Literature is said to be a mirror of contemporary society–it mirrors life around us, capturing movements in everyday life. On the other hand, there are artists, writers and filmmakers who were “ahead of their times”- people who seemingly had foresight, and a deep inner knowledge of the “second coming”.

In the arena of world cinema, and especially in the world of Indian cinema, one name that is reverently remembered is Satyajit Ray. Filmmaker, writer, illustrator, calligrapher and music composer are only some of the feathers on his cap. Like any artist who remains relevant year after year, the maestro Satyajit Ray had a keen finger on the social pulse. His films speak of human life and living, loss, pain, joy, politics and partition. 

Mahanagar (1963)- which literally translates to The Big City, is one of his films that is liked by many. Here, Satyajit Ray expertly captures the middle class sentimentality, the pride and honour of an ageing father-in-law, the dilemma of a loving husband whose male ego is stirred, and the numerous doubts and fears of a wife and mother, on the brink of a never-before imagined independence.

What makes this film all the more relevant today is its portrayal of femininity and feminism. 

Feminism’ has become a catchphrase, and the feminist movement has had numerous representations and misrepresentations over the years. Of course, there is widespread disagreement over what the feminist movement or feminism as an ideology even entails. 

The place of a woman has been questioned, defined and redefined time and again. Keeping the present day scenario in mind, it is all the more impressive when we think about how Ray has depicted the identity and independence of a woman, in a film sans intellectual discourse and academic jargon.

Arati Majumdar (played by the evergreen Madhabi Mukherjee) is a simple housewife, who only studied up to her first year of college. She always has her head covered in front of her in-laws, and is immersed in her domestic and maternal responsibilities all day.

Ongoing financial struggles make Arati realise that her husband is the sole bread earner of the family, and she is riddled with guilt. She remorsefully says that she too would like to be able to help the family financially. Enthusiastically, her husband Subrata Majumdar (played by Anil Chatterjee) helps Arati to find jobs through newspaper advertisements. He pushes her to apply for a job searching for a “smart and attractive” woman, for the post of a salesgirl. 

Hesitant, and alarmed at even the prospect of having to sign her own name on the application form, Arati does apply for the job, and in time, receives her appointment letter. 

When Subrata approaches his parents to tell them that his wife would take up a “temporary job” to support him until he could find a better posting, his ageing parents react as expected. How could the daughter-in-law of a respectable “bhodrolok” family step out of the house and take up a job? 

Subrata is unable to even look his father in the eye all the while he is telling him about Arati’s job.  This isn’t the only hurdle. Arati’s young son is bewildered and angry that his mother will no longer always be at home. While Subrata tries to appease his parents, Arati is unable to stop feeling guilty about leaving her son at home.

In spite of this, the first definite mark of a new identity that we see in Arati comes when we see her sitting down to eat with her husband- the first time they have eaten together since their marriage. Of course, it was customary for her to serve her husband first, and only eat after he was done. This small but revolutionary act of eating together speaks volumes.

Arati starts work at a firm, where she must go door-to-door, selling the firm’s product. The housewife who would never step out of the house, would always have her head covered in front of elders, and who was afraid to even sign her own name in a job application form, slowly evolved into a confident woman who travelled to work, and even began to enjoy her newfound independence. At work, she befriends Edith Simmons (Vicky Redwood). Arati speaks in Bengali and Edith in English. Arati is always dressed in sarees, Edith in skirt and blouse. In their first interaction, Edith cheerfully speaks to Arati, while she responds through shy smiles and awkward gestures. Yet their friendship becomes one of the defining moments of the film.

Edith introduces Arati to lipstick, and teaches her how to apply it. Shyly, behind a locked bathroom door, Arati applies lipstick, looking at her reflection in the mirror for a moment before wiping it away. We see her growing as a woman, transgressing norms in small ways that the Bengali “bhodrolok” would be shocked by.

Ray realistically understands that for a woman, a transformation is not about marching down streets with banners and shouting slogans. A revolutionary act can be as small as earning her first commission and buying gifts for her family. 

Mahanagar is undeniably and boldly a feminist film, which is realistic in its portrayal. There isn’t a sudden turnabout when everybody is accepting and supportive of the choices being made in the film continuously. Arati’s father-in-law admits halfway through the film that he is too old to change his views, and to see his “bouma” going out to work is a blow to his ideology. “Pursue whatever brings you happiness, I will not get in the way of that. But don’t try to make me a part of your happiness…that, I cannot do.”

The film is also about how a woman’s domestic chores are never recognized as any real work- even though it takes up all their time and energy.

The initially supportive Subrata too grows jealous and insecure of his wife’s new-found independence. When a jubilant Arati says “When I am doing my job, you will barely be able to recognize me,” Subrata bitterly says, “And at home? Will I be able to recognize you at home?”

Obstacles coming from an outsider is easier to deal with, than obstacles coming from one’s own family. Arati is never defiant, and never loses her softness of manners. Her resilience shines through in this. 

Standing up for Edith when their boss is openly partial, and choosing to hand in her resignation letter is a deafening shoutout to sorority. Indoctrinated into being a meek housewife, to choose to stand up for something that she believed in is perhaps one of her bravest acts. Arati is riddled with sorrow, knowing that by giving up on her job, her family will go back to financially struggling. But as Subrata says- this is a big city. Both of them, husband and wife, will find something to do, won’t they?

The figures of Arati and Subrata are lost into the ever-moving crowds of a bustling city- where identity, loss, crisis and hope all intermingle.