Rima Das’s Tora’s Husband : Extraordinary Portrayal of Ordinariness

Rima Das’s Tora’s Husband : Extraordinary Portrayal of Ordinariness

Sanjeev Kumar Nath

While writing about the art of the novel, Milan Kundera, the Czech postmodern novelist said that essentially, novelistic art explores the “ordinariness” of our lives, and that ordinariness is in fact the real stuff of our lives.

Today, that real stuff of our lives is portrayed on the screen by a few talented film makers like Rima Das while the big blockbusters deal with all things extraordinary, and hence impossible and nonsensical.

Rima Das’s latest film Toras’s Husband does not take you to exotic locations, but seems to have been filmed in just a few “local” locations, giving you the true feeling of “locality” : it gives you an opportunity to see what life was like for people living in a certain area in lower Assam during a time now recognized by people across the globe—the Covid pandemic days and the lockdowns, the days of suffering for many and the days of things gradually limping back to normalcy.

The film is dedicated by Rima Das to her father Bharat Chandra Das whom she lost during the pandemic.

The prime focus of the narrative is on the husband/father/neigbour/friend/businessman Jaan or Abhay (played by Abhijit Das), who struggles to keep his bakery and restaurant business afloat among the uncertainties of Covid lockdowns.

His kind, compassionate character becomes evident in his actions such as stopping his car and pushing a young calf among a group of cattle out of the road and out of danger (the cattle on the road is like a GPS signal about the location of the action: India, Assam), deciding to dispose off the corpse of a dog lying on the road, buying footballs and other sports equipment for budding sports enthusiasts, and helping people out with money.

He is a caring father, and there are scenes showing his love and care for his two kids.

He is a caring husband too, although there is one scene in which his wife Tora tells someone on the phone that he is not a good husband. That he is a good husband is illustrated in scenes like his selecting shoes for her at a shop, and caring for her flower tubs and plants at home while she is away for Covid treatment.

The one thing that causes frequent friction in their relationship is Jaan’s regular drinking with his friends. Losses at business, the struggle to earn a decent living, and family trouble seem to make him seek solace in drink, although the happy ending suggests that it would not be unreasonable to hope that the good man is going to get rid of his habit of drinking.

The name Tora is perhaps not heard even once in the film. Is it a way of showing on whom the focus is all the time : her husband? Incidentally, her husband is called Jaan by her and his friends and some of the neigbours, and his name Abhay Das is also heard a few times; but Tora’s name? Not once, perhaps.

Tora’s secondary role in the narrative is borne out by the scenes which show her at work alone or only with the housemaid : preparing food in the kitchen, feeding the little ones, bathing them, caring for her plants. Jaan seems too occupied with this financial worries to have time to spare for her, and there are several scenes that show the silent tension between the couple.

Several storylines criss-cross the screen, showing what is asserted at one point of the film : that there are as many worlds as there are people in the world. Perhaps this is the moment in which the film is most philosophical, making a statement about the nature of reality. One storyline, left incomplete, involves the issue of Jaan’s mother refusing to come and live with him and staying with her daughter.

Some kind of disagreement or quarrel between Tora and the old lady is referred to, but not quite explained.

Another storyline involves Piku, the family dog that went missing, and the events associated with that : their search for the dog, the boy’s misadventure in trying to find the dog, and the final reunion of the dog with the family. Jaan’s passion for football, his having been a good player and a certain nostalgia for the good old days as a footballer can also be considered one strand of storyline woven into the narrative

The little ones, the girl and the boy do not seem to be at all conscious of the camera, and do what littles ones like them do. The boy, Bhargav, is played by Bhuman Bhargav Das and the girl Manu’s role is played by little Purbanchali Das.

Their worlds are also among the many worlds the film helps the audience to peep into. Abhijit Das and Tarali Kakati Das, real-life husband and wife, are perhaps not professional actors, but have done their part wonderfully well, much better than some professional actors! Both are fully convincing in their roles, without the least suggestion of any strain in the acting.

In fact, one doesn’t see any acting, but only a slice of life prepared by Rima Das and company. Rima Das, the producer, has also written the script, edited the film and handled the camera. That is almost superhuman. As we came out of the hall after watching the film, she was right there, not looking like a superwoman but just a simple woman, delighting some of the film enthusiasts with her infective laugh, and of course, obliging them with selfies.

Let us hope this brilliant lady gives us more such excellent films. She shows us what wonderful things can be done with the camera, without going to exotic locations around the world, and without taking resort to fantasy and the fantastic.

The action is slow-paced, but that is in keeping with the real-life feel that the film succeeds in presenting quite well. However, some of the rather abrupt endings of scenes give an episodic character to the entire narrative.

I noticed one or two occasional errors in the Assamese spellings that could have perhaps been eliminated with just a little more effort, and Tora’s Husband is translated in Assamese as ‘তৰা’ছ হাজবেণ্ড but one doesn’t know what the single quotation marks are doing there. Besides, the “s” in Tora’s actually sounds as “z” in English, so the Assamese “জ” rather than “ছ” would have been more appropriate.

The good thing is that one notices only minor errors like this, and that makes you feel guilty to talk of faults in a nearly flawless film, a must-watch for everyone.

The pleasant, positive ending of the film is definitely one of the many sterling qualities of the film, although perhaps the ending could have been a little more detailed.  

(Sanjeev Kumar Nath, English Department, Gauhati University, sanjeevnath21@gmail.com)

[Images from different sources]

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