Cinema through my lens

The men who made Ooh la la...

2012-01-30T15:51:00.006+05:30

It was over the last weekend that I happened to interview Shekhar Ravjiani, who along with Vishal Dadlani had come to Chennai to perform at IIT's fest Sarang. Though they shot to fame with Jhankar Beats in 2003, people first noticed them with the song Allah ke bande, sung by Kailash Kher. That was a surprise hit, coming from an unexpected corner. They never had to look back after that. In a career spanning over more than a decade, they have many chartbusters like Salaam Namaste, Dus, Bluffmaster, Tashan, Dostana, Om Shanti Om, Tees Maar Khan and Ra.One to their credit.

The Dirty Picture: Shekhar was evidently glad with the response that their latest offering, The Dirty Picture, had garnered. Besides the blockbuster status and critical acclaim that the film won, its music had the entire nation going Ooh la la. Prior to the film’s release, Bappi Lahiri went into rhapsodies over Vishal Shekhar. He even went on to say that the chartbuster Ooh la la was enough for him to be remembered for the next 25 years.

The duo was apparently over when the script was read out to them by Milan Luthria. “When we had to compose an item song, we could think of no other name than Bappi da for it. He was the unchallenged king of disco in the 1980s, the milieu in which the movie is placed,” he said. “We gave him a call and in within an hour he was there to get the song recorded. It is quite apparent that we recorded the song in typical Bappi style. We had around a hundred musicians playing for us, who had previously worked with Bappi da and Pancham da (R D Burman) in the 1980s and 1990s,” he said.

Reality TV: In the last few years, Vishal and Shekhar have been busy playing the role of judges in reality music shows on television. Though these shows have come in for a lot of criticism, Shekhar prefers to look at the positive side of it. “There is so much talent in India, not just in the metros, but also in the interiors. These TV shows do an amazing job scouting for talent in areas where these singers would have otherwise gone unnoticed. A lot of filmmakers and music directors watch these shows and many top singers today have come up due the support given by television,” he says, explaining as to why more music shows are required to cater to the wide variety of talent in the country. “I am not saying that these shows have to be reality shows. But we definitely need more music shows on television to promote the talent,” he says.

Next Big Release: This March, they will be having their big release with Sujoy Ghosh’s Kahaani, starring Vidya Balan. The music has started making news for the adaptation of Rabindranath Tagore’s Elka chalo re, sung by none other than Amitabh Bachchan. It is being touted as one of the best works of Vishal and Shekhar till date. “Our association with Sujoy began with Jhankar Beats and now we have come back with Kahaani. Working for this was a divine experience for us and I’m sure the listeners will feel the same. We are really proud of our work in this movie. It made us feel closer to God,” said Shekhar.

Inspiration in Music: Vishal himself brings in a lot of Western influence to the music. Shekhar learnt his lessons under the tutelage of maestros like Ustad Miad Ahmed Khan sahib and Ustad Sultan Khan. But in the industry, the one person who has had maximum impact on the duo has been R D Burman, to whom the movie Jhankar Beats was dedicated. “He has inspired all the music directors of our generation. As a matter of fact, all our compositions are tributes to Pancham da,” said Shekhar. In 2004, they had won the Filmfare R D Burman Award for New Music Talent for their compositions in Jhankar Beats, a film that was dedicated to R D Burman. The journey, which began with the fifth note, continues rocking charts and striking new notes.

On why I like Vidya Balan

2011-12-18T19:59:00.006+05:30

There is one name today that is everywhere from movie screens to feminist discussions, from news rooms to newspaper columns and movie posters to magazine covers. Hindi cinema has suddenly discovered a new icon in Vidya Balan. Post The Dirty Picture, Vidya has suddenly become a new sex symbol and has leapfrogged to the number one slot of Hindi movie power list, toppling Kareena Kapoor and Priyanka Chopra.

But there is a reason I like Vidya Balan. It is not just for the way she sashayed away with oomph in Oo la la... My liking for this diva also has something to do with the Indian liking for the underdog. Vidya always had the odds set against her. She comes from a middle-class Tamil Brahmin family, not an ideal place to nurture dreams for the silver screen, where parents would rather have their children pass out of IITs and IIMs and land in a cushy IT job. As a child she would keep acting out scenes of Shabana Azmi’s movies in front of the mirror, jerking out tears while doing the emotionally intense scenes. Little did she know then that actresses could use glycerine to do the same. She was born with emotions on her finger tips, ever ready to dish out one when required.

She started off with Ekta Kapoor’s popular sitcom Hum Paanch, playing the bespectacled nerd Radhika. That itself was a wrong step for a movie career. Except for Shahrukh Khan, no television actor could really wear off the TV label and make it big in cinema. She did many ad films where she sold umpteen bars of soap and washing powder, exclaiming “Woh bhi dekho budget mein!” She signed as many as 12 films in the south and was removed unceremoniously out of all of them. By the time her first film got released in 2005, she was 27, far from an ideal age to begin a Hindi movie career as a heroine.

As she applied that dot of sindoor and turned towards the audience with sharp eyes in the summer of 2005, you knew that Parineeta had arrived. No actress would have chosen such a role to start with if she intended a mainstream career. She was choosing the alternative path from the initial point. The demure, sari-clad, classical look was enough to typecast her as a girl for Indian (read -behenji) roles. But Vidya knew what she wanted. She was not in the rat race from day one. Her next one Lage Raho Munna Bhai had little importance for her role, though she made that “Good Moooorning Mumbai” oh, so refreshing.
Her downward slide began after that. She tried to fit herself into the conventional mould, when she was not meant for that. Films flopped and she chose all wrong roles for herself. When she was torn down by critics for her looks in Hey Baby, she retorted saying she wore what the designers gave her. This was enough for Manish Malhotra to get back at her with the caustic remark “How can she speak about fashion sense with her fantastic figure? Who is she?”

Most of her career moves have been suicidal at first thought. It takes guts to play Amitabh’s mother at the prime of your career. After winning a Filmfare award for Paa, we saw her next playing Krishna, a woman who used her sexuality to get what she wanted from the two men who were set to woo her in Ishqiya. This was a role meant for what we call vamps in Bombay cinema. A heroine never plays with love for some mean end. But Vidya played the heroine and a bitchy one at that and won her next award. She had now started getting the limelight of the movie on herself, rather than on the male leads of the film. In her next venture, she did away with the male lead completely when she played Sabrina Lal and No one killed Jessica added another feather to her cap.

The Dirty Picture was however a make or break film. Had it not worked, she would have become the butt of all jokes in an industry which does not like the rise of a female superstar. How many of them have we had? In the 1950s we had Nargis, who needed no male support to run a world classic like Mother India. There was Meena Kumari in the 1960s. The male leads at the top dithered to star opposite her for her screen presence made it impossible for them to hold on. In most of the movies in the later half of her career, she seldom had the top actors opposite her for she could run the movie on her merit alone, right up to her swansong Pakeezah.

Then we had Hema Malini, our own dream girl, who had an amazing screen presence. She was not great at histrionics like Meena Kumari, yet she was the top favourite for a long time. 1970s was the time when the movies became more male-driven and by 1980s, the heroine was a decorative cherry on a cake, not essential but good to have. It was at this juncture that Shabana Azmi and Smita Patil came in like winds of change and wrote their own story in parallel cinema. Rekha and Sridevi strode a different path in the 1980s, making an alternative to the male story with successes like Umrao Jaan, Ijazat, Lamhe and Chandni. Counting Ek, do, teen, Madhuri, launched a thousand hearts beating with her smile. Madhuri was the last female superstar, the female Amitabh Bachchan, as the media called her.

Too much of glory to the heroine threatens the standing of the male actors, which is seldom allowed to happen. Vidya has entered in that scenario. She has the guts to declare that she will remain Vidya Balan and if the Khans want, they can add Balan to their surname. This declaration comes not from arrogance, but with an attitude hardened with multiple failures. She can wear the fat around her waistline and say “Size zero is so passé”. She can make the sari look sexy all over again. She is one who can wear a red sari and look like a middle-class Bengali housewife and wear the same red sari to shake your seats as the sex-bomb Silk. If our convention-ridden eyes did not recognize her star value before, it’s a shame on our sensibilities which looks only for glitter and not gold. In the loud era we live in, we forgot the nuances she tried to convey and she had to become the loud and garish Silk to make herself heard.
In 3 Idiots, Aamir says “Don’t run after success. Make your work so good that success runs after you”. Perhaps Vidya learnt that lesson too well. This post is for her, for her unconventional wisdom and for proving that odds set against you can be fought. I'm glad the idea of the heroine is still alive.

Dev Anand - the ultimate debonair

2011-12-07T00:41:00.012+05:30

The news of Dev Anand’s death caught me unawares. Sure, he was 88 (or as someone said he turned 22 for the fourth time) but I could never imagine Dev Anand to be dead. He was "full of life" as everyone said during the last few days while paying him tributes. Somehow, I feel even his orbituary cannot be mournful; it has to be celebratory in its tone.

I had previously done a write up for The New Indian Express on Navketan Films when it completed 60 years (Forver Young Navketan). But then, there are so many ways of seeing a persona like Dev sahab. To be frank, Dev Anand is not my topmost favourite actor –a slot I’ve always reserved for Dilip Kumar (followed by Amitabh Bachchan and Aamir Khan).

My first glimpses of Dev Anand were rather forgettable for I saw some of his tawdry pictures from the late 1980s. But sense dawned in and once I starting watching the older works of this actor, I was bowled over. The long lasting impression I carried of him was the way he serenaded his heroines or the way they wooed him over the voices of Lata, Asha, Rafi and later Kishore. He had more than one girl vying for his love in his movies, even if it was a cabaret dancer for a short while. She got her two-minute glory by casting those playful glances at him, which he returned with greater fervour, always in the most stylish of attires. He was the first debonair I could think of, modelled along the lines of a Hollywood hero.

His autobiography Romancing with Life is perhaps one of the most candid memoirs I have ever read. The book is as stylish as he is and reveals quite a lot about his relationships with his co-stars and colleagues. Suraiyya, Kalpana Karthik, Madhubala, Waheeda Rehman, Vyjayantimala , Nutan , Sadhna, Nanda, Simi Garewal, Tanuja, Hema Malini, Zeenat Aman and Mumtaz –all were his leading ladies . His romance with Suraiyya is what legendary ballads are made of. He had an eye for talent and it’s no surprise that he launched and guided a number of them in his career.
Baazi, CID, Tere Ghar Ke Saamne – I had seen them all and decided that he was meant for light roles. But then one day I saw his classic Guide and I instantly fell in love with his work and his character. Never before had I seen a character so human – full of the good, the bad, the humorous, the tragic and an eagerness to live life to its fullest. He was like me, a human being, and not a hero. For once I saw a film character which was not filmi in that sense. And to think that he did it when he was at his peak as an urban style icon! Playing a wandering swami was not in sync with his existing image and yet he could pull it off without much ado. This one movie was enough to place him on the high pedestal of cinema. But he did not long to stay there and rest on his laurels. There was Jewel Thief which I undoubtedly feel is one of the greatest suspense dramas ever on the cine screen. He was our answer to James Bond for once. he followed it up with Tere Mere Sapne and Johny Mera Naam.

Perhaps his mistake was his decision to direct his films by himself. Ever since he parted ways with Vijay Anand, the quality of his movies took a beating (Hare Rama Hare Krishna being the sole exception). His another mistake was his insistence to play the lead in every film. He refused to appear in the title track of Farah Khan’s Om Shanti Om for a bit of dance, supposedly because he never wanted to appear in any film where he was not the lead!

Dev Anand had amazing songs picturized on him. He himself had a fine taste for music. As I got into the bus after doing a bit of shopping on the day he passed away, the radio played his song Abhi na Jao Chod kar. I closed my eyes and lost myself. I woke up and found that the bus had come to a halt and so had the song. Dev saab was no more or perhaps I was wrong. His romance with death had begun.

Get dirty with this picture

2011-12-04T02:45:00.006+05:30

Those among us who have seen the cinema of 1980s would be familiar with the sensation called Silk Smitha. She broke conventions and arrived like a storm in the Tamil film industry and spawned many imitations like Rayon Revathi and Polyester Padmini (yes such names did exist). Though Milan Luthria's The Dirty Picture is not all about Silk Smitha, there is no doubt that she is the force majorly driving this drama, inspired also by many other item girls who scorched the screen with their oomphs and sighs.

The Dirty picture is a tale of one such village belle Reshma (the link to Silk Smitha’s Reshma ki Jawani cannot be missed in the choice of name) who arrives in Madras in the early 1980s with dreams of being an actress. She loses her innocence in this big bad city and soon the simple and dusky Reshma transforms in to the next big bomb of the industry Silk, who sweeps every superstar off his feet. As she rises to the top, she leaves many hearts wounded, is unabashedly flirtatious and unstoppable like a forest fire. Feminists and critics pan her but she remains unfazed. Silk brings her own rule book to the male-dominated film industry. The men in her life - Superstar Suryakant (Nasseruddin Shah), his brother and writer Ramakant (Tushar Kapoor) and director Abraham (Emraan Hashmi) – have a love-hate relationship with her. Suryakant uses her to make his movies run and drops her when he is done with her. Silk uses Ramakant as a tool to avenge her insult with Suryakant. Abraham, who initially hates her, falls for her finally. But her arrogance leads to her downfall and the hypocritical industry is too eager to throw her out after having used her. Silk finds new competitors who are too eager to shed clothes and worse, the new heroines can show skin, do dirty numebers and still play the lead, without being called item girls. She slowly slides into anonymity, draped in her own silk and awaits her end.

The Dirty Picture is a wonderful attempt at cutting across the chauvinistic hypocrisy of the film-industry in India and the society in general. Milan Luthria pulls it off with aplomb and very carefully saves the movie from treading the path of titillation, which it could have easily fallen into. Never does the movie seem vulgar, something which even Raj Kapoor could not achieve in Ram Teri Ganga Maili or Satyam Shivam Sundaram, where the script had to take a bow before skin. The movie would have been toothless without the incisive one-liners of Rajat Arora, whose dialogues hit hard and are cheesy, humorous and thought-provoking all at once.
Nasser, Emraan and Tushar carry their roles as demanded by the script. Nasser’s Suryakant might remind you of some superstars of the Tamil industry who remained the lead heroes even past sixty and were known for their exploits among women.

Can one miss the music of Vishal Shekhar who lend superb support. Just their one Ooh la la is enough to pump energy into this movie. This duet by Bappi Lahiri and Shreya Ghosal keeps re-appearing throughout the film.

But this is a One Woman Show of Vidya Balan. She shreds the screen to pieces with a performance of a lifetime. This will not only be an important point of reference for her in her career but will remain a benchmark for a Hindi film actress. She drops all inhibition and gets into the skin of the character with utmost ease. See her transforming from the simple Reshma to Silk, who carelessly oozes out oomph at every turn, and you know you are beholding a wonder. Vidya has pushed her male and female contemporaries behind in running this show by herself and is the sole female superstar of the industry today.

The movie has its flaws. The love story between Silk and Abraham seems to be done on fast track. Compare this with the beautiful chemistry created in Khoya Khoya Chand (2007) between a director and an actress. The downfall of the star harks back to some images of Fashion (2008). The love-story, though brought in with a purpose seems to lack direction. Her dance-duel with her competitor Shakila was uncalled for and the song is tawdry. The second half stops this film from being great.

In an year of no-brainer blockbusters and empty vessels making deafening noises, The Dirty Picture is more than a welcome relief. The Dirty Picture will definitely be more than a film and is definitely a new age definition of sexuality by Vidya, who carries forward the baton from Ishqiya. This is one picture where you wouldn’t mind your hands getting dirty. As Silk says “Public watches movies only for three things – entertaintment, entertainment and entertainment”. The Dirty Picture is entertainment and much more.

Eternally Dadamoni

2011-10-18T23:34:00.005+05:30

In 1935, Himanshu Rai was shooting Jeevan Naiyya. In a quick turn of events, his wife and the movie’s heroine Devika Rani eloped with the lead actor. Devika was traced and the actor fired. Search for a new actor began, the trail of which stopped at the lab assistant of the studio Kumudlal Ganguly. Kumudlal’s father was dead opposed to his son becoming an actor but relented after Himanshu Rai convinced him that Bombay Talkies housed only artists from good families. The lab assistant donned the grease paint and soon after in 1936 came Achut Kanya from the same team. Indian cinema had now discovered a new sensation called Ashok Kumar.

With Devika Rani in Achut Kanya, a landmark of Hindi cinema

Those were the days when prostitutes became actresses and pimps starred alongside. In such a time, the likes of Ashok Kumar, Durga Khote and Shobana Samarth, coming from families of lawyers and doctors, brought a whirlwind change to Hindi filmdom. Ashok Kumar continued to star alongside Devika Rani but won recognition in a series of successes with Leela Chitnis in the late 1930s like Kangan, Jhoola and Bandhan. In 1943, Ashok became a star nonpareil with a break through the roof success of Gyan Mukherjee’s Kismet, which ran for three long years in Roxy Cinemas in Calcutta. Ashok Kumar played the pipe smoking anti-hero with panache and the image got fixed for decades to come.
But after the death of Himanshu Rai, things were not the same in Bombay Talkies. Devika Rani ‘s iron-fisted ways made the artists part ways with the studio and Ashok Kumar too moved on with Shashadhar Mukherjee, who founded Filmistan. He could never forget that Bombay Talkies made him the star he was and he bought over Bombay Talkies. To pay off its debts, he produced a few movies, most notably the blockbuster Mahal (1949), which catapulted Madhubala to instant stardom.

Even in the air of uninhibited romantic affairs that filled the film industry, Ashok Kumar was quite averse to female fan following initially but developed feet of clay for the charm of Nalini Jaywant and strayed for once outside marriage. The affair ended rather soon.
Through the fifties, he held his might against the rising tirade of the trinity Raj Kapoor, Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand. Indeed, age seemed to have no impact on him and he got a variety of roles like no one. He took the cinemagoers on a laughter ride in Chalti ka naam Gaadi (1958), danced along with Madhubala in the night clubs of Howrah Bridge (1958), endured an unfaithful wife in Gumraah (1963), matched the pathos of Nutan in Bandini (1964), learnt spiritual lessons from a courtesan in Chitralekha (1964), portrayed a devious thug with élan in Jewel Thief (1967) and won a National Award for playing a man of principles in Aashirwaad (1968). By the end of sixties, Ashok Kumar had gracefully transformed into a character artist, without a significant gap in his career.
The saga went unabated in the 1970s where he played an affectionate, light-hearted uncle and father to the hilt, the pinnacle of which was Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Khoobsurat (1980). No one had ever exuded such vulnerability and pleasantry playing a hen-pecked husband and being quite glad about it. By now, he had romanced on-screen ladies from Devika Rani to Rati Agnihotri!

The patriarch of Khoobsurat, with Rekha and Dina Pathak

In 1983, when the first weekly soap Hum Log was launched on Doordarshan, this mantle of a patriarch was moved to television and he played the sutradhaar, encapsulating the essence of every episode. In fact, Ashok Kumar so effortlessly made a move to television and won over the younger audience, when most cine stars of the day failed to understand its potential. He played the eponymous Bahadur Shah Zafar in B.R.Chopra’s television offering. The melancholy of the character seemed to emanate from his self, echoing the dying voice of an artist who once ruled the cine screen. Meanwhile, he also successfully dabbled with painting and homeopathy!
He had successfully sung his songs, made blockbusters as a producer, won accolades as an actor, starred in numerous plays and endeared himself to the masses as a television anchor. There was an effortlessness which emanated from his performance, for he easily weaved an unmatched spontaneity into the most rehearsed performances. The Dada Saheb Phalke award in 1988 was perhaps only a token of appreciation for Dadamoni, as he was lovingly referred to. He passed away in 2001, having seen the cine world from the birth of talkies to the new millennium. This year marks his centenary. There is no one single image of Dadamoni in our collective memory. He meant different things to different people born between the 1930s and 1980s, for his repertoire still seems unfailingly kaleidoscopic and human.

(This article was published in The New Sunday Express)

Laughing all the way to death in Anand

2011-09-01T22:32:00.011+05:30

“Babumoshai! Zindagi badi honi chahiye, lambi nahi” he snapped playfully in his intro scene and set the tempo for the story. People laughed through the movie and didn’t even realise when their eyes got moistened uncontrollably as they left the theatres. In the late 1960s, Raj Kapoor fell seriously ill and his friend Hrishikesh Mukherjee was overcome by an undue fear that he would die. This sense of loss of a friend and the thought of how he would have welcomed death led to the birth of a character whom we today know as Anand.

It is a challenge to write about Anand, not because it is a complicated movie. In fact, it is very simple in its telling and the climax is obvious. But Anand is not a movie. It is a celebration of life. Rajesh Khanna played Anand Sehgal, a cancer patient who comes to live in Bombay, not to get treated, but simply to be with a few people, spread joy and in the process, forget his own sorrows. He comes under the treatment of Dr. Bhaskar Banerjee (Amitabh Bachchan), a complete no-nonsense cynic, fatigued by the way things work in the world. Anand’s entry makes him see the positive side of life. Anand fixes Sanjay’s alliance with his silent love Renu and sings into the hearts of all those who come in touch with him with poetry, music and roars of laughter, so much so that even during his death all that is left behind is a trail of laughter. He lives even in his death.

Initially, Hrishikesh Mukherjee wanted Raj Kapoor himself to play Anand. Later Shashi Kapoor and Kishore Kumar were also considered for this role, which finally went to Rajesh Khanna. Anand was released in 1970, an year after Rajesh Khanna was declared a superstar with his Aradhana breaking through the roof of box office. Rajesh Khanna easily got into the soul of Anand and brought it alive for us to see, have fun with, fret over and mourn. There is not a momentary lapse in his portrayal of the eternal goner. This was his show all through the way. Incidentally, this was Rajesh Khanna's second 'cancer patient' role in the year. The audience had already shed loads of tears watching him die in Asit Sen's Safar (co-starring Sharmila Tagore) the same year. Amitabh had a big break with Anand, whose roles in Saat Hindustani and Reshma aur Shera went without much success. The initial embers of the Angry young man were very much visible in Anand. Lalita Pawar as Ms. Desa made yet another memorable mark in her career playing the hard-faced but soft-hearted matron. The similarities in her role in Mukherjee’s Anari (1959) could not be missed out, however.

Anand is a Salil Chowdhary gem. Every song is like a beautiful painting, the image of which refuses to fade away. Whether it is the dulcet Main ne tere liye, the melancholic Kahin door jab din dhal jaye, the philosophical Zindagi kaisi hai paheli or the romantic Jiya Lage na Salil da struck the right chord each time. The screenplay was finely paced and the situations were handled with care, without letting the drama go overboard. Which other movie had a hero joking about his own fatal disease with such genuine ease? "Lymphosarcoma of the intestine! Wah! Beemari ho toh aisi ho... nahi toh na ho! "It helped that the dialogues were written by Gulzar, whose lines were simple and yet powerful. He walked away with the Filmfare award that year for Best Dialogue. Some of them stand out for their sheer magic.

Maut ek pal hai Babumoshai! Us ek pal ke darr se main lakhon pal jeena kyun chod doon? (Death is just a moment. Why should I stop living the lakhs of moments in between fearing that one moment)

Babumoshai! Zindagi aur maut toh uparwale ke haath mein hai jahaanpanah. Hum sab rang manch ki kathpuliyan hai jinki dor uparwale ke haath mein bandhi hai. (Death lies in the hands of God, for we are all puppets in this stage called world, where out threads are strung to his hands)

In an age when rock n roll and hippie culture was setting in, Anand made kurta-pyjamas cool and trendy. Rajesh Khanna single-handedly made this attire sexy and its sales grew by leaps and bounds overnight. In another three years, Hrishi da came up with the Rajesh-Amitabh duo in Namak Haram. But by then, Lady fortune had changed her preference. Amitabh had become the reigning star and Rajesh Khanna had become a fading star. Anand formed the pinnacle of Rajesh Khanna’s career. In 1971, he well-deservedly won the Filmfare trophy for Best Actor and Amitabh won the award for the Best Supporting actor. Hrishikesh Mukherjee won the award for Best Editing and Best Story. In a matter of irony, Anand won the award for the Best Film and Raj Kapoor, to whom this film was dedicated to, won the Best Director award for Mera Naam Joker.

Anand was a tribute to the city of Bombay, to its open-heartedness and its cosmopolitan culture, which gives space to everyone. Anand is a tale of human relationships; a story of putting up a strong and joyous face in the wrost of adversities. Anand leaves a trail of bliss in the lives of all he touches and a lump in throat of all those who see him die. It was only a genius like Hrishikesh Mukherjee who could have pulled off this work with such elacrity for he knew to tell simple matters in a simple way, which is not so simple! 33 years later, this character inspired Karan Johar’s Kal Ho Na Ho. As Amitabh said towards the end “Anand mara nahi, Anand marte nahi”

The bang of Yahoo!

2011-08-20T19:54:00.006+05:30

When I came to know of a new search engine called Yahoo in the inchoate days of the dot com revolution, I thought it had something to do with Shammi Kapoor for the expression was best associated with him. In fact his iconoclastic Yahoo formed my earliest memory of the actor and it remained the definitive image I associated him with. Perhaps that could also have been the reason why he remained trapped in the Yahoo image forever. But instead of making the discomfort evident, he made it his biggest asset and Shammi Kapoor became the rock star of the cinema of sixties.

Though he was born in the illustrious Kapoor family, with his father Prithviraj being one of the legends of that time and his brother Raj having made his mark with Barsaat and Awara, Shammi remained in the periphery of the industry for an astonishingly long time. He played side roles, supporting roles and the lead in many a flop movie of the 1950s like Jeevan Jyoti and Rail ka Dibba. Success eluded him until Nasir hussain signed him for his directorial debut Tumsa Nahin Dekha (1956). Three years later, the same duo came up with Dil Deke Dekho and Shammi Kapoor was a star. In 1960, Subodh Mukherjee’s entertainer Junglee established the prototype of a Shammi Kapoor film. It had a love story set in a hill station, a pretty heroine, gentle doses of humour, fashionable costumes and lots of good music. This became the Shammi Kapoor formula of success, which was attempted to be replicated by many like Biswajeet and Joy Mukherjee with limited success.

Shammi Kapoor’s story will be incomplete without his music. Shammi Kapoor had the support of the finest music directors like O.P.Nayyar, Shankar Jaikishan and R.D.Burman,who composed most of his songs, and the terrific backing of the inimitable Mohammed Rafi. Rafi was undoubtedly the soul of his songs, which he gave shape as per the situation. No other singer could have been romantic, melancholic and crazy all at once for an equally terrific performer.

Geet Bali was an year older than him. They even got married and kept it a secret for a while. But they had a steady married life until Geeta died of small pox in 1965. Shammi Kapoor was shooting for Nasir Hussian’s Teesri Manzil. But the personal tragedy didn’t come in the way of his work. The shooting resumed soon and the movie directed by Vijay Anand became a classic suspense drama. Shammi did impossible things for his movies. He rampaged around snow capped hills for the song Yahoo with a broken leg! He was hanging from a helicopter mid-sky, lip syncing to the song Aasmaan se aaya farishta from An Evening in Paris (1967). Before taking off, Shammi had memorised the song so that he could lip sync even without hearing it. Once he was up in the air, the only thing he could see was the kerchief in Shakti Samanta’s hands which went up and down with each beat of the song, being played from below. Today, it’s hard to believe that such a stunt was performed to make this bouncy romantic number. He was an actor who choreographed his songs himself and followed no method of acting or choreography. It was spontaneous and varied from take to take. It was only Shammi who could give a tit for tat to dancing queen Vyjayantimala and cabaret queen Helen in movies like Prince and Teesri Manzil.

His longest associations were formed with Nasir Hussian and Shakti Samanta, with whom he delivered one hit after another. Both the filmmakers were unabashedly commercial. They believed in entertaining the audience to the hilt with oodles of panache, music and pace. Shammi fit the bill just too well and the stage was set.

Shammi Kapoor won a Filmfare for his performance in Brahmachari (1969), the year he was married to Neela Devi Gohli. By the time he finished Ramesh Sippy’s Andaz (1971), he had romanced heroines from Suriaya to Hema Malini and decided to take a break when the winds were in his favour.

He returned to play character roles in the 1970s and 80s like Meera, Vidhaata and Hero. In 1973, distributors refused to touch Raj Kapoor’s Bobby after the disastrous performance of Mera Naam Joker. It was Shammi who stood as Raj’s pillar of support and decided to distribute the movie himself. The box office success of Bobby is today a staple of film legend. In the 1990s, he assumed the role of Chairman of Internet Users Club of India. His saga continues because art never dies with the artist. As he sang in his movie Pagla Kahin Ka (1970), Tum mujhe yun bhula na paoge. It was prophetic.

Awara: Hindi Cinema's original cross-over film

2011-06-05T11:24:00.010+05:30

In 1953, when a delegation of the Indian film industry visited the former Soviet Union, they were swept off their feet. People went crazy upon seeing Raj Kapoor and Nargis as they had just come out of theatres after watching Brodigaya, the dubbed version of Awara in Russian and were at splits about the new happening pair in the town. A sea of masses sang Awara hoon along with them and the duo were swept off their feet by a welcome never seen before to any Indian movie star. Indian cinema’s first big cross-over venture had happened as the tirade swept past China, Egypt and Eastern Europe. Raj Kapoor’s Awara celebrates its diamond jubilee in popular mind space this year.

In a parallel to the injustice meted out to Sita in Ramayan, Justice Raghunath (Prithviraj Kapoor), fearing infamy, abandons his pregnant wife Leela (Leela Chitnis) after a dacoit Jagga (K.N.Singh) abducts her. Leela gives birth to Raj (Shashi Kapoor as the child) and aspires to make him a judge one day like her husband. Raj strikes a friendship with his classmate Rita, whose father passes away and is brought up under the guardianship of Justice Raghunath. Poverty pushes Raj to give up schooling. Jagga, to have his revenge against Raghunath, pulls Raj to the world of crime. Years later Raj meets Rita, in a quirk of fate, while attempting to rob her purse. They eventually recognize each other and embers of love find spark once again, much to the disapproval of Raghunath, who loathes boys unaware of their parentage. Raj is unable to leave his past behind him. On Rita’s birthday party, Raj gifts Rita a stolen necklace and in one of the best dramatic scenes in Hindi cinema, she realises that the necklace was stolen from the case Raghunath had bought for her. Rita now takes it on herself to bring back the lost life to Raj. But fate does not favour Raj. He kills Jagga. Leela meets with an accident in the presence of Raghunath and reveals to Raj that Raghunath is his father. Raj tries to kill Raghunath in a fit of rage and is brought before the court. Rita fights his case. It is moment of truth of Raghunath and a time for redemption for Raj. Many social truths and hypocrisies get cut sharply as the case comes to a close.

After Barsaat’s success, Raj Kapoor got enough funds to build R.K.Studios, where Awara was extensively shot. Though most of the long-term participants of R.K.Films were together for Barsaat, it was with Awara, that Raj Kapoor got the association of K.A.Abbas, whose script was the backbone of Awara.

Initially, Prithviraj Kapoor was hesitant to play a supporting character in the movie. But K.A.Abbas convinced him that Raghunath was the backbone of the movie, around whose false ideals the movie revolved. Thus, Awara got an enviable star cast, which does not seem fathomable even today. It had five Kapoors acting in the movie. Basheswarnath Kapoor played the role of the judge in the court scene where the story unfolds, whose son Prithviraj played Justice Raghunath. Prithviraj’s son Raj played the male lead Raj and his younger brother Shashi played the childhood of Raj. Raj’s son Randhir played the tramp in the opening credits who sits under a lamp-post with a street dog, introducing us to the Awara. The movie saw a clash of titans, one out-doing the other and yet complimenting each other’s performance. Prithviraj, Raj and Nargis were terrific in their roles.

Very rarely have filmmakers been able to recreate the cherubic romance of Awara, the sparks of which were set by the inimitable chemistry of Raj Kapoor and Nargis. The chemistry was recreated three decades later by Raj in his blockbuster Bobby. Such was their relationship that Raj once remarked “Krishna is the mother of my children. Nargis is the mother of my films. She is my sphoorti!” Watch them romance in moonlight in the song Dum bhar jo udhar muh phere and you will discern that romance cannot be conveyed without it being felt. When Raj rolls her into his arms and holds her by the waist while plunging into her eyes, you know that there is an element of passion setting the screen on fire. Rarely has any pair been able to come close that thereafter.

Shankar-Jaikishan, who debuted with Barsaat, strengthened their position with Awara in the Hindi filmdom. With Awara, Raj Kapoor established his place in the peaks of greats in song picturisation. His approach was innovative and avant garde. In a first for Hindi cinema, Raj Kapoor shot the unbelievably conceived dream sequence with heaven and hell altercating throughout the song. The song begins with a lonely damsel in heaven pining for her love and the screen moves to hell-fire, from which Raj rushes out to find himself in heaven, where the angelic Rita lifts him up, taking him to greater heights. But as he climbs the steps and reaches the pinnacle, the giant sized Jagga snatches him away and the dream shatters violently. The audience gaped in wonder as the scene closed and the story resumed. Since then, dream sequences have been the toast of Bombay Cinema.

Awara’s music found followers across the globe. Legends and myths have come together to create tales of Russians and Chinese swooning to Awara Hoon. Indians have told unbelievable tales of getting warm reception once they told the Russians and Egyptians a bit or two about Raj Kapoor. One even heard of a Russian wanting to see Awara before he was punished with death. How many of these are true can never be known. But myths surely give us an idea of the heights touched by a work of art. Awara was a cult in its own time. In many ways, Raj in Awara was the inchoate form of the angry-young man, later given form by Sunil Dutt in Mother India and crystallised by Amitabh Bachchan in Zanjeer.

Awara heavily hinged on Nehruvian socialism. The portrayal of class divide was laced with clever humour and dialogues snapping sarcasm. In one of the most heart-rending scenes of the movie, Raj caresses a street dog and compares his life with it, rendering the fact on our face that a poor man’s life is not dissimilar to that of an uncared animal. Within this dark scheme he painted the romantic story of Raj and Rita, separated by class-divide. Long before Manmohan Desai made lost and found formula his forte, Raj Kapoor built the story of Awara on that premise. The childhood friends part ways and meet as adults. Rita’s childhood photo does the trick to help them recognize each other. Raghunath abandons his wife in the beginning and sees her towards the end, not knowing that it is his wife who is dying in the hospital. Raghunath and Raj have face-off after face-off without knowing that they are father and son, piling irony upon irony and disproving Raghunath’s theory of lineage.

Raj Kapoor could never better the genius displayed in Awara and it was arguably his greatest work ever. It was stylish and international in its look, humane in its approach and universal in its exploration of the theme. It was a pity that he looked like a shadow of his former self in the last few years of his life as a filmmaker. In 1953, Awara was nominated for the Grand Prize in the Cannes Film Festival. Many socialist dramas hit the screen since but very few have been able to carry the theme with the romantic subtlety seen in Awara. The tramp has found home today in the hearts of millions of cine fans across the globe.

(This article was published on June 5, 2011 in the magazine of The New Sunday Express)

Cupid-Struck in cinema

2011-03-05T10:24:00.011+05:30

This post is dedicated to all the love-birds who have filled umpteen colours in my life with their bitter-sweet twists, turns, heart-breaks and unions. This is for you....

It would not be an overstatement to say that Hindi Cinema has often been about love stories. A love story is not memorable unless there is an element of struggle in it, for that alone build up the drama. It would be a dampener if the boy and girl liked each other at first sight, parents agreed and they got happily married. There should be an act of fighting the odds before one wins the game – either you get the person you want or you get the audience shed tear for your lost love.

For an audience of today, the love stories of 1930s and 40s would look dated in terms of dialogues and expression. The likes of Achut Kanya (1935), Devdas (1935) and Anmol Ghadi (1947) were superhits of their time. The first modern love story in post independent India was perhaps Mehboob Khan’s Andaz (1948). Andaz, starring Raj Kapoor, Dilip Kumar and Nargis, set the standards for any triangle love story to be made thereafter. Three characters, love, friendship, love misunderstood for friendship and vice versa, sacrifice, envy, shocking revelations and lots of music became the norm for triangle love stories thereafter and continue to remain so. Andaz set the tone for a golden era in the Hindi film industry.

A still from Andaz: A benchmark triangle love story

Raj Kapoor and Nargis became independent India’s hottest pair starring together in as many as 16 movies. In 1951, they brought out a young passionate intensity and a never-before-seen romance in Awara. Watch out for the scene where Raj slaps Nargis when she jokingly calls him junglee and you know that romance thereafter was not anymore about theaterical dialogues professing love. Raj and Nargis got the sparks right. A romantic couple never looked cuter than they did in Shree 420 (1955), as they sang along in the rain in Pyar Hua Ikraar Hua with dreams of love in their eyes.

But if an image was to dominate the decade of 50s, it was that of Dilip Kumar, who as Devdas personified the tragic hero brooding over his lost love. In 1955, Bimal Roy cast the thespian in one of his best performances in the history of Hindi cinema. Devdas marked the pinnacle of unrequited love and its latent melanchony, which became a recuring theme in movies of the day like Mahal, Mela, Deedar, Amar and Babul. The love transcended not just societal barriers, but also those of birth when Hindi cinema got its first reincarnation love story in the Bimal Roy musical Madhumati (1958).

Bimal Roy’s neo-realism gave romance a new tenderness never seen before. The romance seen in Madhumati, Sujata (1959) and Bandini (1963) exuded a silent charm. Who else, but Roy, could pull off a hero crooning Jalte hai jiske liye over the phone for his love in Sujata. On a similar track ran the romance of Guru Dutt, who along with Waheeda Rehman spelt magic in Pyaasa (1959), Kaagaz ke Phool (1959) and Chaudvin ka Chand(1960). Watch Waheeda climb the stairs as the prostitute Gulabo to reach her love in Pyaasa as a Vaishnavi sings Aaj Sajan Mohe Ang Laga Lo, and you will realise the point where love rises to touch the realms of divinity. There is a sorcerous moment of stillness in Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam in his Kaagaz ke Phool, marked by restlessness as cinematographer V.K.Murthy plays with light and shadows. It was nothing less than a magic.

Pyaasa: The perennial love of a loner and prostitute with a heart of gold

Grandeur unparalled: Mughal-e-azam

But when Anarkali challenged the might of an Emperor singing Pyar Kiya toh Darna Kya, we knew that K.Asif’s Mughal-e-azam (1960) was a marked departure from the self inflicted suffering of the 1950s. In the most passionate scene on the silver screen, as Dilip Kumar stroked the silken cheeks of Madhubala in an unbelievable close-up shot, it was understood that Mughal-e-azam was arguably Hindi cinema’s finest romantic treat ever and Salim-Anarkali were enshrined forever in the league of legendary lovers.

The decade of 60s brought colour and glamour to romance. The heroine unrealistically danced wearing a chiffon saree in snow-capped mountains and the hero rampaged around the screen space mad in her love, the Shammi Kapoor movies being the best example for the lot. Love struck as couples danced rock and roll in night clubs. Themes were bolder by this time. Vijay Anand’s Guide (1965) broke conventions and showed its heroine living-in with her lover so as to further her career. In a performance of a lifetime, Waheeda Rehman lived every moment as Rosy and danced her way to popular mindspace. The limits of extravagance were stretched across the seas and Raj Kapoor’s Sangam (1964) showcased a modern-day triangle love story set across India and Europe. A love marathon that it was, Sangam became the first Hindi movie to completely exploit foreign locations, a trend continued to this day. On a parallel track of pompousness ran the Muslim socials with resplendent havelis, grand shervanis, colourful lehengas and poetic shayri. The hero made garlands of poetry in praise of his love, whom he didn’t even see ala H.S.Rawail’s Mere Mehboob (1963) and ballad after ballad went just desiring to see her! Kamal Amrohi’s Pakeezah (1972) formed the acme of this genre. Who can forget Raj Kumar’s baritone imploring upon Meena Kumari not to place her feet on the ground lest they get dirty! Pakeezah was an unforgettable extravaganza and the best of the courtesan love stories.

Extra marital affair was explored in B.R.Chopra’s Gumraah(1963) but the stories were tweaked to suit hte sensibilities of the audience. But as the decade came to a close, Shakti Samanta’s Aradhana (1969) set the tempo for a new kind of liberated romance. For the first time on the cine screen, pre-marital sex was being celebrated full-on as Rajesh Khanna and Sharmila Tagore got cosy in Roop Tera Mastana.

Cinema was never more cinematic as it was in the 1970s. Rajesh Khanna was now King of romance, with Kati Patang (1971)and Amar Prem (1973) adding feathers to his cap. Raj Kapoor set the box-office afire yet again when two teenagers cuddled in each others’ arms in Bobby (1973). As the adolescent lovers sang Chabi kho jaye behind closed doors, one knew that Hindi cinema had come of age. Bobby made love look young and cherubic. Post-marital relationships were beautifully showcased in Basu Bhattacharya’s Anubhav (1971) and Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Abhimaan (1973). Who can forget Amitabh playing the piano singing Tere mere milan ki ye raina as a coy Jaya watches him with the clothes for laundry in her hand? And when he sang Kabhi Kabhie mere dil mein in Yash Chopra’s romantic treat Kabhi Kabhie (1976), the audience got a love story spanning across generations.

Triangular marathon: Sangam

The clashing egos of Abhimaan

In the 1980s, Yash Chopra returned to romance with an unbelievable star cast in Silsila(1981), starring Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bachchan, Rekha and Sanjeev Kumar. This story of an extramarital affair was full of punches with smart dislogues, melodious music and memorable performances. When Amitabh flirted openly with Rekha in the presence of his wife on screen in the Holi song Rang Barse, it was nothing less than a magic weaved by Yash Chopra. Holding each other tightly, they walked along serenading each other in Lodhi Gardens. But the supposed real-life similarities failed to click at the box office. The audience still did not approve of any transgression in the system of marriage. K. Balachander’s Ek Duje Ke Liye (1981), a North Indian girl-South Indian boy romance enthralled the audience and became a raging musical success, launching Kamal Hassan in the Hindi industry. Muzaffar Ali’s Umrao Jaan (1981) brought back the familiar tale of a courtesan and Rekha gave the performance of a lifetime portraying a series of unfulfilled relationships of the fabled geisha, perhaps mirroring her own life.

Romance lost its sheen by now and skin show became the norm. Cinema degenrated to an all time low in the 1980s. A few gentle doses of breeze did hit with Sai Paranjpai’s Chashme Buddoor (1981) and Gulzar’s Ijaazat (1987) but they were an aberration in this decade.

If a breakthrough happened it was in the late 1980s, with Nasir Hussain’s Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (1988) and Sooraj Barjatya’s Main ne Pyar Kiya (1989). For a while it was thought that Barjatya’s kabootar would break the record of Sholay as well. However, QSQT and MNPK ushered in a new era of romance. They carried forward the baton of gay abandon popularised by Bobby and handed it over to the new decade.

Come fall in love: DDLJ

In1994, Barjatya’s Hum Apke Hain Kaun quaked the cinema theatres across India and spawned the genre of family dramas for the next decade. The saccharine romances won hearts as the masses laughed along as much as they shed loads of tears along with the goody-goody characters. Aditya Chopra’s Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1955) became the hottest toast of this genre. Raj (Shahrukh Khan) and Simran (Kajol) became the new sweethearts in the town and young lovers instantly connected with them. Every girl dreamt of being serenaded with a Tujhe Dekha toh yeh by a Shahrukh Khan kind of lover. Shahrukh became the synonym for candyfloss romance. The trend continued with Dil toh Pagal Hai (1997), Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998) and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999). Movies were now being made with the NRI audience in mind. The lovers were now pompous, decked in stylish outfits, singing along in Switzerland and London. The stained walls and local trains were all but forgotten.

The heart-warming innocence of Parineeta

Exuberant romance: Jab We Met

Post-2000, there is an air of nonchalance about love. Dynamics have changed. Urbanisation, Liberalisation and multiplexes have in many ways shaped the new norms of script writing. Yash Chopra’s Old man-young girl romance failed in Lamhe (1991) but it clicked in Balki’s Cheeni Kum (2007). Hindi cinema has become more Urban and global, losing the local touch in the process. This has resulted in booming local film indistries in the Hindi belt. Sooraj Barjatya’s Vivah with its small-town sensibilities might be an average grosser in Mumbai but rings cash registers in Lucknow or Bhopal. The heroine is regaining her lost ground after a long time and her say is taken seriouly in the relationships being portrayed on-screen. No more is the heroine seranaded by a Ghalibisque ghazal. Be it Baghban, Jab We Met, Parineeta, Guru, Jodha Akbar, or more recently Band Baaja Baraat the the new approach is working. But take a look at Guide and Band Baaja Baraat, you will find, that more the things change, the more they remain the same. Somethings are too basic to be changed such as love. Hindi cinema has still not got enough of it muse.

The saga of rural sagas

2011-01-11T21:50:00.007+05:30

Peepli Live has been declared India’s official entry for the Academy Awards. A dark comedy on India’s dark underbelly, Peepli Live opened to rave reviews and was a runaway success at the box office. Many have criticized its simplistic approach taken to portray farmers’ suicides. But the fact is that the audience gulping down litres of cola and burger have lauded a movie telling a tale about unfamiliar people. After all, Peepli Live, which laughs at anything from suicides to open toilets, shows an India which is unknown to people like you and me – the English speaking classes of India.
Movies on rural India were not uncommon till the 1970s. In the 1930s and 40s, strong movies were often not let through the vigilant eyes of the British Censor Board. Yet, we had movies like Mehboob Khan’s Aurat, which is still remembered for some of the ghazals sung by Begum Akhtar. When Independence came, filmmakers gained more independence and they started getting wider exposure to works of foreign filmmakers. Vittorio De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves created a renaissance in India. On his return trip from Europe in the 1950s, Satyajit Ray started writing the script of Pather Panchali and Bimal Roy came up with Do Bigha Zameen, which marked the beginning of neo-realism in Indian cinema. Do Bigha Zameen was not a blockbuster in the conventional sense. Written by the staunch Communist Salil Chaudhary, it was showing something unknown for Do Bigha Zameen was as much about rural poverty as it was about urban poverty. It was a bold take on industrialisation in a new India.

This question popped its head once again in B.R.Chopra’s Naya Daur (1957). Prior to its release, its script was written off by all as one suited for a documentary. Even the likes of V.Shantaram and Mehboob Khan refused to be a part of it. B.R.Chopra decided to direct the movie himself and roped in Dilip Kumar. In a quasi-Luddite drama, the movie raised serious questions about blind and uncalculated industrialisation of a nation, which was yet to be prepared for its after-effects. The man versus machine drama celebrated its silver jubilee simultaneously in two theatres in Bombay. In 1957 came what can be called India’s answer to Hollywood’s Gone with the Wind. Mehboob Khan’s rural epic Mother India swept the masses off their feet and was a soaring success at the box office, inspiring the most successful melodramas of the 1970s and 80s. Mother India was India’s ultimate rural saga, which talked of all the problems faced in rural India. It was a tribute to the stoicism of this India and its ability to bounce back after every disaster time and again over the ages. Lecherous moneylenders, floods, hunger, overpopulation were recurring themes in this movie.

The man versus machine drama Naya Daur

A classic dacoit drama - Gunga Jamuna

The Fabian socialism of Nehru found resonance in all these works. There was a sense of shared optimism in the aftermath of independence or one may say that independence in itself was seen as a cure for all ills that ailed the nation. In this scenario, Dilip Kumar raised serious questions of rehabilitation and rural crime in Gunga Jumna. The film was seen to be so sensitive that it was passed by the Censor Board with as many as hundred cuts! When it was finally released, it brought out the familiar tale of two brothers on opposite sides of the law.
After Nehru, Lal bahadur Shastri filled the nation with a renewed sense of pride and hope. Manoj Kumar became the new poster boy of cinematic patriotism. In a more commercial avatar, he brought back the question of rural-urban migration in his classic Upkar. But by now, rural India in cinema seemed to be filled with glamour and kitsch. It became the backdrop for romance and action ala Mera Gaon Mera Desh, Sholay and Nadiya Ke Paar. Slowly it was out of mainstream commercial cinema.

The seedling of a revolution -Ankur

It took the courage of Shyam Benegal, who along with M.S.Sathyu, gave an alternative voice to cinema. Ankur, the first in his rural trilogy, was a declaration of a revolution which was to begin on screen. He followed it up with the success story of the white revolution in Manthan and another searing rural saga Nishant. Manthan, produced by 5 lakh dairy farmers of Anand, was a coming-of-age movie about a silent bloodless revolution which would slowly change the rural landscape. It was not high on cinematic emotions like Upkar but was steeped in realism.
The idiom of cinema had changed by the 1980s. The industry had been corrupted and was slowly getting creatively bankrupt. Garish buffoonery was passed off as cinema. But creative juices from parallel cinema continued to flow. Rural poverty pushed the farmers to quit farming and become labourers in dust of cement and smoke in urban factories, forcing them to live in inhabitable urban slums. The natural progression was to focus on the lives of these farmers living in urban India. Sudhir Mishra’s Dharavi, Mira Nair’s Salam Bombay and Goutam Ghose’s Paar looked into the lives of those who cleaned the dirt of urban India. In the nineties, the village was used as a glycerine to evoke the patriotic sentiments of a long gone NRI. Hence you had the colourful villages of DDLJ, Pardes and Veer Zaara, where people in the hinterlands did nothing but wear colourful clothes, dance and make merry. The Indian gaon was an exotic treat to the newly opened market abroad.

A bloodless war - Lagaan

The change came with Ashutosh Gowariker’s Lagaan. Though it is remembered as a movie which made the marriage of cricket and cinema possible, Lagaan, within the constraints of cinematic fantasies, sketched a long-forgotten rural landscape. It had not just folk music and festivals, but also casteism, illeteracy, hunger and poverty. Three years later Gowariker brought back the problems raised in Lagaan in the context of modern India with the solution-seeking eyes of Shahrukh Khan’s Mohan Bhargav in Swades. Swades was in many ways a story of self-empowerment ala Manthan and was a reminder of the fact that even after 60 years of independence, certain parts of India remained unchanged. A journalist in Peepli Live says “Half of India still defecates in the open. We should make this a breaking news story”. Perhaps this is our tragedy. A reality check is past its date.

(This article was NOT published in any newspaper and proudly finds its place on this blog in its maiden step outside my laptop)

Recollecting the unforgettable Rafi

2010-08-29T10:45:00.005+05:30

When the nation listened to the song Suhani Raat Dhal Chuki, Na Jane Tum Kab Aaogi, people were struck by the freshness in the voice. It was very distinct and different from the nasal twang popularised by K.L.Saigal. By the end of 1940s, an era was ending in Hindi Cinema. Partition made some irreversible changes to the film industry. The singing superstar Nur Jehan left for Lahore. The popularity of playback singing made the ability to sing redundant for an actor and specialists rose in the field. Perhaps the biggest blow was the tragic death of Kundan Lal Saigal in 1947, an icon who inspired an entire generation of singers. A huge vacuum had been created in the musical arena of Bombay cinema. A fresh breed of singers was waiting to take over.

Introduced by Husanlal Bhagatram, Mohammed Rafi was singing small pieces for many songs. Naushad spotted his talent and gave him the big break in Dulari (1948) in which he sang Suhani Raat Dhal Chuki. The song and the singer became runaway hits. In the same year, Naushad gave Lata a big hit in Andaz. Mukesh and Kishore Kumar had already entered the arena. The actors who entered the industry around this time were not singing anymore for their movies. Once while recording a song for Aan (1951), Talat Mahmood supposedly riled Naushad by smoking before him in the recording studio. Naushad replaced Talat with Rafi. In 1952, Prakash Pictures’ Baiju Bawra was released and became one of the biggest musical blockbusters of all time, running for 100 weeks in Bombay with each and every song rocking the charts of Binaca Geetmala, the musical countdown show on Radio Ceylon. Rafi became a sensation and became a force to reckon with thereafter. In a tribute to the Catholicism of India’s culture, the bhajan Man Tadpat Hari Darshan Ko Aaj of Baiju Bawra was a creation of three Muslims. It was written by Shakeel Badayuni, composed by Naushad and sung by Mohammed Rafi.

Raj Kapoor, Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand soon rose as the star trio who dominated the industry in the 1950s and 60s. Mukesh and Manna Dey became the voices of Raj Kapoor and Rafi sang most of the songs of Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand. This match could also be attributed to the fact that Naushad and S.D.Burman, who composed most of the songs for Dilip and Dev respectively, were Rafi loyalists.

There is no doubt about the fact that Rafi’s voice was not range bound. His voice was not bound by emotions, octaves, style or trends. If he glided over the silken notes of Chaudvin ka Chand, he could also sing the rustic Nain lad jaihe (Gunga Jumna). On one hand he could evoke patriotism in Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Sathiyon (Haqeeqat) and at the same time he would do rock and roll numbers like Aaja aaja Main hoon pyaar tera (Teesri Manzil). If he could bring out refined classicism in Madhuban mein radhika nache re (Kohinoor), he could also sing something completely crazy like Chahe koi mujhe junglee kahe (Junglee)! He could be melancholic with Din dhal jaye (Guide) and he could go over the top with Hum Ko tum pe pyar aaya (Jab Jab Phool Khile)! His voice rang out from temples, homes and night clubs with the same vigour.

He was the melancholy of Dilip Kumar, the romance of Dev Anand, the madness of Shammi Kapoor, the poetry of Bharat Bhushan, the melodrama of Rajendra Kumar, the youth of Dharmendra, the drama of Raj Kumar and the teenage charm of Rishi Kapoor all rolled into one. Once when Shammi Kapoor asked him how he managed to pull off all his songs with a tinge of craziness without having seen the scenes, Rafi replied “I simply imagine how you will be leaping around if this song is to be picturised and try to bring in your energy”. It is hard to imagine Shammi Kapoor sans his songs today and harder to imagine them without the energy lent to Shammi by Rafi.

In an industry rife with politics, Mohammed Rafi stayed afloat and aloof, with success kissing his feet. He did have a strong issue with Lata Mageshkar in the mid sixties over a royalty issue and stopped singing with her for a while. But popular demand made them reconcile once again and they sang for S.D.Burman in Jewel Thief.

Rafi shared the strongest rapport with Naushad. When Naushad related the tune of Madhuban Mein Radhika Nache Re to him, he was so impressed that he sang the song for a token payment of Re. 1. Such instances were rarer than the rarest in an industry where most of the singers created nightmares for the music directors for their payments. Many people owe Rafi’s success to Mukesh, Talat and Kishore Kumar dabbling with acting during the 1950s, hence not being focussed on their music. But the fact remained that if there was any person who could be a counterweight to Lata in the music industry by all means, it was Rafi. Whether he realised this or not, is a different question.

In 1968, while recording the songs of Aradhana, S.D.Burma fell sick. His son and the assistant music director of Aradhana R.D.Burman decided to get the songs recorded by Kishore Kumar instead of Rafi. Kishore Kumar had sung many songs for S.D.Burman and he shared a strong rapport with R.D. S.D.Burman survived the battle but Rafi started losing his plane. Aradhana saw a break through the roof success across India and ran mainly on the basis of its melodrama and music. Just as Baiju Bawra made Rafi a front runner in the industry, Aradhana made Kishore Kumar a singing sensation. Besides, the lead hero Rajesh Khanna was declared a superstar and the singer who sang for the superstar of the day always ruled the charts.
Rafi knew this too well as the heroes for whom he sang like Dilip Kumar, Rajendra Kumar, Raj Kumar and Dev Anand were sliding out, making way to the likes of Rajesh Khanna and Amitabh Bachchan. Besides, Kishore’s voice was a perfect match for these actors. Rafi’s voice remained in demand and he kept coming out with many hits in the seventies. Even R.D.Burman used his voice effectively for movies like Caravan and Yaadon Ki Baraat.

In 1980, Rafi passed away, leaving the musical world shocked by his exit. Hordes poured into the streets of Bombay to bid him farewell. A voice which entertained and lit up a million lives for more than three decades was no more.
If Lata and Asha made a new trend in singing, which is followed till today, the same can be said of Rafi. He brought in the style of soft-voiced singing. Be it Udit Narayan or Sonu Nigam, all seem to be falling along the legacy set by Rafi. Thirty years after his death, his fans still cannot accept that he is no more, for he is very much alive, still lighting their lives every day. One of his own songs perhaps speaks volumes for what he meant for us ‘Jab Kabhi bhi sunoge geet mere, Tum mujhe yoon bhula na paaoge’.

(This article was published in The New Sunday Express)

When Salim met Anarkali to make history

2010-08-09T21:51:00.007+05:30

Every scene of this movie has a legend behind it, every dialogue carries the sharpness of a sword, every song touches your heart like the silken tresses of a maiden and every emotion still resonates in every love story that comes out of the stable of Bombay cinema till date. A strange mixture of fact and fiction gives birth to an immortal classic. It would perhaps be an understatement to say that Mughal-e-azam, which is celebrating its golden jubilee this year, was just that.
The story of Mughal-e-azam is similar to every second ‘boy meets girl’ love story of Hindi cinema. Mughal-e-azam was planned in the late 1940s with Chandramohan, Sapru and Nargis. In 1947, the producer Shiraz Ali migrated to Pakistan. Besides, the lead artist Chandramohan passed away and K.Asif was left with Nargis and Sapru. The movie was re planned in the 1950s, now with a new star cast and a new producer Anarkali, in Shapoorji Pallonji, one of the richest Indians of the time. Prithviraj Kapoor and Madhubala were signed in. Dilip Kumar agreed after a lot of persuasion by the producer.

But in 1953, Filmistan’s Anarkali, based on the same story, turned out to be a huge hit. K.Asif remained stuck to his project, having faith in an alternative story-telling. Asif was obviously seeing the Mughal dream on an unimaginable scale. Finally the shooting took off after innumerable obstacles and the wheels were finally in motion. Tailors were employed from Delhi, , goldsmiths from Hyderabad worked on the jewellery, Kolhapuri craftsmen on the crowns, ironsmiths from Rajasthan gave shape to the terrifying weapons and the footwear was ordered from Agra. An era of history was being literally reconstructed for the audience. But the project was running way beyond the budget. Asif even shot the last few reels and a song in colour.

On August 5, 1960, when it was released, one lakh people were seen sleeping in the queues waiting for its ticket and the roads around Maratha Mandir in Bombay were clogged for weeks together. Coins rained on the screen as the songs were played and claps thundered as the dialogues seared the screen apart. Mughal-e-azam was declared an instant classic, becoming a legend in its own time.

Prithviraj Kapoor carried the regal bearing and charisma of Akbar with elan and it is impossible to think of Akbar with any other face. His long time theatre associate Durga Khote was cast as Jodha Bai and she went on to play the mother a zillion times, before Nirupa Roy took over the baton. Nigar Sultana as Bahar was the most refined vamp full of chutzpah and panache. Dilip Kumar was the most eligible bachelor in the nation at that time and he set hearts throbbing as the royal lover Salim. This was not his best performance but the movie was his biggest success. Some people are born to play a certain role in their life. Perhaps Madhubala was born to play Anarkali. She emoted with the movement of her eyelids, her tears conveying the deepest of pathos, her sweat-laden eyebrows shivering with fear, with her movements maintaining the balance between style and coquetry and her smile lighting the cinema hall like lightening in a dark sky. Sad it was that she remained bed-ridden after this movie till her tragic death at the age of 35 in 1969. Madhubala and Dilip Kumar had one of the most passionate affairs of the time and had parted ways by the time of the release. Their unmatched on-screen chemistry was a result of their off-screen tragedy. Murad, Ajit and Kumar provided a solid supporting cast.

What is ignored many a time is the fact that Mughal-e-azam is a deeply socialistic and secular movie. In its expression it was irreverent and in its presentation, it was tacit, cleverly placing a sculptor’s character to speak against the monarch. The dialogues, written by Kamal Amrohi, Ehsan Rizwi, Wajahat Mirza and Aman stand tall like shining towers. Mughal-e-azam sans its dialogues would have been like a body without bones. Wafting its way through the movie, they sear like swords in some scenes and caress our minds like a feather in some. They carry the fragrance of a rose in some while they reek of blood in the other.

M.K.Syed’s art direction remains unparalleled till date and a snapshot of the set of Sheesh Mahal created by him is a testimony to the fact. The battle scenes, shots with 2000 camels, 400 horses and 8000 soldiers, were shot with the resource borrowed from the Jaipur regiment of the Indian Army and till date remain the most elaborately shot battle scenes ever on the Indian cine screen. R.D.Mathur’s genius was behind every still of the movie looking like a classic painting.
If imitation is indeed the best form of flattery, then this one has got enough of it. Watch the opening scene of sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Devdas and you will see a reenactment of Jodhabai’s joy at the arrival of Salim. Amitabh Bachchan’s frosty eyes giving a weak knees to Shahrukh and Kajol in Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham is a leaf from a pre-interval scene in Mughal-e-azam. A decade before Raju and Bobby decided to elope (Bobby- 1973), Salim and Anarkali attempted exactly the same. From Main Ne Pyar Kiya to Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak and Pakeezah to Shakti many a Hindi drama owes something to Mughal-e-azam.

But a strong pillar of this movie, to whom a lion’s share of the credit should go to, is the music director Naushad. Deeply researched, finely arranged and superbly delivered, every song of this movie makes us pine for a long lost era in the yellowing pages of cinema. For the song Ae mohabbat Zindabad, he used a record number of 100 singers! Who, but Naushad, could have convinced the nonpareil Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan to sing two songs at a total price of Rs. 50,000, given at a time when Lata and Rafi got Rs. 500 for a song! Shockingly, the Filmfare award that year was given to Shankar Jaikishan for Dil Apna aur Preet Parayi. Equally shocking was the fact that Madhubala failed to win an award for her bravura performance. Shakeel Badayuni, who formed a formidable team with Naushad in film after film, re-wrote Pyar Kiya toh Darna Kya over 100 times until he got it right. When Pandit Lachchu Maharaj, the choreographer, listened to the song Mohe Panghat Pe, he had tears in his eyes as his grandfather performed it before Nawab Wajid Ali Shah of Lucknow! But the origin of this song still remains a mystery though it is believed to have been written by Raghunath Brahmabhatt. Seeing the inability of Madhubala as a dancer, Maharaj got one of his disciples to perform the difficult Kathak steps in the movie, cleverly panned in long shots by R.D.Mathur.

But the real awards go to those who stand the test of time and whose legendary genius endures over time. Perhaps that was the reason why Mughal-e-azam recreated its magic when it was colourised and re-released worldwide in 2004. Old timers relieved the past and the young got to see the magic of the cinema of yore. Today, Mughal-e-azam stands tall in the annals of cinema, a mark of brilliance, hard-work, imagination and genius. Some movies try to make a mark and some create benchmarks. Mughal-e-azam is a textbook for those who seek to create a benchmark in the leaves of cinema.

(This article was published in The New Sunday Express)

Retelling an epic

2010-07-18T19:33:00.006+05:30

The much awaited Mani Ratnam production Raavan has finally hit the screens to mixed reviews. Mani Ratnam has turned to Hindu epics even before for inspiration. His 1991 blockbuster Thalapathi was a modern day retelling of the Arjuna-Karna legend from the Mahabharata. Both the epics have always provided food for thought for filmmakers in the Bombay film industry. They have dealt with the entire gamut of human emotions and every conceivable situation to be confronted by a human being. It must be said that the idea of a ‘nayaka’ (hero) and ‘pratinayaka’ (anti-hero) owes its origin to the story-telling traditions of the Sanskrit theatre, which had its roots in the stories of the ancient courts and epics. These ideas got enshrined in the folk theatre forms and found their way to cinema. Over millenia, these epics have undergone transformations and have been adapted to suit the needs of the times, even of the modern age. Ramayan has been the backbone of the idea behind the ‘Great Indian family’. Every role of every member in a family has been modelled around the characters of the Ramayan and it has been the benchmark against which a human being has been evaluated.
Ramayan made directs advents on the silver screen time and again. Vijay Bhatt’s Ram Rajya (1943) was a huge success of its time and was the only movie to have been watched by Mahatma Gandhi. It blended the Uttar Ram Charit of Bhavbhuti and the idea of a welfare state conceived by Mahatma Gandhi and portrayed Ram as the apotheosis of ideal and just rule. Ramayan continued to come out in umpteen mythologicals through the decades. But the re-telling which made the biggest impact after Ram Rajya was on the small screen. In 1987 Ramanand Sagar’s television blockbuster brought the nation to a halt and even supposedly influenced the volatile political climate of that time. Ever since, every family soap has churned its script from the lather of the Ramayan and the Mahabharat.

Ram and Lakshman were the dream-boys of every Hindi family drama. Whenever the Hindi film hero had to be showcased as a paragon of virtue, it was Ram that our filmmakers turned to. Ram would appear time and again as the devoted son, protective husband, caring brother and as the noble citizen setting standards for the rest of the characters in the movie. He would come out in umpteen forms - sometimes as a noble patriot in Manoj Kumar dramas like Upkar and Purab aur Pashchim, as the stoic elder brother working hard to keep his family together as in Do Raaste and Deewar and sometimes as the conscience keeper of the nation as seen in Leader. Sooraj Barjatya, who launched the genre of family dramas with a loud thunder with Hum Aapke Hain Kaun drew multiple references to the epic. A decade later, the very same ideals would echo in Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham.

Hum Apke Hain Kaun was heavily influenced by the ideals of the Ramayan

But the epic provided more than character sketches and very often, the scripts were allegories to the main epic itself. When Subash Ghai titled his blockbuster Ram Lakhan (1989), he was giving the movie much more than a name. In the movie you could easily spot characters from the epic. Ram Lakhan was Ramayan meets Gunga Jumna (1960). Sooraj Barjatya’s Hum Saath Saath Hain (1999) was a modern day Ramayan. If the likes of Ram Lakhan and Raavan exploited the action streak of the epic, Hum Saath Saath Hain played on the familial bonds enshrined in the epic.
But it is not just the shades of black and white that attracted the script writers. Ramayan came out beautifully with its shades of grey on the silver screen. At the dawn of independence when Mehboob Khan tried to portray the rapid westernisation of the Indian society in his classic Andaz (1948), it was the Ramayan that he referred to. ‘The self-imposed’ Lakshman rekha was depicted through the character of Nargis who brings disaster upon herself by breaking the norms of the society. The Lakshman Rekha made a reappearance when B.R.Chopra opened Gumraah with the story of Sita’s abduction and set the tone for his extramarital drama where the protagonist paid the hard way for having violated the norms of the society. When Justice Raghunath asked his wife to leave the home after she got pregnant, co-incidentally after having spent a night with the dacoit Jagga in Awara, it was Rama’s abandonment of Sita that Raj Kapoor instantly referred to as is evident in the song Zulm Sahe Bhaari, Janak Dulari. When Manoj Kumar cast aspersions on Waheeda Rehman (both of them dramatically named Ram and Sita) in the reincarnation drama Neel Kamal for sleep-walking out of her home every night and showed her the door upon being pregnant, Sita’s exile was reiterated. In the 1960s, Meena Kumari, in many of her tear-jerking dramas played the suffering protagonist to the hilt – often playing the stoic daughter, wife, sister and very famously, the sister-in-law – all modelled around Sita as conceptualised by the medieval poets.

The fact of the matter is that Hindi cinema for a long time had been unable to come out of the comfort zone provided by the medieval poets and failed, more often than not, to seek the grey pastures boldly. Valmiki’s Sita was not only aware of her super-human aura but also exercised her will and spoke her mind when required. She not only had the spirit to express her disagreement to her husband but also tactically proved her point. What is refreshing about Mani Ratnam’s Ragini is that she is closer to the Sita of Valmiki than to those of the medieval poets who glorified her as a door-mat wife. Ragini’s reaction to an Agnipariksha is full of revulsion and anger and not silent resignation. In Valmiki’s epic, Sita, humiliated by the words of Ram, seethes with rage and accuses Ram of ignobility. In Ravan, Ragini declares herself to be the medium and cause of the nemesis of Beera. She is not a prisoner of fate, but a cause of action. This take is interesting as Sita has been given her due after a long time, even if it is through an allegory drawn to mixed reviews.
(This article was published in The New Sunday Express)

When Politics met cinema

2010-06-09T22:13:00.006+05:30

Prakash Jha’s Rajneeti has finally hit the theatres. Easy parallels are being drawn between the characters in the movie and the forces dominating the political scenario today. But it was not so easy in the pre-independent times for film makers to pass political comments through their works. Political movies have always been there. But their themes and mode of expression have undergone vast changes over the decades. Prior to 1947, throwing off the foreign yoke was of prime concern. But the British censor board, with its microscopic lens, forbade any kind of tacit or explicit content eulogising freedom or the freedom struggle.

When Sohrab Modi wanted to express the idea of independence, he had to choose a villian in the Greek emperor Alexander and pit him against the Indian hero Puru in Sikander (1941) starring Prithviraj Kapoor and Sohrab Modi. The British censor pressed the panic button after its release and banned it in the army cantonments. Bombay Talkies’ Kismet (1943) is best remembered not only as the movie which gave Hindi cinema its most loved the tested formula – lost and found- but also as the movie which carried a song which shook the consciousness of the nation. Released during the peak of the Quit India Movement, the song Door hato ae duniyawalon yeh Hindustan humara hai forced the lyricist Kavi Pradeep to go underground for months together to dodge arrest, though the defence put forward by the filmmaker was that the word duniyawalon referred to the Germans and not the British. The theatre owners were forced to replay the song over and over again due to popular demand and Gyan Mukherjee made his statement clear. On the other hand, Vijay Bhatt’s Prakash Pictures was more tacit in its commentary. Bhatt made movies which eulogised the philosophy of Mahatma Gandhi without referring to him even once. Hence came movies like Ram Rajya (1943), where the idea of a welfare state was brought out through a cinematic retelling of Bhavbhuti’s Uttar Ram Charit. Sohrab Modi too came out with the idea of justice in Pukar (1939) where a fictional account fo Jahangir was used to portray the ideals of a nation. Political cinema was hushed, but expressive.

Prithviraj Kapoor as Alexander in Sikander

Things changed after 1947 and political cinema was more boisterous. Every second movie began carrying a patriotic song, as if to emphasise their new-found freedom. Gandhism and Nehruvian socialism ruled the roost in the 1950s. Awara, Shree 420, Jagte Raho, Gunga Jumna, Do Aanken Baraah Haath and Naya Daur were prime examples. But scepticism soon crept in. Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zameen (1952) was the earliest angry voice against the model of mass industrialisation chosen by Nehru, though it was more of a social movie than a political one. But it was Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa (1957) which rubbished the utopian dreams of Nehru brazenly. It couldn’t be clearer than it was in the song Jinhe naaz hai hind par woh kahaan hai?

Surprisingly, a movie that carried an angry political tone at the break of 1960s was K.Asif’s Mughal-e-azam (1960). Socialism, monarchy and the ‘Idea of Justice’ were openly discussed and challenged in this epic though it remained a subtext to the love-story. The late 1950s saw some of the earliest scams in public life and the political class was not so easily associated with morality anymore. Power had sunk in and corruption was rising even in the higher ends of the hierarchy. Ram Mukherjee’s Leader (1964), for the first time, had a politician as the out-and-out villain. Mukherjee erected the fourth pillar of democracy to challenge this might and cast Dilip Kumar as the fearless journalist who takes on the political class. Political cinema now onwards was no more subtle but was all about the hero taking on the corrupt politicians.

The communal winds of Garam HawaSuchitra looking suspiciously like Indira Gandhi in Aandhi

The cinema of seventies, in spite of being escapist reflected the angst and anger of a generation wronged and failed by the political class. The rise of authoritarianism, opportunism and under-the-table dealings in the political market reflected in cinema as well. Manoj Kumar’s Roti Kapda aur Makaan and Yash Chopra’s Deewar were portrayals of an ambivalent generation in a repressive regime. M.S.Sathyu’s Garam Hawa (1973) in some ways heralded the parallel cinema movement, though Shyam Benegal’s Ankur (1975) formally launched it. Garam Hawa was a poignant depiction of the dichotomy and trauma of the Muslim minority which was left behind in India after partition. The Muslims became second class citizens in Pakistan and were looked at with dubious eyes in India. Never before or after was partition and the plight of Muslims been so sensitively portrayed. The closing scene where the youngster and his father join a left-wing rally demanding justice was in many ways an open-ended answer to the unsolved questions in India’s uncertain political set up. Ankur was a voice of rebellion which opened the flood gates of revolutionary film-making in Hindi cinema. The rise of the peasant class against Zamindari atrocities foretold the rise of an empowered backward class in the coming decades.

Parallel cinema continued to provide some fodder in shaping the political thinking of cinema in the 1980s and 1990s as well. Khalistan, Mandir and Mandal dominated the headlines then. Television had made entry and epics like Ramesh Sippy’s Buniyaad and Bhisham Sahni’s Tamas provided a logical connection between a communally bloodshed of the eighties and the scars of partition to which they could be traced. Kundan Shah’s satire Jaane Bhi do Yaaron was perhaps the best of this age, which was cynical of a future for optimists in a burning India. Sudhir Mishra’s Yeh woh manzil toh nahi spoke of youth in politics but was too early in coming. Saeed Mirza’s Salim Langde pe mat ro and Albert Pinto ko gussa kyun aata hai were again lamentations of a rotten system counting its last days. Raj Kapoor’s Ram Teri Ganga Maili declared the loss of innocence of an ancient nation in the polluted set up of the day. Mandakini’s character Ganga in the course of her journey from the Himalayas to Calcutta faces physical, mental and sexual assault all along the way. Ganga, named to draw a metaphor to the river Ganga (standing for a hopeful India’s inner core), finally loses her purity in a maligned nation.

Then there were movies which had politicians as central characters. Gulzar’s Aandhi and Ram Gopal Verma’s Sarkar fall in that category. These were movies set in intriguing times drawing interesting parallels (Indira Gandhi in Aandhi and Bal Thackeray in Sarkar) talking about the private lives of some larger than life personalities and should not be confused with ‘political cinema’.
The eighties and nineties had plenty of gory political melodramas and the likes of Krantiveer had their dedicated audience. Movies like the Anil Kapoor starrer Nayak were wishful political fantasies than political dramas lacking any ground in reality. Shekhar Kapoor’s Bandit Queen, based on the life of Phoolan Devi, was a mirror to the excesses of the political class in an invisible hinterland. But India was changing post globalisation and the gap between the rural and urban India was growing further. In 2004, in a prophetic mode, Mani Ratnam made Yuva, enunciating the need for young blood in politics. His romanticised approach however found few takers. In 2005, Sudhir Mishra came out with Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi, based on the Naxal uprising of the 1960s. If the growing rich-poor gap caused alarm to a generation then, its retelling resulted in what has been called by Ashutosh Gowariker as ‘the only genuine political drama of Hindi cinema’. Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi was bold in its portrayal, fresh in its approach and revealing as an experience. It was no less than a landmark for Hindi cinema and has today set a benchmark for any political movie to be measured against.

It is yet to be seen how Rajneeti fares finally. In some ways, the movie is a reminder of the fact that politics today has been reduced to a clash of personalities. But nevertheless, Hindi cinema still lacks quality political dramas. Today, what is needed in a political movie is the frankness and temerity of Garam Hawa or Hazaron Khwaishen Aisi. Filmmakers should be bold to talk about living around the knot than untying the knot itself. Fact, after all, can be stranger than fiction.

The reformist saga of Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai

2010-05-01T13:27:00.004+05:30

A newly independent nation’s dreams were finding form in the contours of cinema in the 1950s and early 1960s, prominently in the works of Mehboob Khan, Guru Dutt, B.R.Chopra, V.Shantaram and Raj Kapoor. The nation was brimming with positivity and hope; independence was being seen as a cure for every evil facing the nation. It was in such a milieu that Raj Kapoor came out with his musical blockbuster Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai.
Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai is a dacoit drama, which begins with a story-teller Raju (Raj Kapoor) coming in touch with a gang of dacoits in the Chambal Valley after he rescues their leader from the police. Very soon, Kammo (Padmini), the daughter of the leader, takes a liking for the simpleton Raju, who swears at every instance by the name of the holy river Ganga. Laka (Pran), the most dreaded of the entire lot, hates Raju, not just out of suspision, but also because he has become the sweetheart of Kammo, whom Laka wanted to marry. Raju initially allies with the dacoits when Kammo tells him jokingly that the dacoits are like socialists, trying to create equality by taking money from the haves and giving away to have-nots. But the gory images of the Chambal valley soon turns him off and he packs his bag to leave, not before Kammo gets married to him. Raju and Kammo promise each other to bring the dacoits on the right path. Laka kills their ring leader and imprisons Raju and Kammo, who later escape and run away to safety. But Raju, braving all danger, returns to the valley and promises the dacoits a bright future in a new nation for their children, if not for them. After a series of emotionally charged sequences, the audience are treated to a heart-rending climax, where the entire gang of dacoits surrenders before the law as Raju eulogises the river Ganga, which like a conscience keeper, has been cleansing this nation and forgiving the penitent since millenia.

Written by Arjun Dev Rashk, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai was not the first of its kind in Hindi cinema. Three years back, V.Shantaram had come out with the National Award winning Do Aankhen Baraah Haath, based on prison reform. It was a time when reports of loot and murder in the Chambal Valley inundated the press. Raj Kapoor had this idea – what if the dacoits were given a chance to return to the mainstream society.

Raj Kapoor in the studio, recording the songs for the movie

Raj Kapoor kept his tramp moving from Shree 420 to Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai and as the rustic Raju, he won the heart of the dacoits, audience and the critics alike. Raju’s innocence and will-power won him the Filmfare award for Best Actor. Besides the movie also won the Filmfare Award for Best Movie (in one of the biggest upsets of Filmfare’s history, it beat Mughal-e-azam), Best Editing and Best Art Direction. Raj Kapoor got Padmini to Bombay for this movie, while she was making it big in the Tamil film industry and also in the classical dance circuit. Padmini did not display any unfamiliarity with the language, though she returned to the South Indian industry soon after. Besides, Radhu Kamrkar made good use of this danseuse by getting the best of dances from her. Watch her move like a mermaid in Ho Main ne Pyar Kiya in the water sequences or pirouette with exuberance in Hum bhi hai. Legend has it that her feet began bleeding while shooting for the song Kya Hua, as the director went for retake after retake, since her co-artists were not trained dancers! But it was Pran who was looking at his terrifying best as Laka. He brought to life with elan the dreaded looks of a wanted criminal and held his own against the might of Raj Kapoor with the same ease with which he adjusted his collar in scene after scene.

Like most of Raj Kapoor’s earlier movies, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai too has Raju’s innocence providing the comic relief. Watch out for the scene where Kammo tries to train Raju in wielding a rifle in vain. 15 years later, this scene was almost recreated with a touch of sensual humour in Ramesh Sippy’s Sholay.

The director Radhu Karmakar learnt the techniques of photography working under the legendary Nitin Bose and had become the head of camera department in R.K. Films. His magical touch is visible frame after frame, though he saw success in his career mainly as a cinematographer. The film had the finesse to tell a reformist saga, without being for a moment didactic.

B.R.Chopra had called the 1960s the decade of romantic realism. The heavy drama of Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai was made light with plenty of songs and dances, making Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai one of the high points of Shankar Jaikishan’s career. The title track Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai soon touched the soul of the nation and became an anthem of humanism and patriotism. The forlorn love of O Basanti Pawan Pagal and the opening song Mera Naam Raju continue to hold music lovers spellbound. The highest point of drama in the movie is enunciated with the climax song Aa ab laut Chalen, which is a clarion call to the dacoits during their homecoming to their motherland, promising them a new future in a new India.

Nehruvian socialism is undoubtedly glorified in the movie, where the protagonist openly talks of brining about socialism, sans any bloodshed. “Sab kuch barabar karna hai” says Raju but adds his caution “bandook se nahi, pyaar se”. The dacoits are persuaded to tread the path of reform by selling the dream of an India run by Indians, as opposed the one run by British. It took almost a decade (as the power was transferred from Nehru to his daughter Indira through Shastri) for the realisation to dawn in among the filmmakers that India run by Indians was even a bigger challenge to live with. Movies of the 1970s no more sold dreams of a golden India.
Above all, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai mirrored Raj Kapoor’s faith in the holiness of the Ganges. Raj Kapoor planned his next film too on the legend of the Saraswathy surrendering before the might of the Ganga and the Yamuna in Sangam. 27 years later, he returned to tell a story with Ganga as the leitmotif in his swansong Ram Teri Ganga Maili. But by then, the Nehruvian Socialist had given way to a poor shadow his former self and the message was forgotten in Mandakini’s (in)famous waterfall sequence. But Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai still flows in our collective memory, as fresh as the waters of the Ganges in Rishikesh (the location of the opening scene of the movie), for it was a movie from a filmmaker who had the cheek to sell an idea, which was and is still considered unsalable by conventional box-office standards.

(This article was published in the Saturday supplement Zeitgeist of The New Indian Express)

The golden radiance of Anuradha

2010-04-09T11:59:00.009+05:30

Mention Hrishikesh Mukherjee and it is obvious that we conjure up images of boistrous households, kurta-clad men and sari-clad women celebrating their middle-class lives on-screen and everyday images of, what was then, Bombay. But way back in his inchoate days as a director, Hrishida came up with a silent gem called Anuradha. In the year 1960, the successes of many a good movie remained unheard due to the thunder of K.Asif’s Mughal-e-azam. Anuradha too celebrated its success under its mighty shadow.

What goes on in the mind of a superstar when she gives up glamour and glory to marry a doctor working in a village? Anuradha has some answers. Based on a short-story by Sachin Bhowmick, the movie tells the story of Anuradha Roy (Leela Naidu), a singing sensation, who chooses a domesticated life in an obscure village with her husband Dr. Nirmal Chaudhri (Balraj Sahni) and daughter Ranu. In a series of flashbacks, Anuradha’s past as a successful radio singer is revealed to us. Rejecting her father’s warnings of a difficult life and her suitor Deepak‘s (Abhi Bhattacharya) entreaties, she decides to get married to Nirmal, who has set his mind to work in a village. Ten years on and the marriage loses its colours as Nirmal is absorbed in the welfare of the villgers, quite unmindful of the subtle needs of his wife. The story takes a twist with the serendipitious meeting of Deepak and Anuradha. Deepak rekindles her past and juxtaposes it with her mundane present, shorn of the pleasures of a married life, where her husband is wedded to his work more than his wife. Anuradha finally puts her foot down when Nirmal fails to keep a promise on their anniversary and declares her decision to move out of his life for good. She stays back to play host to Dr. Trivedi (Nazir Hussein) , who praises her to the skies and attributes Nirmal’s success to the dedication and devotion of Anuradha. In a daintily drafted climax, Nirmal’s penitence and Anuradha’s forgiveness lends life to their ruined relationship.

Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary was the major source of inspiration for Sachin Bhowmick, who wrote the story of Anuradha. Post-marital life has been the toast of many a Hindi movie like Abhimaan, Kora Kaagaz, Anubhav, Grihapravesh, Aavishkar and most recently Chalte Chalte. But Anuradha can be seen as a predecessor to Basu Bhattacharya’s Anubhav for both talked of a marriage running out of colours with passing years. While movies like Guru Dutt’s Sahib Biwi aur Ghulam talk of an indifferent husband, shorn of any love, Anuradha is about a marriage where the husband turns emotionally inexpressive with advancing years. The indifference in Anuradha is not intentional.

The gap in their marriage is evident in the scene where Anuradha appraoches Nirmal, lost in his work, in a sari he had bought for her during their courtship and asks him how he finds it. He lifts his head for a moment and resumes his work and asks “When did you buy it?” Anuradha chuckles to herself and says sarcastically “A deceptive salesman came and gave it to me. What to do, he spoke such sweet words when I bought it and now when I have problems with it, he has just disappeared.”

In a poignant scene where Anuradha tells Nirmal about her decision to call it quits, she says “I thought I will not lose much leaving my music and dance as I would be getting you. Little did I know that after ten years of marriage, I would be left with nothing. I failed to get even you. However, my decision will not cause much loss to you”.
Balraj Sahni strikes a dignified composure and looks every bit Nirmal Chaudhari and gets into his role with ease. He looks every inch a dedicated doctor, unmindful of his domestic life. Abhi Bhattacharya makes an impact but his scenes are by and large too less. But the point of attraction is the stunning beauty of Leela Naidu. Though she fumbles a bit with her Hindi dialogues at places, one simply ignores it for she lights up every frame with her luminous being. Leela Naidu, who had been Miss India (1954) was spotted by Hrishikesh Mukherjee when he saw her photos captured by Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay. Leela Naidu did far and between few films in her career - Anuradha, The Householder and Trikaal being the most memorable among all.

The beauty of Anuradha lies in its silent charm. Anuradha’s distance from her music is expressed through dusty music notes and a veena, lying unused for years. The charm of the movie is accentuated by its music. Many associates suggested Hrishekesh Mukherjee to go for their usual favourite Shankar-Jaikishan for the movie. But Hrishida was sure that the classicism in the story could be brought out only by a classical musician. It is said that initially Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan was approached. But finally, Pandit Ravi Shankar agreed to score the music for this movie. Though Anuradha failed to give chartbusters, the plaintive notes of Jaane kaise sapnon mein, Haay re woh din and Kaise din beete, sung mellifluously by Lata Mangeshkar, fail to fade away. But it is the stupendous background score that enunciates the latent emotions of the characters.

Hrishikesh Mukherjee raises many points which hold water even in today’s world. In a jocular scene, Ranu (played brillaintly by Baby Ranu) asks her father why her mother became Anuradha Chaudhari from Anuradha Roy and whether she too will have to change her name after her marriage. The contribution of women behind the success of men, though an oft-repeated fact, is used as the pillar of this story, which finally dawns on an insensitive Nirmal in the climax.

Anuradha won the President’s Gold Medal and was nominated for the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival in 1961. Hrishikesh Mukherjee however failed to make any notable works for the next six years, save the Dev Anand-Sadhna starrer Asli Naqli (1962), till he finally saw a tangible success with Anupama (1966). Deep under the colours and revelry of the Hrishikesh Mukherjee classics of the seventies, Anuradha still shines radiantly like the luminescent face of Leela Naidu. The radiance has now assumed golden shades as this year marks the 50th anniversary of this classic. Pages after pages in the press will celebrate the golden jubilee of Mughal-e-azam, but Anuradha will still live under a glorious ignominy, quite like what she did under the eyes of her husband.

(This article was published in the magazine I-Witness of The New Sunday Express)

Intoxicated with Love, Sex aur Dhokha

2010-03-28T00:36:00.004+05:30

It is a daunting task for a filmmaker to break into the big scene with a purely experimental work. But what if an established filmmaker tries to move off the beaten track? Dibakar Banerjee does just that with Love, Sex aur Dhokha. Having touched the lives of the urban middle-class in his previous films, the utterly lovable Khosla ka Ghosla and the humourous riot Oye Lucky Lucky Oye, Banerjee delves into the dark and distubing lives of the same middle class India.

There have been very few movies where triangular plots telling three different stories have worked well in Hindi cinema. The first plot tells the story of Rahul, an aspiring film student, who makes Mehendi Laga ke Rakhna, a sequel to DDLJ and Shruti, the actress in the movie. After going through a series of comic situations, the story unexpectedly comes to a gory and shocking end, leading us to the next story. It is about Adarsh, a store manager struggling to pay his dues and a sales girl Rashmi. Inspired by Delhi’s infamous MMS scandal, is shows how Rashmi is duped to be the star of a porn film shot with the spy cameras set around the shop. The third story is about a struggling sting journalist Prabhat and an ambitious item girl Mrignaina. Both of them try to avenge their professional failures with a sting operation on a pop star Loki Local and end up destroying themselves.

Completely shot with hand-held cameras, Banerjee has brilliantly used camera as the leitmotif of this movie. The whole movie is based on the idea ‘You are being watched'. Besides, it shows how cameras today have become so ubiquitous that it is impossible to escape their glare. The best part of the movie is revealed when the audience sees how the three stories are linked to each other, not just by the sleight of a clever script but also by the quirk of destiny. All the three stories have the common thread of youngsters who have unrealised dreams and try out different ways to fulfil them and end up being the losers in the game. These are tales of unrequited dreams, while fulfilling which the characters fall in love, use sex as a weapon to realise their dreams and end up being cheated in their own game. How is it different from the previous works of Banerjee? While Khosla ka Ghosla is about the known and oft discussed facets of the middle-class, LSD is about that side which we have always known but never acknowledged. If Oye Lucky was exuberant about the unabashed aspirations of a youngster, LSD is completely dark and in-your-face.

In 2005, when Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Black raked in money and positive reviews, it emboldened many filmmakers to showcase stories they believed in, rather than telling stories which are seen as 'run of the mill'. LSD is in continuation with the idea of experimental cinema which has been in the fray for the past five years. It clearly shows that Hindi cinema today is facing another wave of the rise of parallel cinema. LSD, in spite of being what is seen as ‘not so commercial’, does not drag or leave you disengaged. The title smacks of a vouyeristic pleasure. But the movie just shows how a novel idea can not just be artistically fulfilling but also commercially viable. The surprising factor is that the person behind LSD is one who trivialised emotions, created lifeless caricatures out of human beings and made drama a big joke on the small screen. LSD has been produced by Ekta Kapoor.

The pure heart of Pakeezah

2009-12-29T12:12:00.017+05:30

I had watched Pakeezah in my school days. I loved the songs then but felt that the movie was too slow and went too deep into details . I was however impressed with the overall effect and it remained in my heart since then. Today, watching Pakeezah after many years, I fell in love with it all over again. There is an inexplicable aura about the movie, which remains fresh in the closed pages of your heart. It simply refuses to dry out and become an adorable ruin of the past.

The story is simple and quite well known. Meena Kumari plays a double role as Nargis and Sahibjaan. Nargis, wedded to Shahbuddin (Ashok Kumar), dies giving birth to her daughter in a graveyard after being rejected by her in-laws for being a courtesan. Her daughter grows up, under the watchful eyes of her sister (Veena) and becomes the famous geisha Sahibjaan. One day, Sahibjaan finds a letter placed between her toes from an unnamed lover (Rajkumar playing the character Salim) praising the beauty of her feet.
Her life changes thereafter and she discovers the joys of love. A series of twists and turns finally lands her in the warm embrace of her love, to whom she finally reveals that she is a tawaif and not worthy to be married to him. But he decides to break the conventions and rebels against his family. During their marriage, he rechristens her Pakeezah (pure hearted). She has been too much of an ignominy for him. Thinking that her attempt to break the threshold of her kotha always landed her love in trouble, she forsakes her love and runs away from her destiny. On her return, Sahibjaan receives an invitation to perform a mujra at a marriage, which turns out to be that of Salim. Unmindful of the world around her, she moves into relams of masochism and bleeds her once beautiful feet dancing on pieces of a broken chandelier. Pakeezah dances, waiting for justice to be done.

It requires solid passion to hold on to a project for more than a decade and get it done, even when the herione is counting her last days. Made over fifteen years, Pakeezah met numerous set backs. Kamal Amrohi shelved the movie after shooting a few scenes in black and white. In the late sixties, after watching its rushes, Nargis and Sunil Dutt advised Kamal Amrohi and Meena Kumari to bury their differences and proceed with the project. Thus began the shooting of Pakeezah. Initially Dharmendra was considered for the role of Salim, which was eventually done by Raj Kumar. Meena Kumari did the dubbing of many of the scenes from her bed and her condition was so bad during the last days that she collapsed while attempting to shoot the mujra Aaj hum apni duaon ka asar. Soon a body double Padma Khanna was spotted and Meena Kumari personally trained her to walk move like her. Padma’s face remained veiled throughout the song and and the veil was lifted at instances to show Meena Kumari’s face. Meena Kumari’s face was cleverly hidden throughout the song Chalo dildar chalo, with the camera panning across the expanse of the star-lit sky.

The torn kite, symbolising her own life

A parrot in a golden cage is gifted to her - a parallel to her own life

The movie, no doubt, contains flaws. But Pakeezah catches one’s attention for its silent charm. It captures the decaying mileu of the Awadh of the early 20th Century. The culture of courtesans was coming to an end and they were soon to move to other professions. Rich in visual symbolism, Pakeezah subtly tickles the mind and lures us into another world – a lost world rich in culture, seasoned with couplets, ghazals, havelis and etiquettes. Many scenes stand apart and I shall list a few of them here.

Sahibjaan awakes one morning in a train to find a letter placed between her toes saying “Aap ke paon dekhe, bohot haseen hai. Inhe zameen pe mat utariega; maile ho jayenge”. Sahibjaan turns out. The station is Suhagpur. She has found her man. Equally magical are those scenes where she re-reads the letter, as if to keep the flame alive, supported by the leitmotif tune provided by Naushad.
Sahibjaan almost collapses before Salim after revealing her identity. The frame feezes for a few seconds. Salim lifts her up. What follows is a treat to the senses. The lovers go on what seems like a never ending joyous ride in Chalo dildar chalo chand ke paar chalo.
When the maulvi asks for her name, Salim says ‘Pakeezah’. Sahibjaan, still reeling under the torment of the cheap remarks of the passers by calling her a tawaif looks at him with shock and disbelief. Her new name is a bigger burden on her than her profession. She flees from the mosque for good.
Sahibjaan enters her kotha as we hear feeble strains of all the popular mujras she once sang there. The light of the setting sun is justapoxed with a torn kite hanging outside from a tree as Meena Kumari looks devastated.

Lost in her love

In what seemed to inspire a dance sequence in Sholay, Sahibjaan dances on broken pieces of glass to punish her own past and seek deliverance. The audience, like the on-lookers in the movie, sit speechless as she leaves her footprints all over in red, destroying the dreams of her love, which began with her beatiful feet. Only Kamal Amrohi could have pulled it off.

In a contrast to a later day courtesan drama Umrao Jaan, Pakeezah seems to take a more optimistic view of the fate of courtesans. When praises flowed in after the primiere of the movie, Meena Kumari shed tears thanking her well-wishers. Pakeezah, after getting a lukewarm response, turned out to be a blockbuster a month later after Meena Kumari passed away. Like Sahib Biwi aur Ghulam, Pakeezah seemed to symbolise Meena Kumari. Pakeezah ends with the line in Kamal Amrohi’s voice over “Hazaaron saal nargis apne benoori pe roti hai, badi muddat mein hota hai chaman mein deedavar paida”. It applied too well to Meena Kumari. Decades later, when we saw the climax scene of Sudhir Mishra’s Khoya Khoya Chand, the Pakeezah connection could not be missed out. With all the mystique around her intact, Pakeezah will keep moviegoers spell bound for ages to come.

Adorned with the jewel called Sankarabharanam

2009-12-13T10:43:00.004+05:30

Classical music has been used quite often as a leitmotif in Indian cinema. But there were reasons why Dr. K.Vishwanath’s Sankarabharanam was a class apart. It was the year 1979. Classical music was down on the popularity charts. With an imitated hippie culture seeping in, pop and rock had become the new wave with few takers for Carnatic music. It was in this milieu that Sankarabharanam was released.

The movie, which mainly delves on the guru-shishya parampara and the greatness and divinity of classical music, has Somayajulu playing Shankara Shastri, a classical vocalist and a living legend, who is revered by all as Saraswati putra. He is worshipped and adored by the daughter of a prostitute Tulasi, who seeks liberation through his music and learns music from him by observing him. One day, Tulasi kills a Zamindar who rapes her and seeks refuge under Shastri. Shastri takes Tulasi to his home, earning defamy and ostracization in his village. Tulasi leaves him, not wanting to be the cause of his defamy.
Years roll by. Classical music is no more popular and Shastri has lost his concert and audience. Tulasi sends her 12-year old son to learn classical music from Shastri but tells him not to reveal his identity. Shastri takes the boy under his tutelage and thus begins a wonderful journey of the teacher and student. He washes his clothes, helps him bathe, presses his feet and cooks for him. Shastri’s daughter gets a marriage proposal. But Shastri no more commands wealth as he did in the days of yore and is deep under debt. Unknown to Shastri, Tulasi helps him paying off all his dues by lending money to his money-lender. The day of marriage is a new day for Shastri. He finds his long-lost audience, who return to him and he performs after many years. But he is unable to sing and is overcome by a fit of cough. Tulasi’s son starts from where his guru ends and completes the song. Shastri annoints him his successor and falls dead after passing on the legacy. Tulsi too collapses then and there at his feet. But her son is alive, to carry forward the parampara of music to yet another age.

The movie is believed to be loosely based on the life of `Gayaka Sarvabhauma' Parupalli Ramakrishnayya Pantulu, who was fourth in the lineage of saint Thyagaraja. A young student of his, Murali Krishna attained fame in the world of classcial music at the age of eight. Today he is the living legend of Carnatic music Padmabhushan Dr. Balamurali Krishna.
Sankarabharam did to Carnatic music what Baiju Bawra did to Hindustani music in the north. In 1952, Prakash Pictures’ Baiju Bawra took classical music to the homes of the common man. K.Vishwanath got musical maestro K.V.Mahadevan to score the music of Sankarabharanam. It would be an understantement to say that the movie stood largely on the gigantic pillar called Mahadevan, who was also the first music director to win a National Award for Best Music Direction in 1967 for Kandan Karunai. Casting the songs in the melliflous mould of Carnatic music, Mahadevan scored hit after hit, bringing popular carnatic compositions like Manasa Sanchara re and Brocheva revarura closer to the masses. But the surprise in the pack was S.P.Balasubramanian, who, without any formal training in classical music, sang one kirtanam after another to thunderous applause. If Somayajulu gave a face to Shankara Shastri, it was S.P who gave a soul and voice to it. Vishwanath does not devalue western music to elevate Carnatic classical in his work. He respects all traditions, even the western ones in the movie.

Somayajulu made his debut with Sankarabharanam, after a successful stint in theatre. Manju Bhargavi, a classical dancer by profession, was chosen by Vishwanath after he saw a few of her photos without make-up. While Somayajulu carries himself impeccably, throwing life into the character of Sahstri, Manju strikes a contrast in the movie. In the dance sequences, she transforms into a figurine from a Chola Temple while in others she carries the calm composure of Tulasi.

A flurry of movies in the South Indian film industry followed Sankarabharanam, most being cheap imitations of the classic, though none could match its glory or popularity. It was also released in Malayalam with the songs in Telugu. Vishwanath himself tried to replicate the success with movies like Saptapadi, Swarna Kamalam and Sagara Sangamam but he could not better his own masterpiece.
It would be a misnomer to say that Sankarabharanam owes its cult status to its songs alone. Sankarabharam had a story which was unconventional and difficult to sell. It was quite a bold attempt to portray a love-story, bordering around devotion, between a classical maestro and a prostitute. Vishwanath was passing a social comment through the higher love of Shastri and Tulasi. Tulasi is a metaphor for the inner purity that is found wanting in the society and hence is left misunderstood by it. Her desire to get salvation for the poison in her womb (the illegetimate child) through his tutelage under Shastri is compared to the salvation that Vasuki, the serpent, seeks through his union with Shiva. Incidentally, Sankarabharanam literally means a snake!

But the most touching aspect of the movie is the focus on the Guru-shishya parampara. Sankara Shastri’s legacy would end with him if he does not annoint a successor to his musical tradition. Every maestro worth his music knows that it is a game of providence which brings a great guru and a great shishya together. If it does not happen, the tradition dies with him. Tulasi’s son is that link for Shastri to further his leagcy, which he proves in the cimax song where he takes sover his guru. The scenes where he bathes Shastri and presses his feet while he goes to sleep are heartening. It is a poignant reminder to the fact that the parampara as we see in the movie is almost dead. Times have changed and so have traditions.

Sankarabharanam received a dull response on its release but went on to become one of the biggest blockbusters in the history of Telugu cinema, with film historians comparing its success with Maya Bazaar. In 1980, Sankarabharanam swept the National Awards, winning the award for Best Popular Film Proving Wholesome Entertainment, Best Music Direction, Best Male Playback Singer (S.P.Balasubramanian) and Best Female Playback Singer (Vani Jayaram).
In times such as these when the debate of popular versus classical goes on, Sankarabharanam continues to be relevant. In the past twenty years, it has endured and does not fail to enthrall the viewers. It can be gauged from the fact that the DVD sales of Sankarabharanam in Malayalam (dubbed version) is still going strong! Like the jeeva-dhaara of classical music, Sankarabharanam too will continue to flow in the consciouness of the movie-viewers of this country for a long time to come.

(This article was published in the Magazine of The New Sunday Express)

Forever Young Navketan

2009-11-15T21:22:00.006+05:30

In the mid 1940s, a young lad had come to Bombay who, like many others, wanted to make it big in the film industry. When he got a chance to meet the legendary thespian Motilal he was asked “What brings you to Bombay?”. “The reason which brought you here sir, has also brought me” he replied, his heart pounding with excitement on seeing his matinee idol before him. With a smile Motilal quipped “So you want to become a star!”. The lad smiled and tad came the response “Like you!”. As Motilal was parting, he looked at him and said “Keep up your spirits young man!”.

A typical movie fare, one might think. A young boy, comes to Bombay, dreams big and shows the promise to make it big. Perhaps that is why when Dharam Dev Pishorimal Anand decided to make movies, he decided to keep it dramatic and entertaining. It was cinema for the youth, focusing on their problems, romances, gaiety and anxiety. It marked the birth of Navketan (meaning New Banner) in 1949, which completed its diamond jubilee this year.
After he made it finally to the silver screen with Hum Ek Hain (1946) and got his first success Ziddi (1948), Dev Anand decided to launch his own production house. In 1948, when Dev Anand was shooting for Vidya, he was waiting downstairs for the heroine to enter. He had heard a lot about the reigning superstar of the day, whom even big directors would oblige. Suraiya walked down the grand stairways and made her way, not just into the hall, but also Dev Anand’s heart. His swash buckling looks and flirtatious smile won her over and she was signed for Navketan’s first venture Afsar. The movie, directed by Chetan Anand, was not a success and nor was their romance. But in a short span, the romance created enough drama to be recounted and recollected for many decades to come.

Navketan’s first success was Baazi, the first urban crime thriller of Indian cinema. Written by Balraj Sahni, Baazi turned out to be Dev Anand’s first blockbuster and marked Guru Dutt’s debut as a director. It set the benchmark for a crime thriller and spawned many imitations. Two romances bloomed with Baazi. As Geeta Roy sang Tadbeer se bigdi hui taqdeer bana le, fate indeed played a lovable game and Geeta Roy soon became Geeta Dutt after marrying the director of Baazi. Dev Anand and the movie’s heroine Kalpana Karthik tied the knot and acted together in many other successful movies like Taxi Driver (1954) and Nau Do Gyaraah (1957).

In 1962, Dev Anand played a double role in Hum Dono, starring Sadhna and Nanda opposite him. The movie, with mellifluous songs by Jaidev, was a huge musical success. In 1964, Vijay Anand directed the evergreen romantic comedyTere Ghar ke Samne under the Navketan banner, which along with Bandini marked Nutan’s comeback after her marriage. Close to its heels came Teen Deviyan (1965). Dev Anand was waiting for some serious work. He wanted to shed the image of Navketan as a ‘light’ production house and wanted it to be taken seriously by the classes a s well.

Dev Anand loved R.K.Narayan’s Sahitya Academy Award winning novel The Guide. A phone call from London, where Dev Anand read the novel, to Mysore was all that was needed to persuade Narayan to sell the rights of his classic. Thus began the bi-lingual production of Guide. The English version, directed by Ted Danielewski bombed at the box-office. A full-scale drama began stating that the Hindi version too would be a similar disaster. Waheeda Rehman, who played the female lead in this movie, was warned of a career destruction with this movie. Finally, in 1965, Guide was released and became a landmark in Indian cinema. In what was the first colour film of Navketan, Dev Anand and Waheeda Rehman endeared themselves to the masses as Raju and Rosy. S.D. Burman’s music was a runaway hit and critics were agog with praises for Vijay Anand, hailing it as his masterpiece. R.K.Narayan, however, was not at all pleased with the move, which he felt was a bastardised version of his novel, purged of all the simplicity which he, along with his Malgudi, stood for. In 1966, Guide swept the Filmfare Awards winning the awards for Best Actor, Actress, Director and Film.
After the phenomenal success of Guide, Dev Anand came back to his first love – thrillers. He signed Vyjayantimala and Ashok Kumar and began working on his ambitous project Jewel Thief. The movie, largely shot in the Kingdom of Sikkim (then not a part of India), set a new trend within Navketan. Since then, Dev Anand chose a foreign location for most of his films. Jewel Thief was a blockbhuster and was soon hailed as a suspense classic of Hindi cinema.
An outstanding feature of Navketan was the music by S.D.Burman. Remove Burman and you will find all the movies of Dev Anand left with a big unpatchable hole. His music lit up every moment of Navketan’s movies and some ran on the strength of his music alone.
But Dev Anand now wanted to do a Raj Kapoor and perhaps therein lay his flaw. He wanted to direct his movies by himself. The brother Dev and Vijay parted ways professionally (coming together only for Tere Mere Sapne) and Dev Anand brought out his first directorial venture Prem Pujari. Though the music by S.D. Burman became an instant hit, the film failed to catch on. But within an year, Dev Anand had a bomb under his arms waiting to be thrown at the publc. He launched, arguably the first sex symbol of Hindi cinema, Zeenat Aman, in his next venture Hare Rama Hare Krishna. Set in Nepal, the movie explored the problems of drug addiction haunting the youngsters. Hare Rama Hare Krishna was a huge blockbuster and Dev Anand tasted his first, and perhaps last big success as a director.

But the rot had set in. Dev Anand took himself too seriously as a director and Navketan began churning flop after flop. Barring Des Pardes, where he launched Tina Munim (now Ambani), all his movies were invariably box-office disasters. His craze for experimentation drove him to even make a sequel for the his Jewel Thief in 1998, titled The Return of Jewel Thief. But the magic was all gone and gone for good.

Navketan continues to make films every now and then. Dev Anand continues to maintain the same zest which he maintained when his first movie was launched in 1949. People joke that Dev Anand’s last hit was in the last millenium. He insists that he should act in the lead role in every production of Navketan. Strange though, that when Navketan is celebrating its diamond jubilee, a similar jubliee at the box office for its movies has become a matter of past. But the ebulliance that he radiates keeps him, and perhaps Navketan, going. Now with his Hum Dono being slated for a release in colour, Navketan is back in the news for all the right reasons. As the story unveils, we shall see yet another generation humming the tunes of “Main Zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya...”. Nothing helps more than moving on in life.

Like the smile radiating from the almond-eyed face of Suraiya in Afsar, Navketan will have its name in the letters of gold in the history books of cinema, for it is impossible that a filmmaker can even think of matching to the glory of Guide or a Jewel Thief ever again.

(This article was published in the Sunday Magazine of The New Sunday Express)

The fresh flowers of Kaagaz ke Phool

2009-10-04T20:18:00.007+05:30

Many years back, as a child I saw on television an image that stuck to my mind forever. An old man runs out of a studio and a woman, seemingly his lover, runs behind him. As she steps out of the studio, she is mobbed by fans for her autograph and the man looks at the crowd surrounding her from a distance and walks away into anonymity. The image kept haunting me. More than a decade later, I came to know that it was a scene from Guru Dutt’s Kaagaz ke Phool. On October 2 this year, Kaagaz ke Phool completed fifty years of its artistic glory.

When it was released in 1959, the critics and the audience unanimously rejected the movie. On the day of the primiere, when Guru Dutt walked into the hall, he saw the reaction and knew that his piece of heart has been outrightly thrown out of the window. In an interview later, he said “The movie was good in patches. It was too slow and went over the head of the audience”. Kaagaz ke Phool was Guru Dutt’s autobiographical venture, an extension of his own life. He could never really come to terms to the fact that the movie flopped. The story of a successful director Suresh Sinha, who seeks comfort in a relationship with his actress Shanti, to seek succour from his tattered domestic life seemed to mirror his own relationship with Waheeda Rehman and his uneasy marriage with Geeta Dutt. In the later half of the movie, Shanti becomes a superstar while Suresh’s career slides down and many years later, he is reduced to playing an extra in other movies to make his ends meet. One day, Suresh is found dead on the director’s chair in the studio he once ruled, unknown and unlamented, save by a studio worker who recognises him.
Though many feel that this movie was an extension of his own life, there are more chances that Guru Dutt was inspired by the life of his mentor Gyan Mukherjee, to whom Pyaasa was dedicated. Mukherjee, the director of the blockbuster Kismet (1943), made many flops later in his career and slipped into obscurity.

What does one say about Kaagaz ke Phool? So much has been written about the move and its maker and yet, so much remains to be discovered. What is the most outstanding feature of Kaagaz ke Phool, besides being Guru Dutt’s own story? Perhaps, it is the visual symbolism, laced with the haunting music of S.D.Burman and stunning photography of V.K.Murthy. S.D.burman does not create much impact through his songs apart from Waqt ne Kiya and Dekhi Zamaane ki yaari. But the background score augments the element of lyricism which Guru Dutt intends to serve the audience. In the movie, Suresh, in his hey days, makes a movie titled Devdas and is in search of Paro for his movie. The search ends with Shanti. The parallel between the lore and the life is evident. Like Paro, Shanti too displays a higher level of emotional strength than her male counterpart, though they initially seek strength from them. Later, certain factors of the society divide both of them. The striking similarity between the scene where Shanti, playing her successful innings, visits Guru Dutt in his dilapidated shack and the scene where Paro visits Devdas after her marriage to find him devastated, cannot be missed. In both the movies, there is a final meeting, which is almost missed by the lovers. It is the restrictions of a Zamindari household that stops Paro from meeting Devdas and the fans in Kaagaz ke Phool who mob Shanti for a photograph as she rushes behind Suresh. The tragedy of Devdas heavily influenced Guru Dutt in Pyaasa as well as Kaagaz ke Phool.

Posthumous fame seemed to haunt Guru Dutt. He showcases that in Pyaasa. He also talked of posthumous fame in one of his articles, drawing references to Homer, Narsi Mehta besides many painters of Europe. Kaagaz ke Phool saw a revival in the 1980s, when it was released in Germany and France. Soon, it caught the attention of the critics and cinema-lovers and was hailed as a classic worldwide. Two decades after his death, Guru Dutt too got his name mentioned in the same breath as other greats of cinema like Bimal Roy, Raj Kapoor and Mehboob Khan. His talk of posthumous fame turned out to be prophetic.

It is not that Kaagaz ke Phool was without flaws. The movie somewhere is drenched in self-pity and Guru Dutt takes the idea of ‘the fall of a star’ too personally and seriously. The character of Johny Walker seems cut off and forced for the sake of providing some comic relief. Like Devdas, the character of Suresh does not inspire, quite unlike the protagonist of Pyaasa, with whom the viewers are able to relate and in whom they see a relfection of their own thoughts. But in spite of all these flaws, Kaagaz ke Phool was the finest comment on the film world to come from a film-maker.

It has been 45 years since Guru Dutt left this world. On October 10, 1964, Guru took an overdose of sleeping pills and committed suicide. The night before he was found dead, he had a long talk with Abrar Alvi, at the end of which he said “I think I want to die”. Abrar pushed aside this final comment away as of mind as one of his usual expressions of depressive thoughts. It was his third and final attempt.

Guru Dutt was an artist’s artist. He successfully touched upon most of the popular genres of the day – crime thrillers, suspense dramas, comedies, period films, tragedy, musicals and biopics. No other film-maker perhaps put the feelings of a creative person as effectively and beautifully on screen as he did. The test of time, is difficult to pass and very few have done it. Guru Dutt is one of them. As talks go strong about a possible remake of Kaagaz ke Phool by Rakeysh Mehra, with Aamir Khan and Katrina Kaif in the lead, the idea of this legendary genius takes yet another form. But will it be possible to recreate a classic, into which Guru Dutt put his heart and soul, thus making it special? Only time will be the key to this lock but it rekindles the lines of a song from this movie - Daur yeh chalta rahe, rang uchalta rahe, roop machalta rahe, Jaam badalta rahe!

(This article was published in the Saturday supplement Zeitgeist of The New Indian Express)

Eighty or Eighteen?

2009-09-27T10:22:00.006+05:30

Like the morning sun, her voice embalms the mind. Like the rays piercing through the early mist, it sends a quick wave of excitement along the spine. Like the waving branches of umpteen trees, her breezy tone enters like a gush of cool air into our consciousness. Like the early bells of a temple, her voice rings to awaken the masses from slumber to dawn. Eighty years of music and sixty three years of career in Hindi cinema is not an easy feat and to carry on with that career with the above qualities results in a personality, whose parallel we will never see in our lifetime.

Very few people know that Lata’s real name was Hema and she chose her name from a play of her father in which she played a character called Latika. Pushed unwillingly into a film career, Lata rose to prominence dramatically in the post-independence film industry, after a lot of struggle. When she got her first earnings, she bought a radio to listen to her idol K.L.Saigal. The first thing she heard as she switched on the radio was the news of K.L.Saigal’s death. Saddened, she returned to the market and sold the radio for a loss.

The year 1947 saw the exit of Mallika-e-tarannum Noorjehan, who left for Pakistan after independence. With the meteoric rise in the popularity of playback singing, the days of singing stars like Uma Devi, Surendra and Suraiyya were numbered, as the playback system sabotaged their forte, which was the clever conflation of voice and looks. The year 1948 saw the breaking of convention by not just Lata, but also Mohammed Rafi, whose songs in Dulari turned out to be chartbusters. Two years of back-to-back successes in the form of Andaz, Dulari, Barsaat and Mahal ensured the arrival of Lata Mangeshkar into the Hindi music scene.

The fifties saw her competing with the likes of Shamshad Begum, Geeta Dutt and later, her own sister Asha Bhonsle. But her true competitor was only Geeta, whose sultry voice gave her a tit-for-tat at the box office. No doubt Lata had a bigger following in her kitty, with loyalists like Naushad, Shankar Jaikishan, Roshan, Madan Mohan and Salil Choudhary, recording hit after hit under them. But Geeta had support from S.D.Burman and O.P.Nayyar, with the latter never having recorded a single song with Lata, for reasons known only to them. With Geeta and Shamshad falling silent in the sixties, Lata, along with her sister Asha dominated the film music scenario for the next three decades.

This era saw many controversies engulfing her. She never recorded a song with O.P.Nayyar. She fell off with C.Ramachandra, returning only to record the unforgettable Ae mere watan ke logon. She stopped recording songs with Rafi over a dispute over royalty with the HMV. During the three years they went on with this cold war, Rafi loyalists like Naushad used Asha instead of Lata for duets and on the other hand, Lata loyalists like S.D.Burman used Kishore Kumar to sing duets with her. This gave Kishore Kumar the big break with songs like Gaata Rahe Mera Dil, while all the other songs of Dev Anand in Guide were sung by Rafi. The first song which they sang after the tiff was Dil Pukare from Jewel Thief.

Meanwhile, she even had a tiff with S.D.Burman and did not record a single song with him for many years. It was R.D.Burman who brokered peace between them and got her to sing Mora gora ang lele for Bandini under S.D.Burman. When Suman Kalyanpur and Vani Jairam broke into the music scenario as overnight stars and slipped away without trace, Lata was accused of using her clout to get rid of unwanted competition. Once a dispute arose with the flashy Raj Kapoor and she refused to sing for his films. Raj, who considered Lata his lucky mascot, made peace with her and never let her go thereafter. From Barsaat to Ram Teri Ganga Maili, she sang for most of his films, for all the heroines from Nargis, Nimmi, Padmini and Vyjayantimala to Dimple Kapadia, Zeenat Aman, Padmini Kolhapuri and Mandakini.
There was something unusual and magical about this lady, which made all her opponents return to her fold, seeking the comfort of her voice, for reasons of money, success and superstition. She has seldom been candid about these matters in her interviews, save with a few like Ameen Sayani or Nasreen Munni Kabir, for the younger lot have not been able to cast aside the feelings of awe while approaching her.

But there is no doubt that the lady must never have had it easy. In an industry where every superstar gets goose pimples every Friday, with every new release, Lata too must have been hurdled with a flurry of competitors. Responding to the accusation of her throttling the competitors in an interview with Sayani, she once said “Once a person came with his daughter to S.D.Burman and said that she sings like Lata, to which dada replied saying why he should take someone who sang ‘like’ Lata, when Lata herself sang for him. Therein lay the problem. The new singers never tried to be different. They tried to be like me rather than cultivating something different from me”. Well said, for even today, every big and small singer aspires to sing ‘like’ Lata Mangeshkar.

Every musician worth his notes has his favourite Lata song. There is a Lata song for every emotion and every occasion. If you are happy, you sing Panchi bano udti phiroon. If you are sad and love struck, you play Rulake gaya sapna mera. If you are out there to challenge the world, you go Pyar kiya to darna kya. If you want to sing a lullaby, there is Chanda hai tu mera suraj hai tu. Every girl newly introduced to love would find her emotions resonate with Chalte Chalte from Pakeezah. A dark and horrifying place reminds you of Gumnaam hai koi. Every bhajan party loves Allah tero naam and every marriage party loves Raja ki aayegi baraat.

In her illustrious career, she has been showered with one award after the other, so much so that she stopped accepting Filmfare awards after 1969. This month, as she turns eighty, it is difficult not to say that her voice still does not carry the spiritedness of a girl of eighteen. Age has taken its toll, but then there is still some air of classicism, mysticism and lyricism about her. Perhaps, she has maintained this with a purpose, which has in turn lent her the incomparable aura we see around her today.

In the lost lanes of Urdu

2009-08-22T21:31:00.005+05:30

Magnificent havelis, scintillating fountains, men in shervanis, women decked in ornate jewellery, music and poetry flowing like honey with umpteen shers and shayris belted out as repartees at every turn, energising qawwalis, which was the musical battlefield of the cultured; the gentle gesture of the palm being lifted to the forehead as the characters uttered “Aadab” in salutation and every couplet being appreciated with a “Subhan Allah”. Muslim socials in Bombay cinema evokes these images of romance, which like a gentle breeze of spring, brushed past us in the 1950s and 60s. Along with it flourished Urdu, the knowledge of which was a perquisite to excel in most of the major fields of movie-making.

The dominance of Urdu has a lot to do with the origins of the film industry in Bombay. There were roughly two major influences in its early phases. The first influence was from Bengal. Movies made under The New Theatre seemed more like Bengali movies with Hindi dialogues. The second and the one with a long lasting influence was of the Parsi theatre. The likes of Ardeshir Irani, Sohrab Modi and Prithviraj Kapoor brought the traditions of theatre into cinema. It is noteworthy that the first Indian talkie, Alam Ara, was a Muslim social with completely Urdu dialogues. Later, Sohrab Modi’s Pukar (1939) laid the foundation of a Parsi-theatre based historical in Hindi cinema. The Muslim socials played an instrumental role in the popularisation of Urdu.

The influence of Parsi theatre went beyond the use of Urdu. The song-and-dance formula owes its popularity to the Parsi theatre to a great extent. When the Bombay film industry grew, Urdu, by default, became the language of cinema. Moreover, the sophisticated diction and intonation that came with Urdu lent the dialogues a class which was difficult to be produced in other dialects.
Urdu also had an impact on the direction, songs and dialogues that came with any story. This is what the scholars have called the Islamiyat of cinema. Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa or Sahib Biwi aur Ghulam were not Muslim socials; but they carried the air of a Muslim social, which spread across movies in that era.
The movies made through the 50s, 60s and the 70s are indicative of the graph of Muslim socials and the associated use of Urdu in cinema. The fifties and sixties saw the growth of Muslim socials with the likes of Anarkali, Barsaat ki Raat and Chaudvin ka chand. The genre peaked with K.Asif’s magnum opus Mughal-e-azam (1960), which set unattainable standards in cinema. Close to its heels came Mere Mehboob. For the first time, a Muslim social was celebrated for three hours in full blown Technicolor. The colour of the screen matched the colour of the language. It was now trendy to express the choicest emotions of the heart in Urdu.

But the decadence had set in. The trends were changing. The writers, directors and the above all, the dynamics of the society were changing. Unemployment and poverty were no more seen through the lens of idealism, for which Urdu poetry seemed best. The angry young man had set foot and the language of the street took over. This change is exemplified by Kamal Amrohi’s masterpiece Pakeezah (1972), the last pitch of a connoisseur of Awadh to hold on its glory of yore. The movie, probably set in pre-independent India, personified the vanishing culture through the character of Meena Kumari. Mehboob ki Mehendi by H.S.Rawail, whose Mere Mehboob set cash registers ringing, turned out to be a damp squib. M.S.Sathyu’s Garam Hawa (1973) shattered all romantic notions of the contemporary Islamic society, forcing film-makers to come out of the dream world. Muzzafar Ali’s Umrao Jaan came for a change in 1983. But the genre was dead, as was visible with the disastrous performance of Razia Sultan. Muslim socials had finally sloughed away into obscurity and by the nineties, Urdu was a matter of past. It was not possible to continue to portray something which was no longer there. Globalisation made new amendments in the use of language. Hindi morphed into Hinglish and survived the onslaught. Urdu remained unamenable and petered away. Moreover, the problems post 80s that came up in the Muslim society changed the portrayal of its characters forever in cinema.
But it would be inappropriate to ascribe the use of Urdu entirely to Muslim socials. The major reason why Urdu virtually became the lingua franca of the Bombay film industry was the heavy presence of artists and writers of the Progressive Movement. These left leaning writers, like K.A.Abbas, Zia Sarhadi, Rajender Singh Bedi, Abrar Alvi, Kaifi Azmi, Sahir Ludhianvi, Majrooh Sultanpuri and Jan Nisar Akhtar, wrote predominantly in Urdu, making it the medium of expression even in dramas with Hindu characters. The foray of artists from IPTA made Urdu the language of the performing artists. This was a perfect example of the secular ethos of cinema. In the seventies, their hold and role began to wane with the entry of a new breed of writers. The new class of directors and singers were not familiar with the Persian script. Urdu slowly slid into the horizons of incomprehension. The sole success in recent times was Jodha Akbar. Shyam Benegal’s Sardari Begum and Sudhir Mishra’s Khoya Khoya Chand were lamentations of a splendid past.

Mahatma Gandhi advocated the use of Hindustani, a blend of Hindi and Urdu. But the wounds of partition made certain irreversible changes. Hindi, was perceived as a language of the Hindus, as distinct from Urdu, which with its Persian script which was labelled as a Muslim language. Many scholars opine that had the Progressive writers taken to the Devanagiri script instead of the Persian, perhaps Urdu would have survived the ravages of politics, bias and ignorance. Today, the line between Urdu and Hindi in daily use is hardly visible. Making changes to the refined forms of both the languages, they have blended to become what Gandhi called Hindustani.
Today, when one walks through Daryaganj in Old Delhi, famous for its Urdu books, one can gauge the dwindling popularity of the language. The on-screen change, by all means, reflects the changes that have taken place in the realms of politics, culture and academics. When NRI romances and peppy love stories rule the roost, it’s better to say ‘Keh do na You’re my Sonia’ rather than come out with the silken tresses of ‘Chaudvin ka Chand’. Urdu is now relegated to theatre and the pages of literature. It is a loss, not just of some words, songs or dialogues, but of an entire culture. As for cinema, the famed havelis, shervanis, shers and shayris represent an era gone with the wind.

(This article was published in the Sunday Magazine of The New Indian Express)

A forgotton Centenary

2009-07-15T22:25:00.018+05:30

In 1953, when Do Bigha Zameen was released and became an instant classic, winning rave reviews across the world, Raj Kapoor remarked “How I wish I made this film!” This July 12 marked the centenary of Roy and a pity it was that the media did not even care to brush past the legend for it is too busy with pseudo swayamvars of item girls and the umpteen possibilities of MJ’s death. It is easy to ride on a trend and come out successful. But it is a legendary feat to create a trend. By introducing neo-realism in India, Bimal Roy did exactly the same, paving path for many others like Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak and Shyam Benegal. He set the records on fire with two hatricks in Filmfare awards through the 1950s.

What was special about Roy’s cinema? He introduced new dynamics in storytelling. He gave us a variety of effable characters, whose lives we lived and empathised with. When the farmer Shambhu Mitro in Do Bigha Zameen migrated to the city to save his ancestral land, we could see his story in every rickshawallah of our cities. When the untouchable girl Sujata led us through the tapestry of her life, we too saw, in a genteel manner, the evil behind the practice. When Kalyani, in a shocking scene, kills her lover’s wife in Bandini, we too identified with the wounded ego of a wronged woman. We drank to death with Devdas and saw Hindi cinema’s first reincarnation saga with Madhumati. Very few filmmakers understood women the way he did. Their portrayals were not pandering to the ideals of a man, but were independent of all chauvinistic labels. In a career spanning over two decades, he had showcased the profundity of life in its truest sense.

Bimal Roy with Balraj Sahni while shooting for Kabuliwallah(top); Suchitra Sen and Dilip Kumar in Devdas

He picked up his skills under the watchful eyes of P.C.Barua, in whose Devdas (1935) he worked as a cameraman. The actors of the time gave their best under him. Dilip Kumar gave us the definitive portrayal of Devdas, Balraj Sahni moved the nation to tears in Do Bigha Zameen and Nutan was at her passionate best in Bandini. His assistants and associates like Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Kamal Bose, Nabendu Ghose, Gulzar, Asit Sen, and Salil Chaudhry went on to mark their names in letters of gold in the pages of cinema. No other director perhaps made Sarat Chandra Chatterjee as popular as he did, as he came out with the cinematic adaptations of Parineeta, Biraj Bahu and Devdas.

Roy had a fetish for perfection. His son recalls him spending the early hours of the morning by the window of his study, religiously recording the sound of chirping birds for the background score of Sujata. Nature was a storyteller in his movies and spoke volumes for the characters. Every moment of day to day life was celebrated in the frames of his creations and gave voice to a million souls.
What made him project the injustices meted out to the creations of a lesser God? Perhaps, his upbringing in a family of Zamindars exposed him to the injustice, which reflected in his works as well. But Roy’s movies never talked of a violent upheaval to redress those wrongs. A strong believer in Gandhian ideals, his movies merely projected a problem without getting didactic and preachy. The problems he presented continue to remain relevant in today’s times. Melodrama was curbed and drama flowed smoothly like honey-drenched poetry on the screen.

Bimal Roy was a director who knew music too well and integrated it with his script. Needless to say, the songs of Madhumati, Parakh, Bandini and Sujata refuse to fade away. Who, but Bimal Roy could pull off a melancholic romance out of the song Jalte hai jiske liye sung over the telephone in Sujata? His most commercial venture was Madhumati, a musical blockbuster which swept the Filmfare awards that year.
His swansong Bandini was arguably his greatest work. In the year 1966, Hrishikesh Mukherjee dedicated his movie Anupama in the memory of his mentor, who had by then left an indelible legacy through his protégés.
Simplicity is a key to excellence. Very few filmmakers understood that after Roy. Like the gentle flowers Nutan nurtures in Sujata, his centenary too passed quietly without any ostentation, but its fragrance continues to fill the halls of brilliance.

(This review was previously published in Passion for Cinema, a unique elite online community of cinema lovers, which discusses and promotes meaningful cinema)

Manthan: Churning a revolution

2009-06-28T19:11:00.009+05:30

Manthan was second in the series of rural trilogy of Shyam Benegal, the other two being Ankur and Nishant. With the most unconventional idea and the most unconventional sources of fund at hand, Shyam Benegal made this rural drama showcasing the success of cooperative dairies in Gujarat.

Inspired from the life of Varghese Kurien, Manthan talks of the life of Dr. Rao, a vet, who visits a village as a member of National Dairy Federation to popularise the growth of dairy cooperatives in India. The village poses many hurdles along his path. The mukhiya, or village headman (Khulbhushan Kharbanda) who is insecure about losing his clout with the arrival of the cooperative, Ganga Ram Mishra (Amrish Puri), a dairy owner who exploits the villagers with a low price on the milk, Bhola (Nasseruddin Shah), a dalit who sees every city dweller with suspicion as his mother was sexually exploited by a man from the city and umpteen tiffs and age-old battles that have left deep scars in the society. He encounters Bindu (Smita Patil), a Dalit milkmaid whose resentment slowly morphs into a liking and awe for Dr.Rao. After facing stiff opposition initially, he is finally able to convince many villagers to move towards the cooperative fold. Meanwhile, he also develops a soft corner for Bindu, who supports all his initiatives. But troubles begin when the head of the cooperative society has to be chosen. The sarpanch wants to become, by default, the head of the cooperative as well, which does not go down well with Bhola and the other Dalits. They field their own candidate feels threatened by a parallel power structure in the village. But Dr. Rao is thrown into real quandary when Bindu’s husband returns and orders her not to meet the doctor. Bindu’s buffalo dies but her ego is hurt upon meeting Dr. Rao. Unwillingly she borrows money from Ganga Ram and signs a court paper, unknowlingly, accusing Dr. Rao of rape. The sarpanch, meanwhile, meets the higher ups and gets Dr. Rao transferred. After the exit of Dr. Rao, Bhola is shocked to find the people back in the dairy of Ganga Ram. “Who will run the cooperative? The society people have left” counters a villager. But Bhola exhorts them to return and shows them the dream of a better tomorrow, when they will not be ruled neither by caste nor money. As Bhola moves towards the society, one by one, groups join him and they move towards a hopeful tomorrow.

500000 dairy farmers sponsored the movie by contributing a rupee each to Benegal. The movie was a tribute to the victory of the human spirit and the cooperative movement, which was eventually replicated across India. Girish Karnad was the Chairman of FTII, Pune. Legend goes that he was miffed with the behaviour of one of his students and sent him to Benegal so as to get rid of him from the college. Little did he know that he would have to work with that very student, whom we know as Nasseruddin Shah, in Manthan.
Girish Karnad, with his author backed role brings his magnetic presence to the screen and churns the emotions, not only of the characters, but also the audience. Smita Patil with her earthly fervour plays the feisty Bindu with flair and makes her mark in a movie meant for Karnad. Nasseruddin Shah, in the second half takes over as the empowered Dalit and gives Karnad a tit for tat through his performance. A strong support has been provided by Amrish Puri and Khulbhushan Kharbanda.
The Gujarati folk Mero gaam katha parey sets the tone for the entire movie and the different moods are brought out with a brilliant use of different instruments. Preeti Sagar won the Filmfare Best Playback Singer award in 1976 for this song and it was later used for the Amul Commercial.

Many scenes stand apart in Manthan. In one scene, Dr. Rao flirtatiously watches Bindu wash her legs in a water pump and she too returns the feelings, when she asks “Are you married?” to which he replies in the affirmative. Her expressions change instantly and she politely asks him to move away. She has no intention to walk on a cul-de-sac.

In another scene, when Dr. Rao hands out to Bindu some money for free when she asks for a loan to buy a buffalo, she bolts out with suppressed tears. Her ego has been hurt when even the sensitive Rao has treated her as a beggar.

In the brilliantly shot climax, Benegal uses a young boy ala Ankur, to conclude his movie. Bhola walks away to the cooperative with a handful of villagers. Leading them is a young boy- a symbol of tomorrow. He has rejected the current system and has chosen self-empowerment over dependence. Spot on!

Manthan is a story of dismantling of old institutions and the emergence of new ones. It is the story of a bloodless revolution - where the wrongs of caste is undone with a level playing field of the cooperatives, where the dominance of the Panchayat is countered by the power structure set up by the villagers and where the age-old exploitation is tossed out of the window by an empowered group of villagers. Today it is studied, not only in Film Institutes, but also in B-Schools where it has become a text book of Rural Marketing. The story of churning a revolution lives on and the cream of it is visible in countless success stories which propel the Indian farmers to step out of the dark ages.

(This review was published in Passion for Cinema, an elite community of cinema lovers who discuss and promote meaningful cinema)

The multiple roles of Bhumika

2009-06-02T21:33:00.011+05:30

How will it be for an actress to act like an actress? Effortless, one may think. Shyam Benegal’s Bhumika is the tale of an actress, who, in the course of living different roles, forgets to live her life. And by the time she realises it, she has crossed miles in her life, the clock of time being irreversible.
The young Usha is a free spirited, sensitive girl. Her vocal chords are honed under the strict surveillance of her grandmother, who comes from a family of singers. On the death of her father, a relative Keshav (Amol Palekar) persuades Shantabai to send Usha to the producers to make her an actress. The young Usha soon blossoms into youth to become the acclaimed actress Urvashi (Smita Patil). Urvashi’s growing nearness to Keshav doesn’t go down well with Shantabai as he belongs to a lower caste. But Urvashi is ready to give up all to set up a life with Keshav; even leave her career forever. She even does so, but is pulled back on Keshav’s insistence, who doesn’t want to lose a money minting machine like Urvashi.

Urvashi’s chemistry with her co-star Rajan (Anant Nag) raises smoke in newspapers, much to the jealousy of Keshav. Sparks fly often in the household. Usha desperately seeks the joys of a house wife. Her vexation with her marriage leads her into a series of unfulfilling relationships outside marriage. She falls for the pontificating glib talk of a director Sunil (Nasseruddin Shah) and even makes love to him, only to discover later that he is nothing more than a fraudster. She leaves her home and comes across a tad arrogant businessman Vinayak Kale (Amrish Puri). His irreverence strikes chord in her heart for he is the first one who is untouched by her stardom. Being at the end of tether in seeking some love, she even agrees to be his mistress in his feudal haveli. Usha effortlessly moulds herself into the new life but soon realises that her rights end within the four walls of the haveli. She moves out of the claustrophobic life with the help of Keshav and returns to Bombay, to find her daughter – happily married and pregnant. She contrasts it with her own cluttered life. She receives a call from her old lover Rajan, who entreats her to enter movies, for she is still in demand. But Usha, in being Urvashi, has played far too many roles for a life.

The conflict of multiple roles in one life

Shyam Benegal put his rural dramas on hold while coming out with this landmark of Indian cinema. This was the movie where the true histrionics of Smita Patil was known, who was till then a news reader in Bombay Doordarshan. Her bravura performance deservingly fetched her a National award. Her expressions and diction in each and every frame was simply out of this world, such that Hansa Wadkar, on whose life the biopic was based, couldn’t have asked for more. She was definitely the beacon light whose screen presence lit the movie, frame after frame. It helped that excellent support was provided by Amol Palekar (in a refreshing role with shades of grey), Nasseruddin Shah, Anant Nag and Dina Pathak. Amol Palekar brought out with ease the selfishness, insecurity, jealousy and pity that came out of Keshav.

Shyam Benegal strikes an entirely different chord here and in a trend setting move, uses colour to indicate time period in a movie that plays back and forth with flashback. The radio here is put to a clever use to indicate the time period through events like the death of Stalin and the coup pf Ayub Khan.

The movie also captures the growth of Hindi cinema through the growth of Usha into Urvashi, from the studio system of the 1930s to the era of demanding actors of the 50s. Benegal draws a parallel between the characters enacted by Urvashi and her own life to enunciates it further. The movie in which Urvashi is acting – Agnipareeksha- sounds more like a statement on the life of the lead actress of the movie. The lavani, with which the movie opens, sets the tone of the movie to indicate the story of a woman, who has to perform, no matter what.

Usha is a bundle of contradictions, which makes her so real and relatable. The names Usha and Urvashi also seem to be well thought out by Benegal. Usha, like the morning sun is pure and bright. But Urvashi is a celestial nymph, meant to please all who come her way. The only man with whom she is impressed is Rajan as she says in the lines “Ek tum hi ho jisne mujhe sirf diya hai.... tumse shaadi karke main tumhe bhi khona nahi chahti. Bhumika is a visual treat with avant-garde cinematography by Govind Nihalani. Watch out for the still where she sits before a multi-framed mirror, reflecting on the umpteen roles she is enmeshed in.
The movie ends with a phone call from Rajan which Usha leaves unanswered. A song sung by Urvashi in the movie would perhaps fill in the missing space.

Yeh tune kaisa dikhaya sapna
Main sab chod kar aayi apna
Khadi hoon rangon ki ek nagar mein
Badal gayi main toh ek nazar mein
Piya tumse milake ankhiyaan
Tumhare bin jee na lage ghar mein......

(This review was previously published in Passion for Cinema, a unique elite online community of cinema lovers, which discusses and promotes meaningful cinema)

Satyakam : The undying torch of truth

2009-05-25T19:29:00.012+05:30

Satyakam is perhaps the most underrated movie to have been made by Hrishikesh Mukherjee. After the success of Anupama, Mukherjee went on to turn the light of truth inwards. The result was Satyakam.
Satyakam begins with Sanjeev Kumar’s voice over, which tells the mythological tale of Satyakamjabala, a boy who inherits his mother’s name instead of his father’s as his lineage is doubtful. The movie shifts to the year 1946. Satyapriya (Dharmendra) along with his friend Naren (Sanjeev Kumar) builds a bright dream of the independent India. Satyapriya, during the course of one of his projects chances upon Ranjini (Sharmila), who is being lusted after by Kunwar Bikram Singh (Manmohan). Ranjini’s mother eloped with her driver and ever since, Ranjini has been forced to lead a harlot-like existence at Bikram Singh’s palace. Satyapriya develops a soft corner for her but doesn’t intend to marry her. One night, Ranjini is raped by Bikram Singh and the next morning, Satyapriya, extends his hand of support in the form of marriage. Satyapriya’s orthodox grandfather (Ashok Kumar), who runs an ashram, is shocked terribly to see his son bring a lowly woman to his household, who has given birth to a child outside marriage.

Thus begins Satyapriya’s battles with the world. Satyapriya moves from one job to another, unable to ‘comprimise’ with the situations there. His war with falsehood makes him pay a heavy cost at every step. So comes a stage when Naren becomes Satya’s boss. Unable to see the plight of Ranjini and bear the compulsive truthfulness of Satya, Naren seeks a transfer. Things come to a crisis when Satyapriya is diaganosed with cancer. Ranjini and her son Kabul’s fate is undecided as Satyapriya passes away. Satya’s grandfather arrives to perform the last rites but is shocked again to hear Kabul protest against the decision of him not being allowed to perform the rites of his father. Sharmila reveals to Kabul that he is an illegitimate child and that he is not born from Satyapriya. Dadaji’s wisdom takes a jolt on seeing the effortlessness with which the mother and son are practicing the tradition of truth which he has been proud to uphold. He sees the future of his clan in Kabul and his mother Ranjini, who like Jabala has trained her son to traverse the righteous path. Dadaji christens Kabul Satyakam. As Naren turns to give him his walking stick, he sees Dadaji walking away to his ashram with his new sources of support– Ranjini and Satyakam.

The harsh realities of an idealistic life

Satyakam has been described by Hrishikesh Mukherjee as his favourite movie among all the gems he has made like Anand, Abhimaan and Golmaal. The same opinion is shared by Dharmendra and Sharmila as well. Dharmendra was so enamoured by the script that he agreed to produce it himself. After the soaring success of Anupama, Hrishikesh Mukherjee went on to repeat the same team for Satyakam as well. However, the music handled by Laxmikant Pyarelal failed to give chartbusters.

But the hallmark of this movie is the story by Narayan Sanyal. Satyakam should be viewed in the milieu it is placed in. The Nehruvian idealism was crumbling under the ambitions of Indira. Decadance had set in and had been acknowledged even by the incumbent forces as absolutely normal. Hence, the protagonist of Satyakam is one of the last specimens of the day to hold on to his beliefs of a better society, backed by better ideals and better human beings. As he passes by, a man remarks “Bada badmash aadmi hai. Rishvat vagera nahi leta” (This man is a fraud. He doesn’t take or give bribe). He sees man as not just a living being but as the biggest representative of God on earth. This conscious effort to keep himself afloat like a lotus separates him from the rest of the society, even his own wife.
When Naren praises Satyapriya before Ranjini saying “Satya toh khara sona hai...” (Satya is like pure Gold), Ranjini shoots back saying “Par pase ke sone ko zevar banane ke liye thoda sa toh khot milana padta hai” (But you need some copper in gold to make it an ornament). This is the tragedy of Satyakam. The character of Satyapriya is a personification of the ideals on which our independence was built. Hence he bubbles with fresh energy when the nation is independent and gradually loses his sheen as the years roll on. As we reach the year 1969, he has become a memory, just to be adored and a matter of past.

The climax scene of Satyakam

Dharmendra excels in what is arguably the greatest performance of his career. He wasted his career in many a cheap action movie mouthing the choicest of expletives. Satyakam shows what he was capable of, if given a chance.
Sharmila’s Ranjini mirrors somewhere the emotions of a Kasturba Gandhi-like character, who was forced to follow many sets of ideals just for the sake of her husband and often expostulated against the ideals being imposed on her. Sharmila carries with élan the role of a fallen woman, who turns to an idealistic world overnight. Her face reflects suppressed dignity in the scenes where she tries to put on a cheerful face in the face of difficulty. She holds herself against the author backed role of Dharmendra. Sanjeev Kumar shows all signs of an actor on the rise. He plays the sutradhaar, whose voiceover carries the entire movie till the end. Ashok Kumar in a strong cameo, heightens the drama and brings justice to the irony of the climax.
Satyakam shows how far we have come from the ideal and shows a very displeasing image of ours in the mirror of the cinema screen. Perhaps that was why Satyakam was a box office failure. Like a torch bearer of truth in the darkness of the present age, Satyakam will live on as long as the validity of truth will exist.

(This article was published earlier in Passion for Cinema, an elite online community of cinema lovers who discuss meaningful cinema)

The unfulfilled dreams of Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi

2009-04-22T17:33:00.021+05:30

In the year 2005, when Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Black was opening a new wave of multiplex cinema viewing in India, a movie released in 2003 was making waves across the world with its theme of conflict between idealism and practicality. The story of a generation which saw India being pulled in a thousand directions wasn’t a box office success, but it was hailed by the critics as a masterpiece.

Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi (HKA) tells the sweeping saga of three youngsters of Delhi University, all three of them having different dreams to pursue. One is Siddharth (Kay Kay), an upper-middle class boy with embers of a revolution burning in his heart. He finds an ardent admirer in Gita (Chitrangada Singh) who is slowly getting familiarised with the Indian way of life after spending her life in England. The third part of this triangle is Vikram (Shiney Ahuja), a middle class boy who, tired of his Gandhian father’s principled life, would do anything to earn money. Gita sees her love being spurned time and again by Siddharth when he chooses revolution in a village in Bihar over his love. She decides to get married to Anil, whom she describes as a person who has everything that a woman wants. Years pass by and when Gita meets Vikram again, he has made ‘pots of money’ by being the political fixer. Gita, unable to forget her first love Siddharth, joins him in a village where the seeds of a revolution have been sown. At this moment, Indira Gandhi declares Emergency and the whole country turns topsy-turvy. Vikram’s Gandhian father is arrested and a massive crackdown takes place on the revolutionaries. Gita and Siddharth are jailed and tortured. Gita’s husband Anil comes to release her from the prison, only to tell her that he is married and happy with a child. Meanwhile, Vikram reaches Bihar in search of Gita and is tortured by the policemen under the charge of abetting the revolutionaries. Fate changes the tables of fortune and brings out the irony of life in the climax when Siddharth leaves behind his world of struggle to pursue medicine after realising that the country is not ready for a change and Vikram, now mentally retarded, stays back in the village with Gita in the midst of all the problems of the India that a bunch of youngsters once tried to solve.

In an attempt to disprove the illusion of Nehruvian socialism, Sudhir Mishra begins the movie with Nehru’s Tryst with destiny. The sarcasm is evident and this sets the tone for the movie. All the three leading actors shot to fame overnight. Shiney swept all the awards in 2006 for the Best Debut. However, Chitrangada, who was hailed by critics as a modern day Smita Patil, turned out to be a one-film wonder. With HKA, Sudhir Mishra pushed himself into international festival circuits. HKA was lauded across the world at prestigious platforms like the Berlin Film Festival, the Edinburgh Film Festival and the Commonwealth International Film Festival. HKA was hailed by Shekhar Kapoor as ‘the most significant and real film that I have seen recently and without doubt, the most important film to come out of India in a long, long time’. Ashutosh Gowarikar exalted the film as ‘Indian Cinema’s first great political epic’.
The dialouges, predominantly in English, are conversational in nature. The characters, with heavy shades of grey, depict the reactions of different sections of urban India towards the Naxal uprising. The middle- class reaction of Vikram comes out as he says disgustingly to Gita that Siddhrath can afford to join the revolt as he is born to a rich father and can return once he wants to give up. Gita, largely apolitical in the beginning, laps up the struggle, initially to please Siddharth and later to seek self-actualisation. Though Siddharth begins as the show stopper in this murky drama, the climax turns the fortunes and pushes Vikram to spotlight. One gets goose bumps watching Shiney groan in pain and fright in the climax scene as he is beaten up black and blue by the constables.
But somewhere it is Gita who forms an invisible thread, holding many lives and scenes together in this movie. Her adoration propels the heroism of Siddharth. Within the parameters of his social constraints, Vikram tries his level best to win her love and finally even loses his sanity in a bid to save her. Her husband desperately tries to get her back, though she eludes him like a mirage. She becomes the temptress who puts the lives of those around her out of place, though she is not the purpose of this drama. Chitrangada cast her web of performance with alacrity and makes this a role of a lifetime.

The highlight of the movie was the music by Shantanu Moitra, set to the lyrics of Swanand Kirkire. Be it the spirited qawalli Man yeh bawra, the plaintive notes of Hazaron Khwaishein aisi or the heart-rending climax song Bawra Man dekhne chala, the music brings out the cream of the moments. One feature that stands out is the expression of the state of mind of the characters through letters rather than boring monologues. The decadence of the era is caught very well by Mishra and he even keeps in mind the music tracks blaring out of the radios and tape recorders. Watch out for Mukesh’s rendition of Woh Subah kabhi toh aayegi as Siddharth and Gita share their ideas on an impending revolution.

HKA is a tale of unrequited dreams, though the zest to fulfil them remains alive till the end. Sudhir Mishra once said “All my films are about people who failed and who lament that failure and recover their ways. I think people are heroes only some of the time ....” Therein lies the bitter fact of HKA. The protagonists are muddled in their heads but are full of passion. They fight and the less resolute ones even run away from the battle towards the end. In the words of Gita, “Not every story lives happily ever after...” The undying passions of HKA might have never seen the end of their dreams, but the movie stands for a dream that a generation once lived and even died for...

In the musical HOLIwood

2009-03-11T19:45:00.006+05:30

Very often we find people complaining about the song and dance culture of our movies. But for a country which has always had songs and dances as an integral part of story telling, it isn't an eyesore. And where more have songs been more lively than the celebrations. As people often joke, we can make an entire year out of all the festivals that we have. Celebration is perhaps a way of life for us..... and also for our cinema. As Holi arrives this year with all its colours, pichkaris, romance, ecstatic drum beats and music I decided to go down the memory lane to pick up some all time great Holi numbers...

1. Holi Aayi Re Kanhai (Mother India): Music : Naushad Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni
Mention Mother India, and the song that comes to our mind is the one where Nargis tills the fields with a hoe placed on her shoulders. But this folksy composition of Naushad in the earthly and flirtatious voice of Shamshad Begum had everything that one would seek in Holi. It is soaked in a rural melody and flows along with the script of the movie, with a dish-dash of flashbacks and humour in what is a gem of cinema. Naushad teamed up with Shakeel three years later for another memorable Holi number in Kohinoor ( Rang Lo).

2. Arre Ja Re Hat Natkhat (Navrang) Music : C.Ramachandra Lyrics : Bharat Vyaas
Not many remember this theatrical fantasy of a poet captured by V.Shantamram in technicolour. But the songs of Navrang stand out for their sheer brilliance in terms of composition and out-of-the-box choreography (by the Kathak maestro Gopi Krishna). How can one forget the brilliant Holi song where Sandhya doubles up as a male and female with the help of a mask and tricky costume? The drum beats, in which she matches her steps with an elephant, still echo in our hearts as we start shaking our legs to its tunes.

3. Piya Tose Naina Lage Re (Guide) Music: S.D.Burman Lyrics: Shailendra
Though it is not an out an out Holi song, the one stanza Aayi Holi Aayi has endured over the years. Waheeda Rehman’s charm and her dancing abilities shone through the song rendered in the silken voice of Lata Mangeshkar.

4. Aaj Na Chodenge... Khelenge Hum Holi(Kati Patang) Music : R.D.Burman Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri
Rajesh Khanna at his all time high! Kati Patang was Shakti Samanta’s second blockbuster with Rajesh Khanna. Kishore Kumar’s mirth-filled voice alternated with the morose lines of Lata Mangeshkar. The song is a rarity for it juggles pathos and glee. The strains of the shehnai in the interludes and the juxtaposition of Asha Parekh’s widow white with Khanna’s colour of riots refuse to fade away.

5. Holi Ke Din (Sholay) Music: R.D.Burman Lyrics: Anand Bakshi
This song is mainly remembered for its positioning in an unforgettable blockbuster. ‘Kab hai Holi?’ thunders Gabbar Singh. The song is followed by the bloodbath in the scene that follows it. Dharamendra and Hemamalini formed the most loved pair of the 70s and this song reinforced their chemistry.

6. Rang Barse (Silsila) Music: Shiv Hari Lyrics: Harivanshrai Bachchan
Perhaps the most popular and dramatic of the lot. Amitabh Bachchan’s drunken voice was simply apt for this coquettish number. It helped that the song mirrored a much hyped real life triangle of Jaya-Amitah-Rekha. But the song turned out to be much more than just that and went on to attain cult status. Two decades later, Amitabh tried his hand in another number Holi khele raghuveer awadh mein in Baghban.

7. Dekho Aayi Holi (Mangal Pandey- The Rising) Music: A.R.Rehman Lyrics: Javed Akhtar
This is a personal favourite from the recent times. There are songs whish fail to catch your attention because the movies which carry them fail at the box office. But the colours of this Holi duet were too infectious too remain relegated to the archives.

What forms a common thread between all of them is the visual imagery of the lines, which liberally use the metaphor of the Radha-Krishna legend to add on to the honey of poetry. Perhaps it is this divine frolicking that has kept the joy alive. May you all enjoy a Happy Holi in a typical filmi ISHTYLE!

Mother India: The voice of Mother Earth

2009-02-24T10:17:00.014+05:30

Slumdog Millionaire has swept the Oscars and India has finally (though not technically) won an Oscar for The Best Feature film. 51 years ago during the Academy awards, a movie lost the honour by a solitary vote in the final poll to The Nights of Caberria. The actors and the director returned with a heavy heart. But the film was enshrined forever in the hearts of the moviegoers in India as the ultimate tribute to Indian womanhood. It’s been years but Mother India’s sheen has refused to fade away.
Mother India’s story is the story of the peasant India, an India now relegated to the pages of Edits and Columns of ‘serious’ newspapers and out of public memory. Radha (Nargis) is married to Shyamu (Raj Kumar), whose mother Sundar Chachi has borrowed Rs.500 from a lecherous money lendor Sukhilala (Kanhaiyalal). One year down, Lala cheats them and manipulates the accounts, forcing them to part away with a huge chunk of their yearly harvest as interest. Radha gives birth to three children, who fill their otherwise dark lives with laughter and gaiety. But all this is shortlived as Shyamu loses his arms in a farming accident. Unable to bear the taunts of Sukhilala, he leaves his home one night, leaving Radha to grapple with the family and the ton load of problems awaiting her.
Radha loses her mother-in-law, her home and her cattle. She ploughs the field with the hoe on her shoulders (metamorphosing into mother-earth like persona). The year-long efforts are mercilessly washed away in the deadly floods which ravage the village and her life. She loses her third son and is exposed to the sexual advances of Sukhilala. Overpowering them, she puts the entire village to work to resettle themselves after the flood.
Years roll by. Her two sons Ramu (Rajendra Kumar)and Birju (Sunil Dutt) grow into handsome young lads, completely contrasting characters. While Ramu becomes the obedient Ram-like son, Birju fritters away time gambling and teasing Rupa, Sukhilala’s daughter. Avenging the insults heaped on his mother is the sole motive of Birju. But he silently worships Chandra, the village school teacher, before whom he is tamed down like a child. But a fisticuff on a Holi day ends up Birju becoming an outlaw. On the day of Rupa’s wedding, he sees his love Chandra being married off. Mad with rage, Birju kills Lala and abducts Rupa. Radha, who had sworn to kill Birju lest he laid his hands on any girl stands before him, armed like Goddess Durga. Her moment of truth has arrived. She shoots down her son, who violated all the rules of Mother Earth and rushes to grasp his dying self in her arms as he takes out the bangles she had pawned years before with Sukhilala. A unique mother-son chemistry

Nargis got the role of a lifetime in Mother India. As Radha, she lived each and every moment to such impeccable perfection that even Radha herself could not have done what Nargis had done with her magical wand of expressions and dialouge delivery. She almost carried the entire movie on her narrow shoulders, evoking praise generation after generation. Little known actors like Raj Kumar, Sunil Dutt and Rajendra Kumar got onto the bandagon of stardom with the Mehboob Khan blockbuster. Kanhaiyalal as the usurious moneylendor evoked applause from the viewers and Sukhilala soon entered the pages of cinema’s folklore as the stereotype of money lendors. But it was the young artist Master Sajid who outwitted the best of performing artists with his performance. Mehboob Khan spotted this talent while shooting for the movie and felt that he would simply suite the bill of the young Birju. He even went on to do a sequel ‘Son of India’ with Master Sajid in the lead. The film bombed at the box office and Mehboob Khan later succumbed to a heart attack

Initially Dilip Kumar was considered for the role of Birju. Kumar refused the offer saying that the public, which had seen him play the romantic lead against Nargis, would not accept him as her son. He suggested that he play the role of Shyamu as well, which did not go down well with Mehboob Khan. Kumar, to caress his ego, made Ganga Jamuna, where he told a similar tale from the wronged son’s point of view. Ganga Jamuna too entered the annals of cinema as a classic dacoit drama.
Nargis had stepped out of R.K.Studios after Jagte Raho and found Mehboob Khan’s offer on her table. Her much touted affair with Raj Kapoor had just ended. In the famous fire-scene, Nargis was trapped in a destructive fire. Sunil Dutt, in a film-hero like stunt jumped in and saved her, surviving serious burns in the process. Nargis won her life and Dutt her heart. They soon tied the nuptial knot after the film’s release.

The film was released in 1957 and was hailed internationally as a classic. The film grossed over Rs. 40 million, a record that was broken three years later by K.Asif’s Mughal-e-azam. To quote Filmfare in its review in the issue of November 22, 1957, "Every once in a while comes a motion picture which helps the the industry to cover the mile to the milestone. Mehboob's magnum opus, Mother India, which was released in the fortnight is one such film." India, with its epic dimensions swept across the imaginations of generations of artists and continued to be the muse of the thinking man. It went on to inspire a zillion Hindi blockbusters like Ganga Jamuna, Deewar, Ram Lakhan and Karan Arjun. The movie belongs the dramas of the Nehruvian era which conveyed the idea of ‘struggle today for a better tomorrow’, with strong undertones of optimism. Critics eulogized Mother India as India’s answer to Gone with the Wind.

Indomitable spirit

The movie does have its share of flaws. In an attempt to project Radha’s nerves of steel, Mehboob Khan goes on to over-glorify her. But even that seems justified while considering the scale to which he lifts the drama. Naushad’s music, with its earthly charm, exuded the fragrance of rural India. Shakeel Badayuni’s pen delivered heartening gems like Duniya Mein hum aaye hain. Fareedon Irani captures the scenic beauty of the villages and plays with the colours of nature in frame after frame.
Radha never meets her husband till the end of the movie; this aspect enunciating her tragedy further. In the heavy drama of Mother India, Mehboob Khan has added frivolus moments through the daily mother-son squabbles between Radha, Birju and Ramu. Some scenes stand out for their sheer brilliance. Watch out for the scene where Radha fights the fury of nature to save her children from the floods; the scene where she has a monologue with Mother Goddess or the song O Jaane Walon, where her clarion call to the villagers is answered. They are more than enough to give one goosebumps.

The year 1957 saw many other releases, which went on to mark their names in golden letters in the pages of cinema. Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa, B.R.Chopra’s Luddite drama Naya Daur, V.Shantaram’s Do Ankhen Baraah Haath and Dev Anand’s Nau Do Gyarah made the public go gaga side by side.
Mother India tells the tale of what a woman stands for – her family, her children, her honour, grit, determination and optimismShe builds the family, the society and the nation. It is for this very reason that this land of ours is called a Mother. Mother India salutes the spirit of Indian motherhood, the essence of which has captivated the whole thought process of our society. Films may come and films may go. But Mother India will tower over them like the Mother Earth, which bears all burden to come out victorious becomes worthy of veneration.

When the egos clashed in ABHIMAAN

2009-01-08T15:37:00.005+05:30

“Simple emotions are difficult to create” Hrishikesh Mukherjee once said in an interview. But that was simply what he dished out time and again to his viewers. Right from Musafir and Anari to Golmaal and Khoobsurat, he touched the lives of one and all, with the focus on what has almost disappeared from the silver screen – middle class mannerisms.
Abhimaan is the story of a Singing sensation Subir Kumar (Amitabh), who is slowly growing restless with his life of stardom and fans. His friend cum PA Chandru (Asrani), manages all his affairs. On a visit to his aunt’s (Durga Khote) village, he meets his neighbour Uma (Jaya), who has grown up worshipping music, much like her father (A.K.Hangal). Subir and Uma get married and they are welcomed at their home in Bombay with pomp and fair. Subir decides to sing thereafter with Uma – a gross mistake as observed by Rai saab (David), a classical musician, as he feels that Uma’s talent would eventually overshadow that of Subir. His fear turns out to be true, slowly but steadily and with it, the growing sense of insecurity in Subir’s mind. Offers start flowing in for Uma and her songs rock the charts at Binaca Geetmala. The producers even agree to pay her a fee higher than that of Subir. Subir takes to liquor and seeks solace in the dwelling of his friend and silent lover Chitra (Bindu), who tries to bring them together. Uma, unable to bear the silent and sardonic assaults of Subir, returns to her village. She soon delivers a still-born baby and suffers from a serious shock. A penitent Subir, after being chided by his aunt brings Uma back to Bombay. All his efforts to bring her out of shock fail. The moment of catharsis for Uma comes when he sings a song on stage, which was more of a dream they had seen together and which shattered before their very eyes.

Abhimaan talks of a theme, which has seldom been talked of with subtlety on the silver screen – male ego suffering a jolt due to the rise of his spouse. The slow build-up of insecurity in Subir was handled in a very nuanced manner. For example when Subir hears that producers are ready to give Uma Rs.5000, he demands a princely Rs.6000 for himself. The songs (gems by S.D.Burman) are used excellently to show the progress of the story. Meet na mila is a portrayal of the jovial but lonely life that Subir leads. If Uma’s Nadiya Kinare is a sign of them coming together, then the reception song Teri Bindiya re and Lute koi Man ka nagar brim with coquetry of a newly married couple. The two studio numbers- Ab toh hai tumse and Piya bina -shown as moments of fame of Uma, capture the drift in their relationship and the resultant seclusion that Uma suffers from. S.D.Burman also gives us a glimpse of his Sun Mere Bandhu re (from Sujata) in one of the background tunes. The use of Tere Mere Milan ki Ye Raina on two occasions, one for their newly married life and the other for the dramatic climax, enhances the visual appeal of the song and carries it along with the script.

The scenes such as the one where the photographers ask Subir to move away from Uma’s frame, the one where a few fans snatch their autograph book from Subir on seeing Uma and rush to her or the one where a devastated Uma places her hands on the strings of the tanpura to stop her father from producing the strains stand out for their sheer spot on emotions.
Soon after the release of Abhimaan, Amitabh and Jaya tied the knot and Jaya chose to keep herself away from movies. Needless to say, speculations were rife that the movie mirrored their own insecurities.
Abhimaan falls in the league of the commentaries on marriage that were made in the early 70s like Aavishkar, Kora Kaagaz, Grihapravesh and Anubhav. A glaring feature that sets Abhimaan apart is unlike the others which focussed on the domestic confines of marriage, Abhimaan moved ahead to speak of the professional rivalry between the couple which seeps into their home.
The movie has a flirtatious charm, with its explicit and implicit layers of coquetry and poetry, like the bashful face of Uma when she sees Subir pressing his lips to indicate a kiss. But on a larger note, Abhimaan spoke and still speaks the silent and convoluted story of the male dominated society that we still live in.

Shree 420 - a treatise on Nehruvian India

2009-01-07T15:16:00.001+05:30

When Shree 420 was released in 1955, it only seemed that the global roll of Raj Kapoor, which began with Awara, was unstoppable. With Shree 420, he came closer to the masses, by taking a leaf out of their own lives. Such was the impact of Shree 420, that viewers from China to Egypt and Russia to India could easily connect with this remarkable tale of a small-towner trying to make it big in a city and also spawned a zillion imitations.
A straightforward simpleton Raj (Raj Kapoor) arrives in Bombay to make it ‘big’ one day. He is appalled by the indifference of the people in the city and pawns a gold medal he has received for honesty (a classic metaphor). A series of comic episodes brings him close to the school teacher Vidya (Nargis). The underemployed Raj, with his Rs.35 salary, finds it difficult to fulfil his dream of setting up a home with Vidya.

Enters Maya (Nadira), a high-society casino darling, who sells a dream of a ‘big’ life to Raj. Vidya implores upon him to return to their sweet old world, where they shared a common dais. His refusal forces her to leave him to realise the futility of his ways. Raj becomes a ‘big’ man, gets a bungalow, a car and a name in Bombay. The song ‘Mud Mud ke na dekh’ encapsulates the arrival of a new life for him. Yet, he feels lonely at the top. One day, he drops in at the slum to meet his old friends and is shocked to see an ad in their hands, where a house is promised on the payment of Rs.100. Raj’s name appears on the poster. The slum dwellers give all their earnings to Raj and beseech him to build a house for them. The Seth who has published this poster also starts a bogus company (Raj, Raj, Raj &Co.), where shareholders are invited to invest in a gold mine in Tibet! He feels further shaken when Vidya enters his bungalow one day and returns his medal of honesty. Raj has to play his cards now. He has gone too far to come back.
Shanker-Jaikishan’s music was a gem by all means and each and every song has stood the test of time. The opening song Mera Joota Hai Japani perhaps stands for the present day global Indian. The song is an ode to life and the way it moves on. The Socialist outlook of the times comes in Dil Ka haal Sune Dilwala. Raj and Vidya being caught up in two different worlds and his longing for his earlier life is captured in the lovable Ramayya Vastavayya. Raj Kapoor easily brings in some light moments with the riddle-ridden children’s song Ichak Daana. The cream of the movie, of course is the cult-duet Pyaar Hua Ikraar Hua Hai, which would also easily classify as one of the best picturised romantic scenes in Hindi Cinema. Moreover, with this song, Raj Kapoor set-off a trend, which would provide the fodder for a zillion choreographers – SINGING IN THE RAIN! When this song was being recorded, Nargis and Raj Kapoor even enacted the scene before Manna Dey and Lata Mangeshkar in the recording studio to give them a gist of the song. The song turned out to be not just legendary, but also prophetic.

Mud Mud ke na dekh was one of the earliest hits of Asha Bhosle and she soon turned out to be a favourite for the ‘party’ numbers. The tight-fitting outfit worn for the song gave Nadira a tough time; but the effort paid off, when every costume and accessory used by her in the movie turned out to be a fashion statement. Legend has it that even the Prime Minister of Israel wanted a Nadira-type cigarette holder! But years later Nadira confessed in an interview that Shree 420, was not just her biggest blockbuster, but also her biggest curse. The impact of her devilry was so strong that she never got to play the lead heroine in any movie and was typecast as a bitchy vamp forever.
Today, certain aspects of Shree 420 might seem to be a product of Fabian Socialism, so typical of Nehru. But the issues raised here continue to exist. Even today, the housing crisis in Mumbai sets the tone for the elections. Beggary (and Bekaari- unemployment) continues to dog India. Though educated-unemployment has drastically reduced, the (in)ability to speak English continues to cast a pall over one’s skills. Even today, the dialogue of Raj “Log raton raat Lakhpati bannachahte hai” (people want to be millionaires overnight) continues to resonate in the umpteen number of short-cuts to the fame and money factory, where people are ready to stoop down to any extent to get what they desire. Somewhere, Raj’s character is like that of the Monk who sold his Ferrari.

Certain scenes and dialogues stand out in Shree 420:
1. When a politician mocks Raj calling him a 420, Raj retorts saying “If I’m a 420, then you are...” The camera quickly shifts to the number plate of the politician’s car – 840!

2. When the same politician/seth gives a ‘holier than thou’ speech to the public, Raj occupies the opposite podium and bellows “Jinko roti khaani ho, woh idhar aa jaaye, aur jinko hawa khaani ho, woh wahin reh jaaye”

3. Raj takes Vidya to Footpath Palace Hotel for tea – a stall in the foothpath! He has not a single penny to spare. He asks Nargis “Aapke paas do aane honge? Inke paas 100 ka chutta nahin hai, aur mere paas sirf 100 ke note hai” (DO you have 2 annas? I only have a 100-rupee note and he has no change). In the conversation that follows, Raj proposes to Vidya. They are speechless, but find an answer as they break into Pyaar Hua Ikraar Hua Hai.

4. Raj visits Nargis in the clothes stolen from the laundry where he works. She looks at him with awe but the cat comes out of the bag when she sees his torn shoes!

5. Yeh Bambai Hai Bambai! Yahaan Imaraten bane hai inton ke aur dil paththar ke (This is Bombay. Here buildings are made of bricks and hearts of stone)

What made Shree 420 special is the way Raj Kapoor encapsulated the dream of the middle-class. The performance of the lead actors Raj, Nargis and Nadira were exemplary. But Lalita Pawar as Lady Kelewali (Raj’s nickname for the banana seller) stole the thunder in all the scenes she was present. An irony it is, that the biggest vamp of Hindi-cinema is most remembered for the benevolent roles that she played (in Shree420, Anari and Anand). Raj Kapoor even named the characters according to their persona. Nargis, playing a righteous school teacher became Vidya and the Nadira playing the Socialite selling bogus dreams became Maya.

To meet the Rajs and Vidyas, all you have is to look around yourselves, you will find plenty of dreamy eyes, looking forward to their uncertain future or better still, look at yourself, for the conflict between Vidya and Maya goes on in each of us, giving us our ‘Raj’ moments. Nothing more is required to strike a chord with a classic that Shree 420 is!