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PORTRAIT OF THE (TV) PRODUCER.

To be honest, I never had the opportunity to work directly under Nilendu-da.

During my early years in the Delhi News TV circuit, I might have seen his signature gallis-mounted frame a couple of times during my not so frequent visits to the Moving Pictures office at Jangpura, where I used to go meet my friend Laura Krishnamurthy.

I remember him as the ambiguous big-boss, and since I was forever in lookout for a job, I felt shy approaching him directly. Later on, during my stint in India Today TV, he was so high up in the ladder that even though I worked in the same department, he would have required the Hubble telescope to spot me.

But something strange did happen there. 

Maybe because I was in the team of one of his closest associates Sujay, whenever I went anywhere near Nilendu Sen’s expansive cubicle – he always welcomed me with a warm smile. This encouraged me to spend time with him, whenever that was available, and the ice started melting.

That was over ten years back, and we are still very much in touch.

I have neither the skills nor the audacity to talk about his achievements. Perhaps it would suffice to say that I have always admired him for his keen understanding and deep knowledge of a variety of things, and his ability to present them simply enough for the benefit of people with average intellect, like me.

Above everything else, Nilendu Sen is a great storyteller, in every sense. 

So when I got an opportunity to finally pin him down, and convinced him to share his own ‘story’ with me, attempting to figure out how he does what he does – I knew I was in for a sumptuous treat.

What follows is an excerpt from a long chat we had, over a Chinese app that I can’t name in these complicated times. The nation doesn’t need to know that.

“BORN AND BROUGHT UP IN DELHI”

My Bangla would give away the fact that I am a ‘probaasi’ (immigrant) Bengali.

But I am a Bengali – because at the core of my upbringing there were people who had hard-core roots in Bengal and Bengali culture.

My great-grandfather had set upon himself to find a career; in those days, many Bengalees traveled to ‘Poschim’ (west) in search of better prospects. So that gentleman landed up in the Royal court of Ranikhet, and later, my Grandfather somehow landed up in Lucknow. So my entire upbringing, which I got through my mother, my father and my grandmother – one stream comes from Bengal, and another combines this Central UP-Western UP culture.

And then my father was in a department of the government which was a melting pot of journalists and media house people – he was in DAVP. So the conversation around me always had something to do with either news, or it had something to do with culture; and if my grandmother was involved, it was culture and literature.

Nilendu isn’t a ‘trained’ TV producer, or writer, in the (now) conventional sense.

When he started working, there wasn’t much opportunity to academically learn TV, since there wasn’t much of a TV around. His skills should better be termed as ‘life-skills’, derived from his enormously curious approach towards life – and everything that makes it worth living.

During our ‘adda’ sessions, I have always been intrigued with his ability to appreciate and critically analyze stuff, in particular music – much like a seasoned musician. He picks up elements from his repertoire, co-relates it in a manner that I never thought was possible, and presents his arguments which are often irrefutable.

So I started our blog-chat with music – and he told me how much of this came from his grandmother, who was class five pass, but would actually spar with people who held Doctorates in literature and classical music.

“IN DOLLOPS OF THOUGHT”

There’s a gramophone at my place, which my grandfather bought for my grandmother in 1928. He got it delivered at a shop in Kanpur from Hall Anderson, a big and quite legendary departmental store in Calcutta.

Now my Grandfather, he got married late. He was 28 and my grandmother was about 12 when they got married. So by the time he would get back from office, he would often find that his little bride was asleep. Now what to do??? So he bought a gramophone, and when he returned from his office, he would put on a song and she would wake up. And then the ladies of the household would surround her, and tell her, “Look, look, you husband has come home.” 

So this little child who was growing up had to be groomed – because my grandfather realized that here was a little girl who hasn’t even come of age but she is married to me. Now she must have teachers. So tutors were brought in, and I think she chased away her English tutor, who was a firang, but the others stayed, and she kind of picked up a lot of stuff. And then, when she was 16, she had my father.

So that’s the beginning of my story.

Many of those 78 RPM records I finally discarded while in this house where I stay now – say at around 2011, due to lack of space, almost about 80 years later.

So all those songs and stuff, they just stay with you. Names like Kamala Jharia or Angurbala Devi was not alien to me. There were people who initiated me into why they were singing in the way they were singing, why they were loud, why was their voice so much huskier than Lata Mangeshkar – and all that; these would form the core of my ideas when I was later making stuff of my own.

So what happens is, you sublimate all of what you’ve learnt – even while people are trying to teach you something quite different.

Say for instance, why is Angurbala Devi singing a song in Kotha style, while Pratima Bandopdhyay is singing the same song in a completely different style? How many interpretations can be of the same single line ‘Aamar haath dhore tumi niye chalo sokha’ (Lead me by holding my hand, my beloved) becomes apparent in the two distinct ways in which they are singing it. It’s a relationship that they are presenting here – representing their ‘interpretation’ of love. One is a demand, and the other is a submission. One is unabashed love, and the other is unabashed piety.

So all these things started coming to me in dollops of thought. And when later on I got to do the programs that I got to do – I was in sync with people who have learnt all of these things in their curriculum.

In fact, I was so happy to know that people actually do research on these things.

Nilendu’s Grandma’s gramophone; he still has it, and some of the records.

I so agree with Nilendu on this. The concept of morality keeps shifting with the intended audience of any work of art – which is all the more true in the area of performance music.

Like Nilendu explained, what they created in terms of content, and how they sang it often depended heavily on who they sang it for. If it’s devoted to a person in flesh and blood, it can’t be similar to the way you would sing it for your intended almighty.

And yes, I also agree, all those things that you learn by chance, or simply by being at the right place at the right time – later on work for you when you are working in a visual medium or you are writing or you are doing whatever else creative. Like he said – all these assimilation that you peel off your skin of memories helps you create your narratives.

That’s a bit super-heavy, methinks; calls for another story.  

“MEMORIES OF MOUNTAINS”

My father, when he was a child, didn’t keep too well in terms of health. Doctors told my grandfather that he should be taken to place with a better climate.

So there’s this place called Bhawali in Uttarakhand, around 8 kms away from Nainital. There, my grandfather bought a small bungalow that belonged to a farmer family – and modernized it to make it livable, way back in 1936. But like I said, there was a substantial age-difference between my grandfather and grandmother; so my grandma became a widow when she was just about 41 years of age.

I have lots of happy memories of those mountains. I remember, grandma used to wear ‘thaan-saari’ which was usually starched with rice-water. So there used to be a ‘grandma’ like smell from those sarees. I remember very well, how I used to cuddle up to her, on her lap, when I was a little child.

Now that place – let me tell you a bit about that neighborhood where we lived.  Say about a few houses away from our home – there was a house where Kamala Nehru was kept to recuperate; that was where Feroze Gandhi used to look after her; in the same district, around two miles away, there was this sanatorium where Netaji was kept; just a little further was Almora jail, where Nehru was kept.

So that neighborhood, at least some houses, was culturally quite developed. Not just that, most of them was educated at Shantiniketan. They used to come meet my grandma in the evenings. It was much later that I realized that among them were sisters of litterateurs like Shivani, aunt of Dr Pushpesh Pant – and yes, Mahadevi Verma, the great Hindi author and poet, used to stay not very far from there, on the road to Ramgarh.

So people would come over to our place because my father, who got a complimentary copy of the ‘Desh’ magazine, used to send it to my grandma to read every week – from Delhi.  My grandmother and I would spend the summers there. So every evening, our home there was abuzz with discussions about literature, starting from Saratchandra to those serialized novels of Sunil Ganguly and others – read from ‘Desh’ and discussed in detail. And if my mother was there – we had sessions of Rabindrasangeet.

My mother is from Kolkata – a pure Bong from Entally.

So a lot of people also used to come to listen to my mother singing. What kind of songs? I remember, on those days she used to often sing that Mughle-Azam classic, ‘Mohe panghat pe nandalaal’ – and then we used to have discussions; whether this song was originally composed by Naushad, or it has traditional origins – and all that.

Those evenings seem so much like from another era, doesn’t it?

Life used to be much slower back then; we had the patience to wait for a whole year for the next much coveted EP of our favourite singer – mostly with just two songs, one side each. The problem of plenty that’s hounding us today wasn’t there, and lots of thought went behind each song that entered the public domain.

Bhawali in Uttarakhand is also the location where Bimal Roy shot his Madhumati.
Nilendu told me those locations were not too far from where their mountain bungalow, and he often went visiting them.

This is not to say that all was hunky-dory back then, and things are all topsy-turvy now. But yes, learning was tougher, and access was limited. Just how much this ease of access to information had lead to actual ‘learning’ is a separate discussion, we can have that later, in some other platform.

For now, let’s focus on how Nilendu learnt his ropes, and used them to knot his ideas – as and when he had the opportunity.  

“SUBAH SAVERE WAS SIGNIFICANTLY REVIVALIST”

My exposure to music again began with the exposure to film music – both Bangla and Hindi; of course I was not untouched by the perennial conflict of old and new and wondered what was so good about Saigal and why would my parent’s generation mock Kishor and RD…!!

In the Doordarshan of those days, and this I say with the benefit of hindsight, there were producers who were extremely immersed in culture and literature. And the platform being the only one available even to the artistes, they often featured the great musicians and poets and mushairas and Kavi sammelaans.

So my introduction to Begum Akhtar and Siddheshwari and Rasoolan may have been old via the radio, but to watch them sing on television was a festival at my place. We didn’t have a phone so I was often sent by dad with a message to some of his friends in the neighborhood to invite them for a special program or a film.

My father was a good teacher in the sense he knew how to be coercive without actually being harsh. His logic was that since we get to hear all the Hindi film songs on Vividh Bharati, it was a waste of money to buy that music. And since he was the only source of moolah back then all the music that was purchased was non film music – Ghazals, Classical, semi classical, Bangla adhunik and Rabindra Sangeet, tonnes of it. No film music; for that there was the ubiquitous Vividh Bharati.

Later, and it might seem superfluous now, when we could afford a good music system, we collected Vinyl records and LPs of all these great artistes, which I still have –  almost all of Begum Akhtar on LP.

So when I had to make Subah Savere a two hour Breakfast Show for DD to match the satellite onslaught back in the late nineties, I used all these sensibilities. A lot of artistes who came to the program would say that the show was pretty significantly revivalist. Many among them, theater artists and folk theater artistes would wonder how I knew them! Even film makers!

Often times commercial film makers like Subhash Ghai would come with preconceptions that we being the arty-farty types wouldn’t know of his work and went back pleasantly surprised and became friends. So were singers.

I think the reason for the program to be the great success it was – because starting with Ramesh Sharma, the boss at Moving Picture, to everyone else in the team had a very similar approach to what we were doing, even if it was in default mode.

And then it resonated…I mean I would travel out and my anchor friends would be doted over and I felt proud – things worked.

Nilendu’s experiences in Broadcast media spans more than three decades, with over 30,000 hours of programming. I won’t give his resume here. You want to know more, you can always go see his you-tube channel. I often do, to steal ideas.

More recently, he wrote a novel, Sonaar Gaon, based on a social effort by commercial sex workers of Kolkata. I remember him telling me that it was originally a screenplay, which he later turned into a novel.

With Qamar Naqviji from Aajtak,, during the release of his maiden novel, Sonaar Gaon

But it’s not the variety or scale of his work that pushed me to go talk to him.

It’s his ability to hold on to a certain quality index that he had set for himself quite early in his life that interests me more. Lots of us dream big when we come to this media, but somehow lose it midway. Not Nilendu.

I wanted to feature him because I believe he is a true pioneer; one of those unsung TV producers who created magnificent edifices out of nothing, and set standards across programming genres.

He had no norms to follow, so what he did became the norm.

Portrait of the Director, and then Biographies, set the parameters for much of the long-format Cinema programming on TV that we get to see; Subah Savere was one of India’s first hugely successful breakfast TV shows; Mukti Gatha, the official documentary on the occasion of India’s 50th Independence Day defines how to make a period film without much of archive footage; and so on, and on.

I believe, if someone writes a people’s history of Indian television, he will have to dedicate at least one entire chapter on the exploits of Nilendu Sen.

“I AM STILL PICKING UP NEW THINGS”

People who learn things at a very fast pace often miss the finer nuances.

That’s why I feel, today, it has become all the more important that young film-making aspirants should go to a school for three-four years and learn film-making – and only then attempt to make films.

See, you might be having a button or a program to give ‘Ray-cast’ to an image, but that isn’t true learning. Say how do you create an old period manually? You need to have that sensibility. Say you are recording a sequence of an old film running, which needs the rattling noise of the projector in the backdrop and the muffled cinema-hall sound; so even if you are recording the whole sequence with a brand-new camera, you need to know how the sound used to be back then.

It’s not possible to build those kind of sensibilities unless you spend time with an instructor and spend time watching good films. You can’t learn unless you study and explore the evolution of cinema closely.

I told you how I learnt all of that.

In a way, my entire life has been a film school, which is still continuing. I am still picking up new things – there’s no end to learning.

That’s not the only thing Nilendu said about cinema.

In fact, that was among the last things he said on cinema. We spoke for over two hours on various topics – and a lion’s share of it was about his romancing the big-screen, and inserting that amour in his TV programming.  I will bring that to you, but in part two of this post. This one was more about music. That will cover cinema.

Like many of us, he started with theater while in college, and moved on to TV. But what did he do (or get) that gave him that ‘extra’ edge? What was it that makes him ‘special’??

His story is a success story for sure, but how??

I think I should give Nilendu Sen, one of the best storytellers I know, to tell that story himself, without paraphrasing. But even for a long format blog, this is way too long, so I think I should call it a day as of now.

You have to wait, just a couple more days, for part two; I promise to make it worth your while.

Nilendu, on the live mixer console, during an episode of Subah Savere;
One could also spot a newcomer Aishwarya Rai and the timeless Pt. Viswamohan Bhatt in the backdrop.
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Published inINTERVIEWS

17 Comments

  1. Umesh Aggarwal Umesh Aggarwal

    Despite knowing him for more than two decades… today I realize how little I knew of him. Thanks for this insight.

    • ANIRBAN B ANIRBAN B

      Which makes me wonder, how little I know you Umeshji, despite our more than two decades, from the times of Heads and Tails.

  2. Prosenjit Shome Prosenjit Shome

    Very interesting and refreshing dear Anirban,in this Covid atmosphere.
    Looking forward to your next blog.
    Stay safe.

    • ANIRBAN B ANIRBAN B

      Thanks Prosenjit bhaai. Need to celebrate things we cherish. If we don’t, who will??

    • ANIRBAN B ANIRBAN B

      Yes, I am looking forward to write it too. And on your documentary on cinematographers, once that is done.

  3. Sudarshan Sudarshan

    Nilendu is an absolutely fantastic writer, director and documentary filmmaker. It was my privilege to have worked with him. Thanks for the very insightful article, Anirban.

  4. Arvind Sharma Arvind Sharma

    Dost.I love my Nilendu and do not forget his greatest weapon..His Quick Wits.!!

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