Shesher Kobita

Suman Mukhopadhyay's film, Shesher Kob­ita (Last Poem), based on Tagore’s late, great novel, flows like poetry. Slow and rhythmic, measured and elegant, its pauses and silences, like the sighs and whispers of the sets of lovers who are the protagonists—Amit, Labanya, Sovonlal and Ketaki—carries the narrative forward. Indeed, the plot itself becomes secondary to the surrounding beauty—from the dewy hills of Shillong, where the story is set, to the sublimity of the language in which they communicate. Amit Ray, an Oxford-educated barrister, meets Labanya, a governess, on a visit to Shillong. Their love unfolds when they discover that they fulfil each other intellectually. And yet, there is an empty core that cannot be filled. Tagore’s is an exploration of this void; his characters try to understand the nuances of deep desires, hidden emotions and incommunicable feelings. Mukhopadhyay does it justice. Yet, he seems too consci­ous of it, for the director’s own creative take, so to speak, doesn’t come through. At no point can we forget that this is a Tagore tale. We don’t feel the jolt of lovers who must separate. Their distances don’t fill us with longing. But moments of excellence shine through. Swastika or Katie’s tears as she accepts rejection are as genuine as her jealous enquiries. Konk­ona excels as Labanya, as does Rahul as Amit. The film’s music, sound and cinematography combines to make it a lyrical experience.