
Satyajit Ray Through Hindu Lens: The Brahmo Who Never Gave Up Brahman
This May 3, Satyajit Ray's cinema turns 70. The maestro, incidentally, would have turned 104 on May 2
On May 3, 1955, the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York, at its Textiles and Ornamental Arts of India exhibition, screened a film titled The Story of Apu and Durga, later to be titled Pather Panchali or Song of the Little Road. It was well received, although it ran without subtitles.
This May 3, Satyajit Ray's cinema turns 70. The maestro, incidentally, would have turned 104 on May 2.
If he were alive and still making movies, the most pressing question he would have faced could very likely be about his faith and spirituality. We live in a time of resurgent, assertive Hindutva and a highly reactive Islam. It is a time, ironically, like many of his movies, of black and white.
The maestro would be pressed to take a side.
It is not that he did not face that question during his lifetime. There had been a shrill crescendo of protests after his Devi (The Goddess) released in 1960. The movie is about a young woman who is tragically and almost forcibly elevated to divinity after her father-in-law dreams about her being the incarnation of the goddess.
Hindu conservatives were also furious when Ray's Ganashatru (Enemy of the People) portrayed how the holy water or 'charanamrita" got contaminated because of official corruption and apathy, endangering thousands of lives.
The narrative that Ray was unfairly critical of Hinduness got traction because of his Brahmo faith, a reformist and so-called 'progressive" tributary of Sanatan Dharma, pioneered by Raja Ram Mohan Roy.
Ray, ironically, was one of the harshest critics of Bengal's communist regime, and never hesitated to speak the blunt truth even to the towering CPM patriarch and then chief minister, Jyoti Basu. His Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne and Hirak Rajar Deshe are trenchant critiques of totalitarian regimes.
If one looks holistically at Satyajit Ray's entire body of work, a different picture emerges.
By his own admission, he was against religious dogma and superstition. He was also questioning about organised religion, as we find him articulate in his last movie, Agantuk.
But he was not against religion, spirituality, and mysticism.
In fact, the social setting of almost all Ray movies is noticeably Hindu. Except for Shatranj Ke Khilari, there is not even one major Muslim character in his films, even in those set in pre-Partition, Muslim-dominant Bengal.
He made an entire, dazzlingly successful detective movie, Sonar Kella, based on his own Feluda series on reincarnation and rebirth. His fascination and curiosity with 'jatishwar", or those who claim to remember their previous birth, finds its way even in films like Nayak.
He portrays the impoverished village priest Harihar in the Apu trilogy with no malice but almost a tragic-nostalgic fondness. Portrayal of Apu's childhood has evoked comparisons with little Krishna's carefree, playful ways.
Ray shunned the long, sermon-filled Brahmo services. His cinematic depiction of the good-intentioned but boring husband in Charulata, although made after Rabindranath Tagore's novel Nashto Neer, captures the character's lack of emotional and sexual vitality.
The roots of Ray's spiritual vision lie in his childhood.
In his essay Through Agnostic Eyes: Representations of Hinduism in the Cinema of Satyajit Ray, Chandok Sengoopta of Birkbeck College, London, writes:
But first, we need to outline just what kind of Brahmo upbringing Ray had and how he reacted to it. Ray's father Sukumar Ray (1887–1923), who has long been iconic in Bengali literary history for his nonsense verse and other works for children, also distinguished himself as a printing technologist, a photographer, a publisher and magazine editor. Although a committed Brahmo, he and his young associates nearly brought about a split in the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj with their demands for sweeping reforms in structure, administration and ethical code. For Sukumar Ray, the Brahmo movement, despite commencing within orthodox Hinduism as a reform initiative, had diverged so greatly from the parent since then that it had become a sovereign faith, and he did not shy away from a public (and sharply polemical) debate with his close friend Rabindranath Tagore, who, belonging to the conservative Adi Brahmo Samaj, held that Brahmos, in spite of their rejection of many orthodox beliefs and practices, were still members of the larger Hindu family. Sukumar Ray, of course, died at an early age and Satyajit was brought up by his mother Suprabha, whose understanding of the Brahmo-Hindu relationship was interestingly different from her late husband's. Diligent as she was in attending Brahmo services and shunning festivals such as the 'idolatrous" Durga Puja, she wore the iron bangle and vermilion like all Hindu married women. Apart from giving them up after losing her husband, she never dressed again in anything other than the orthodox Hindu widow's plain white sari (than), despite being reminded by no less a Brahmo luminary than Dr Kadambini Ganguli that her own father-in-law Upendrakishore Ray had decried this custom.
It is perhaps this confluence of childhood strains that makes Ray grey. While he captures the riverbanks and temples of Banaras mesmerisingly in Aparajito (1956) and Joi Baba Felunath (1979), in his Abhijan (1962), a Christian convert feels uncomfortable serving food to the upper-caste hero because she had belonged to an 'untouchable" caste before her conversion.
But the clincher that he never snapped away from his Sanatan roots is there in his last movie, Agantuk.
Unlike an Alfred Hitchcock, Quentin Tarantino, or Manoj Night Shyamalan, Ray was not a director who did cameos in his own films. But in Agantuk, a film he shot in his final days, he made an exception.
He sang the iconic ode to Shri Krishna in his own quivering yet baritone voice: 'Hari Haray namah Krishna Yadavay namah…"
top videos
View all
A final clue to his spiritual self before moving on from the mortal.
Abhijit Majumder is a senior journalist. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect News18's views.
tags :
Cinema hindu satyajit ray
Location :
New Delhi, India, India
First Published:
May 03, 2025, 07:00 IST
News opinion Opinion | Satyajit Ray Through Hindu Lens: The Brahmo Who Never Gave Up Brahman
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


News18
2 hours ago
- News18
After 'Dog Babu', 'Lord Ram', 'Goddess Sita' And 'Crow' Seek Bihar Residential Certificate
Last Updated: In Khagaria, fake residence certificate applications under names like Lord Ram and a crow were rejected, prompting police action. After the well-known 'dog babu' and 'Sonalika tractor', another incident came into the limelight from Khagaria district, where applications for residence certificates have been moved under the names of Hindu deities Lord Ram and Goddess Sita, as well as a crow. The applicant allegedly submitted a photo of Lord Ram along with a residence certificate application in Chautham Zone Office of the district under the name 'Shri Ram Ram', father- Dashrath, mother- Kaushalya, village- Ayodhya, police station- Chautham, district- Khagaria, NDTV reported. Another application was submitted with a photo of Goddess Sita under the name 'Shrimati Mata Sita', father- Raja Janak, mother- Rani Sunaina, village- Ayodhya, police station- Chautham, district Khagaria. In another incident, the applicant allegedly submitted a photo of a crow along with a residence certificate application in Khagaria Sadar Zonal Office of the district under in which the name of the applicant was mentioned as 'Crow", father's name – Kaua Singh, mother's name – Maina Singh, village Bhadas, district – Khagaria. The district administration said it has rejected several such applications submitted through the RTPS portal and has initiated police action, registering FIRs against unknown individuals in affected police station areas, including Chautham, Gogri, and Chitraguptanagar. The fake application copies have gone viral on social media, triggering widespread discussions and criticism over lax verification procedures. Last week, a similarly outrageous case came to light in East Champaran district where an application had been moved in the name of one 'Sonalika Tractor' by using the photograph of Bhojpuri actress Monalisa. The applicant allegedly submitted a photo of the popular Bhojpuri actress along with a residence certificate application under the name 'Sonalika Tractor', claiming descent from 'Swaraj Tractor' and 'Car Devi'. Earlier, a residence certificate was issued in the name of 'dog babu', born to 'kutta babu' and 'kutiya devi', much to the embarrassment of the administration, which got it promptly annulled. Moreover, besides lodging of an FIR, a computer operator was sacked for unmindfully forwarding the application, and suspension was recommended for the revenue department official who heedlessly went on to issue the certificate. The episode was lapped up by those opposing the special intensive revision of electoral rolls in Bihar, which accepts residence certificates, but not Aadhaar cards and ration cards, from voters. view comments Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.


News18
2 hours ago
- News18
Dhanashree Shares First Post After Chahal Said 'Sugar Daddy' Was 'A Message': 'I'm Grateful For...'
Days after Yuzvendra Chahal broke silence on their divorce, Dhanashree Verma shared her first post from Dubai, reflecting on growth and gratitude. Dhanashree Verma has finally broken her silence indirectly following her ex-husband Yuzvendra Chahal's much-talked-about podcast appearance in which he addressed their divorce for the first time. Taking to Instagram, the choreographer and digital creator shared a serene photo dump from her recent Dubai trip. From indulging in street food like vadapav and pani puri to golden hour strolls and temple visits, Dhanashree's post radiated peace and nostalgia. She captioned it, 'Back in Dubai after what feels like a lifetime…🤍 Growing up here gave me so many core memories and seeing how much the city has evolved was both surreal and heartwarming. One of the highlights was visiting this beautiful Hindu temple—peaceful, powerful, and a reminder of how far this city has come in embracing culture and community ♥️🙏🏻 Grateful for the growth, the roots, and the reconnection." View this post on Instagram A post shared by Dhanashree Verma (@dhanashree9) Her post comes just days after Chahal opened up on Raj Shamani's podcast about the viral t-shirt he wore that read 'Be Your Own Sugar Daddy"—the same day as his final divorce hearing with Dhanashree. Speaking about the statement tee, the cricketer said, 'Meko nahi karna tha drama, I just wanted to give one message and mai ne vo de diya." While Chahal maintained that he didn't intend to stir up controversy, he implied that he was compelled to react due to something that happened from Dhanashree's side. 'Kyunki saamne se kuch cheej hua tha, aur mera pehle mann nahi tha. Fir saamne se kuch hua toh fir mai ne kaaha ab sambhaal lo ab mujhe nahi parwah kisi ki. Mai ne na kisi ko abuse kara, bus mujhe message dena tha," he said, suggesting it was a moment of closure more than confrontation. Dhanashree has not responded directly to Chahal's statements. However, her recent post which doesn't address the divorce but speaks of inner growth and reconnection, has been perceived by fans as a graceful way of moving forward. The images show her smiling, soaking in sunsets, and embracing her roots in the city where she grew up, giving a subtle but strong message of her own. First Published: August 04, 2025, 20:56 IST Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.


Indian Express
9 hours ago
- Indian Express
What the silenced, suppressed angst of Durga in Pather Panchali tells us about girlhood
Durga does not ask to be liked. She does not fit in, not in her home, not in her village, and not in the version of girlhood her world demands she perform. Ordinary but unforgettable, she pushed boundaries, talked back, and wandered too far too often much to everyone's dismay. But beneath her stubbornness lay hunger – for beauty, for escape, for something more than what her narrow world could offer. In Pather Panchali, she is the fire burning quietly in the shadows in stolen moments of freedom: a walk in the rain, a secret laugh, a glance at something just out of reach. I first met Durga in the pages of Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay's 1929 novel in a dusty classroom. We were both around the same age and shared the same angst. She was angry, misunderstood, and ostracised for wanting the ordinary. For me, and for many readers, Durga reads less like a character and more like a girl you once knew – or once were. She disobeys, steals, lies, laughs, dreams. Her small, rural world doesn't know what to do with her, so it punishes her for existing on her own terms. In the few chapters she occupies, Durga lingers far beyond the page. Her mother scolds and strikes her, neighbours accuse her of theft, and the poverty of her home leaves little room for understanding the emotional life of a girl on the edge of adolescence. But Bandopadhyay never flattened her into a victim. Durga's longings are small, intimate, and piercingly relatable – a fruit, a train, a forbidden hut. These modest dreams, some left unmet, represent something larger: the condition of countless girls whose wants are neither voiced nor honoured. In one line, Bandopadhyay writes of her as 'that one poor girl from the village and her many unfulfilled desires.' The line contains the quiet heartbreak of generations – of girls asked to be less, to want less, to vanish quietly. Her strongest desire was to see a train. She never gets to. That unfulfilled dream becomes a metaphor for everything else she's denied – movement, wonder, freedom. Which brings us to Apu, her younger brother and the book's protagonist, and their bond. Their relationship exists in glances and shared silences in a world which has no time for childhood. While the adults are worn down by poverty and exhaustion, Apu and Durga carve out a world where love exists – wordless, mischievous, protective. Apu follows her like a shadow, learning and absorbing. She shows him not the world as it is, but as it could be. She steals fruit and dares him to follow. She dreams of trains and lets him in on that dream. Together, they claim the only kind of freedom available to them – in play, in secret paths, in shared imagination. This is what makes Durga's sudden and untimely death so shattering. She fades away without ceremony. But her absence haunts the novel's emotional landscape. In what I consider the most piercing moment in the book, Apu, after her death, discovers a small gold box she had stolen from her neighbour – the very theft she had always denied. She had begged and wept, insisting she hadn't taken it. She never even confessed to Apu. Now, holding the truth, Apu makes a decision. He doesn't tell anyone. He throws the box deep into the forest, where he believes no one will find it. It could have helped his family, perhaps brought them some money. But that thought doesn't even cross his mind. In that act, Apu protects Durga – her memory, her dignity – from a world that never understood her in life. A final stand for his sister he loved the most. Later, as he boards the train Durga never got to see, he weeps. 'Didi, I didn't forget you or leave you behind. They are taking me away…' he tells her silently in his heart. He carries her with him and her dying words for life: 'Apu, when I get better will you show me the train one day?' As he takes the train out of his childhood, his village – where every corner contains remnants of his sister – he cries and he remembers her. Female teenage angst and unfulfilled desire, especially in literature, were rarely given space during that era. While male characters were often allowed rebellion and interiority (Catcher in the Rye, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man), girls were usually boxed into roles of restraint, obedience, or romantic yearning. Durga breaks that mold. She is impulsive, angry, and instinctively resists domestic expectations. This theme echoes in rare but powerful instances across Indian fiction. In Manik Bandopadhyay's short story Samudrer Swad (Taste of the Sea), a young woman weeps constantly and inconsolably without a word to anyone. It was over her dead father's unfulfilled promise of taking her to see the ocean. Nothing in her life could console her and she couldn't talk about it with anyone. Like Durga, she is not allowed to be angry at anyone. She is quietly heartbroken that the world denied her something so small, yet so important. These girls do not ask for the universe. They ask for moments. And they are denied even that. Durga exists at the intersection of many things – poverty, girlhood, rebellion, adolescence – but she is not reduced by them. What makes her extraordinary, even nearly a century after she was written, is that Bandopadhyay does not punish her for wanting. He lets her be. For many readers – especially young girls – Durga may well be one of the first characters they see themselves in. Not because she's heroic, but because she yearns. Not because she triumphs, but because she's never truly heard. Her tragedy isn't just that she dies young – it's that she dies before anyone truly sees her. Pather Panchali is remembered as Apu's story but its soul lies in Durga. She may not be the protagonist in structure, but emotionally, she carries the heart of the novel. She teaches us that even the smallest dreams can carry unbearable weight in a society where girls and their wants are considered radical.