My Respected Creator Aparna Sen,
I am born of, by and for you with a marvellous name " Mrinalini"which means "lotus", unlike yours, "Aparna" denoting " leafless". You have effected my birth at a family with decadent heritage in north Kolkata, in a dilapidated edifice battered with bickerings and squabbles of the inhabitants. Still, like the lotus I am scot free and I find myself in the most acclaimed college in the early 70s when political turmoils, chiefly by the Naxalite movement has reached its highest elevation. I while away with my cronies in cofee houses, raise storms in the coffee cups, keep quoting from Rabindranath, Sakti Shattopadhya, W.B. Yeats and so on. Here, I am in an amorous tie with a mate, branded as Naxalite and booked by the administration. He is my first love. His portrayal reminds me of the character " Samaresh" in your first enterprise 36 Chowranghee Lane, in which the lovers exchange their carnal urges in seclusion. In privacy, when my love asks me to lie silent and unmoved, I simply indulge in skits impishly drawing my partner's attention to an aquarium filled with coloured fish. I reveal to him about my chances in films. Subsequently, I am made to launch my entry into filmdom where I am exposed to weather all odds, put instantly and deliberately by the system that holds a common chatacterstic to supress or nip any promise in the bud. But through many a thick and thin I have positioned atop. I have already lost my first love, gunned down while in escape. I come by an established film director, Siddharta Sarkar, who as a mentor uses me and I am mentally and physically lost to him even though I know, he is married and father of two kids. A baby is born out of our relation. It is only Kamala, my maid who has underscored the bunkumness of his bent for me. Dear Aparna Sen,I want to know, why have not you rationalised my being adulterous ?? Any way, My life-journey turns all the more pathetic. My child who is brought up abroad to my brother and his sweet German wife, is killed in the air crash. Hence, I find myself alone under the blue. I bid adieu to films. My only respite is a Kerelian young man Chintain Nair, a Booker prize winner, who stands by me as a strong moral support and carries conviction on me about the definations of love. The relationship is purely Platonic.
After a span of fifteen years,a vibrant young film maker Imtiyaj Chowdhury comes to my life. I am again romantically attached with this man. My film with him " Born of the Sun" where I am Kunti of the Mahabharata and my new love is Karna. The Karna-Kunti relationship in the screen is virtually Oediplus comples off the screen. Imtiyaz inserts in me the dream -role " Nandini" in his next project " Raktakarabi". But, Hiya Majumdar, a new face in films is declared to be cast in the role. Thus breaches of faith that have become an established phnomenan to my life, drives me to the the brink of frustration. So one night you make me probe into nostalgic jorney. I grope at the memorabillia that become memento mori. I fumble the pills but my German shepherd posing to go out, I take it out at the peep of dawn. I take my pet out on streets when the diurnal bright is about to set in. It was me who took the decision to end myself, But, my fate forces me to take to martyrdom. The way my first love took to martyrdom by the system, I too face the similar fate, and here the system is apolitical.I know, the police chasing his first love is symbolic and suggestive The ageing Mrinalini who writes that one knows not when one has to make advent in the world-stage, but one is at liberty to cause one's exit at any point of time. Hence, The old Mrinaline makes up her mind for self-killing, if not euthenasia. But,the way her first love has collapsed on the street, she too gets the similar fate. System is the icy hand of death--political or apolitical.
Under your monitorship the technical work is brilliant. Rabi Ranjan Maitra has done his editing superb. Lyrics and songs are excellent. The script could heve been better. For acting, Kankana, who has portrayed my younger part deserves yet one more national award.
My only grievance is that Konkana could have done the whole part of me. She is enough, enough and enough matured to enact the ENTIRE Mrinalini. Though the daughter in real life, I feel ill-at ease and rather misfit in regard to the combination of Sharma and Sen in the same portraiture. I am not bothered or concerned about autobiographical elements of your life. As Mrinaline I stand to be a sound documentation of an actress who gets cheated, decieved and betrayed throughout her life. As I am made to learn what time is meant for me. Here I conclude.