The Disciple

I decided to watch The Disciple because the quiet, contemplative shots I saw in the trailer drew me towards its patient narrative of an artist's struggle with frustration and self-doubt. The theme was an intimate friend to my own mind (though I am not in the pursuit of musical excellence) - fighting the ebb and flow of my own thoughts binding me to where I am, in a place of inaction and procrastination. I suppose I was looking for a sign that I am not alone in this frustration. That along with company, I might find hope, or at least some dignity in this state of mind that frequently holds the fort until a better day.

Instead, I was devastated by the end of watching this film and left in a hopeless, numb state for hours afterward.

This film is laden with some beautiful, thoughtful cinematography - wide shots to let you take in an entire room full of minute movements in every corner, pausing to give you plenty of space of breathe in the patient anticipation of an audience prior to a musical performance (of which there are many). The entire film is filled with these 'ordinary', glamour-free musical performances, a look into an artists career that is all-but-sufficient in meeting his needs as an individual, yet is also driven by a desire to make his Guruji proud - a guruji who has a deep love for the Hindustani classical music art form, is well-appreciated by his regular audiences, but is aging with not enough to make his ends meet, particularly with the onset of age-related illnesses. Throughout the film I felt like I was seated in the same room, listening

The artist (and protagonist of this story), Sharad Nerulkar, lives in a constant state of awe of his musical Guru and his Guru, "Maee". He spends his days practicing his art, taking care of his Guruji, and his nights soaking in the wisdom of Maee by means of her recorded speeches, rare pearls of her wisdom he selfishly keeps for his own ears for most of the story. Sharad's depth of teacher-worship is such that he cannot see himself ever reaching his own perceived standards of excellence, and this frustration and disappointment appears to chew at any real joy he may have derived from music (indeed, I was disappointed at how unconvinced I am that he really loves his art-form, in spite of 2 hours 35 mins of screen time trying to prove otherwise).

He is in a constant cycle of self-criticism, nitpicking at himself, and worrying about occasional flaws his Guruji points out from time-to-time. He convinces himself that giving up every other joy in life and becoming devoted his practice will eventually propel him to rise out of mediocrity and into the realms of excellence. As he continues on his journey, we travel with him back in time to formative moments in his childhood that set him on his current path - his father's love and knowledge of music was genuine, deep, and a key influence. Yet somehow, it strikes me how devoid of joy Sharad's own passion appears to be, nearly throughout his narrative. I am not able to connect to this character as I don't understand why he is pursuing music if all it does is apply a negative pressure to his mind - a constant sense of having to prove himself and not knowing when it is enough.

Sharad's sense of purpose and pride is shaken when he meets a distinguished music-critic (played by Prasad Vanarse), who one evening over drinks (which Sharad abstains from), speaks his mind about the maestros, the stalwarts, and also those artists that are relatively unimpressive. When Sharad brings up his Guruji's name, he is dismayed to hear him fall into the unimpressive part of this critic's spectrum, and the true shock comes in his critique of Maee - he relegates her to a talented musician who was too timid to take on the risk of performing in front of audiences and facing the prospect of failure, or the prospect of growing from the experience. This is totally opposed to Sharad's view of Maee as a shy genius and he is heartbroken, though respectful of this critic's opinion.

At one point, Sharad decides to donate Maee's recordings to the government archives, and meets with the ignorance of the staff in the office who attempt to catalog these priceless pieces of his possession. More years pass and Sharad remains in his erstwhile state of struggle to make his ends meet. His Guruji has but a few more breaths or years left, perceivably, with Sharad's care and concern. He does take on performances himself despite his illness. Finally, one ordinary afternoon, comes the straw that breaks the camel's back and Sharad walks out of his own performance, disgusted by his own mediocrity and failure to achieve his standards of excellence.

The cinematography and music in this film are both wonderful and probably what kept me watching, besides this sliver of hope I had that despite the very gradual progression of narrative, there was a sliver of hope the story would plant in the minds of the audience, a moment of redemption for the hopelessness, despair and exhaustion that embodies Sharad. I was hanging on to the hope that Sharad would discover his own sense of meaning and joy regardless of achieving or not achieving his self-prescribed (unattainable) standards of excellence.

The narrative ends in an ominous way, showing Sharad smiling with a wife and child (having settled down in his forties), traveling in a local passenger train, as a beggar playing a Veena sings his way through the aisles and walks further and further into oblivion. 

This is the most dissatisfactory way to end his story - it convinces me Sharad hated music and was forced into its pursuit by the perceived external pressure of his family or some sense of wanting to prove himself. It's hard to imagine anyone spending half of their life in the pursuit of something beautiful because they for some reason thought it was what they had to do, and then finally to find no joy in it, abandon it for an existence that is made of living per societal expectations. Perhaps the ending is trying to paint a picture that this simple living is what brings Sharad's joy? I don't buy that message.

This film ends leaving the audience clueless about what Sharad really wants - he was, and continues to remain, a character without any perceivable motivation or knowledge of what brings him joy in life as an individual. Perhaps that's intentional. The fact that despite being unbelievable, and disappointing, the story is told in a way that could ring true for any ordinary person, is what haunts me even afterwards - and I begrudgingly acknowledge perhaps this is what its message is - a depressing reminder of what it is like to sleep-walk through life, living other people's expectations and never uncovering what one's own soul is made of.