Aparna Sen’s contribution to cinema as an actor and a director is monumental. From a playful young bride in Satyajit Ray’s Bengali anthology film, Teen Kanya (her debut), to a strong, independent working woman determined to teach the boarders of a boys’ hostel a lesson in Dinen Gupta’s comedy romance film, Basanta Bilap, Sen had garnered accolades as an actor by the time she began her directorial journey with 36 Chowringhee Lane.
At present, especially with the Hema Committee Report released last year, the discrimination and exploitation women are subjected to in the (pan) Indian film industries have become common knowledge. From stories of casting couches to the rampant discrimination faced by women cinematographers and filmmakers, there is no denying that the film industry is a gendered space. Women have always been assigned a few conventional roles in the industry, and Aparna Sen is one of the few trailblazing filmmakers who dared to break the mold. Sen, known for her women-centric films, is a prominent example of why women telling women’s stories has been revolutionary. The distinct quality in (most) films directed by women filmmakers is how female subjects break free from the burden of being objects of desire, and the glaring shift in gaze. Sen has masterfully addressed women’s desire, suffering, conflict, and complexity through her films. In this article, I take a close look at three of her prominent works.
36 Chowringhee Lane
In 36 Chowringhee Lane, released in 1981, Sen focused on the solitary life of an Anglo-Indian English teacher, Miss Violet Stoneham. Her routine life revolved around the convent girls’ school and her antique apartment in central Calcutta. Her old black cat, Sir Toby, was her only companion, and while living all by herself never bothered her, as she grew older she craved to be understood and loved. Violet had almost become a relic from the past—the city, the people, the politics, and the history had significantly changed over the years, yet her routine remained unaltered. She tried to hold on to her loved ones, particularly her niece Rosemary, but she was surprised by how everyone preferred to dive into the unknown than soak in the joy of familiarity. Most of her acquaintances had left—they had either passed away or moved out of Calcutta, dreading stagnancy. Violet’s life took a drastic turn when she ran into her former student, Nandita, at a wedding. Through Violet’s character, Sen captures one’s fear of being forgotten or abandoned. The film also goes on to show how perspective evolves with age—from embracing the idea of independence when young to being terrified of not having a familiar face around. Violet embodies the archetype of the “cat lady,” and she perhaps would’ve made peace with her solitude and sorrow had it not been for the two strangers who came into her life like a gust of fresh air and stirred up a storm before leaving her helpless and vulnerable. Sen’s stylistic preference for heightened visual melodrama manifested in a dream sequence involving Violet and the love of her life; another memorable scene from the film is when Sen depicts Violet’s inner turmoil with a storm that literally enters the visual space.
Paromitar Ek Din
Paromitar Ek Din, which won the National Film Award for the Best Feature Film in the Bengali language in 2000, is centered around the relationship between an educated young woman, Paromita, and her mother-in-law, Sanaka (played by Aparna Sen). A relationship that socially has always been about power, dominance, and envy was reimagined by Sen. Indian mainstream films have more often than not gravitated towards depicting strained in-law relationships, but an unlikely friendship between Paromita and Sanaka underlines how, in a patriarchal society, women are pitted against one another in a domestic setup. The age difference highlights the contrasting thought processes of the two central characters—while Sanaka negotiated her way through norms and traditions, Paromita dared to exercise her agency and break free from a loveless marriage. Sanaka experienced a sense of freedom after the death of her husband/the patriarch. From being tucked in the kitchen corner the entire day, Sanaka started enjoying the little things in life, from flying kites to sipping on cold coffee. Paromitar Ek Din also focused on mental health, something that Indian cinema (both mainstream and parallel) rarely addressed at the time.
Parama
Parama (1985), starring Rakhee Gulzar, revolves around Parama, a ‘typical’ housewife, and the sudden identity crisis she experiences. She was a wife, a mother, and a daughter-in-law, but who was Parama beyond these roles? The film is about Parama’s journey to rediscover herself. Parama’s life significantly altered when she crossed paths with Rahul, a renowned photojournalist. Rahul was mesmerized by Parama’s beauty when he first saw her during Durga Puja. He decided to work on a photo series titled An Indian Housewife with Parama as his subject. She was hesitant at first, but her quasi-modern Bengali family convinced her to participate. Parama never thought she was extraordinary, and she couldn’t help but wonder what Rahul saw in her. To be appreciated and admired by a stranger was a new experience for Parama. She had been so caught up with domestic work that she had forgotten about the little joys in life—Rahul inspired her to chase happiness, and she once again started playing the sitar. Through Parama’s character, Sen addressed how housewives are often reduced to unpaid laborers whose desires and dreams are neglected by their loved ones. But the minute they experience a sense of independence and dare to think about themselves for once, society goes berserk. Everyone around her tries to convince her that her emotions are invalid and she is ‘hysterical.’ A woman’s yearning to be free is seen as madness that needs to be treated so that she can be wired back into being the unpaid laborer who never questioned her existence. While a woman is subjected to scrutiny, shame, and abuse, when she finds sexual pleasure outside her loveless, transactional marriage, a man is spared the difficult questions. Sen closely examines how one compromises and represses their desires to adhere to societal expectations, even if that results in unhappiness and frustration. The film makes one wonder if protecting the societal framework is more important than an individual’s happiness.
Final Words
Aparna Sen paved the way for contemporary women filmmakers in India, even though the journey continues to be laced with struggle and discrimination even today. Not to forget the role caste and class play in determining one’s potential as a filmmaker. But then again, when films such as Girls Will Be Girls (Suchi Talati, 2024), Santosh (Sandhya Suri, 2024), All We Imagine As Light (Payal Kapadia, 2024), and Shadowbox (Tanushree Das and Saumyananda Sahi, 2025) do the festival rounds, the future finally looks brighter than ever before.
