The late 1980s saw a surge of captivating Bengali advertising copy. Fresh out of college and embarking on a film career, I had recently earned my Assistant Director position. This required a stint as an “observer” on various film projects. I finished working on Goutam Ghose’s documentary about the legendary musician Bismillah Khan, ‘Meeting a Milestone’ (1989).
There’s one more memory I cherish. During a “Robbar” photoshoot, Ritu let me take some photos on my film camera alongside Abhik’s official shots. The condition? Keep them under wraps until publication. Those photos stayed hidden for years
My buddy Rudra da was working at Walter Thompson, which everyone called HTA back in the day. One day, I was curious about who was writing all this amazing advertising copy I’d been seeing. I mentioned a few examples to Rudra da, who said, “Oh, that’s Ritu, Rituparno Ghosh. He’s a young copywriter from Response Advertising. “Even though they worked at different agencies, they knew each other. Rudra said, “He’s come over to my place a few times. I’ll introduce you guys. He’s a really talented writer.”
A few weeks later, I met Ritu at Rudra da’s place. Just like his writing, he was super smart and intelligent. Over time, I got to know him and his work better. He was also starting to handle film projects at his agency.
One day, my dad, Basanta Chowdhury, asked me if I knew Ritu. I said, “Yeah, I do.” He said, “He’s coming over to read a script, join me for the session.” Ritu arrived, and my dad let me sit in on the script reading session. Afterward, he came into my room and asked me what I thought of the script. It was pretty good, and still, I suggested a few things. Ritu was calm about it. He explained his reasoning and even took some notes.
Ritu invited me to check out the set during the shoot. It was fantastic to see how they put everything together. Once the film was finished, they had a screening for a few people. I was invited, and so was Ram Ray, the big boss of Response Advertising. Ram was a legend in the advertising world. He was known for his sharp mind, logic, and brutally honest opinions.
Read More: Saluting a Mentor – Basanta Choudhury
A few days after the screening, Ritu was super excited because Ram liked his film. It meant a lot to Ritu, just like it would to anyone. A few years after Ritu passed away, I worked with Ram Ray on a book called “Chowringee” about the city’s most famous street. I got to know him better and realized how tough, quirky, and opinionated he could be.
So, Ritu and I became friends over time. He went full-time filmmaker, and work started sucking up all our free time. I mean, ALL of it. There were stretches where I could barely manage to sleep every other night. It was during this crazy period that I got asked to pitch a documentary for the upcoming 50th anniversary of Independence.
I had this old project about historical houses that I’d been kicking around, so I mashed it up with the whole independence theme and came up with an hour-long document called “The Buildings of Independence.” Ritu jumped on board to help structure the film. New research kept popping up, so we’d meet up early mornings for an hour or two to brainstorm and keep the project rolling.
As the script neared completion, Ritu asked me, “Hey, any ideas for the narrator?” I drew a blank. He boldly suggested Basanta Chowdhury as the narrator. I was both stoked and confused. How could I get my dad to act? I told Ritu it was a brilliant choice, but who’d convince him? Ritu, ever the charmer, said, “It’s my script; leave it to me.”
He successfully convinced Basanta Chowdhury. Unfortunately, Ritu got wrapped up in a new film and couldn’t see the finished product. Still, his name was proudly displayed on the credits of “The Buildings of Independence.”
Over the following years, Ritu and I kept in touch, talking about everything under the sun, especially movies. It was the golden age of DVDs, and we were swapping and borrowing them like crazy. He’d lend me stuff that sparked conversations, sometimes even full-blown debates. Ritu had this massive DVD collection, like a whole bookcase. He devoured movies, and, thanks to his insane memory, he only needed to watch them once (unless there was a specific scene or sequence he wanted to revisit).
Then Ritu revamped the Bengali film and entertainment magazine “Anandaloke” from the Anandabazar, the renowned publishing house. He spearheaded the redesign and devised a killer tagline that’s still remembered today: “Ulte dekhun palte gachey” (Flip it, and enjoy the change).
After a while, Ritu decided to move on from “Anandaloke.” He wasn’t sure what his next step would be. One day, he told me he was planning a Sunday supplement for the Bengali newspaper “Sangbad Pratidin.” He christened it “Robbar,” which means Sunday in Bengali. They even had the font designed and everything. The first issue featured Amitabh Bachchan as the cover story, and Ritu even flew down to Mumbai to interview him in person.
For the launch promo, Ritu approached me. Now, the budget was shoestring tight, and traveling to Mumbai for post-production wasn’t exactly in the cards. Back then, I was doing all my post-production for ad films in Mumbai, but Ritu’s infectious enthusiasm convinced me. We worked with my usual crew – Abhik Mukhopadhyay on camera and Arghya Kamal Mitra on editing- and friends and colleagues for years. We put together a short, clever promo film that captured the essence of “Robbar.”
“Robbar” finally hit the stands on December 24th, 2006. Anindya Chatterjee, Ritu’s right-hand man, became editor after Ritu’s passing in 2013. A decade later, they launched the digital version, “Robbar.in,” where I recently finished writing a 24-episode weekly column.
There’s one more memory I cherish. During a “Robbar” photoshoot, Ritu let me take some photos on my film camera alongside Abhik’s official shots. The condition? Keep them under wraps until publication. Those photos stayed hidden for years until I finally resurrected them and had this chance to share them in a story for Robbar Digital.
Picture Credit: Author
