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Jaal (1952) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

Goan Interlude:

As a tribute to Guru Dutt on his 100th birth anniversary, a flashback to his film Jaal.

After making a hit debut as director with Navketan Films’ Baazi (1951), Guru Dutt starred in and directed Jaal (1952), inspired by the 1949 Italian film Riso Amaro, and managed to get his friend Dev Anand to not just play the only negative role of his career, but also take his shirt off in a bathing scene. In those days, heroes in general and Dev Anand in particular used to be modestly dressed.

The opening credits state the underlying theme of the film:

Don’t listen to anything bad

Don’t talk about the one who does evil

Guide anyone who goes on the wrong path

Forgive anyone who errs.

The story is about the redeeming power of love.

According to a post-credits card, the film was set in one of the small regions of the country, which were still under foreign rule, but it was set in Goa (then under the Portuguese), in a Christian fishing community.  The film opens with the suave and glib Tony (Dev Anand) persuading a frightened Lisa (Purnima) to board a ship to Bombay (now Mumbai) with smuggled gold. Before she can get in, the cops arrive, and a panicky Lisa jumps into the sea, when she sees no help coming her way from Tony.

Tony moves on rather quickly to a flirtation with fisherwoman Maria (Geeta Bali), much to the annoyance of her silent admirer Simon (Ram Singh). Lisa washes up ashore and is rescued by Maria and Simon, after a beautifully shot song, Pighla ha sona.  Maria lives with her blind brother Carlo (K.N. Singh, in a positive role), and shelters Lisa in her own home. The clownish local cop Gomez (Rashid Khan) hovers around Maria, obviously smitten by her beauty and her cooking. He does not connect Lisa with the fugitive woman they are hunting for and is satisfied by the explanation that Lisa is a guest.  Maria is not so naïve as to be unable to perceive that Lisa has something to hide. She even tells her, “Don’t try to take advantage of our simplicity. We are poor but we are honest.” Maria sees Lisa burying the smuggled gold in the garden, takes it away and hides it.

Tony meets Maria outside church and notices that she is wearing Lisa’s necklace.  He refuses to go inside the church saying that only weak people go in there, to which Maria says, “The one who is afraid to go in is the weak one.” Lisa is deeply impressed by the sermon in which the pastor preaches that only God has the right to punish a sinner.

In spite of Tony’s treachery Lisa is pleased to see him, hoping he has come to see her, but he just wants his gold back. And he knows it’s Maria he has to get past, so spreads his net of faked love. There is a vibrant song, Chori chori meri gali aana hai bura, in which he dances with her. Lisa comes back distressed, since the gold is missing. Carlos finds it and understands what is going on. He wants to hand over Lisa to the cops, but she reveals how she, a simple girl, was trapped by the charms of a man and forced into crime. After her abject confession Carlos is unable to get her arrested; he has also become used to her gentle presence.

Tony pursues Maria will all the tricks at his disposal telling her that if a woman says no she means yes, and if she says yes, she is not a woman—this after putting a lasso around her and pulling her up a tree, while poor Simon waits for her with lunch.  By the time Tony croons, De bhi chuke hum dil nazrana, he has persuaded Maria to recommend him for a job with Simon.

Tony’s Arab cohorts want their money back—his interpreter sidekick being Johnny Walker, in his second film. Simon is not too happy about Tony’s presence, but the yield turns out so bountiful that he is silenced. In the fishing song, Haiya hai, Guru Dutt makes an appearance as a bare-chested fisherman, looking very handsome. (In his next film Baaz, he would also play the romantic lead, opposite Geeta Bali, he as prince, she as a pirate.)

In a beautifully shot scene on a ferris wheel, Lisa tries to warn Maria about the kind of crook Tony is; as the wheel goes faster and faster, Maria looks shattered. She tries her hardest to resist Tony and his glib talk, but his seductive crooning (in Hemant Kumar’s voice) Yeh raat, yeh chandni, pulls her to him; in a symbolic moment, she is seen trapped in a gigantic fishing net—the jaal of the title. Without unduly underlining anything, Guru Dutt conveys that she has succumbed to his charm.

He only wants her to be a cover for his escape from the cops and the pesky Arabs; after promising her eternal love in a church, he abandons her mid ocean. The cops close in and there is a shoot out. Even after he has so cruelly betrayed her trust, Maria wants Tony to surrender and promises to wait for him. As he is led away in a long shot, with a cross in the foreground, the lines about forgiveness that appear in the beginning are repeated—the end being a mix of hope and despair for Maria.

Perhaps the amoral anti-heroes that Emran Hashmi plays in Bhatt productions today, owe something to the magnetic Tony of Jaal.

The Catholic characters speaking chaste Urdu is a bit odd, but the simplicity of the characters and their small dreams draws the audience in. S.D. Burman’s music was as fine as V.K Murthy’s stunning black and white cinematography. He collaborated with Guru Dutt on many of his subsequent films.

In the list of assistants are two names that catch attention—one is Atmaram, who was Guru Dutt’s brother and produced some films later. The other was Raj Khosla, who made some great films CID, Solva Saal, Bambai Ka Baabu, Kaala Pani, Do Raaste to Mera Gaon Mera Desh, and is one of the underrated directors of Hindi cinema, maybe because the other supertalented Navketan director, Vijay ‘Goldie’ Anand’s dazzling aura dulled his shine.

(This is an edited version of the piece that appeared in Take 2: 50 Films That Deserve A New Audience, published by Hay House in 2015)

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Upkar (1967) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

The Original Mr Bharat:

A look at Upkar, Manoj Kumar’s first film as director– a tribute to the star-filmmaker who passed away on April 4.

At the peak of his stardom, Manoj Kumar made his debut as director, reportedly after then Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri asked him to make a film around his slogan, Jai Jawan Jai Kisan. It was soon after the Indo-China (1962) and Indo-Pak (1965) wars and a dose of healthy patriotism was in order. (The film was dedicated to Shastri.)

He played a farmer called Bharat, who loves his land and his country. His brother Puran (Prem Chopra), however, does not share his sentiments. He goes to the city to study and is corrupted by the drinking-partying ways of the other students. He is attracted to a doctor Kavita (Asha Parekh), but she goes to the village to work with the poor, and falls in love with the idealistic Bharat. She comes from a rich family, but her mission is to help the needy. Puran is the opposite, and wants to break away from his family to run after money made by any means. Much to the grief of his mother Radha (Kamini Kaushal), Puran goaded to turn against his brother by the smuggling and black-marketing villains Dhaniram and Charandas (Kanhaiyalal and Madan Puri). He demands his share of the family land from Bharat, who gives it all, with the request that he cultivates it and does not not sell it.

Later, when the war with Pakistan breaks out, Bharat joins the army to protect the country—playing both jawan and kisan in the film. He is taken prisoner or war, and when he escapes it is to devastation of the villages by the border. He is found in badly-wounded condition by the one-legged Malang Chacha (Pran), who has been a friend of the family since Bharat was a child. (In a moving and dramatic scene, Malang draws water from a well to quench Bharat’s thirst, but the bucket comes up full of blood.) Malang dies trying to protect Bharat from the murderous Charandas, who has been stealing from the dead.  (Pran, who used to play villain till then white-washed his image with this film, and went on to become a popular character actor, playing noble roles.)

Bharat’s life is saved, but he loses his hands. By this time, Puran realizes that he had been misled, and regrets the way he mistreated his family. When Bharat recovers, the first thing he sees is Puran ploughing the field. The prodigal has returned.

The melodrama may seen overdone by today’s standards, but Manoj Kumar caught the mood of the country then, and wrote the kind of bombastic script and dialogue that appealed to the audience and turned Upkar into the biggest of the year.  The film was shot on outdoor locations, and the production design was heavy with symbolism. It may seem over the top now, but the imagery was effective.

Manoj Kumar also filled the film with many social issues that were important then and remain so—family planning, medical aid for the poor, equitable distribution of food, respect for the farmer and the land, and a strong anti-war message.

The film had a terrific music score by Kalyanji-Anandji; apart from Mere desh ki dharti (written with feeling by Gulshan Bawra), there was the melancholic Kasme vaade pyar wafa sab, picturised on Pran; Deewano se yeh mat poochho, Aayi jhoom ke basant,  Gulabi raat gulabi.

After this film, Manoj Kumar made patriotism his calling card and came to be called Mr Bharat. He directed other films like Purab Paschim, Shor, Roti Kapda Aur Makaan, Kranti, but none matched the raw emotional sincerity of Upkar. It won multiple awards that year—National and Filmfare.

 

 

 

 

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Welcome To Sajjanpur: (2008) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

Postcards from India

As a tribute to Shyam Benegal who passed away on December 23, 2024, a flashback to one of his rare comedies 

Charming, earthy and witty, Shyam Benegal’s Welcome To Sajjanpur is one of the few comedies in the eminent directors vast and varied repertoire. And it boasts of the best dialogue in recent Mumbai cinema—by Ashok Mishra.

Set in the fictional, idyllic village of Sajjanpur, the sweet and sour happenings are seen through the eyes of letter-writer Mahadev (Shreyas Talpade), who uses his thwarted literary ambitions to write colourful letters for the illiterate folks of the village.

From urban India, it is tough to envisage a part of India that has “23 hour power cuts,” so many illiterates, and very little contact with the modern world. Hilariously, a hick with a mobile phone, needs Mahadev to send and read smses for him.

Mahadev’s love for a simple potter Kamla (Amrita Rao) leads him to try to fudge her letters and wreck her marriage with her husband  (a star making a surprise appearance) in Mumbai, but his repentance and reparation is touching too.

Around his mostly uneventful life, is the romance with the compounder (Ravi Kishen) with a widow (Rajeshwari Sachdev), a mother’s (Ila Arun) worry about her manglik daughter (Divya Dutta) and the local eunuch (Ravi Jhankal) taking on the ‘sarpanch’ (Yashpal Sharma) in the elections.

The recreation of the village milieu is authentic—the houses as well as the costumes—and shot lovingly by Rajan Kothari. The problem with the film is that the central track is too slight, and the subsidiary characters not suitably fleshed out.  Caste, class and community that are so strong in rural India, barely raise a head, even during the election episode. The tragedy of the widow and her suitor is too briefly dismissed. And the songs just hold up the narrative without adding anything to the film.

Benegal has always got very good performances from his repertory of favorites (like Rajeshwari Sachdev and Ila Arun), but he manages to make Amrita Rao to get out of her simpering act and deliver a lovely performance as the shy and lonely abandoned bride. Ravi Jhankal is impressive as the eunuch, but it is Shreyas Talpade, eyes brimming with mischief and unruffled body language, who holds the film together. 

With its minor flaws, Welcome to Sajjanpur is enjoyable in a very gentle, offbeat way—just don’t expect Priyadarshan style comedy here.

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Solva Saal (1958) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

Runaway Bride:

As a tribute to Waheeda Rehman for winning this year’s Dadasaheb Phalke Award, a flashback to one of her early films:

 Dev Anand was already a top star in 1958, but Solva Saal was Waheeda Rehman’s first major lead role and she was not just dazzlingly beautiful but also a superb actress.

Directed by Raj Khosla, Solva Saal  was loosely inspired by Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night, and takes place in the span of a few hours. Laj (Waheeda Rehman) is in love with Shyam (Jagdev), who is only interested in her money. He sulks, she sings Yeh bhi koi rooth ne ka mausam hai to pacify him and then agrees to elope with him that night.

Her father (Bipin Gupta) has decided to arrange a match for her, and is planning to leave for Bangalore the next morning to meet the man’s mother. He asks Laj to wake him up at five for him to catch his flight and meet the groom to be at the airport.

Laj has already decides to run away. She takes a necklace of precious pearls that once belonged to her mother and meets Shyam at the station. In the train, a passenger dozing on the next berth, overhears their conversation and his ears perk up. He is a journalist, Pran Kashyap (Dev Anand) and is travelling with his photographer friend Gogi (Sunder). Once Pran prevents Shyam from slipping away with the necklace, by pulling the chain. He also sings the playful Hai apna dil to awaara just to annoy the two. As soon as he gets a chance Shyam decamps with the necklace..

Laj gets off the train to follow him and Pran follows her. He saves her from being hit by a train, but an annoyed and frightened Laj does not want his help– he offers it anyway.  He takes her to a taxi stand to trace the driver who took Shyam as a passenger. (Another great S. D. Burman number, Yahi to hai woh.)

The cab had dropped Shyam at a film studio, so Laj and Pran make their way there. At the studio, Shyam is flirting with an actress, Neena (Kammo) and showing off the necklace. She tells him to sell it to a jeweller and get married with the money.  Pran tells Gogi who is also at the studio to keep a look out for Shyam, while he takes Laj to the police station. To his surprise, Laj refuses to make a complaint and leaves, with Pran following close behind. Sorry for the distress she will cause her family, Laj jumps into the river to commit suicide.

Pran rescues her and coaxes the story out of her. They go to a washerman’s hut to dry their clothes  and  are given spare clothes by the dhobi and sent to a room to change, in the belief that they are husband wife. Drawing the curtains to change shyly, this is the moment when love strikes. Outside the washerwoman (Sheila Vaz) sings Mohe laaga solva saal.

Pran promises Laj that he will help her retrieve the necklace and take her back home before her father wakes up.  At the studio, Neena conspires with the jeweller to tell Shyam that the necklace is fake. But she wears it anyway, and on the way to give her shot, gets rid of the jeweller too, planning to keep the booty for herself.

Pran and Laj are recruited as extras for a dance number and Gogi spots Shyam in Neena’s room. The plan to retrieve the necklace is afoot on the studio floor, where Raj Khosla plays the director of the film being shot. Tun Tun makes an appearance as a South Indian actress saving Laj from a lecher. She also sings a bhajan so well that an assistant director tells her to go in for playback singing. In real life, Tun Tun had been a singer called Uma Devi before she became typecast as the fat comedienne.

There is a really thrilling chase over the studio catwalks and it is not a spoiler to reveal that Laj does get back home with the necklace before her father wakes up. It is not a surprise either to see Laj’s intended at the airport, who sees her and exults, Yehi to hai woh.

The film was entertaining and dripped with charm; the chemistry between the lead pair was sparkling.  There was a kind of innocence to the film—the audience could be sure nothing bad would happen to Laj with Pran watching over her, and that she will get the happiness she deserves.

(This is an edited version of  chapter in my book, Take 2: 50 Films That Deserve A New Audience, published by Hay House in 2015)

 

 

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Hum Ek Hain (1946) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

The Dev Debut:

As a tribute to Dev Anand on his birth centenary, a flashback to his very first film.

Although it is best known as the film in which Dev Anand made his debut as an actor, Hum Ek Hain had many other firsts to its credit—it was P.L. Santoshi’s first film as director; Rehman, Rehana and Kamala Kotnis were also introduced with this film.

The secular influence of Hum Ek Hain carried on through Bollywood over the years reaching its zenith with Manmohan Desai’s Amar Akbar Anthony (1977), and finding echoes in the recent The Great Indian Family (Vijay Krishna Acharya, 2023).  Made just before India’s Independence, the film’s message of unity and communal harmony was somehow sneaked in under the watchful eyes of the British censors.

Hum Ek Hain was produced by the mighty Prabhat Film Company, started in 1929 by V. Shantaram, V.G. Damle, K.R. Dhaiber, S. Fattelal and S.B. Kulkarni in Kolhapur. With such minds working together, the company was bound to succeed. Prabhat’s logo with a woman playing the ‘tutari’ was iconic. In 1933, the company moved to Pune and established a huge studio, where over 45 films were made. V. Shantaram left the firm in 1942 over a disagreement with his partners after he got romantically involved with actress Jayashree. In 1945, Damle passed away and the company closed down in 1952. The Government of India bought the studio’s property in 1960 and the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) was set up there. During the time Hum Ek Hain was made, Prabhat was still making socially relevant films.

The film opens with scenes of calamity. There is a drought in a village, forcing farmers to mortgage or sell their lands to their zamindars.  Amidst the greed and apathy of the time, the generosity of the woman everyone called Zamindarin Ma (Durga Khote) stands out. With the help of her kindly Muslim retainer, she distributes grain to the poor, takes dozens of starving children into her home and looks after them. She has a young son Shankar, who emulates his mother’s benevolence.

Zamindarin Ma ends up adopting three children, a Muslim boy called Yusuf, a Christian boy, John and a Dalit girl, Durga. With typical movie stereotyping the boys are distinguished by the headgear of their respective communities. They all grow up happily together, singing Husnalal-Bhagatram songs, written by Santoshi, and get into scrapes with the other zamindar’s spoilt son Chhote Babu. They trill “hum ek hain” so often that even the family parrot learns to  squawk it.

When they grow up into Dev Anand (Shankar), Rehman (Yusuf) and RV Rane (John), they are paired off with girls of their own religion. (Even the story writing team on this film was inter-religious –S. Mohammad, Tony Lazarus and Pandit Santoshi!) The three weddings take place together, with the sister (Ranjitkumari) singing: Meri aayi hain teen bhabhiyan

The happy family’s problems start when Chhote Babu (Ram Singh) who wants to marry Vidya (Kamala Kotnis), is turned down because she loves Shankar. On the surface he stays friendly, but plots the downfall of the family, by the simplest British policy: Divide and Rule.

When Shankar goes to the city to visit his ailing father-in-law, Chhote Babu tells John, who is a doctor, that he needs to build a better hospital. He even offers a the services of a crooked engineer to build it. Shankar sends money for the project, but the engineer’s demands keep escalating, till he starts running short of funds due to a poor crop yield. Chhote Babu tells John that he will persuade Shankar to release more money, and then nudges Shankar to go to the village and stop work on the wasteful construction.

This causes a rift between the brothers which blows up further when Chhote Babu puts the idea of a batwaara (split) of family property into Shankar’s head. When he brings it up, a hurt Yusuf leaves home with his wife; then the other two leave home as well, and the poor mother falls ill with grief at the break up of her beloved family.

Sympathising with Zamindarin Ma and offering to help, Chhote Babu then orders the crops in her field be burnt. The catastrophe brings the brothers rushing to their mother’s aid; they finally realise what has happened and how they were all conned by Chhote Babu.

The film  held up a mirror to an India that was in danger of being partitioned on communal lines. The songs and dialogue expressing unity captured the mood of the people without too much melodrama. There is even a delightful dance by Cuckoo, to the song Ho nadiya ke paar more saanwre; she was Hindi cinema’s original ‘item’ girl, and no film was complete without a dance number by her.

Interestingly, the choreographer of this film was a certain Guru Dutt, who befriended the hero of the film and each promised the other, that whoever got a big break first would help the other. When Dev Anand set up his own production company, Navketan, Guru Dutt got his first break as director with Baazi (1951), which had as its scriptwriter, the legendary Balraj Sahni. Of such little nuggets is the edifice of the movie industry made.

Dev Anand made his debut with Hum Ek Hain, but was still a couple of years away from stardom. Ashok Kumar spotted him at Filmistan Studio of which he was co-founder, and offered him a role in Ziddi (1948) opposite Kamini Kaushal. The film was a hit and Dev Anand went on to become of the biggest and most popular stars Bollywood has ever known, affectionately called the Evergreen star, till his death in 2011 at the age of 88.

Hum Ek Hain, with its timely message of national integration also created a template for family socials that is still emulated by films and TV serials today, in which an ‘outsider’ tries to create trouble within a close-knit  clan but fails in the end, because familial love eventually triumphs and conquers all.

(This is an edited version of  a chapter in my book Take 2-%0 Films That Deserve A New Audience, published by Hay House in 2015)

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Nostalgiaah

Hunter (1984-91) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

Super Cops:

Sometimes, channel surfing throws up pleasant surprises and this old crime series, Hunter (on Amazon Prime) that ran for seven seasons from 1984-1991 is pure nostalgia.

It is an efficiently-made, fast-paced police procedural  (created by Frank Lupo) that relies on good old-fashioned legwork, unlike crime series today, where half the work is done on cell phones and computers. Because the cops have to actually go to apprehend suspects or meet witnesses, there is a parade of vintage cars on display—those huge, sleek gas-guzzlers, not today’s bulky SUVs. A lot of these turn turtle, roll down cliffs or explode—which would give Rohit Shetty of car-wrecking fame a complex.

The titular Hunter is Rick (Fred Dryer), who belongs to a clan of gangsters, but went straight and joined the Los Angeles police department. He is given a lot of grief by some of his superiors, and deliberately allotted decrepit cars to slow him down. That he is in the habit of demolishing the vehicles he drives in the line of work could be another reason for his carpool discrimination.

The very tall and very slim Hunter is paired with the petite and pretty Dee Dee McCall (Stepfanie Kramer), who, with her garish make-up, bright clothes and big, curly hair looks like a young Madhuri Dixit did in some of her old movies, where her styling was ghastly by today’s standards.

Hunter and McCall get along very well, and there is a lot of good-natured ribbing, but no romance.The two of them date other people, then feel that tinge of jealousy too when the other gets involved. Their love lives are not too happening since their work keeps them busy.

Over the next few seasons,  Hunter and McCall solve a wide variety of crimes (though Kramer quit in Season 6 and Hunter got new partners), with a line-up of guest stars like George Clooney, Brian Dennehy, Eric Estrada, Sammy Davis Jr., Chaka Khan and many others.

The series may be named after the lead actor, but McCall does a lot of the hard work, including donning a spate of disguises—from street walker, to homeless lady to pop singer. Though it is a crime show, and there is a great deal of violence, it is also lighthearted. Amidst the funny lines and witty back-and-forth between characters, there is a grim episode in which McCall is raped and left for dead, and Hunter goes after the man who hurt his partner.

There was no such thing as political correctness then, so McCall is nicknamed “Brass Cupcake” by her colleagues, but she is tough, fearless and relentless in the pursuit of criminals.

A comic character who appears in several episodes is the chatty, streetsmart informant, Sporty James (Garrett Morris). And after a few changes of Captain, Charles Hallahan settled in the role and did a fine job.

It is fun to watch the series (152 episodes, three Emmy nominations, peppy soundtrack), not just because it has exciting situations—some based on real incidents, but also to be reminded of the fashions, hair and make-up trends of the Eighties. At least some viewers will giggle or cringe at the memory of what they wore and how they looked, back in the day. And yes, also be reminded of how the world survived without mobile phones!

(This piece first appeared in seniorstoday.in)

 

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Parwana (1971) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

Brooding Bachchan:

On the occasion of Amitabh Bachchan’s 80th birthday, a look at Parwana (1971), an early film, in which his brooding intensity was on full display:

Two years before Amitabh Bachchan would do Zanjeer and become Indian cinema’s Angry Young Man, Jyoti Swaroop cast him as a hell-hath-no-fury kind of spurned suitor in Parwana (1971). Back then, Navin Nischol, with the hit Sawan Bhadon (1970) behind him was a bigger star than Bachchan, who played the parwana of the title, the moth that is so fascinated by the shama or flame, that it goes too close, its wings catch fire and it dies—this metaphor for unrequited or self-annihilating love is used a lot in Urdu poetry.

When the film opens, Asha (Yogeeta Bali) is seen hurrying through the airport, watched by the man who is later identified as renowned artist Kumar Sen (Bachchan). Asha rushes home and fusses over her uncle Ashok Verma (Om Prakash), worried sick because she was summoned by a telegram saying he was ill.

It is clear to the audience that Kumar has sent her the telegram, and that he is watching for her arrival. When he spots her, his face breaks into a slight smile. Asha believes that her friend who is getting engaged that evening played this prank on her and dragged her back from an enjoyable holiday in Ooty. She decides to play a prank back, and recruits Kumar to be her accomplice. She wears a burqa and pretends to be the lover of the friend’s baffled fiancé, and after the funny song O Basheera, everyone has a good laugh. This establishes the easy, informal friendship Asha shares with Kumar. He looks besotted with her, but she just never notices.

When she is out of earshot, Kumar begs her uncle to give him her hand in marriage; he however, insists that the suitor do the asking himself. Kumar is just too shy to propose, and equally fearful of rejection.

By the time he steels himself to tell her he loves her, she excitedly informs him that she has fallen for Rajeshwar (Navin Nischol), a tea estate owner she met on her trip. She wants Kumar to intercede on her behalf with her uncle, since she has promised that she will only marry with her guardian’s approval.

When this brick drops on his head, Kumar confesses his great, obsessive love for Asha. The walls of his studio are full of sketches, paintings and sculptures of her. In a torrent of anguished words he tells her he has worshipped her for years; Asha sadly tells him he took too long, and it is impossible for her to give up on her love and accept him.

Kumar loses his only ally, as Asha’s uncle is thrilled with the proposal from the rich Rajeshwar and gives the couple his blessings. Outwardly Kumar remains calm, and even throws a party for Rajeshwar, where seeing him dance with Asha, he clutches his glass so tight that it shatters. He tortures himself watching them from afar and spends sleepless nights imagining their intimacy.

His frantic plea to Ashok Verma is gently rebuffed—the uncle tries to explain to the brokenhearted Kumar, that he understands the younger man’s disappointment and sympathises with it too, but neither of them has the right to interfere in Asha’s life. With a sense of foreboding, Verma says that he can give up his life, but cannot grant him Asha’s hand against her wishes. The meeting ends bitterly, with Kumar declaring menacingly, that whatever has to happen will happen, “because everything is fair in love and war.” Catching the threat in his voice, Verma asks him to leave, and never set foot in his house again.

Kumar starts planning meticulously and with the cold precision of a man who will do anything to eliminate his rival. Ashok Verma is murdered and every clue points to Rajeshwar. Asha cannot believe that he could be the killer and stands by him. In court, a sneering prosecutor (Shatrughan Sinha) draws Rajeshwar into a tight web of probable guilt that seems impossible to break. A death sentence is certain, and Rajeshwar accepts his fate with dignity, refusing to plead for mercy.

Because Kumar’s scheming is there for all to see, the audience knows all along that he is the murderer; what they do not know is how he did it and got away. And get away he does, without even a tiny twinge of conscience, till a confrontation with a distressed Asha brings him down. She tells Kumar that she would rather die than live without her Rajesh. She does not guess that he is the killer, but pitifully appeals to him to save Rajesh’s life, in return for which she will give herself up to him.

The Perfect Murder was ingeniously planned, covering every eventuality; if he did not confess himself, Kumar would never have been caught. The DVD cover boasts: ‘A murder plan that forced Indian railways to change their train timing.’ This plan of getting off a train, taking a flight to and fro and then getting back into the train—thus getting a cast iron alibi—would be difficult to pull off today with so much security and CCTV cameras everywhere, still, Sriram Raghavan’s Johnny Gaddar (2007) paid tribute to this film, by using the same plot device.

Amitabh Bachchan was new enough to the industry to take on negative and unusual roles like this one and the toddy tapper in Saudagar (1971). In Parwana (written by the indomitable Agha Jani Kashmiri), the intensity of the thwarted suitor’s emotions is visible on his face and he smoulders with envy and rage. Watching this film now it is easy to imagine that this talented, lanky actor would succeed in films, though no one could have predicted his eventual superstardom.

With a fabulous Madan Mohan score and Kaifi Azmi’s lyrics (Simti si sharmaai si, kis duniya se tum aai ho, Yun na Sharma,  Piya ki gali), the film should have been a hit, but did not do well at the box-office. It’s possible that it failed because it did not have repeat value—once the murder plot was revealed, there was nothing for the audience to go back for. Nevertheless, it remains one of the best thrillers made in Hindi cinema and a very unusual one for Amitabh Bachchan’s filmography.

(This is an edited version of a chapter in my book Take 2: 50 Films That Deserve A New Audience, published by Hay House in 2015)

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Nostalgiaah

Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein (1964) -Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

He Directs!:

 

On Kishore Kumar’s birth anniversary, August 4, looking back at the first film he directed:

Kishore Kumar is fondly remembered as a singer, a comic actor and a famed Bollywood eccentric. Who would have thought that the first film he chose to direct, would be a serious one called Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein (1964).

Set in a picturesque rural area, the film’s inspiration, Satyajit Ray’s immortal Pather Panchali seems obvious. It is now a well-known fact that Kishore Kumar had helped finance that iconic Bengali film. He also happened to be related to Ray by marriage; his first wife Ruma Guha Thakurta was Ray’s niece. The plot of the film was, however, copied from Michael Curtiz’s The Proud Rebel (1958).

After doing a row of hit comedies, for Kishore Kumar it was a challenge to write and direct a gentle take on the relationship between a father and a son, in which he cast his son Amit Kumar (credited as Amit Ganguly). The film opens with humble thanks to “All workers big or small whose efforts made the creation of this motion picture possible,” which was a nice gesture on the part of Kishore Kumar. The credits roll over painted backdrops depicting scenes from the film and Hemant Kumar’s mellifluous voice singing the title track.

In a picturesque village, a little boy called Ramu, clad in a rural costume of dhoti-bandi and accompanied by a white dog, is walking past a group of boys playing kabaddi.  “Will you play with us?” one of the kids asks. Ramu eagerly nods his head. “How can you play, you are mute,” is the cruel riposte.

Ramu looks out at the river sadly, waiting for his father to return. He writes a letter on his slate to his absent father, pleading for him to come back quickly. One day, the boat deposits his father Shankar (Kishore Kumar) on the shore, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, walking impatiently towards his home, hoping to surprise his family by his sudden appearance. He is told by his kindly uncle, who has been looking after Ramu, that his house had burnt down killing his father and wife; the shock of the incident has left Ramu unable to speak. Father and son have a joyous reunion, tinged by grief at the tragedy that befell the family.  Shankar sees the burnt shell of his home, with the heartbreaking Koi lauta de mere beete hue din playing on the soundtrack in Kishore’s voice. He also composed the superb music for the film, set to Shailendra’s evocative lyrics.

Shankar tries to exhort Ramu to speak, to call him “Bapu” like he used to; the boy shakes his head vehemently and collapses in his father’s arms. The next day, Shankar sets out towards the city, with Ramu and his inseparable dog Shera, determined to get his son treated.

On the way, he gets into a scrap with a Thakur (Raj Mehra) and his two nasty sons (Iftekhar and Sajjan). He is wounded and left bleeding on the road. Meena (one of the few Hindi films done by Supriya Chowdhury of Meghe Dhaka Tara fame), passing by in her cart, picks him up and takes him home. She is the other big landowner in the village, and the Thakur has his eye on her property. He wants his older son to marry her, so that he can usurp her lands, but she has been resisting his advances and threats.

She lives by herself, with her caring staff and is loved by everyone around for her generosity. She shelters Ramu and Shankar till he recovers and is able to move. Ramu gets attached to her, and Shankar is attracted too, but unable to articulate his feelings. Besides, he is focussed on Ramu’s treatment.

While Shankar is at the mansion, he helps around with repairs and maintenance, making himself indispensable to Meena’s household. The Thakur and his sons grind their teeth and come up with ways to get Shankar out of the way—dirty tricks that involve getting a ferocious bandit (Hiralal) to frighten him away, and arranging to have him shot dead; the first plan is foiled by a Shankar fighting for himself, and the second by Ramu who spots the sniper.

All Shankar’s rounds of various doctors fail to cure Ramu—there is nothing wrong with the boy they all say, he just won’t speak. Shankar and Ramu return to the village dejected, but the Thakur and his sons have not given up. From attempting to rape Meena to kidnapping Shera, they don’t spare any ruse to get rid of their enemy.

Ramu comes to save his dog with the help of a beggar he had befriended (Nana Palshikar) and gets captured himself.  Now It’s Shera’s turn to fetch Shankar and during his fight with the villains, when he is about to be attacked from the back, Ramu shouts out to save him.

The child recovers his vocal chords, Shankar and Meena accept their love for each other and the film has a happy ending.

Kishore Kumar made a few more films, including the weirdly titled Badhti Ka Naam Dadhi (1974), none as accomplished as Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein.

(This is an edited version of a chapter from my book, Take 2: Fifty Films That Deserve A New Audience, published by Hay House in 2015)

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Nostalgiaah

Rudaali (1993) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

The Woman Who Would Not Weep:

On Dimple Kapadia’s 65th birthday,  revisiting her National Award-winning film Rudaali.

The woman is called Sookhi Shanichari (Dry Shanichari), because of her notorious inability to weep. She suffers pain, indignity and abandonment with a stoic fatalism not common in the rural milieu where she belongs.

In fact, weeping is actually a profession—rich people hire mourners or rudaalis because their dramatic staged display of grief boosts the status of the dead person, who might actually go unmourned, especially if he were a hated patriarch. Dressed in black, hair left loose, the rudaali beat her breast, rolled on the ground in simulated agony, and  shed artificially induced tears to lament the death of the ‘client’ so to speak.

 Dimple Kapadia, going against her glamorous image played a Rajasthani village woman in Kalpana Lajmi’s Rudaali (1993) and won a National Award for it.

Till this film, Dimple Kapadia was admired for her beauty, her debut in Raj Kapoor’s Bobby, throwing up of a promising career for a sudden wedding with superstar Rajesh Khanna, the dramatic break-up after two children, the comeback with Sagar. Then, with surprising indifference towards a career she fought to regain, she made a haphazard choice of roles that included an enigmatic ghost in Gulzar’s Lekin and the B-grade, faux feminist shocker Zakhmee Aurat, in which she and her gang of angry women went about castrating rapists.

Rudaali matched her legendary beauty with her underutilised talent, and with remarkable lack of vanity she played an embittered Shanichari, dressed in drab, shapeless outfits, looking much older that her age, her face bearing the mark of suffering and lost hope.

The film was based on a short story by great Bengali writer Mahasweta Devi, whose stories focussed on underprivileged women. Lajmi shifted the location to a more vivid landscape of Rajasthan, where the sandscapes, bright costumes, palaces and feudal structure made for a more visually arresting backdrop.

Here a chatty Bhikni (Raakhi) comes to stay in Shanichari’s humble hut, awaiting the death of the zamindar (Amjad Khan), so that she gets a mourning job. Shanichari finds in Bhikni the friend and confidante she never had. Shanichari is so reviled by the villagers for being unlucky that she chants their curses as her introduction–the woman born on a Saturday, whose ill-fated birth killed her father, and drove away her mother.

Shanichari lost her mother-in-law and her husband to illness, and later was abandoned by her son Budhua (Raghuvir Yadav). Budhua, who has a tendency to disappear for days, married a prostitute, Mungri (Sushmita Mukherjee), who aborted her baby in a rage, leaving Shanichari bereft of her only chance to have a grandchild.

When she talks to Bhikni, the one happy interlude in her life emerges— the attraction of the landlord’s son Lakshman Singh (Raj Babbar) towards her.  He hires her to look after his pampered wife and does not treat her like a low-caste serf, telling her often to look up at him when he addresses her. He invites her to sing at his son’s birthday and gifts her the land her hut stands on.

 Shanichari’s eloquent eyes speak of admiration for Lakshman Singh; it is clear he loves her in a way, but is not the kind to force her into an illicit affair. After the night she sings for the family (the memorable Bhupen Hazarika composition Dil hoom hoom kare), she never meets Lakshman Singh again, making a living doing hard labour at a stone quarry and later selling quilts in the bazaar.

Through all her troubles, Shanichari remains dry-eyed, but anger simmers in her heart—at the fate of poor women like herself. Her low position in the rural hierarchy gives her the courage to publicly castigate the village priest and shopkeeper when they hit on Mungri and abuse her.

Shanichari has the resilience of many rural women, who are not even aware of their own strength. Once they have no man or family to depend on they attain a kind of fearlessness that helps them get through their tough life.  It was Kalpana Lajmi’s direction or some inner reserves of pain that Dimple Kapadia brought into her very bearing, that imprint Shanichari on the viewers’ mind.

One night, a man comes to fetch Bhikni.  Someone she knew in the past is dying in another village and sent for her. She promises to return in two days and then tell Shanichari her story. The man was actually her lover, for whom she had abandoned her family and joined his nautanki company. When cinema arrived and killed folk theatre, Bhikni was forced to become a rudaali.

The zamindar is on the brink of death now and Shanichari goes to meet Lakshman Singh who is planning to leave the village. The brief encounter shows that he still has feelings for her. There she hears that Bhikni is dead, and also learns that she was her mother.

Bhikni’s death unleashes Shanichari’s tears in an uncontrollable torrent of grief. Her mother left her with a legacy too— the ability to weep, that turns Shanichari into a rudaali.

There is a lot that is left unsaid in the story and in Lajmi’s film—about the condition of women in feudal society. Still, women like Bhikni and Shanichari find ways to survive without losing out on their self-respect or dignity. Bhikni does it by breaking the rules, Shanichari by reluctantly obeying them.

Dimple Kapadia’s divergence from typical Bollywood gave her opportunities for other offbeat roles in films like Mrinal Sen’s Antareen, Govind Nihalani’s Drishti, Somnath Sen’s Leela, Farhan Akhtar’s Dil Chahta Hai, Homi Adajania’s Being Cyrus and Finding Fanny and more recently, made her international debut in Chritopher Nolan’s Tenet, but it was Rudaali that had unlocked her potential.

(This is an edited version of a chapter from my book Sheroes: 25 Daring Women of Bollywood, published by Westland in 2015) 

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Nostalgiaah

Mujhe Jeene Do (1963) – Nostalgiaah

by Deepa Gahlot
written by Deepa Gahlot

The Outlaws Of Chambal:

Fifty years ago, the first mass surrender of dacoits had taken place in a Chambal village (source a report in The Hindustan Times by Shruti Tomar and Shiv Pratap Singh) –flashing back to one of the finest bandit films made in India.

 The injustice forced upon the rural poor by the feudal system in India, gave rise to the baaghi (outlaw) dacoit.  So common were dacoit gangs around the Chambal ravines in central India, that dacoit films were a genre all by themselves in a trend that continued right up to the Eighties.

Sunil Dutt’s Ajanta Arts produced Mujhe Jeene Do (1963), directed by Moni Bhattacharjee, the gritty drama written by Agha Jani Kashmiri, has none of the false glamour and bravado that invariably creeps into films about bandits.

The film begins with a Sahir Ludhianvi song, Ab koi gulshan na ujde, ab watan azaad hai (May no garden be ruined now that the country is free), ironical because Independence from British rule brought no relief to the downtrodden.

There is no back story to Jarnail Singh (Sunil Dutt)—the viewer was expected to understand what turned this brave and proud man towards a life of crime. He probably lost his land to a cruel zamindar and could not bear the thought of living a life of slavery.  Life on the run has hardened him—in the first scene, he kills a man who refuses to sell him ammunition. Even as his wife Champa (Nirupa Roy) carrying an infant in her arms pleads with him to spare her husband’s life, Jarnail drags him to the village square and shoots him dead. This incident unites the entire village and enraged men swear revenge.

Jarnail Singh’s gang is ambushed by the police, on the way, but manage to escape amidst a camel caravan. The mole in the gang is summarily shot. However, the cops led by a Superintendent of Police (Tarun Bose) dedicated to wiping out the dacoit menace, stay one step behind the Jarnail Singh gang.

On their next attack at a wedding in a rich man’s (Sapru) house, where the alluring Chamelijaan (Waheeda Rehman) has been called to perform, Jarnail Singh is smitten by her and kidnaps her. Chamelijaan declines to sing or dance for him, so Jarnail gives orders that she is to be given no food till she relents.

There are some comic scenes involving Jarnail’s buddy and the gang’s jester Dara Khan (Rajendranath), and a glowering deputy Kripal Singh (Siddu).  Jarnail tries again to get Chameli to entertain him, at which she delivers a fierce monologue saying that a tawaif is better than a dacoit; she entertains people while he ruins families; her hands are coloured with henna, his with blood; on judgment day, God might forgive her, but not him. She gives him several stinging slaps, scratches his face and passes out. At this moment, instead of rage, the expression on Jarnail’s face is bafflement—he has fallen in love. Only Dara can see through his friend’s heart and he is overjoyed that at last Jarnail has found someone to guide him to the right path.Jarmail proposes to Chameli, and lets her think about it. She is touched that  he wants to make an honest woman out of a courtesan.

The cops are relentlessly on the dacoits’ trail—there is a confrontation between Jarnail and the SP during which the cop promises to see the audacious bandit hanged.  Jarnail returns just in time to see Kripal trying to molest Chameli, but she begs him to spare Kripal’s life and accepts his earlier proposal of marriage. Kripal breaks away from the gang and forms his own ragtag bunch.

Chameli gives birth to a son at Dara’s house, where his mother (Durga Khote) and sister (a very young Mumtaz) help. Soon after this Dara is  killed by Kripal’s bullet.  Jarnail is shattered by the death of his best friend. Already his gang is being weakened by police attacks.

At one of his raids, Phool Singh (Anwar Hussain) gives Jarnail a tough fight, when he is about to kill him, his little son pleads for his life. Jarnail is unable to pull the trigger; in fact Kripal following  his former cohort, shoots Phool Singh and Jarnail saves his life.

Now for the sake of his family, Jarnail wants to a give up this nomadic way of life.  He tells Chameli to take their son and settle down to a decent life in a village. Chameli chooses a home next to Champa’s and finds a friend in her; she also pretends that she is a widow.

At school, Chameli’s son inadvertently gives out his identity, and the village mob attacks her home.  She is saved by Champa, who believes that innocent family members should not be lynched for Jarnail’s crimes.

Jarnail agrees to surrender, the cops and villagers gather outside the village to wait for him as he rides in alone and throws down his gun. Kripal shoots him before he can reach; before dying, Jarnail atones in a way, by saving Champa’s son who has run into the crossfire.

The film was an authentic portrayal of the lives of dacoits. The unit of Sunil Dutt’s Ajanta Arts shot in actual bandit territory in the Bhind-Morena ravines in the Chambal valley, at some risk to their lives. They had to shoot under police protection. In real life, many dacoits had surrendered following a call by Vinoba Bhave and an amnesty agreement announced by the government.

The songs composed by Jaidev were brilliantly integrated into the narrative—such beautiful numbers as Raat bhi hai kucch bheegi bheegi, Nadi naare na jao Shyam, Maang meri bhar le rang, Tere bachpan ko jawani ki dua deti hoon.

Both Sunil Dutt and Waheeda Rehman were outstanding in the film as were the actors in supporting parts.

Moni Bhattacharjee started as Bimal Roy’s assistant, and went independent with Usne Kaha Tha (1960), in which Sunil Dutt starred. The connection must have been forged then for him to get assigned to direct Mujhe Jeene Do, which remains his best known film.

It was a hit and also the official selection at the Cannes Film Festival that year. Although other dacoit films had been made before (notably Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai and Ganga Jumna) and after Mujhe Jeene Do, few were as powerful as this.

(This piece is an edited version of a chapter in my book Take 2: Fifty Films That Deserve A New Audience, published by Hay House in 2015)

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