For many cinephiles, the question often lingers: ‘What if?’ What if Ritwik Ghatak’s debut film, Nagarik, finished in 1952 but unseen until after his passing, had premiered before Satyajit Ray’s groundbreaking Pather Panchali in 1955? Would Ghatak have received the immense recognition during his lifetime that he has posthumously garnered over the decades?
However, this piece isn’t about ‘what ifs,’ but ‘what is.’ It’s undeniable that Ghatak’s influence on mainstream Hindi cinema is more distinct and perhaps even more celebrated than that of his esteemed contemporaries, Satyajit Ray and Mrinal Sen. While Ray often receives rhetorical praise from Bollywood directors, and Sen’s narrative techniques (like voiceovers and self-referential storytelling in films from studios like Yash Raj and Dharma) sometimes appear in popular Hindi movies, Ghatak’s impact runs deeper and is more visibly woven into the fabric of the industry.
Ghatak’s more direct and profound footprint in popular Hindi cinema stems primarily from two key factors. Firstly, his distinctive and often-discussed embrace of melodrama as a cinematic style. Secondly, his pivotal, albeit brief, teaching tenure at the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) between 1965 and 1966. Despite its short duration, this period proved incredibly impactful, evident in the numerous tributes and acknowledgments he has received from notable figures like Vidhu Vinod Chopra, Sanjay Leela Bhansali, and Payal Kapadia. Indeed, Kapadia’s documentary, A Night of Knowing Nothing, even features a mural of Ghatak on the FTII campus, underscoring his lasting presence.
A mural of Ritwik Ghatak at the FTII campus in Pune, a testament to his lasting legacy. (Image courtesy of Shamya Dasgupta and Westland Books)
Melodrama Reimagined
At its core, mainstream Hindi cinema is widely regarded for its melodramatic flair, a stark contrast to the realism often favoured by Indian arthouse cinema, which drew heavily from post-war Italian neorealism and the French New Wave. While this is a broad generalization – given that Ghatak himself was an arthouse filmmaker known for his melodramatic style – it highlights a fundamental kinship. This shared embrace of heightened emotion naturally makes Ghatak’s influence clearly visible in Hindi films, even in contemporary works.
How exactly did Ghatak wield melodrama? Conventionally, melodrama involves intricate plots often driven by dramatic coincidences and exaggerated emotions. In contrast, realism typically explores simpler, everyday narratives. In Ghatak’s celebrated film, Meghe Dhaka Tara, the protagonist Neeta (played by Supriya Choudhury) faces an overwhelming series of misfortunes: sacrificing her education, losing her beloved to her own sister, all to support her family displaced by Partition. As if this weren’t enough, her suffering culminates in her contracting a virulent form of tuberculosis that tragically consumes her.
Similarly, in Subarnarekha, the tragic heroine Seeta (Madhabi Mukherjee) endures an almost unbearable succession of calamities: estrangement from her cherished brother Ishwar, the loss of her husband in a devastating accident, and ultimately, a descent into sex work to survive. In a cruel twist of fate, her first client turns out to be none other than her long-lost brother. This level of intense, emotionally charged narrative finds a natural parallel in Bollywood’s storytelling tradition.
A poignant still from Ritwik Ghatak’s iconic film, ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’ (1960), showcasing its emotional intensity. (Image via IMDB)
A compelling scene from Ritwik Ghatak’s ‘Subarnarekha’ (1965), a powerful example of his melodramatic style. (Image via IMDB)
Beyond melodrama, Ghatak also notably pioneered one of Bollywood’s most unique and enduring narrative devices: reincarnation. His original story for Bimal Roy’s Madhumati, the highest-grossing Hindi film of 1958, introduced this theme to mainstream Indian cinema. Madhumati‘s influence resonated for decades, inspiring numerous cinematic ‘reincarnations’ in Bollywood, most notably Subhash Ghai’s Karz (1980) and, to some extent, Farah Khan’s Om Shanti Om (2007).
A memorable still from Bimal Roy’s ‘Madhumati’ (1958), a pioneering reincarnation story penned by Ritwik Ghatak. (Image via IMDB)
Subhash Ghai’s 1980 hit ‘Karz,’ a prominent Bollywood film that embraced the reincarnation theme. (Image via IMDB)
Farah Khan’s visually splendid ‘Om Shanti Om’ (2007), another Bollywood film featuring a reincarnation narrative. (Image via IMDB)
Subhash Ghai is frequently cited among Ghatak’s students at FTII, which brings us to the second compelling reason for Ghatak’s enduring impact on contemporary Bollywood. While his direct students also included luminaries like Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Mani Kaul, Kumar Shahani, and Saeed Akhtar Mirza, it’s Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Vidhu Vinod Chopra who most often acknowledge his influence. Chopra, in particular, has recounted in interviews that Ghatak affectionately nicknamed him ‘Bidhu,’ suggesting a direct mentorship.
Sound Psychology
In Meghe Dhaka Tara, Ghatak masterfully employed the jarring sound of a whip to underscore his heroine Neeta’s profound emotional torment. For instance, when she descends the stairs from her boyfriend’s apartment, having sensed the presence of another woman, the distinct crack of a whip pierces the soundtrack. This might seem incongruous at first—why a whip instead of footsteps or voices?
The whip sound reappears later, brutally lashing again and again, as Neeta collapses in tears while rehearsing a song for her sister’s wedding to her former lover. Here, the meaning is unmistakably clear: the whip is a powerful auditory symbol of her inner anguish and the ceaseless pain she endures.
Prominent Bollywood filmmakers (from left) Vidhu Vinod Chopra, Sanjay Leela Bhansali, and Subhash Ghai, all of whom were students at FTII, Pune. (Image via Getty Images)
Sanjay Leela Bhansali, in his 2002 film Devdas, famously echoed this sonic technique. As a young Devdas (Shah Rukh Khan) defiantly storms down the ancestral palace stairs, protesting his father’s commands, the distinct crack of a whip is heard. For Devdas, the agonizing choice between his authoritarian father’s lifelong approval and his profound first love is presented as an internal lashing, directly paralleling Ghatak’s emotional soundscape.
This is a direct homage to Ghatak, who elevated cinematic sound design to a powerful psychological tool. Beyond this explicit nod, Bhansali’s work also exhibits an indirect, yet profound, Ghatakian spirit. His protagonists frequently meet tragic ends, dying or taking their own lives, a thematic echo found in Ghatak’s Meghe Dhaka Tara, Subarnarekha, and Titash Ekti Nadir Naam. Furthermore, Bhansali’s characters often exhibit an intense emotionality that borders on madness—from Devdas drinking himself to death after his father shames his love for Paro (Aishwarya Rai), to Sameer (Salman Khan) in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999) conversing with his deceased father, or Peshwa Bajirao I (Ranveer Singh) in Bajirao Mastani (2015) succumbing to feverish hallucinations after his wife Mastani is imprisoned. All these characters share an almost excessive stubbornness, akin to Neeta in Meghe Dhaka Tara, who silently endures her family’s relentless demands.
A romantic moment from Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s ‘Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam’ (1999). (Image via IMDB)
Bhansali’s films also frequently imbue childhood and its memories with a special, almost magical, significance. We see this in Annie (Manisha Koirala) fondly recalling her grandmother (the legendary Helen) and their piano; in Devdas’s enduring torment by the memories of his childhood playmate Paro; and in the profound joy Michelle McNally (played by Ayesha Kapur and Rani Mukerji) experiences upon feeling a snowflake in Black (2005), a clear echo of her first experience with water. This reverence for early life experiences resonates deeply.
This sentiment is mirrored in Meghe Dhaka Tara, where Neeta’s aging schoolteacher father takes her and her older brother Shankar on an early morning birthday excursion to an idyllic rural landscape outside the city. In that moment, a profound sense of happier, freer times washes over them all, highlighting the restorative power of childhood memories and nature.
Romance of Childhood
Vidhu Vinod Chopra, another director touched by Ghatak’s influence, frequently explores the theme of childhood friends evolving into lovers. In his highly acclaimed film, Parinda, which I consider his finest, Karan (Anil Kapoor) and Paro (Madhuri Dixit) are inseparable childhood companions who ultimately fall deeply in love. This motif reappears in Mission Kashmir, where Altaf (Hrithik Roshan) reminds Sufiya (Preity Zinta) of a conversation they had left unfinished during their childhood upon their reunion.
An intense scene from Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s critically acclaimed ‘Parinda’ (1989). (Image via IMDB)
A moment from Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s ‘Mission Kashmir’ (2000), featuring its lead stars. (Image via IMDB)
Ghatak’s own films often explored these formative bonds. In Subarnarekha, Sita and Abhiram, foster siblings and childhood companions, develop a love so profound that Sita defies her protective elder brother. While the exact timeline of Neeta and Sanat’s relationship in Meghe Dhaka Tara remains ambiguous, Sanat, being her schoolteacher father’s student, implies a connection from their adolescence. And in Bari Theke Paliye, Ghatak immerses the audience entirely in the perspective of the eight-year-old protagonist, Kanchan, highlighting the innocence and wonder of childhood.
A delightful still from Ritwik Ghatak’s ‘Bari Theke Paliye’ (1958), told from a child’s perspective. (Image via IMDB)
While Satyajit Ray also deeply valued the child’s perspective—much of Pather Panchali unfolds through young Apu’s eyes—he arguably wouldn’t frame a childhood friendship as a sweeping, grand romance. This romanticizing of early bonds, prioritizing intense emotional connection above all else, is a distinctly melodramatic trait, a hallmark shared by Ghatak and later, by directors in Bollywood.
An iconic still from Satyajit Ray’s timeless classic, ‘Pather Panchali’ (1955). (Image via IMDB)
Undoubtedly, numerous other film enthusiasts could identify even more references, tributes, and echoes of Ghatak’s genius. His body of work and his circle of admirers continue to expand, a testament to his enduring power. I’ll conclude with a fascinating anecdote recounted by National Award-winning film critic Alaka Sahani in her article “A River Named Ritwik” for The Indian Express. Just days before his passing, Ghatak consoled his daughter, Samhita, assuring her that his films would find their true appreciation after his death. Much like the melodramatic narratives he crafted, where justice often eludes characters in this life, Ghatak, with an almost prescient awareness, foresaw his own magnificent posthumous legacy.
The writer is the author of The Day I Became a Runner, and a National Award-winning film critic.