So ppl ask me – why did I go to watch the namesake.
Is it becos I had read the book & liked it as much as I like the author (at least to look at!!)?
Is it becos I’m a bong and I wud identify with it?
Is it becos it is a life that I have not been a part of (neither yearn to be) – but do want a visual feel of how it feels like?
Watever it may be for…..it is an experience to watch this film. An experience brought about by the brilliant enactment of a foreign-relocated middle-class Bengali couple by Tabu & Irfaan ; an experience brought about by the tender unraveling of the entire pain of the disconnect from the homeland yet being bound by an unseen umbilical cord; the joy of re-birth tinged with the sadness of losing near ones; the attempt to use a name to overshadow a disaster of the past –to the state of being gifted life – to a more happy state of giving birth to life and to translate that name into a joyous occasion of fatherhood; the pain of seeing your own blood drift away in –spite of your best attempts to hold onto it; the ultimate enlightenment of the son – but when it was too late to make proper amends to the one, who arguably and silently, loved him the most!
I had promised myself not to go and watch this film along with any female friends of mine and I didn’t. Reason? I had to make quite an effort to hold back tears even when I had read the book, I didn’t want to risk it with a more life-like medium like a film; so it was me & my partner-in-crime sandybasu. Turns out, I wasn’t too wrong.
The underlying theme here was homeland – a concept that most of us can identify with today, with most of us pursuing our big-buck dreams in places far away from home. What spurs men to travel so far away from their homelands to etch out a decent livelihood? To forget the family and earn money to secure your future for a time when you are too damn old to spend that money anyway!
Our protagonist chose a life like that - a life which wasn’t spurred by big-buck dreams, but a desire which was sparked off by that one-liner from the gentleman he met for the 1st & last time on dat fateful nite on the train….akta baalish-kombol niye beriye poro….the bug called wanderlust…making the world your oyster…..
But his life begins afresh with the birth of his son – the natural born American, the one for whose future he chooses to make that foreign land his place of residence (can’t call it homeland), the person whose naming redeemed the 2nd life that he had been blessed with…..because of that name – as Ashok chose to quote from a Russian author to his son once, leaving it for him to decipher….we all came out of Gogol’s overcoat.
What follows next is a saga of the dichotomy that threatened to split the family across cultural lines….the Bengali middle-class values against the all-american lifestyle, the ruckus of 40 bengali ppl (all a part of the extended family that you create far away from homeland) all over your house at any occasion VS the quiet lakeside getaways….the baba-ma-apni vs the ashok-ashima-you…..the inherent lack of PDAs (public display of affection)as against the rampant sexual romps on the lakeside.
All of this borne with stoic & dignified resignation by the dad….when he gifted his son with the book that saved his life, and it was thrown away in a corner – the quiet resignation of a person who’s waiting for his son to understand him. When his son decides to change the name given to him by his parents, the very first gift given by parents to their child – he dignified acceptance of the fact that whatever Gogol’s name may become; he will always be Gogol to him.
And when he does tell his son about the significance of Gogol in his life, and his son asks him whether he is reminded of that ghastly night whenever he thinks of his son Gogol, and his heart-wrenching answer – “no Gogol, you remind me of everything good which happened after that”…….standing ovation!!
It is so very tragic that this gap of understanding, the chasm of relative values between the father-son duo was bridged only when the father was taken away too damn far away for the son to convey to him – that yes…he understood his father, that he understood what undying love, unconditional love could be, that he had kept all his love for his parents so very suppressed, that when it came up to the surface – it was too late anywayz. Was it intense regret that made him shave his head, even though it was as foreign a concept to him, as when his dad did the same at his grandparents’ demise? The sight of him coming out of the airport terminal to join his bereaved mother & sister, his mom’s choked voice saying ‘that it wasn’t required’….and his whispered ‘I wanted it’…..every gap, every chasm was bridged in that one instant.
What do we see after that? The family comin to terms with ashok’s loss….gogol & his sister re-building their life around their mother & each other, gogol trying to make up for all lost time, even at the inevitable loss of Maxine. Gogol being fixed with another bong-family-friend girl, in a very true spirited Bengali meye (aha…o khub bhalo meye)….how gogol feels the stab of pain at her (Mou’s) infidelity, at the same instance that he required her the most – when his mom is slated to travel to her homeland….their homeland…resigning herself to a life of a gypsy, transcending continents every 6 months! It was then that maybe gogol realized – wat it feels like – to give unconditional love, and not to be valued for it…it was he who was at the receiving end this time, where he had put his parents all along his life.
Ashima, who at one point had willed to leave everything in the US and had wanted 2 travel back to Calcutta, now proudly stands & says – that she’s travelling to her homeland, but is leaving behind her home (& not house); the home which she & her husband had set up…..the place where she had the maximum memories of ashok, the place which she will always remember whenever she remembers ashok!
.........as the film draws to a close, we see gogol rummaging through his baba’s memories….comin upon the half-unravelled b’day gift of his dad….Gogol’s Overcoat….the gogol name, which he has started to value, cherish & treasure….with which his father’s memories have been forever entwined in one common fate….and there in the dusty flyleaf of the book, lay imprinted before him in his father’s hand: “The man who gave you his name, from the man who gave you your name.” awesome. Period.
Don’t miss this one.
Makes you love your name. It made me do it, even though I was so uncomfortable with it all through. Now I treasure it.
Makes you value your loved ones. Makes you call your dad to ask how his day was. Makes u call your mom to find out if she’s fine when ur dad’s out of the city. Makes you call your home just like that. To tell them you’re there for them. It made me do it –rite after the movie. It was 1 AM.
