal
lie must prevail over the moral truth provides
a bitter salvation and is also the most
perceptive verdict of the situation.
The brilliance of Kharij is in
the authenticity with which the film captures
the milieu of a middle-class locality of
Kolkata of the period and the attitudes
and behaviour of the people who inhabit
that space. The crusty old landlord, his
wife (Gita Sen) who sends a cup of tea to
Anjan and Mamata and invites them to dinner
and their smart son who rings up the cops
and an ambulance; Srila (Srila Majumdar)
the young woman who immediately volunteers
to take care of little Pupai when trouble
breaks out; Srila’s obliging parents
who provide assistance and advice; the old
liberal intellectual and his young comrade
who argue the pros and cons of a national
policy on child labour; and the local loafers
who take advantage of the crisis to invade
the privacy of the couple’s home to
leer at Mamata and Srila - all stand as
archetypes of the community. The environment
is best captured in the scene - a series
of shots bordering on the rawness of a candid
camera documentary overlaid with a sound
montage of the hammering on the kitchen
door, distorted whispers of the neighbours
who start gathering in front of the house
and are accompanied by strains of discordant
music- that builds up the suspense regarding
the fate of Palan and leads to the revelation
of his death. The sequence also helps to
hook the viewer strongly into the narrative
and follow the trials and tribulations of
the protagonists.
Although the film is strongly set in the
realistic storytelling mode there are a
few deliberate disjunctions but these remain
strongly rooted to the overall framework
of the film. Hari – the obedient servant
boy working with the landlord’s family
and Palan’s friend by default –
is present throughout the film performing
his daily chores like a silent automaton
amidst all the tumult and tensions. Hari
is the moral touchstone of the film. In
contrast the film also delineates the sheltered
existence of Pupai. Although Pupai retains
his innocence the film clinically dissects
the sheltered upbringing that will perhaps
turn him as insensitive as his parents.
Srila thus tries to answer his questions
about Palan by creating an inane ditty which
explains that sick persons like Palan are
usually taken away by the cops while in
another moment she recites a nursery rhyme
in which a doctor is called to treat a rich
little girl's doll! But at certain crucial
moments of the film – for example
when Mamata breaks into sobs in the first
little moment of privacy she gets –the
camera often focuses on Hari’s gloomy
visage. The intricacy and the deliberateness
with which the camera hones in Hari’s
innocent and expressive face marks the director’s
attempt endow him with an aura that goes
beyond the immediacy of the film’s
storyline. Hari at these moments becomes
the universal icon of child labour condemned
to a wretched existence. Hari's gentle attempts
to wake up his dead friend and the sudden
silence that follows on the reaction shots
of Mamata and the uncomprehending Pupai
creates one of the most poignant moments
of the film. Another major disruption -
the eerie collage of shots of Palan and
Pupai having fun where Palan is often substituted
for Pupai - triggered by Anjan's comprehension
that the police inspector (Nilotpal Dey)
was actually referring to Palan's corpse
disdainfully as "the thing"
- works as a fantasy of an ideal situation
but is also an admission of the absurdity
of such utopias. In the scene of Palan’s
cremation there is however an extremely
jarring insert of a political graffiti proclaiming
gory revenge for a political murder with
the pyre flames in the foreground. The insert
serves as an expression of the director’s
anger and frustration. A little later the
shot is repeated but is incorporated within
the context by a shot of Anjan staring at
it – now the same graffiti becomes
the index of Anjan’s fear of vengeance
from Palan's father and his friends. The
shots of sad, placid faces of Palan's father,
Hari and the fellow mourners that follow
not only to portray their stoic despondency
but also indicate the improbability of Anjan’s
manic expectations of reprisal. The sounds
of burning wood, cracking bones and wind
that accompanies the entire sequence are
extremely realistic but their extreme magnification
reflects the deep-rooted resentments and
tensions that lie within the situation and
the psyche of the characters involved.
In contrast to the morally bankrupt middle
class, the poor in Kharij are portrayed
in the spirit of liberal left-wing humanism
that permeates through Mrinal Sen's entire
body of work. Anjan’s and Mamata provide
Palan’s father with comfortable beddings
in their drawing room but he opts to sleep
in the kitchen where his son had spent his
last night. His refusal heaps scorn on the
insincerity of the couple at the same time
signifies his deep affection for his son.
After completing the rituals of cremation,
when he and his band of mourners visit the
couple's house in the middle of the night
another moment of palpable suspense develops.
Their humble departure is definitely anti-climatic
but endows them with great dignity. This
lack of protest is also the final denouncement
of the middle-class ethos wrecked by the
constant fear of demand for justice from
the classes they exploit. So, when 'normalcy'
is finally restored the protagonists are
stripped of their last vestiges of dignity
and find no escape from the stigma of their
moral sins.
Kharij is one of Mrinal Sen’s
most technically matured works – a
film that demonstrates his immense understanding
of the tools of cinema and his ability to
employ them with economy and control. The
minimalist and non-interventionist cinematography
of KK
Mahajan excellently captures the realistic
idiom within which the film operates. BV
Karanth’s background music based on
Carnatic classical music sometimes borders
on atonality thus brings forth inner tensions
that lie beneath the mundane placidity of
the visuals. The imaginative use of synch
and non-synch sounds (often heavily distorted
and exaggerated) also indicates the conflicts
within. Nitish Roy, in his debut film does
an excellent job as the art-director. True
to the tradition of Bansi
Chandragupta (who worked in Sen and
Satyajit
Ray’s finest films) he creates
extremely realistic sets of the rooms and
other places of Anjan and Mamata’s
house and other interior locations shown
in the film. The cast led by Anjan Dutta
and Mamata Shankar, supported by conversational
dialogues, seem to merge into their screen
personas. Gita Sen, Charuprakash Ghosh,
Bimal Chakraborty, Nilotpal Dey and others
who make cameo appearances put in restrained
yet powerful performances. Debapratim Dasgupta
as Hari evokes the overwhelming sense of
misfortune that condemns millions like him
to a life of wretchedness. Srila Majumdar
and the character she plays, however, stick
out like a sore thumb. As a helpful young
girl who rushes in to provide shelter to
Pupai she is believable but the film seems
to overemphasise on her role and yet offers
no explanation for her excessive interest
and familiarity with the couple. Her behaviour
at times is like a flirtatious teenager
but Srila Majumdar oozes the sensuality
of an older, experienced woman.
Kharij is a thought provoking
and disturbing film that exposes the fragility
of petit-bourgeoisie morality and the socio-economic
conditions that produce child labour. The
film paints a bleak landscape filled with
an overwhelming sense of despair and pessimism.
The depressive tone deprives the film of
any sense of pleasure but there can be no
denial of the fact that the film’s
critical analysis remains pertinent and
valid to this day.
Kharij won the National Award
for the 2nd Best Film and the Best Film
in Bengali in 1982. It also won the National
Awards for Best Editing and Art Direction.
The international awards won by the film
include the Jury Award, Cannes Film Festival
(1983), the Bronze Hugo, Chicago Film Festival
(1983) and the Golden Spike at Valladoid
Film Festival (1983).
Monish K Das is an alumnus of the
Film and Television Institute of India (FTII),
Pune with specialization in Film Editing,
1992. He now lives and works as a documentary
filmmaker and social communication consultant
in Kolkata.
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