All language subtitles for the.stranger.1991.dvdrip.x264-bipolar.eng

Special thanks: Ms. Bijaya Roy
Ms. Kanika Bandopadhyay

Dr. Dinesh Chandra Mallick
Dr. Kanti Bhushan Bakshi

Mr. Parimal Roy
Mr. Nirmalya Acharya

Ms. Gopa Ghoshal
Mumtaz and Uma Ahmed

Ms. Ruma Guha Thakurta
Ms. Manjula Guha Thakurta

Mr. Pitu Panda, Mr. D. Majumdar
Mr. Ashok Nag, Ms. Supriya Choudhury

Mr. Kalyan Kumar Dash
Mr. Nabakumar Mukhapadhyay

Mr. Madan Hembram, Ms. Sunita Murmu
Mr. Tara Chand Murmu

Elmhurst lnstitute, Shantiniketan
East Rail, Saroj, Patha Bhavan, Sandesh

Anandabazar Patrika Limited,
Sonodyne NCC

West Bengal Sound
Recording Department

Rupayon lnformation
and Culture Department

West Bengal Government
Police and Administration

lnhabitants of Baner Pukur
and Goyalpada

Who is the letter from?

l don't recognize the handwriting.

lt's an M. Mitra.

lt could be someone from
your mother's side of the family.

l don't know of any M. Mitra.

Apparently there will be
no power cuts during the festival.

Well? Who is it from?

Who is it from, Ma?

Just a moment, dear.

Wow! That's one massive missive.

What does it say?

What is it? ls there some bad news?

l don't know.

How can you not know?

Who is it from?

-- Your youngest great--uncle, chhor-dadu.
-- What?

-- The one who ran away from home?
-- But he's been missing for ages!

For 35 years. He left in 1 955.

l was only two at the time.

And your uncle?

He vanished right after getting
his bachelor's degree.

l have no memories of him.

Whatever l know is from my mother.

The last anyone heard
from him was in 1 968.

He never used to write to his elder
brother, or to his sister, my mother.

He only kept in touch with Sital babu,
sending him a card every six months,

from different cities in the West.

There was no way to reply because
there would never be a return address.

Sital babu, isn't he a family friend?

Yes, he was grandfather's neighbor.
He came to our house, too, remember?

He worked at the Accountant General's
Bengal office

and settled in Shantiniketan
after he retired, right?

lt's through him
that uncle learned about us.

From where has he written?

New Delhi.

Qutub Hotel.

Anyway, what has he written?
Read it aloud, let me hear it.

l must say, the gentleman's Bengali
is still very fluent.

''My dear little child...

''Little child''? Who's the little child?

Let me read, will you?

''My dear little child,

Since l don't know your formal name,

l'm addressing you in this fashion.

l hope you will not take offense.

Wow! That is indeed sacred language.

When l left home,
you were actually a little child.

Anyhow, l have finished
with my travels in the West

and only just arrived back here.

When l met Uncle Sital, l found out

that you are the only
close relative l have left,

and that you are living a happy
family life with your husband and son.

l will very soon return
to my nomadic lifestyle.

Meanwhile, l dearly wish

to spend a week
as a guest in your house

in Calcutta, the city of my birth.

You cannot recognize
this uncle of yours

and l cannot recognize you, either.

Under the circumstances, l realize that
my request amounts to an imposition.

The social norms prevalent
in the old days in our country

allowed even a stranger
to enjoy the hospitality of a household.

Keeping this tradition in mind,

l gathered the courage
to put forward my request.

l have decided

to take the Rajdhani Express
on the 1 6th

and arrive in Calcutta
on the morning of the 1 7th.

l shall then take a cab
and present myself at your house.

l will humbly respect your decision
of accepting me as a guest or not.

Let me assure you,

l am used to all kinds of experiences --
sour, sweet, bitter, and sharp.

With blessings, your youngest uncle,
Manomohan Mitra.''

You said you have no memories of him.

Short, fat, dark, fair, thin, tall --
Don't you remember anything at all?

No.

Then there is only one solution.

Send an immediate reply.

Not a letter. A telegram.

Tell him a barefaced lie?
A fortnight's holiday?

What do you mean, ''a lie''?
Don't people go on holidays?

He doesn't know l am an executive.

Suppose l were a college professor.
l'd have long holidays for the festival.

But you are not a college professor.

What is the assurance
that this man is not lying?

You know how common
fraud is these days.

My father's art collection,
it's priceless.

ln the sitting room alone there are
things worth a million rupees at least.

Take just one bronze figurine
from the top of the bookshelf,

and one can make a fortune
by selling it to a foreign tourist.

You mean this man is coming here
with an intent to steal?

Uncle was a great favorite
of my mother.

Grandfather was also very fond of him.

And not without reason.

Uncle had many qualities.

He never came in second in his life.

A man can change completely
in 35 years.

But it doesn't seem like that
from the letter.

Let us assume that he is indeed
your uncle and a model of virtue.

But won't you give your husband
some thought?

What do you mean to say?

He'll be coming on the 1 7th,
which is a Friday.

He'll stay for a week.

That means the entire weekend
will be ruined.

The festival starts on the 21 st.

l was looking forward
to a relaxing holiday.

Now, this old man
materializes out of thin air

''claiming'' to be your uncle.

Come in, dear sir. Please take a seat.
Let me serve your meal, dear sir.

-- l don't like it at all.
-- What?

Your attitude. What else?

You can't send a telegram like that
in response to a letter like this.

lt's a really nice letter.
-- l'm not denying that.

ln fact, it's not just nice,
it's a little too nice.

That's the problem.

How does a man who's been
out of the country for so many years

write such elegant Bengali?

Maybe he got someone else
to write it for him.

The language is someone else's,
but the sentiment is surely his.

No, something's not right with this.

Very well.

Ma, isn't chhor--dadu
going to come after all?

Ask your father.

What happened?

Are you angry with me now?

A fake uncle is better
than no uncle at all.

ls that what you wish to say?

l wish to say only one thing.

ls there any great need
to send back a letter or a telegram?

He wrote that he's arriving
on the 1 7th anyway. Let him come.

lf l find that he is fake,
or that he is real but has ill intent,

then l will sweep him out
with a broom myself.

You won't have to do anything.
ls that good enough?

Wow!

A fake great--uncle!

The National Film
Development Corporation presents

A film by Satyajit Ray

THE STRANGER

Starring: Utpal Dutt, Dipankar Dey
Mamata Shankar, Bikram Bhattacharya

Rabi Ghosh, Dhritiman Chatterjee
Subrata Chatterjee

Promod Ganguli, Ajit Banerjee
Avik Dey, Saurav Bannerjee

Cinematography:
Barun Raha

Art Direction:
Ashoke Bose

Edited by:
Dulal Dutta

Sound Recording: Sujit Sarkar

Additional Sound Recording:
Jyoti Chatterjee, Anup Mukherjee

Makeup:
Ananta Das

Costume and Wardrobe:
Lalita Ray

Chief Production Manager:
Anil Choudhury

Production Managers:
Sudhansu Chatterjee, Swapan Sengupta

Tagore Song:
''Whose Veena is it that rings out?''

Sung by:
Shramana Guha Thakurta

Written, Scored, and Directed by:
Satyajit Ray

Please sweep well under the cupboard.
There's a lot of dust there.

And, Madhu,
once you're done with the bed

get a flask of cold water
and a glass to put on this table.

You stay right there, all right?
And call me when he comes.

Ma, he's here.

Listen, come down
and help with the luggage.

What is your name?

Satyaki.

Satyaki?

As in Lord Krishna's pupil,
or Sudhindra Bose's son?

That's all right.

-- Your name...
-- Anila.

Please come in.

-- l hope you got my letter.
-- Yes, l did.

l didn't get a reply.

l hope you didn't write back
asking me not to come.

-- No, no. Have a seat.
-- Here?

l do realize l've put you on the spot.

To accept someone you haven't
ever seen just on the word of --

Why would you say that?

To get back something that
was once lost is a thing of joy.

-- l guess your husband is...
-- At the office.

The office will be closed
over the weekend.

And the festival starts on the 21 st.
-- l see.

Can l get you something cold to drink?

You can rest a little
before you take your bath.

Very well, but no ice, please.

l thought of getting sweets for you
on my way here,

but then l realized l no longer know
what you get around here anymore.

l would probably end up
getting something unpalatable.

How about Bhimnag, Ganguram,
are these old confectioners still around?

Yes, and a lot of new shops
have come up as well.

Oh, a Coca--Cola knockoff?

ls it made here?
-- Yes.

Good Lord!

-- ls this how you spell ''thumb,'' Satyaki?
-- Of course not.

Very good.

You must go to school, right?

We have a month's holiday now
for the festivals.

l saw a lot of marquees
being constructed on my way here,

and realized that l have come
in the middle of the festivities.

Have you witnessed the Durga Puja
anywhere since leaving the country?

l haven't seen the Durga Puja.
But l have seen the Ratha Yatra.

And do you know where?

ln New York, on Madison Avenue.

lt's the same here.

lt's swarming with foreign
Vaishnavite sahibs and memsahibs.

They're the ones that bring out
the Chariot, more than us lndians.

Do you know the 1 08
different names of Lord Krishna?

1 08 names! Do you know them?

No.

I bow to you, O Hari Hara,
Krishna Yadava

Yadava, Madhava, Keshava,

GopaIa, Govinda, Rama,
Sri-Madhusudana,

Giridhari, Gopinatha,
Madana-Mohana...

My grandmother used to sing it.

l will teach you, all right?

Will you have your bath now?

-- lf it isn't too much trouble.
-- Not at all. Your room is upstairs.

Satyaki will show you.

-- You have a lovely house.
-- lt was built by my father--in--law.

-- And your husband inherited it?
-- Yes.

Come, Satyaki.

Well, l don't really know
what you prefer to eat, so...

Listen, l am omnivorous,
and a small eater.

So you have nothing to worry about.

-- Has he come?
- Yes, about 1 5 minutes ago.

What do you make of him?

What can l say? He's well--spoken.

And he addresses me with affection,
and l quite like it.

Have you started addressing him
with affection, too?

l'm not quite so impressionable.

Small mercies!
Does he resemble your mother?

No, but there's one thing
they have in common.

- What?
-- A singing voice.

Good Lord!
He found time to sing to you already?

Not really. Just two lines.
l'll explain when you get back.

-- How is his Bengali?
-- Probably better than yours or mine.

What are you saying?

l'm finding it
more and more suspicious.

-- Listen!
- What now?

Ask to see his passport.

There's no better way
to determine fake from real.

Are you out of your mind?
You think a woman can be so rude?

You do that yourself if you want to.
l'm hanging up. l have a lot to do.

We have come, dear.

Please come in.

-- Kurta--pajama! l hope this will do.
-- Of course.

l had nothing appropriate to wear here.
So l had to buy these in Delhi.

Come.

That's fish.

Please sit.

Since you claim to be omnivorous,
you have to eat everything.

You remember that, but forgot the bit
about me being a small eater.

l suggest you set
the meat aside for dinner.

Let us relish the fish for now.

Do you know what this is?

You won't believe how long it's been
since l've tasted Bengali cooking.

-- This is spinach curry.
-- Spinach!

Do you know
Popeye the Sailor, Satyaki?

Yes, spinach is what gives
Popeye all his strength.

Let me show you something new.

-- Good Lord! What are these?
-- Fancy crisps.

The women of Medinipur
prepare these at home.

Ornamental food,
this can only be found in Bengal.

Give me one, Ma.

-- Won't you eat, dear?
-- After you finish.

That means you haven't quite
become a memsahib yet.

You say you haven't tasted
Bengali cooking in years.

But there are a number
of Bengalis in the West.

ln New York alone,
we know so many of them.

Haven't you socialized
with any of them?

Once l broke free
of my roots, my shackles,

then there was little point
in hobnobbing with Bengalis again.

But you haven't forgotten the language.

You speak it beautifully,
you write it beautifully.

l usually have the lentils first
and then the fish.

We have it the same way.

You know something, dear?

You never forget your mother tongue,
unless you wish to forget it.

And those who want to,
can forget it in three months.

And for that, you don't even
have to leave the country.

ln fact, l heard children in Delhi
addressing their parents

as ''mommy'' and ''daddy.''

Do you do the same, Satyaki?
-- Of course not!

The crisps are eaten with the lentils.
Shall l give you one?

Very well. Ornamental crisps.

Why did you leave home?

l heard from my mother
that everyone was fond of you.

You were a good student
with a bright future.

And yet, why did l leave home?

There is a lovely word in German:
Wanderlust!

lt means an addiction for travel.

Was that the only reason
you left home?

l certainly had that addiction,

but there was another reason
for leaving home.

Shall l serve the fish now?

l'd rather have the meat.

Fish bones are not
conducive to conversation.

Not too much. That's all.

You didn't say
what the other reason was.

l see! So you've been
listening intently, have you?

l'll tell you. lt will amuse you.

As a small boy,
l used to draw very well.

Yes, l heard that from my mother.

So l had decided that
after finishing college,

l would join art school.

One day,
during my first year of college,

A foreign journal
fell into my hands.

l opened it and found
a full--page picture of a bison.

Not a photograph.
lt was hand--painted.

You know what a bison is, right, dear?
-- Yes, they have horns on their head.

Yes, it was charging
with its horns sticking out.

You know, dear,
it was an extraordinary picture.

Such intent! Such a poised stance!

It Ieft Da Vinci far behind.

Who painted this picture?

Who was the extraordinary artist?

Then I read the description
under the painting.

It said the bison was painted
2,000 years ago in the stone age

in a pIace caIIed AItamira in Spain

by a cave-dweIIing primitive man.

lt was so astonishing
that l said to myself,

''l bow to you, my bison brother.

Whatever else l choose to become
in life, l will never become an artist.

Because there is no
art school in the world

which can teach me
to draw a bison like this.''

Ever since then,

l developed a deep curiosity
about the concept

of what is civilized
and what is uncivilized.

And added to that was my wanderlust.

And these two things together
forced me to leave the country.

You mentioned that
you're planning to set off again.

Yes. This time l want to go to Australia.

l've never explored
that part of the world.

This is a Greek coin, a drachma.

This is Polish, a zloty.

This is Mexican, a peseta.

This is from Peru, a sol.

Anish's uncle is also a coin collector.
l know what they're called.

What are they called?

Well, l don't really collect coins.

l do not make a habit of it.

l just happened to have them.

So l gave you some.

Really? They are for me?

You can show them to your friends.

l've already told my friends.

Not all of them, just a few.

What have you told them?

That a man has come to our house

who may be my great--uncle,
or may not be.

They're going to come down
to see you today.

Satyaki.

Come along, now.
Don't you want him to get any rest?

l will leave then.

What did you say?

lt's a German phrase.
lt means, we will meet again.

Wow!

Just think, on the highest mountains
in South America, the Andes,

at a height of 8000 feet

is a city built of stone.

For 400 years no one even knew that
there was a city in these mountains.

Then, in 1 91 1 ,

the year Mohun Bagan beat the British
soccer team and won the lFA shield,

that same year, an explorer
by the name of Hiram Bingham,

suddenly came across this city.

What did l tell you
the name of the city was?

-- Here you are!
-- Wow!

-- Have you been to this city?
-- Of course, l have.

l shot this photograph.

l went there 20 years back,
riding on a mule.

l was dumbstruck
at the sight of the city.

Everything there is made of stone.

And yet there are no stones
for miles around.

Nobody knows
where they got the stone,

or how they carried it
up the mountainside.

The lnca civilization was
a truly incredible civilization.

-- Please tell us another story!
-- No, no more stories.

Now let me show you a magic trick.

What are those?

l will ask all of you a few questions.

Let me see
if you can answer them correctly.

All right, then tell me,
is the moon bigger or is the sun?

The sun!

How do you know?

Wait a minute.

Let's say this is the moon,

and this is the sun.

Up in the sky,
they look the same size, don't they?

That's because the sun
is much farther away.

How far is it?

l'll tell you.

The sun is 95 million miles away.

And the moon is merely
500,000 miles away.

That's why they look the same size.

What if the moon was not
500,000 miles away,

but only 200,000 miles away?

Then the moon would look bigger.

Somewhat like this, right?

And what if the moon
were 800,000 miles away?

Then the moon
would look much smaller.

Somewhat like this, right?

But that didn't happen.

The moon is exactly
at a distance such that...

it looks just the same size
as the sun.

That is why when the moon
moves in front of the sun

slowly covering all of it,

it is like two matching discs.

A solar eclipse!

A total solar eclipse.

And when the earth's shadow
falls on the moon,

even at that time
the discs match perfectly.

A lunar eclipse!

A total eclipse of the moon.

How does it all work so perfectly?
Can you tell me?

You don't have the answer.

Ask the most learned man in the world,
and even he will not have the answer.

Nobody knows.

lt is a mystery.

l would say it is one of the greatest
mysteries of the universe.

The sun and the moon,

the king of the day,
and the queen of the night.

And the shadow of the earth
on the moon.

All of them, exactly the same size.

Magic!

Listen!

-- What's the matter?
-- Come here a moment.

-- l'm completely convinced.
-- That he's your uncle?

Yes, and he's
an extremely nice person.

So you are impressionable after all.

ln just a few hours, you claim to have
understood the man completely?

Women can understand.

They are not unduly
suspicious like men.

And surely you can tell a lot from
the way a man behaves and acts,

and from the look in his eyes.

And there is no doubt
that he has been around the world.

He even knows German.

And he has given the child
a handful of foreign coins.

Foreign coins?

Do you know that you can
easily buy foreign stamps?

Just the same as foreign coins.

Tell me what coins you want.
l will get them for you tomorrow.

Anyway, l only told you my impressions.

Did he talk about why he left home?

That's when he used the German word
which means an addiction for travel.

Wanderlust?

Yes, but he didn't
pronounce it like you.

-- WanderIust, right?
-- Yes.

The word is used in English, too.
And pronounced in the English way.

l studied German at the Goethe
lnstitute for a couple of months

before l lost patience and gave it up.

l still remember at least 50 or so words.

What other reason did he give?

For what?

For leaving home, what else?

A lot of things.
lt will take time to recount everything.

Tell me anyway.

Bison. Now do you understand?

There's a guest in the house,
and you are the host.

At least go and greet him first.

-- Where is the gentleman?
-- He must be in his room.

He went out with Satyaki's friends
to the playground. He just got back.

Come on, get up.

You'd better see about that broom.

-- Oh, listen.
-- What now?

-- l have just one request.
-- What?

At least pay your respects
and touch his feet.

Sudhindra Bose.

No, no. Never that.

When your mind is free of suspicion,

only then will come the time
to show respect.

Not before then.

l wrote this in my letter
and l'm going to repeat it:

l know who you are.

But you don't know who l am.

Unfortunately,

there's no easy way to find out

if l am real or fake,

if l have good intent or bad.

You'll have to invest
a little time for this.

Think about whether
you're willing to spare that time.

But why do you say
there's no easy way to find out?

l'm sure...

Here it is, this is your name.
Manomohan Mitra.

And that's your picture.

Then it's all in order.

Why are you...

What does this prove,
Sudhindra Bose?

You might say, my identity.

l will say, not even that.

ln these days of global corruption,

do you know how many ways there are
of faking a passport?

Therefore, you have every right
to suspect me.

But this is not something
l can discuss with your wife.

She is carrying out her responsibilities
as a host with grace.

Can't fault her for a moment.

And if there is any blood relation

it is with your wife, not with you.

See, l haven't unpacked yet.

lf need be, l can be out
of the house in five minutes.

Why are you saying that?

My wife has taken to you,
so there is no question of my --

Please forget about all of this.

l have just one question.
-- What is it?

What prompted you to come back
to this country after so many years?

Well, you're free to believe me or not.

l didn't really plan on coming back.

l've finished exploring the West.

And l plan to turn to the East.

l had to make a stop at Delhi.

ln all these years,
l've never felt the pull of family ties.

This time, perhaps the fact
that l'm getting old...

You rest a while.

l'll go take a shower.

You win, at least for the time being.

-- Passport?
-- lt's all right.

He showed it to you?

Yes, almost of his own accord.

Then why do you say,
''for the time being?''

My real uncle has returned.

He's sharper than
50 of me put together.

Do you know what he said?
-- What?

He says, this passport proves nothing.

He says that passports
can easily be forged these days.

''l want to see his passport!''
Serves you right!

How could l know
that your so--called uncle

would turn out to be
such a shrewd customer?

l have just not been able
to put my finger on it yet.

lt looks like we will come
to some conclusion

tomorrow evening.

What do you mean?

l've asked Prithwish
to come over tomorrow.

Why him?

We need someone
who doesn't mince words.

And you know perfectly well
that your husband is not that person.

l suffer from a chronic affliction
that is called social diplomacy.

Prithwish has no such maladies.

l've explained the situation to him,
and he's most intrigued.

He said he's handled
lots of impersonation cases before.

ls he going to interrogate him?

He can be very blunt,
that barrister friend of yours.

What do you mean by interrogation?

The man is claiming
that he's your uncle.

On the basis of that claim,
he's demanding hospitality.

Feeding him delicacies four times a day
will cost at least 50 rupees a day.

And yet, we know
next to nothing about the man.

There are naturally a few essential
questions that he must answer.

Prithwish will ask those questions,
in as much of a civilized way as possible.

l don't agree.

l think it's perfectly plausible

that a man who left home
when his niece was two,

would want to visit her
when he returns home after 35 years.

All right.

lf the man has come purely
for sentimental reasons,

then l have nothing to say.

But if l feel that his intent is not right
even though he is your uncle...

Social diplomacy or not.

And if he is not my uncle?

Then you are there to take care of it.

Sweep him away with a broom.

This is Chhanda.

Can't you recognize my voice?

Your voice sounds a little different.

lt's nothing but excitement.
Has he come?

Yes, he has.

Of course, it's true.
-- So, what do you make of him?

He's only been here one day.
lt's hard to tell.

My husband and l
are bursting with curiosity.

We've thought of little else
since we heard the news from you.

l hope you haven't told anyone else.

Trust me, l've been dying
to share the news,

but l haven't uttered a word.

Well, now you know.
Talk to you later.

No, wait!
My husband wants to talk to you.

l'll give the phone to him.

l have a request
which you must grant.

What is it?

For just half an hour,
we'd like to drop in. The two of us.

l see. But if he gets wind of...

Listen, l can guarantee it.

He won't suspect even for a minute.

lt will be exactly like our usual visits.

We will show up casually,
have a casual chat,

and then casually take leave
after half an hour.

All you have to do is tell Sudhin
not to introduce me as an actor.

At least at this point,
it is best that he doesn't know.

But you want to come over today?

l have double shows
over the weekend.

All right then.
We'll see you this evening.

lt's decided then.

Can you hear me? Listen.

-- What happened?
-- Chhanda and Ranjan are coming over.

They say they won't let him know
they've come to see him.

Excellent! Why don't you ring up
your other friends as well?

Chameli, Shefali, Juthika...
-- Don't be silly.

Then the responsibility to entertain him
will not be ours alone.

Listen!

Will you please introduce him
as my uncle?

May l join you?

l hope l'm not intruding.

Not at all.
Let me introduce them.

Our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Rakshit.
And this is Manomohan Mitra.

-- l don't think we've...
-- He's Anila's youngest maternal uncle.

Youngest...

Young...

l think l made a mistake.

Another friend's wife,
what was her name again?

Wasn't it Manju's youngest uncle that...

Manju never had an uncle.

You have three maternal uncles
or is it two?

Two. My elder uncle expired.

My younger uncle
left home 35 years ago.

l'm getting all mixed up.

You always mix things up.

Anila's uncle left home 35 years ago.
He came back this morning.

From where?

The West. Occident!

But this is sensational!

This is another Bhawal Sanyasi.

Do you know the case
of Bhawal Sanyasi?

-- l do.
-- A world famous case.

Do you know how long it went on?
Ten years.

-- ln this instance, there's no court case.
-- No?

You mean
the fact that he's her uncle...

ls completely undisputed.

Thank God.

You have no idea
what a lucky escape you've had.

The lawyers these days
would have made a pauper out of you.

And you would've had to go off again
with a beggar's bowl in your hands.

l see these are your famous
homemade biscuits.

Famous, are they?

Delicious!

Tell me, now that he's back,
will you put a notice in the papers?

l will not.

And if l find out that any journalist
has gotten wind of it,

l'll know you are the source.

My lips are sealed.

But l can easily visualize the headlines.

Do you know that the word ''prodigal''
has two meanings, Mr. Rakshit?

Two meanings?

One is ''wasteful.''

And the other is ''repentant.''

l am neither.

l'm happy to hear that.

May l ask you a question?

Certainly.

We only just came to know about you.

You've returned after so many years,
have you returned alone?

l have no one else.

So you never settled down?

Settling inherently means a home.

The point of leaving home
was that l didn't wish to settle down.

l see. That is true.

Tell me.

You must be visiting Calcutta
after ages.

You set out from Calcutta, right?
-- Yes.

How do you find the city
after such a long time?

Mind you,
l'm a true blue ''Calcation.''

But l'm also used to people
criticizing Calcutta.

Why would l criticize?
lt's undoubtedly a civilized city.

-- You think so?
-- ls it not?

The roads are full
of people and vehicles.

And on all sides you'll find
tall buildings standing proudly.

And even after 35 years, l come back
to find men pulling the rickshaw.

lf such contradiction
is not civilization, then what is?

You seem rather bitter
about civilization.

-- What would you say about New York?
-- Why, it's colossal.

Judging from what we see
in the movies.

Lines of families sitting with long faces,
holding placards that say:

We are homeless!

lmagine that!

Did you come straight from New York?

South America. Brazil.

Heavens! Brazil!

What are you saying?
-- Why, what's the matter?

He's probably thinking of Pelé.

-- Pelé?
-- Pelé!

You've been to Brazil
and you don't know of Pelé?

Oh, you mean the footballer?

He used to score goals
with a back kick.

Look, Mr. Rakshit,
my knowledge of football is abysmal.

Mohan Bagan and East Bengal
is the limit of my knowledge.

You have to admit,
football is a Bengali's lifeblood.

Football and one other thing.

Something that l'm sure you miss
when you are abroad.

What thing?

One can say Bengalis
have a monopoly on this.

ln fact, you can call it
a Bengali invention.

The sweetmeat ''Rasgulla''?

Adda!

Unadulterated intellectual discussions.

Adda on the street corner, adda
at the park, adda by the lakeside.

Adda at the coffee house.

That without which
a Bengali cannot be at peace.

Adda, made in Bengal.

Do you know,
2500 years ago in Greece,

there were gymnasiums.

The place where you
exercise your body?

Not just the body.

Are you familiar
with the writings of Juvenal?

We actually studied them
back in school.

Mens sana in corpore sano.

There they exercised the body
as well as the mind.

And there was a time when all of it
would take place inside the gymnasium.

The great minds of that age would get
together in the gymnasium at Athens.

Socrates, Plato, Alcibiades

would get together.

There would be sessions
of intellectual exchange

on philosophy, politics,
mathematics, art, literature.

These were the subjects of discussion.

Dialogues!
You can read them even today.

What would you call this?

Why, it sounds
very much like our adda.

No gossip, no backbiting,
no braggadocio.

l'm not dismissing
Bengali adda outright.

l'm sure there are examples
of productive discourse here as well.

But what happens most often,

or at least what used to happen
back in our day,

these days everything
is on a decline anyway,

cannot be called anything more
than endless empty twaddle!

lf Bengali discourse
was at the same productive level,

then Tagore would also
have engaged in adda.

That is true.

Tagore never engaged in adda.

Did he, Sudhin?

Did Tagore ever engage in adda?

l haven't given you
a complete introduction.

Ranjan Rakshit.

He's a well known actor.

-- Stage, TV, film, he does everything.
-- Really?

What do you say,
civilized, or uncivilized?

Do you find material for comedy here?

All l read in the newspaper today
was an endless stream of bad news.

Not comedy perhaps,
but there is some scope for satire.

At least as long as our politics flourish.

By satire l do not mean
anything as serious as Aris --

-- Aristotle?
-- Not ''--totle.''

Pardon?

Aristophanes.

Yes, well, nothing like him, of course.

lt is more like snippets.
-- Skit.

For instance, a gentleman...

Let me give you an example.

A gentleman from Bengal...

A gentleman from
the East of Bengal, to be precise...

Oh, l'm from East Bengal, too.

Really?
Well, now, l'm from Faridpur,

and she's from Netrakona.

And you?
-- Jessore.

And you, Sudhin?

Burdwan!

There's no accounting
for those from West Bengal!

-- Anyway, this gentleman --
-- Stand up, and tell it properly.

Very well.

This gentleman goes
to the Writers' Building

to see the Chief Minister.

This gentleman is of the opinion
that on certain occasions,

using 75%% English
in your speech helps.

So he enters the building.

There's an elevator up front,
with a guard in front of it.

The guard asks:
''Where do you want to go?''

The man says:
''l've come to see CM.''

''CCM? You mean CPM?''
(Communist Party Marxist)

''No, how can l see PM?
The PM is in Delhi, isn't he?

l have come to see CM.''

''Do you have an appointment?''

''Yes, of course!
Right now at 4:00 c.m.

Oh, l mean 4:00 p.m.''

''Sorry. The CM has left.''

''Sorry? Why should he be sorry?
l am also Left.

What is there to be sorry about?''

''Brother, the CM has left for home.
He went home.''

''Left already?''

''Right.''

Well, Mr. Rakshit.

Can l ask you a question?
-- Certainly.

What did you people make of me?

You came over
to see me, didn't you?

What's the need for a newspaper
when there's a telephone.

These things are difficult
to keep to yourself, aren't they, dear?

lt has all the elements of drama.

Suspense, suspicion, conflict...

l hope you didn't mind
my frank speech, Mr. Rakshit.

No, not at all.

ln fact, to keep up the pretense,
l was feeling quite, uh...

Now that the need's no longer there,
l'm feeling...

Very ''uh''?

What is it?

-- l can't get over it.
-- What?

Ranjan's face.

Completely took the wind
out of his sails.

l must say,
l'm beginning to like your uncle.

He is a learned, intelligent man.

One can tell that he was
a brilliant student.

What l like most about him
ls his sense of humor.

He knows how to laugh,
and how to make people laugh.

And yet,
when you come to think of it,

we know next to nothing
about the man.

What places he's visited
in the last 35 years,

what he did with his life,
why he did it.

We know nothing.

A big question mark.

lntriguing.

Listen, your uncle
may be an early riser,

but please do not wake me
before 9:00 a.m.

Did you hear me?

What's the matter?

What's on your mind?

Will you please tell me
what has happened?

You should not hide anything
from your husband at midnight.

Don't you know that?

This is not part of the marital code.

lt is Sudhindra Bose's code.

Now, come on.
Tell me what the matter is. Tell me.

Why did this thought
come to my mind? Why?

What thought?

What thought?

lf a man disappears,

how many years is it
before he's declared dead?

Seven years.

Uncle left in 1 955.

He sent cards to Sital babu till 1 968.

Grandfather expires in 1 970.

He made a will before he died.

My mother got a share.
So did my elder uncle.

My grandfather was extremely fond
of my younger uncle.

My goodness.

You are one smart woman.

Your grandfather must have
provided for his youngest son in his will.

lsn't that what you are thinking?

Even if he did,
how would uncle know about it?

Whether your uncle knows of it
or not is another matter.

First we have to find out
if your uncle has a share or not.

How will you find out?

lsn't there anyone who would know?

l don't know.

l can't think of anything right now.

Your grandfather's lawyer friend?
The one who came to our wedding?

A little deaf. Stinking rich.

And yet only gave us
a book of poetry for a gift.

Remember what a laugh
we had over it?

Tridib Mukherjee.

Even at that point
he was over 70 years of age.

Who knows if he's still alive.

lt is possible.

And if he is alive,
he will certainly know about it.

Why did l have to think of it?

Why, why?

-- Do you regret it?
-- Yes, l do. Very much so.

There's no doubt in my mind anymore
that he is my uncle

and that he's come
only to meet with me.

There cannot be any other reason.

You refer to him as your uncle,

but have you even once
addressed him as your uncle?

l haven't heard you do that.

Do you know why l haven't?
You're the reason.

You've put all these doubts
into my mind.

l really want to address him as uncle.

l try so hard. The word comes
to the tip of my tongue, but...

Good thing it hasn't slipped out.

Listen, dear.

You must be strong now.

The pill may prove to be bitter,
and you may even have to swallow it.

You must be ready for that.

You're convinced
it is the pull of blood ties.

What if l say it is actually
the pull of purse strings?

All this traveling
costs a lot of money these days.

l'm convinced that he has
come here to claim his share.

And that must be the real reason
for him to come over.

No! You're so mean,
so small hearted.

Who's the one
who thought of it first?

This is why!
All this trashy crime fiction.

The thought of a will
wouldn't have struck me at all.

You would feel better if you knew
your uncle didn't have a share, right?

lt is then our responsibility
to verify that.

Even if it turns out to be bitter,
we must find out the truth.

TC, right? Tridib Chandra?

Are you out of your mind?
Calling him at this hour?

Tell me, is it TC, or TR?

TR.

What's the address?

Ballygunge Circular Road.
l don't know the house number.

He has not come for the money.

l have no doubt about this anymore.

Even if he has a share,
he doesn't know about it.

lt is only the pull of blood ties
that brought him here.

ls this Mr. Mukherjee's bungalow?

Mr. Mukherjee, the lawyer?

l see.

But he is alive, right?

Oh, l see.

All right. Fine.

l wanted to find out

who all were
Mohinimohan babu's warisan?

Washington? Who went there?

Warisan! Meaning heirs!

Oh, air.

H--E--l--R--S.

l see, heirs, warisan.

Yes, Mohinimohan babu's warisan.

Mohini's heirs are his three children.

Did he provide for all three of them?

Bromide?

...in Mohini babu's will?

Yes, yes.

The elder son got his share.

His daughter got her share,
and quite a sizable amount, too.

He was the leading
ENT specialist back then.

l made his acquaintance at his clinic.

l had flown to Delhi before that.

There were no jets during that time.

My ears got completely blocked
during the landing.

Oh God,
they just wouldn't open up.

Once l got back to Calcutta,

l went to Mohini.

He was making quite a name
for himself at that time.

He inserted a tube
through my nostrils,

and blew air through it.
Oh, it was really painful.

His youngest son...

Mohinimohan's youngest son...

Monu?

Yes, Manomohan.

-- Did he have a share as well?
-- Yes. Of course.

But he was nowhere
to be found at that time.

Ground? l'm not sure
if he was under the ground.

All we knew is that he was alive.

Do you know that he has returned?

No, l am not aware.

-- Will he get his share now?
-- What?

Can he get the money now?

He can get it. Why not?

Money doesn't
just vanish into thin air.

He will get it if he puts in his claim.

Of course,
he'll have to prove his identity.

Will a passport do?

Oh yes, it will do.

Where is the money now?
With whom?

lt will be with the executor of the will
whom Mohini appointed.

lt will remain deposited
in his bank account.

Was this executor a friend?

Why would he be French?

lt's more likely
that he was Bengali.

When Mohinimohan died,

l was away in Singapore,
at my daughter's.

What is this?

Tribal music.

How did you come by it?

Magic.

-- l have found out.
-- What?

-- Who you are.
-- Who am l?

My great--uncle.

-- Real or fake?
-- Real.

How did you know?
The others don't.

Can l call you dadu from now on?

-- You know what will be even better?
-- What?

-- ''Chhot-dadu!"
-- ''Chhot-dadu"?

Chhot means to run.
And l'm always on the run.

Life is about running
from one place to the next.

l'll rest here a few days
and then run off again.

Don't you like it here?

l will stay here as long as l like it.

And then you'll go away?

Listen, let me teach you a word,
a very funny word.

Kupamanduka. What did l just say?

Kupamanduka?

Kupa means a well,
and manduka means a frog.

A frog in the well?

Yes, just imagine
how horrible it is.

There's no light, no air.
lt's damp, and it stinks.

And yet the frog
remains there his whole life.

There are kupamandukas
amongst humans, too.

They refuse to leave home.

l'm not one of them.
That's why l keep taking off.

-- What if l take off, too?
-- Of course you will.

How else will you get
to eat armadillo meat?

What meat?

Armadillo.
lt is an ant--eating animal.

What people eat such meat?

lf l tell you everything all at once,
my bag of stories will be empty.

Good things come

to those who wait.

God!

Both my pharynx
and my larynx are gone.

An ancient hearing aid
that does not work at all.

What about his share?

He believes your uncle
does have a share.

But he said that at the time
of your grandfather's death,

he was away in Singapore.

ln which case, if your grandfather

changed his will at the last minute

in the event that his son
seemed unlikely to return,

then Tridib babu was not
in a position to know about it.

Then that's what
must have happened.

lt never occurred to me before.

lf uncle had a share,

Shital babu would certainly
know about it, even if others didn't.

And he would have informed uncle.

And would uncle have kept
such important news from us?

Never.

Why not?

A man who is tight--fisted

is likely to be tight--lipped as well.

Why do you say tight--fisted?

When someone comes empty--handed
to visit his own niece after 35 years

he can certainly not be called generous.

All right. You're putting him
on trial tonight anyway.

We'll know soon enough
what kind of a man he is.

What are you doing?

Whatever else he may be,
he's no thief.

Beautiful!

Was it here yesterday?

No, l mean, it was in another place.

Pal bronze.

Rajput miniatures.

lvory.

ls this your collection, Sudhin?
-- No, my father's.

l noticed that instrument yesterday.
ls that a sitar or a tamboura?

Tamboura.

-- So you sing?
-- Occasionally.

She not only sings,
she dances, too.

A dance recital will be a tall order.

But it would be nice
if you sang for us.

How about it, dear?

l haven't heard a Bengali song
since l left the country.

-- l'll sing when you finish your tea.
-- Very well.

Where is Satyaki?

The festivities are on
at his friend's house.

He usually spends his evenings there.

By the way, if you wish to smoke,
please do not hesitate.

l don't believe in this show of respect
in front of elders.

And if you don't count me as an elder,
l will certainly not sit in judgment.

Did you pick this time so you could
be here during the festival?

l didn't realize till l got here
that it was festival time.

Do you know how many times

the goddess Durga
killed the buffalo demon?

How many times?
l thought it was only once.

Do you know why Ganesha
has the head of an elephant?

l did, but l've forgotten.

l got to know so many mythological
stories courtesy of my grandmother

and l still remember them.

What do you make
of the country's situation right now?

Do you read the papers?

Caste and religion
are both very volatile issues.

The newspapers
only bear testimony to that.

Do you not believe in Dharma?

By Dharma
you mean religion, l suppose?

ln the Hindu context, Dharma has
a completely different meaning.

l meant religion.

l will answer your question a little later.

Have you finished your tea?
-- Yes.

-- Ready, dear?
-- Yes.

Silence, please.

Whose Veena is it that rings out?

Whose Veena is it that rings out
with such sweet meIody?

Whose Veena is it that rings out?

Showering meIody
upon my new soIitary Iife

Whose Veena is it that rings out
with such sweet meIody?

Whose Veena is it that rings out?

My heart bIossoms
Iike the Iotus at dawn

My heart bIossoms
Iike the Iotus at dawn

To adorn whose feet
a pair without compare

Whose Veena is it that rings out
with such sweet meIody?

Whose Veena is it that rings out?

Arousing aII beauty,
aII that is sweet

This heart thriIIs in every moment

Arousing aII beauty,
aII that is sweet

This heart thriIIs in every moment

From where does the breeze

Bring new awakenings

From where does the breeze

Bring new awakenings

Lifting the veiI
enveIoping my being

Whose Veena is it that rings out
with such sweet meIody?

Whose Veena is it that rings out?

My heart aches

In joy and in pain

How do I convey my emotions?

I do not know the words

My heart aches

In joy and in pain

How do I convey my emotions?

I do not know the words

Today my desires
ring out in the universe

Today my desires
ring out in the universe

Making every river and forest quiver
Overcome with feeIings

Whose Veena is it that rings out
with such sweet meIody?

Whose Veena is it that rings out?

Ah! Beautiful!

Reminded me of my sister.

Well, what was your question again?

Whether or not
you believe in religion.

You know, Mr. Sengupta,
l am an unorthodox man.

That's not a bad thing.

l cannot believe in something
that creates a divide between men.

Religion invariably does that.

And organized religion more so.

For the same reason,
l do not believe in caste.

What about God?

To the bIind, give Iight
To the dying, give Iife

Who will give light?

Who will give life?

The trouble is, Mr. Sengupta,
in this day and age

it is becoming increasingly difficult
to believe in a benevolent God.

The daily newspaper
wounds that belief on a daily basis.

What can one do?

On this subject,
l'm of the same opinion as you.

But what about science?

Voyager has sent pictures
of Neptune.

What would you say to that?

Why do you want to know my opinion?
For a change, let's hear your opinion.

Nothing new really.

lt's the same as the opinion
of any educated person.

The unprecedented
progress of technology.

Things we couldn't have dreamed of
a couple of years back.

Right up there with nesha?
Addiction.

With the help of hypodermic needles,

injecting the deadliest of drugs
into their own blood,

signing their own death warrants,

are millions of people,

the majority of them young.

What technology is going
to put a stop to this, Mr. Sengupta?

You've been living in the West
all these years, haven't you?

Yes.

Why?

The West is ruled by technology.

lf you find it so unsavory,

why didn't you go to the jungles
and live with the aboriginals?

Look at that! Sheer clairvoyance!

That certainly does not come
under the purview of science.

You mean to say you have
actually lived with these aboriginals?

After leaving home,

l spent the first five years here
in this country, in the forest areas.

l started with the Santhals,

and then moved to Kols,
Bhils, Nagas, Mundas,

Murias, Marias, Oraons, Todas.

How many do l list?

You've actually spent time
with these indigenous tribes?

Have you ever tasted
the meat of a field rat?

Snake meat? Bat meat?

Didn't l tell you, dear,
that l'm omnivorous?

lt wasn't just a figure of speech.
lt was the literal truth.

Then it seems unlikely that you
earned anything in those five years.

On the contrary, l had used up
the last of my savings.

You must be wondering
where l got any savings to begin with.

l don't imagine that your father
sponsored your getaway.

Let me tell you what transpired.

My grandmother,
the late Giribala Dasi,

whom l mentioned a while back,

was extremely fond of me.

ln fact, it wouldn't be incorrect to say
that she used to spoil me.

l was first in my class
in school finals,

and again in high school.

And when l passed
my Bachelor's degree with distinction,

then my grandmother handed me
a large sum of money and said,

''Child, you have brought honor
to our family.

May God bless you.''

3,000 rupees in those days
was not a paltry sum.

Therefore,
l left home with my own funds,

and thankfully did not have to rely
on any ill--gotten gains.

l see.

But you said you ran out
of these savings.

At this point,
the question that naturally comes up...

l earned my way, Your Honor,
as a cabin boy.

l was a cabin boy
on the SS OIympia.

-- And then after you arrived in London?
-- l spent around five years.

Not just in London, but in various
different cities in Europe.

Doing what?

Struggling to survive.

Struggle! A favorite word
with the Bengalis.

But l don't prefer to call it a struggle.

l think of it as nutrition for the mind.

Nutrition for the muscles.

And the first step towards
being able to read men.

So when did you return to the wild?

All these experiences seem to be
about cities. Civilized cities.

Have patience, dear beIoved

Have patience, dear beIoved

I may go to Mathura yet

My life story won't get you
much nearer the truth, my friend.

You want to peel
the layers of an onion

to get to the core of the real man.

lt can't be that easy.

Even so, for the sake of record,
let me tell you,

l'd started writing in papers
and journals by that time.

As a result,
l had a small bank balance,

which led me to the second phase
of my education.

A degree in Anthropology.

And thereafter,
travel to the United States.

The United States?

-- The United States of America.
-- Reason?

So cabin boy yet again?

No, sir.
l hope you don't mind.

This may sound a little
like l'm beating my own drum,

but the truth is, as usual, l placed first
in that examination as well.

As a result,
l didn't have to struggle anymore.

A well known anthropological society
paid for my travels in the US.

The condition was

that l would regularly send them
written accounts of my experience

along with photographs.

And l have fulfilled that condition.

ln North and South America,

l spent several years researching
43 different lndian tribes.

lt is this experience that is the primary
reason for my enlightened sensibilities.

Very well.

You sit down.
Your throat seems parched.

As you wish, sir.

l will talk and you will listen.
You can correct me if l'm wrong.

The crux of the matter is

that all these experiences
have led you to conclude

that urban civilization is a big facade.

True civilization is the one
found amongst forest dwellers.

lt's fair to point out here,
that even though l was bred in the city

l'm not ignorant about tribal life.

l've done some study
on the subject as well.

l know that they have their own
language, their own religion,

their art, their culture,
their music, etcetera.

What is ''etcetera''?

Please tell them what you're hiding
behind that ''etcetera.''

Otherwise,
how will they get to know me?

How will they know
about tribal civilization?

Why don't you tell me
what l've left out?

My goodness!
The main thing has been left out.

Science. Technology.

You're only thinking of Neptune
and the Voyager.

But think this: Man.

From a barbaric, primitive state
goes on to...

How did he learn all that's required
to aid his survival and existence?

There's more. Architecture.

Even a basic mud hut shows evidence
of the knowledge of architecture.

Are you familiar with the igloo,
the dwelling of Eskimos?

Do you know that they use
two different kinds of ice to build it?

One is opaque,
which is used for the roof.

And the other is transparent,

which is used to build windows.

What would you call that?

ls it not science?
ls it not technology?

Hold your horses!

What about you? When you fall sick,
do you call a shaman?

l've had to resort to that as well.

l had no other option.

Where would l have found a doctor
in those jungles?

And do you know
what kind of shaman he was?

The properties of 500 medicinal plants
at his fingertips.

He was able to cure me.

Of course, l wouldn't normally
call for a shaman.

For the same reason as l'm sitting here
and having tea and biscuits with you.

Why do you insist on complicating
something that is really quite simple?

Why don't you understand
that l am not a savage myself.

lt is one of my greatest regrets
that l am not a savage.

l cannot draw a bison
like the cave dwellers of Altamira.

But it cannot be helped.

Long before l left home,
civilization was drilled into my brain.

Shakespeare, Bankim, Michael,
Marx, Freud, Rabindranath!

That's the reason
l have to rely on field notes.

Would l need them
if l were a savage myself?

l wouldn't.

You said you'd studied
the Murias, didn't you?

l did.

What goes on in their Ghotuls,

unrestricted sexual relationships
between the adolescent boys and girls...

Sorry, Anila.

What do your field notes
have to say about that?

Doesn't that amount to
extreme promiscuity?

Or would you call that civilized, too?

''What you feel in your heart,
l feel in mine.

What l feel in my heart,
you feel in yours.''

That is civilized.

A while back,
you just called yourself omnivorous.

Have you tasted human flesh?

No, l haven't had the good fortune.

Good fortune?

l have heard
that human flesh is very tasty.

But l haven't had it.

My claim to be omnivorous was
not entirely correct, dear. l apologize.

Where in the scale of civilized behavior
would you place cannibals?

Civilized?

lt is certainly not civilized.

lt is barbaric.

Do you know who's civilized?

Civilized is that man
who uses one finger

to press one button,
and release one atomic weapon

which obliterates an entire city
with all its inhabitants in one strike.

And you know who else is civilized?

The ones who make the decision
to use the weapon without turning a hair.

Well, Mr. Sengupta,

stumbling on the surname, are you?

l suppose it's to be expected.
You're still uncertain of my identity.

There's an alternative.
l have a pen name.

l used to be published by that name.

A favorite name
from my childhood days.

Nemo.

You can use that name.

Yes, a Latin word, ''nemo,''
meaning ''no one.''

An appropriate name for me,
what do you say?

Whether you are no one,
or someone,

that is precisely the question.

Do you realize the difficult position in
which you've put my friend and his wife?

They've lost their piece of mind,
do you know that?

lt's just that they are extremely polite

and will always be generous
with their hospitality.

But you refuse to make it clear to them

whether or not you should be
welcomed as a guest.

You say your passport proves nothing.

But you know perfectly well whether
or not the passport is real or fake.

They why can you not
be open about it? Why?

l will leave now.

Listen.

Was there any need for that last bit?

He is unfit for civilized company.

There cannot be a place for him
in your house.

How does it matter since he would have
left in a couple of days anyway?

And you promised
to handle the matter delicately.

He should know where he stands.

l know your wife. And l also know what
she must be feeding him twice a day.

Certainly not field rats.

lf l hadn't shouted,
he would've clung on like a leech.

You don't know
these parasitic creatures, l do.

l don't know how to...

l wish the earth would open up
and swallow me.

He didn't utter a single word
at the dining table.

lf l had known Prithwish
would create a scene like that,

l would never
have asked him to come.

He wrote in his letter
about our tradition of hospitality.

And this is the sample we give him?

What we have to do now

is wipe away from his heart
the feeling of hurt

that our behavior
must have caused him tonight.

-- Will you tell me something?
-- What?

Did you ever imagine

that he had spent half his life
in this fashion?

Not in the least.

An amazing life
with extraordinary experiences.

lt was a learning experience
listening to him.

But at the same time,

it somehow took him
further away from me.

An uncle is someone
you can warm up to,

someone who loves and spoils you.

But in his case, what l feel for him
is reverence and respect.

You know what the problem is?

So much knowledge
has certainly opened up his mind,

but his heart has perhaps
not opened up as much.

You can't become a savage
even if you try.

lf you could, you would have
automatically felt closer to him.

lt is too late for that now.

But in the next few days,
we have to break away his hurt.

First and foremost, he is our guest.

lt is criminal to have hurt him.

You can address him
as uncle, you know.

l have no objection.

lf it comes from my heart,
l surely will.

But l won't be forced
into being a hypocrite.

What's this?

Listen!

-- What is it?
-- He's gone. His room is empty.

What?

His belongings are all gone.
Just left this key.

This is just what l feared.

What shall we do now?
-- Wait a moment.

Let me connect the dots.

Should we inform the police?

Get me the phone directory.

Who will you call?

The person whom my
sixth sense is suggesting.

Get me the book.

Who is it?

The main door was found open, babu.

-- When did you find out?
-- An hour ago.

l couldn't tell you
because your door was closed.

lt's all right. You can go now.

Ma!

Dadu's room is empty, Ma.

-- l know, dear.
-- Where has he gone?

l don't know.

What's that?

Bolpur, direct dialing number.

You have Sital babu's number, right?

Then you call him.

What will l say?

Listen carefully.

First ask him

if he is the executor
of your grandfather's will.

lf the answer is yes,

then ask him if your uncle
has a share in it,

and whether that money
is kept with him.

lf the answer is yes,
then the last question is,

has he informed
your uncle of this fact?

lf the answer to that is yes, too,
then tell him

we will reach his place
by around 1 :30 or 2:00 p.m.

We'll eat on the way,
so there's no need to arrange for food.

Now call him.

Come, dear. Come.

Are you doing well, child?

-- Hasn't he come?
-- He has.

The train arrived
more than an hour ago.

-- ls he not around?
-- Come in, l will explain.

You told me on the phone
that he's a little temperamental.

My observation is that
he's much more than ''a little''.

l saw him last in 1 955.

Have a seat.

l used to carry him to the zoo
in my arms.

Where has he gone?

He's had nothing to eat
since morning.

l asked him to at least have lunch.
He refused.

''A cup of tea?'' ''No.''

Then why come all the way?
We meet after so many years.

ls it only to be
a cold monetary transaction?

Or isn't that required, either?
-- What did he say to that?

He said, ''No, that is required.

l'm here for a few days.

l'll return from here directly
to board the flight in Calcutta.

So l have a couple of days.
There is no hurry.''

And anyway, today is Sunday
and the bank is closed.

Nothing can be done
before tomorrow morning.

Then where is he right now?

-- Have you visited Shantiniketan before?
-- l have.

Before l was married. Three times.

There is a Santhal village close by.
lt is called Baner Pukur.

That's where he has gone.

He said he spent time there
before leaving the country.

l have no understanding of
what special attraction it holds for him.

He comes back after so many years.
He has seen so many countries.

One would expect him to sit down
a while and talk about his experiences.

And you know the funniest thing?

lmagine this,
before touching my feet,

he took out the passport
from his pocket

and showed me that
he is indeed Manomohan Mitra.

Since we've come in search of him,
let's try and see if we can find him.

Very well. And if you find him,
just grab him and bring him back here.

We'll do that.

By the way,
l hope he's in his right mind...

-- Yes, of course.
-- l mean, it's a lot of money.

l've been sitting on guard over it
for the last 20 years.

500 thousand rupees. lmagine
how much it has become in 20 years.

No, you don't need to worry at all.
He is of perfectly sound mind.

Let's go.

You there!

Will you bring a charpoy
and put it out here?

l'm expecting visitors.

There! There is Great--uncle!

Come.

Have a seat.

Why did you do this?
To go away without a word?

l was feeling very restless.

l'm extremely penitent
for what happened last night.

You know, the truth is

l've gotten used to being
amongst simple people.

lf l find someone being obnoxious

l cannot restrain myself.

You haven't even eaten since morning.

We have come to take you back.

Come with us.

l will not go now.

Fasting for half a day will do no harm.

There will be dancing this evening.

l've arranged for it.

l will go after watching the dance.

You'll watch it, too.

The Kols are the oldest
aboriginal tribe in lndia.

The Santhals
are related to the same tribe.

1 50 years back

they had risen
in rebellion against the British.

You'll return to Calcutta,
won't you, to our house?

Since you have come,
l certainly will.

But not today.

By the evening train tomorrow.

l have some work here
tomorrow morning.

You're coming
into some money, aren't you?

Yes. lt is true.

Why didn't you share
such good news with us?

There was a reason for that.

l felt that since l never carried out
my filial duties towards my father,

l have no right
to enjoy his property, either.

Later, l felt it is a large sum of money.

And since father
left it to me out of affection...

Why are you standing?
Sit down, please.

Now breathe in the fresh air.
No more talk.

-- Are you enjoying it, dear?
-- Yes, l am.

Why are you watching
from the sidelines?

-- Shall l?
-- Of course.

You see what your niece is up to?

l was very suspicious about
whether she's really my niece.

Not anymore.

Keep my suitcase as a memento, then.

l grew very attached to it.

Why did you have to --

Because one has to be civilized
about some things in life.

Very well. Your word is law.

And these?
Do you need all of these notebooks?

Those are my field notes, dear.

l've already thrown away the ones
l have no further need for.

Fine, l'll put them in.
You'll have to pay for excess baggage.

After all, you're a millionaire now.

We had all settled on
coming to the airport with you.

You may have settled on it.

But you might go there and find that
the flight is delayed by eight hours.

Then l'll feel unsettled.

The sun and the moon follow the clock,
but the airlines don't.

Take the suitcases down.

The suitcase keys.

Satyaki, dear.

Good things come to those who wait.

And here is the good thing.

Here you go.

This was made 1 500 years ago
by the people who eat armadillo meat.

-- Say ''thank you.''
-- No!

There is no better thank you
than that smile.

Come, dear.

Oh, l haven't shared
something with you yet.

l've written a book,
a sort of travelogue.

An American publisher
is bringing it out.

They've given me a handsome
advance on it, so to speak.

-- Then you're a rich man now.
-- lndeed.

You will write to us, won't you?

No one can say what l will do,
once l am back in my element.

-- At least to say you've arrived safely.
-- That l will do.

Now, for my final responsibility.

What is it?

There is a word for it
in English, you know.

Floccinaucinihilipilification.

Oh, yes. l remember it from school.

Do you remember the meaning?

No, not really.

29 letters to convey this meaning.

lf that is not civilization,
then what is?

Let me leave first.
You can open it later.

l feel embarrassed if someone reads
something l've written in front of me.

They are just a few lines
addressed to your hospitality...

Satyaki, dear.

Now chhot--dadu
is going to run off again.

Won't you ever come back?

Next time you will come to see me.

And what is the one thing
you promised never to become?

-- Kupamanduka.
-- And don't you forget it.

Well then, dear.

l made terrible mistakes, Uncle.

Please forgive me.

You made mistakes?

Don't l know what a difficult test
l put you through?

But there was a reason for it, dear.

What can you know from a passport?

Match the name and match the face.

But you can't really
get to know the person.

You need time to be able to do that.

We needed that time.

ls the tradition of touching the feet
common amongst the savages?

Not that l know of.

Then if l leave out
the feet--touching, and instead...

l will take leave of you now.

Wait.

Don't you want to find out
what Uncle has written?

Oh, Anila,
this is addressed to you.

A poem.

''Of bloodlines,
one cannot escape the snare

For the blessed niece and her care

The uncle leaves his share.''

What is this?

lt's made out to me.

And there's Sital babu's signature.

Don't you see?

He transferred
his entire share over to you.

Mr. ''No one''?