Here’s why ‘Nagarkirtan’ is a crushing blow to every concept of conventional love!

It’s not the first time Kaushik Ganguly has worked on issues dealing with sexuality and gender. In his 2003 telefilm Ushnatar Janye lesbianism was explored brilliantly, and then he directed Rituparno Ghosh in Arekti Premer Golpo in 2010 and it was hailed for not only its bold theme but also for having the guts to explore the areas only few mainstream films do. However, with Nagarkirtan, he sets the bar even higher and arguably it’s the finest Indian film that speaks for transgender identity and our society’s blatant approach towards it.

Parimal (Riddhi Sen), a woman trapped in a man’s body can’t live the lie any more, and as he can’t adjust with the trauma of being ‘betrayed’ by his teacher Subhash da, he starts living in a community of eunuchs. He becomes Puti from Parimal. Puti solicits money at the traffic signals as he dreams of undergoing the sex-change operation to change into his true/complete self. He finds his solace in Madhu (Ritwick Chakraborty), a restaurant delivery boy with whom he falls in love. Madhu, a flautist in kirtans, not just accept Puti’s love but also decides to raise the money required for the procedure.

What follows is a simple love story that knocks out all the love stories we are used to see in Indian cinema, set against an authentic backdrop of what our society will term the ‘lowlife’. In a casting coup of sorts, Kaushik Ganguly has roped in Manabi Bandyopadhyay, India’s first transgender college principal and Bengal’s first transgender professor, playing herself in ‘Nagarkirtan’.

The film never shy away from the emotionally wrenching core, but also shows a refreshing, wry sense of humour which comes in with a poignant touch. While Riddhi Sen delivers a career-defining performance (one that earned him the Best Actor award at the 2018 National Film Awards), Ritwick exceptionally matches the young actor note for note. There are only a few actors in Bengali cinema who can bring such a delicate poignancy to dialogue as simple as ‘Is it really possible – this idea of a man falling in love with a man?’

The climax is equally interesting. Kaushik Ganguly justifies the point to build the climax in Nabadwip, the divine home of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. The Hindu religious pantheon has always seen Mahaprabhu as the symbol of incarnation and combining in himself the basic attributes of Lord Krishna and Radharani. It actually works for the film’s main purpose. It also reinforces the bhakti roots beyond androgyny and androgynous relationships. Not only this, as the film depicts perhaps the most brutal and traumatic scene of ‘Nagarkirtan’ on a mobile phone, we are presented with a key social message – on our typical sadistic desire to capture the inhuman acts on camera and often turning it into an ‘entertainment’.