Sharmila Tagore on Crossing Thresholds, Challenging Norms And Cinema’s Enduring Magic

Cannes 2025. Sharmila Tagore was basking in adulation on the Croisette, where a restored version of Aranyer Din Ratri was being screened. Wes Anderson’s blurb for her presence in the 1969 Satyajit Ray classic, went, “The great Sharmila Tagore: mysterious, cerebral, mesmerising”. When the film first came out, Pauline Kael had described her as “incomparably graceful”. “It’s wonderful that Aranyer Din Ratri has been restored and will have its world premiere at Cannes this year,” the film’s star tells us. Out of the five films that Tagore worked with Manik-da in, Apur Sansar (1959) came first, the conclusion of the latter’s highly regarded Apu Trilogy. “Soumitra Chatterjee and I were waiting for Manik-da’s (Satyajit Ray) instructions. The camera was inside the room, behind the closed door. While waiting, Soumitra whispered, ‘Are you nervous?’” she recalls.

“Actually, I wasn’t the least bit nervous but before I could answer, Manik-da’s voice rang out, ‘Start sound… Camera … Action.’ Soumitra opened the door, entered, turned to me and said, ‘Esho’ (come in). I stepped in tentatively, crossing the threshold. I heard Manik-da’s voice: ‘Come forward, take two steps… Look up, look right… Raise your shoulders, sigh… Cut, excellent, next shot.’

“And it was over. First take okay. Today, I often wonder whether Ray chose that scene deliberately. Aparna’s (the character she played) and my state of mind would have been the same; both of us had no idea what lay behind that closed door. Crossing that threshold changed both our lives completely.”

Sharmila Tagore in Apur Sansar

The sequence was the first shot that a 14-year-old schoolgirl gave in what would translate into a glittering career in cinema. The act of crossing that threshold in the sequence not only changed the life of the young girl but also gave Indian cinema one of its enduring stars—Sharmila Tagore.

For the very bhadralok middle-class family that the Tagores were, films were dubious territory. “The whole idea was preposterous.” And even though it was Ray who personally called and spoke to her grandfather, it was followed by long discussions at home. Her teachers at school, too, were worried about the ‘corrupting’ influence of cinema. Despite her good grades, she was constantly told to ‘choose between college and acting—you can’t do both’. “And I so wanted to do both,” says the actor. “I told my teacher I would make up my attendance. But she remained adamant. One day it all became too much. In the heat of the moment, I threw my books at her (figuratively, of course) and quit, but not before challenging her, ‘We will see who is better known—your present students or I’.”

The actor in an old photograph

Her father supported her decision, and what the school lost, the world of the arts gained. “I have lived life the way I wanted to, on my own terms. Both in films and in my life, I can say, in the words of Frank Sinatra’s famous song... I did it my way.” As one reflects on her life—lived for the most part in the public eye—that comes across as no empty boast.

After all, how many of her generation have managed what she has: cutting her teeth in cinema with Satyajit Ray, followed by a National-Award-winning ensemble performance in Tapan Sinha’s Nirjan Saikate (1963), before taking the then ‘inconceivable’ step of matching steps with Shammi Kapoor to Deewana Hua Baadal (Kashmir Ki Kali, 1964). As she says candidly—more than moving from Manik-da to Mumbai or the problem of mastering the language, what terrified her was matching her feet movement with lip-syncing to the songs.

Anupama (1966)

She remains the only Bengali star who made the transition as successfully to Hindi cinema. Uttam Kumar never managed it. Soumitra Chatterjee did not even try. Rakhee never had a career in Bengali cinema to speak of. Aparna Sen never looked comfortable in the couple of Hindi film outings she had. This movement between Hindi and Bengali cinema came with its own amusing consequences. In Bombay, whenever she tended to tone down her performance, she would be reminded, ‘This is not a Satyajit Ray film’. In Bengal, it was the very opposite and any exaggerated mannerism on her part would bring forth the reprimand, ‘This is not Bombay cinema’.

Then, at the height of her stardom came a very public romance with and marriage to a Muslim nawab, a legend of Indian cricket, making them the first ‘it’ couple who brought together the twin Indian obsessions of cricket and cinema. As she says, no one gave the relationship more than a year. At the age of 26, and at the zenith of her career as a leading lady, she not only became a mother in real life but also ‘played’ mother to Rajesh Khanna in Aradhana (1969)—moves that many would have thought of as committing professional hara-kiri. But she thrived. And how.

Soumitra Chatterjee and Sharmila Tagore in Apur Sansar (1959)Old image

These Hindi films made her a fashion icon, too. Her costume in Waqt (1965), designed by Bhanu Athaiya, became a rage even as salons were crowded with girls requesting to replicate her hairdo. She was featured on the cover of filmy glossies quite regularly, in addition to creating a nationwide furore by appearing in a bikini on a cover. It was unheard-of at the time. Many thought it was an effort to attract eyeballs to boost her career, while some believes she was making a feminist statement — one of avant-garde rebellion. “For me, it was neither. I had done it on an impulse, she says. A Hindi film heroine of the era was expected to be a certain way in the public eye, and something like this did not help the cause of her professional, serious actor’s image.

An Evening In Paris (1967)

And yet, even as she became the nation’s heartthrob, she also showed her acting prowess in films like Anupama (1966), Safar (1970), Amar Prem (1972) and Mausam (1975), the last of which fetched her a national award for best actress. In an era that rarely offered a woman a chance to get out of being just a pretty appendage to the hero, she displayed a willingness to explore roles beyond the stereotypical. So, for every Kashmir Ki Kali and An Evening in Paris (1967), you have a Satyakam (1969), an Aavishkar (1974) and a Grihapravesh (1979).

Despite her achievements in arthouse cinema, she credits Hindi films with giving her the recognition that would otherwise have escaped her. “They’ve given me a visibility that no other cinema would have. I remember an interaction with people of Indian origin in South Africa who were targeted during the apartheid regime. They spoke lovingly of some of my popular song-and-dance roles, mentioning these as their only link to India, and how these helped them cope, even if momentarily, with an oppressive regime. What better tribute to the reach and contribution of Hindi cinema!”

One of her most talked-about assignments came about with her appointment as the chairperson of the Central Board of Film Certification in 2004. The seven-year stint is regarded as one of the most enlightened periods in the history of film censorship in India. Her progressive take on censorship resulted in a ‘fine balance between creative freedom and social responsibility’ at CBFC. In 2005, she was selected as the Goodwill Ambassador for UNICEF India, helping in spreading awareness about HIV/AIDS with key focus on the disease’s impact on children. She also runs a trust that works closely with victims of acid attacks.

She made a much-lauded comeback to Hindi cinema after a 13-year break with Gulmohar in 2023. Earlier this year, her return to Bengali cinema, with Puratawn, after a long hiatus, has been most enthusiastically received. The film is being heralded as among her finest performances, not to mention finding that ultimate cultural recognition—an Amul billboard appearance. And now, with the six-year-long restoration, led by Wes Anderson, and screening of Aranyer Din Ratri, she is confident of the film’s enduring appeal: “It is such a contemporary film that I know it will resonate with new audiences across the world even today."

Much like the legend herself, whose work across genres—arthouse, mainstream, crossover— and beyond cinema continues to resonate with fans and admirers.

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