The Lonely Wife....

Satyajit Ray’s, 'Charulatha'…. The Lonely Wife is a vivid description of a woman’s heart which is like the sparklingly clear flowing river that in its natural course can be life to the ones surrounding it. But, it conceals what it should, only to bear the weight of all such unspoken pearls on its floor, afraid of revealing them to the outer world that most often lacks the perspective to understand them. And at times, it surfaces with tides that are caused by upheavals in the heart of the river. And when the tides surmount, they can wipe out everything in its premise, fetching destruction that cannot be recalled. Charulatha is a home-bound wife, happily married to a loving husband whose first love is of course, his work. Not that he is inconsiderate or inattentive towards her but Charu’s life is devoid of the drive that makes life more than it appears to be on the surface.

She is fond of reading, embroidering and singing but is all by herself in the gigantic lavish bungalow all day, for days and months together that form the core of her life. Despite several encouragements by her husband, she is not willing to bring her writing to life, for the world to read or for anybody.

With the arrival of her husband’s younger brother as a helper in her husband’s occupations, comes that fresh whiff of air that smells of youth and chirpy adolescence. A naïve and struggling writer, Amal is also fond of his brother and sister-in-law and is a natural winner of hearts.

Charu takes good care of Amal, feeding him and domesticating his wild ways like a mother would. Unaware that her husband has cajoled Amal into convincing her for writing, she spends time with Amal, moments full of laughters, singing, adding notes to his infant write-up. She also stitches up a personalized notebook for him to write in, only on the condition that he would not send it for publication anywhere. Its only when she asks him to give a gentle push to her swing that he feels they might be going a little out of the way. But, Charu’s thoughts have already taken flight and don’t succumb to his comments.

The movie flows through with excerpts from poetic creations of Bankim Chandra and verses from melodies sung in the air. However, episodes of jealousy towards Amal’s banter with a guest lady staying at the bunglow have also been shown here and there. However, Amal is unaware of these surges going on in Charu’s heart and amidst their playful conversation, reveals that he had been asked to encourage her for writing and spend time with her, discussing literary bestsellers. Charu is furious to know this and rushes to her room, not able to come to terms with the sudden flash of divide between her surreal bliss and the harsh reality. She becomes all the more outrageous to see Amal’s publication in one of the contemporary papers and his joyful treat of ice-cream to the guest lady to celebrate his success.

Going through waves of affection, possession, envy and despise, Charu confines her annoyance and unexplainable emotions, not venting them in front of anyone. A revengeful pang in her heart causes her to start writing, which she is determined to and succeeds in getting published in the most competitive paper of the time. Flushed, she carries her publication to Amal and declares that she could write better than him but that is not what mattered to her.

Amal is stunned to read her beautiful piece and said he could never believe she was capable of writing so well. But, he is unable to reciprocate her feelings owing to guilt and hesitation. At his honest reaction, Charu’s anger subsides and she wipes off the tears that had rolled down from her cheeks to the freshly starched white linen of Amal, freeing his shoulder which she had been clutching so far to vent out everything her heart had kept locked so far.

While all is at peace and even Charu has reached a leveling line of understanding in terms of her feelings and the reality, life takes a twist. The printing press of her husband is shut down and Amal leaves the household, unwilling to be a burden on his brother who is already broken owing to prevailing circumstances.

Charu is shattered and pleads to Amal not to take any such decision, only to find in the morning that he has fled. Concealing and expressing her disgust at the same time, she asks the housekeeper to vacate the room and discard all of Amal’s belongings. She even brings back the hand-embroidered slippers she had kept as a replacement for Amal’s tattered shoes which she had initially meant to please her husband with. She reads and re-reads the note left by Amal only to find her new found basis of living gone.

Days pass by and the couple tries to sustain the normalcy in their lives. Its while sitting on the sea-shore on a silent evening, watching the drowning sun that Charu suggests to her husband that they could start a new newspaper wherein she could write a column of herself and manage a page of the otherwise political paper. He finds the idea extremely appealing as he had been overjoyed at her publication in a paper of such repute earlier.

They rush home and wasting no time, he decides to visit his friend immediately with this proposition and start off. Meanwhile, they find a letter from Amal stating that he had been doing good and was now ready to accept the marriage alliance he had been running away from so far. The alliance would open up new avenues to his writing as he could visit the foreign lands for inspiration.

While Charu’s husband is delighted at reading the letter, she is in a trance and only after he leaves the home, she sits to ponder upon it. All the pebbles which had sank to the bottom of her heart resurfaced and led to an emotional outburst. As she was crying and screaming at the loss of Amal, her husband happened to step in to pick his forgotten umbrella and was stupefied at what he heard.

He stealthily retraced his steps, mounted his cart with a heavy heart. Only to return in the evening, standing at the door, hands too heavy to knock, rather attempting to resolve the dilemma of the need of the knock. Just then, Charulatha opens the door and throws her arms open, asking him to step in…..

Thus, a woman’s heart is like a deep blue ocean with innumerable secrets and marvels that have withstood the time and the tides. They often exhibit compelling and unparalleled strength in admitting their feelings which their counterparts might not, irrespective of the fact if the society approves of them or not. And, when the threads of those corals unwind, they are no more solitary, they take into loop whoever happens to touch them, be it the diver or the dweller.