I admire Satyajit Ray immensely. Not only for his keen understanding of human nature and his ability to interpret that in a meaningful, restrained and memorable way, but also for so much more: his intelligence, his eye for detail, his artistic ability. And, up there with all the rest of these qualities, his versatility. Several people have called him a ‘Renaissance Man’, and I agree completely: this man was a fine director, as well as a great writer, artist, costume designer, font designer- and so much else.
And he was versatile even in the world of cinema itself. For those who equate Ray only with ‘art’ films, works like Chiriakhana, Shonar Kella, Joy Baba Felunath and Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne may come as a surprise: but to me, at least, they constitute a happy surprise. Different from Jalsaghar or Charulata (or so many other films of Ray’s) but in their own way, manifestations of Ray’s genius. Comedy, whodunnit, adventure: Ray could do it all, and do it well.
Or romantic comedy. While Ray did not direct Baksa Badal (his assistant Nityanand Datta did), he wrote the screenplay for this delightfully romantic comedy about two people whose identical suitcases get switched, and what that switch leads to. (Ray also composed the music for Baksa Badal).
Note: The original story of Baksa Badal was a short story by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay. You can read an English translation of it here.
The two people in question are Pratul Bhattacharjee (Soumitra Chatterjee) and Amita ‘Minu’ Majumdar (Aparna Sen), both travelling in the same compartment of a train, headed for a break from life in Calcutta.
Pratul is going to visit his brother and sister-in-law in Siliguri, and Amita is going with her mother Nirupama (?) to visit Nirupama’s brother in Kalimpong. Neither Pratul nor Amita and her mother pay attention to their fellow passengers, so they never even realize that Amita’s and Pratul’s suitcases are identical.
Thus, when the train comes to a stop and everybody alights to greet those who’ve come to receive them at the station, nobody even notices that two suitcases, plonked down on the platform next to each other, are exactly the same. Thus it happens that when Pratul arrives at his brother’s home and opens his suitcase along with his sister-in-law, it’s to find a woman’s clothing in it. They soon realize what’s happened, of course, but Pratul’s sister-in-law is too intrigued by the unknown, unseen woman to simply pack everything back in and close the bag.
She discovers a diary and reads out a few excerpts from it. Amita’s words prove her to be somewhat of a maverick, outspoken, and with offbeat views. Pratul’s interest is piqued, but for now, he doesn’t do much. His sister-in-law jokingly says that they’d best eat the sweets in the suitcase (after all, they’ll be all spoiled by the time the suitcase reaches its rightful owner), but Pratul stops her.
The same question arises—eat the sweets or not?—at the other house, that of Amita’s uncle, where they’ve discovered that the suitcases have been switched. Amita is very upset: there were so many interesting things she’d brought along here, and now, look! All gone, God knows to whom. She had also brought along a photo of hers with her brother, for her uncle to put on his mantelpiece, but even that’s gone (her uncle ribs her a bit about the man whom he really wants to meet: not her brother, but her boyfriend; and Amita laughingly fobs him off).
Anyway, Amita, unlike Pratul, has no qualms about finishing off the sweets she finds in his suitcase. Meanwhile, they’ve also found Pratul’s name and address in his suitcase…
And Pratul has found Amita’s name and address on her suitcase. He has also discovered the photo of Amita and her brother (whom Pratul, of course, has no way of identifying as Amita’s brother). An extrovert and a sportsman, Pratul says, doing a quick analysis of the man in the photo. He then proceeds to get a pen and draw a moustache on the man’s face. That done, he sends the suitcase off to Amita.
When Amita sees the photo, she’s furious. How dare this Pratul Bhattacharjee mess up her brother’s face? Her brother, when she shows him the vandalized photo back home in Calcutta, is more amused than anything (in fact, he’s inspired by it and starts growing a moustache). But Amita is annoyed enough to write a curt note and place it in Pratul’s suitcase before she dispatches it. Men don’t look good with moustaches, she says; she hates men with moustaches, and he’s ruined her brother’s photo by this prank.
Hmm. Pratul, stroking his own moustache, is thrown off his stride by this remark. He asks his friend Ratna (Gitali Roy) if that’s so: do women really not like moustached men? And Ratna agrees; yes, they don’t. Food for thought, obviously, for Pratul.
Meanwhile, Amita is off on a date with her boyfriend. This is Shovan (Satindra Bhattacharya), and he’s taking her out to the cinema. The relationship between these two is a little odd: Amita treats him with a somewhat offhand nonchalance, as if he were a younger sibling whom she’s trying hard to be patient with. He, on the other hand, seems distinctly nervous around Amita. He obviously loves her, but lacks the confidence that comes from knowing his love is reciprocated.
And right now, on this date, things are not going well for Shovan. First, when they arrive at the cinema theatre, he discovers that he’s forgotten to bring along the tickets, which he’d bought earlier. Then, when he decides to compensate by taking Amita for a drive, the car soon comes to a standstill—because Shovan forgot to fill petrol. Amita is exasperated, but also amused. His memory is really bad. She gives him some advice: go to a psychiatrist. She even gives him a name and address, remembered from that chance switching of her suitcase with another: Pratul Bhattacharjee.
Thus it is that Shovan turns up at Pratul’s clinic and has a long conversation with Pratul. They end up discussing Shovan’s love life, and Shovan admits that he is not sure of his girlfriend’s feelings for him. That stress, of not knowing how she feels, is what is causing Shovan’s memory to play tricks on him, says Pratul. He advises Shovan to propose to his girlfriend, find out how she feels. That certainty is essential for Shovan’s peace of mind. Shovan agrees and goes away, relieved at having found such a competent doctor…
… and Pratul does not realize that Shovan’s girlfriend is none other than Amita.
But fate is waiting in the wings, ready to throw a googly at Pratul. Because shortly after, his friend Ratna comes to him asking for money to help towards the sponsorship of a show her music school is hosting. For Pratul’s benefit, she’s brought along a promotional brochure. Pratul immediately recognizes the face of the lead dancer, who’s featured on it. Amita.
He begins to interrogate Ratna: does she know Amita? How well does she know her? When Ratna admits she’s barely acquainted with Amita, Pratul offers a deal: if Ratna finds out stuff about Amita—does she have a man in her life, etc—he’ll give her money for that show.
Ratna is able to discover that Amita has a boyfriend, but beyond that, she can’t say. Nobody seems sure if Amita intends to marry the man, either.
Pratul goes for the show. And is entranced by Amita. Till now, he’s seen her only in photos: that one with her brother, and the one on the brochure cover. The woman, in person, is far beyond what her photograph can convey. Pratul sits in his seat, little aware that in the rows ahead of him sit several people who know Amita much better than he does: Shovan, for one; Amita’s mother Nirupama for another; and some more…
Pratul emerges from the show and decides he has to take action. He has to introduce himself to Amita and woo her.
Fortunately, he hits upon a novel way of approaching the issue. He’s discovered that Amita is again going with her mother to visit her uncle in Kalimpong. Pratul, since he’d sent Amita’s suitcase to her uncle’s address in Kalimpong, knows who her uncle is. Now he finds out (from Ratna, who’s been hard at work) that Amita’s uncle, Horon Chatterjee, is a botanist, and a published author, having written books on plants. Pratul goes book-hunting and manages to buy a book of Mr Chatterjee’s.
Armed with that, with his moustache shaved off, his hair left un-oiled, un-slicked back, and wearing trousers and jacket instead of his usual dhoti-kurta, Pratul sets off for Kalimpong. He calls himself Pramod Bhattacharjee, a plant-lover.
What lies ahead? This is Pratul taking fate into his hands, without realizing that his rival is Shovan. Shovan, his patient; Shovan, whom Pratul has been encouraging to propose to Amita…
What I liked about this film:
Pretty much everything. The story is fun, combining romance and humour in good doses. The acting is uniformly good, and Soumitra Chatterjee and Aparna Sen excel as Pratul and Amita.
What I didn’t like:
The somewhat hurried end. This was a problem I also had with Barnali, which seemed to me to end the same way, too abruptly and too quickly for my liking. In Baksa Badal, however, a further irritant was the fact that I found it hard to believe that Amita could have fallen so deeply in love with ‘Pramod Bhattacharjee’ in just two not-very-long and not-especially-intimate meetings. For Pratul to have fallen for her sounds a bit more plausible, because he’s had longer to think over it. He’s heard a lot about her from Ratna; he’s seen Amita perform at the show; he knows her better than she does him.
Despite that, an enjoyable film.
Dustedoff 
A lovely review of what I consider a most favourite movie. Ray’s scripting is all the more intelligently handled because it is so understated. Even when he slips in a cultural reference or two, he does it so subtly the quickness of the pen almost deceives the eye. For instance, when sketching the moustache on the photograph, Pratul muttters, ‘Let’s turn him into a descendant of Ashu Mukherjee.’ Polymath educationist, mathematician, and lawyer Ashutosh Mukherjee (father of Shyama Prasad Mukherjee) sported for most of his life an outsize walrus moustache. The sheer silliness of juxtaposing this towering figure with a puerile practical joke is so infectious it ends up overshadowing the joke itself.
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Thank you for that delightful little insight, Abhik! I hadn’t known, as you can imagine.
Loved this film, it was such a joy.
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The endings seem abrupt because invariably the YouTube uploaders or the DVD/VCD companies cut the film, to reduce its length. This is done for obvious monetary considerations ( 2 CD’s cost less than 3 and a smaller compact DVD also costs lesser). Sometimes though, this is rather done for the unfortunate reason that the original source that is available, is itself in a mutilated and poor condition. Consequently the film is trimmed with reels removed to ensure a ” clear ” viewing ( Barnali, for example, is cut short by 20 minutes in its YouTube upload – the version that you saw ) Hence, this abruptness.
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I should have explained it better. With Barnali, it was obviously a case of a video editor chopping off a section just so that it would fit – there was a definite abruptness to it that didn’t gell with the rest of the film. In Baksa Badal, I wanted a longer end scene, the shortness (even though it was complete in itself) was what irked me. Also, as I mention, Amita’s falling in love with Pratul seems a little too sudden and hard to believe.
But, also as I said, I enjoyed this a lot, despite that.
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thanks for this – I was not aware of this – and have always wondered how Ray would have treated what is now called a rom-com!! I am going to hunt this out and watch it – and if any further inducement was needed, the cast of Soumitra and Aparna Sen is the icing!!
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Ray was so immensely versatile – I mean, you just have to look at something like Sonar Kella or Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne to realize that he could handle whodunnits and comedies with as much panache as the more highbrow cinema. And yes, he’s great here, even if he isn’t the director. Enjoy!
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Sounds delightful, Madhu. I haven’t watched this, as you may have guessed, but it sounds right up my street, and precisely what I need right now. :)
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I think this is just what the doctor ordered, Anu. :-) The medical ethics in the film are all torn to shreds, but as a farce, it’s delightful.
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Be it Shobhon in “Baksa Badal” or Satya in “Mahapurush”, Satindra Bhattacharya played essentially good natured but clueless young men with aplomb, in my opinion. Of course, his movies with Ritwik Ghatak are totally different from these two, but personally I always picture him as the lovelorn Satyacharan.
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Thank you for helping out an incorrigibly lazy person! ;-) I knew, when I saw Satindra Bhattacharya, that I’d seen him in other films too, but I didn’t bother to go see which ones. Now that you mention it, of course I remember him in Mahapurush, and in Meghe Dhaka Tara – true about him being totally different in the latter.
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True…
As an aside, when I was in school in the 1980s, I was once invited to my home tutor’s sister’s wedding on a Sunday. The previous day, I had watched the Byomkesh movie Shojarur Kanta (which featured Satindra Bhattacharya) on Calcutta Doordarshan. At the wedding, who do I see? Satindra Bhattacharya, who was the groom’s father!
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What a coincidence! That’s really a once-in-a-lifetime sort of episode.
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Hi Madhuji, Your delightful review of Bakse Badal tempts me to watch this film right now. Since I don’t know Bengali, I have not seen too many of them. Due to the Ray connection and as the story seems interesting too, I will watch it the moment I find sufficient time. Thanks for posting.
K B Patil
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Thank you, I’m so glad you enjoyed this review! Yes, do please try to get hold of this – it’s a really good film, very enjoyable.
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Baksha Badal is a delightful film that I revisit quite frequently. Good review, Madhu. Where did you watch it? I have the dvd at home and it’s on my “most frequently watched films” shelf.
I found Amita to be a little irritating. Aparna Sen is a little stiff and her accent a trifle annoying. She comes off as a spoilt brat but maybe that’s what the director wanted.
By the way Ratna is actually Pratul’s friend, not his sister. Geetali Roy is delightful, is she not? The supporting actors also do a wonderful job, especially Charuprakash Ghosh as the uncle (he is a superb actor – Mahapurush, Abhijan are some examples) and Satindra Bhattacharya.
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I agree about Amita coming off as a spoilt brat; she did seem to be a bit of a drama queen as well.
Ah, thank you for correcting me about Geetali Roy’s character. I’ll edit that. And yes, she is a delight, and so are the supporting actors too. All around, a very enjoyable film. I watched a version downloaded from YouTube, by the way. Not a good print, but serviceable.
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That’s a highly enjoyable review of apparently a very good and entertaining movie. Despite the minuses pointed out by you, the movie appears to be a must watch for any lover of golden oldies. Such neat ‘n’ clean rom-coms are hard to find in this era. Hearty thanks and compliments to you for this review reading which is just like watching the movie itself.
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I am so sorry, I seem to have missed this comment of yours, Jitendraji! Thank you for the kind words. And yes, it’s a very enjoyable movie, despite its drawbacks. :-)
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If I was a film maker, Madhulika, I would make it pre-conditional that you review my movies on release, because once anyone reads your review, watching the movie becomes compelling! You actually entice the reader by your writing style.. conveying feelings & emotions and conjuring visuals in such an evocative manner that watching the movie is the logical next step!!
After reading the amazing Barnali review last week, I came back to Dusted Off today and started on the Bengali movies alphabetically with Agni Pariksha, Aparajito, Apur Sansar and Aranyer Din Ratri.., and then I came to B, which started with Baksa Badal.. and I have to say, Madhulika, that your review of this movie is simply brilliant!! You are such a master at storytelling and I love your style of writing, all peppered with a montage of images from the movie!! Never read such fun reviews before! And what a delightfully romantic story! I love both Soumitra Chatterjee and Aparna Sen, and to have the screenplay written by (and music composed by) the much venerated Satyajit Ray, should be a beautiful experience. I found the movie on YouTube, unfortunately without subtitles.., but I’m going to watch it tonight anyway! I just want you to never stop writing your reviews! I am assuredly going to read each and every one of your posts!
Fan for Life! 😄
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You are too kind, Hari (or is that Harish? I can’t tell from your user name). To your openings sentences, flattering though they are, I must however provide a caveat: the enticing review is only when I like a film! There are plenty of films – mostly Hindi ones – which I’ve reviewed on this blog and lambasted for various reasons. :-)
Thank you so much for reading, and for the appreciation. I really value your words; it is encouragement like this that keeps me going.
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Ok I’ll look out for the unfortunate lambastees’! 😂 Will check out some more this weekend!
And it’s Harish..
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Among the lambastees (good description) are Bhabhi, Ek Phool Do Maali, and Night in London. :-)
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Yeah I had read the Night In London review last week – have to say it deserved the “lambasting”! 😂 Great songs were one of the big saviours of some absolutely awful movies! I would put Mere Sanam in that category too!
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Mere Sanam, though, at least has a coherent story – and its songs are, to me, far better than those of Night in London!
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I saw it almost 20 years ago and don’t remember too many details, but what had irked me at that time was the poor characterization of Biswajeet, where although being a well intentioned guy, he came across as such a wimp through almost the entire first half of the movie. I just couldn’t figure out what could possibly have made Asha Parekh fall for him after such a bumbling and graceless image they built of him. Yeah of course, the story was good and the music was superb..! 😄
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Very true. He is a wimp, pretty spineless from what I remember (it’s been a long time since I watched the film, so I don’t recall every detail).
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