Abhinandan Banerjee’s Manikbabur Megh (The Cloud and the Man) is a film that thrives in the quiet moments, inviting viewers to immerse themselves in its slow, deliberate pacing. Much like Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days (2023), Banerjee’s debut feature captures the mundane yet meaningful aspects of life. The film’s protagonist, Manik (played by Chandan Sen), is introduced in an early scene that echoes the sentiments of Wenders’ work. As Manik leans into a flower and rubs his nose against it, there’s a sense of texture and calm that permeates the screen, reminiscent of Wenders’ depiction of Hirayami’s tranquil Tokyo apartment.
However, while Perfect Days exudes a quiet joy, Manikbabur Megh carries an undercurrent of discontentment and loneliness. The film, shot in 2019, takes its time, allowing viewers to marinate in the solitude that surrounds Manik, a lowly clerk in Kolkata. It’s a meditation on a life lived in the shadows, where the journey is more important than the destination, and the writing more significant than the having written.
The Unremarkable Life of Manik
Manik’s existence is anything but remarkable. As a clerk, he spends his days buried under a mountain of files, his life’s passion reduced to tending to his terrace garden each morning. His father, bedridden and seemingly suffering from dementia, is another responsibility that weighs heavily on him. The billboards scattered across Kolkata serve as constant reminders of his failures, each one a silent rebuke of his unfulfilled dreams.
For someone like me, who has grown up with a complicated relationship with Kolkata, Manikbabur Megh initially felt distant. I’ve never been one to romanticize cities, and Kolkata, with its cultural superiority often thrust upon outsiders, was no exception. The film’s choice to shoot in black-and-white seemed like an attempt to mimic European art films, a gimmick that initially fueled my cynicism. Yet, as the narrative unfolded, Banerjee’s storytelling managed to dissolve that cynicism, drawing me into the world of Manik and his cloud.
A Turning Point in Grief
The turning point in the film comes with the death of Manik’s father. The silence that greets Manik one morning, when his father’s usual routine of switching on the tape recorder fails to materialize, is haunting. As he discovers that the cassette has run out, it’s clear that a chapter in Manik’s life has ended.
The funeral rituals, far from being just a closure, seem to mark a rebirth for Manik. He shaves his head, tends to his appearance, and begins to notice the peculiar presence of a cloud that seems to follow him. This cloud, which provides him shade on a hot summer afternoon and trails him as he makes his way home, becomes a central figure in his life. When he confides in his friend Kali (Debesh Roy Chowdhury) about the cloud, he’s met with skepticism and laughter, adding to the sense of isolation that envelops him.
The Cloud as a Companion
The relationship between Manik and the cloud is a beautiful exploration of grief, sanity, and the human need for companionship. Banerjee never offers easy answers to the questions that arise: Is Manik losing his mind? Is this his way of coping with grief? Or is this cloud a manifestation of the earliest signs of dementia, something his father also suffered from?
Instead of definitive explanations, Banerjee delves deeper into Manik’s bond with the cloud. In a stunning sequence, Manik flies a kite into the cloud, as if sending a love letter to this new companion. Later, in a tender act of intimacy, he showers using the rainwater collected from the cloud, further solidifying their connection. The cloud changes Manik; it brings a new vitality to his life. He starts dressing better, wearing a coat even in the sweltering heat, and finds a new spring in his step, despite being evicted by his landlord.
Visual Poetry and Sound Design
Manikbabur Megh is a visual and auditory feast. Anup Singh’s cinematography captures the essence of Kolkata, juxtaposing Manik’s loneliness with the city’s bustling life. There’s a haunting beauty in the scenes where Manik is alone on a tram or lying on the grass, smiling up at the sky. The film also frequently shifts to the cloud’s perspective, offering a bird’s-eye view of Manik’s life, emphasizing his smallness in the grand scheme of things.
Abhijit Roy’s sound design plays a crucial role in the film’s narrative, adding depth to scenes without overpowering them. Subhajit Mukherjee’s score complements the film’s mood, enhancing the emotions without intruding. The black-and-white visuals, far from being a gimmick, frame the poetry in Kolkata’s laidback pace, creating a dreamlike quality that never tips over into the delusional.
A Love Letter to Kolkata
At its core, Manikbabur Megh is a love letter to Kolkata, a city that remains frozen in time, clinging to simpler ideals in the face of an ever-changing world. Manik, much like the city, is a relic of the past, unprepared for the ruthless demands of modern life. He might be middle-aged, but his spirit is untouched by the cynicism and pragmatism that define the contemporary world. In his make-believe world, the cloud’s rumbling is the only conversation he needs, a stark contrast to the noise of everyday life.
There’s a touch of Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers in Manikbabur Megh, particularly in the way both films explore their protagonists’ sanity as they grapple with grief. Just as Haigh’s screenwriter communicates with his dead parents, Manik finds solace in his relationship with the cloud. But whether these are signs of madness or simply a way to find comfort and closure, Banerjee leaves it up to the audience to decide.
Final Words
Manikbabur Megh is a film that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. It’s a meditation on loneliness, grief, and the quiet moments that define our lives. Through Manik’s relationship with the cloud, Banerjee crafts a narrative that is both tender and haunting, offering a glimpse into the life of a man who has found peace in his solitude. The film is a beautiful ode to Kolkata, capturing the city’s essence in a way that feels both timeless and deeply personal. For those willing to embrace its slow pace and reflective nature, Manikbabur Megh is a cinematic experience that is as rewarding as it is poignant.
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