Mom Mania

Mum’s the word

The mom mania on the small screen can be traced to the surefire success of mother-fixated films like Mother India and Deewar, writes Nirupama Dutt

Nargis in Mother India upholds dharma by killing the son she loves the most (Sunil Dutt)Amitabh Bachchan is left speechless when Shashi Kapoor tells him “Mere paas ma hai”
The Mother India myth has been one of sure success in Hindi films. Popular Indian cinema is indeed mother-centric with a host of graceful matriarchs having done honours to the Indian screen from Durga Khote, Leela Chitnis, Nirupa Roy, Sulochana to Nutan, Waheeda Rehman and Rakhi. The famous dialogue from the Amitabh Bachchan blockbuster Deewar is still repeated. Amitabh, the baddie, tells Shashi Kapoor, the goodi-good younger brother, "Mere paas bangla hai, gadhi hai, paisa hai. Tere paas kya hai?" Pat comes the reply, "Mere paas maa hai."
Mama-mania is a way of life in the Indian cinema and it succeeds many a time. But the man who gave the archetypal Mother figure to the Indian screen was the great filmmaker Mehboob Khan in Mother India in 1957. Mother India was a remake in technicolour with a brand new star case of Mehboob’s earlier Aurat (1940). Iqbal Massod once writing on this archetypal mother said, "The mother upholds the dharma which the good son follows. When the bad son transgresses it, he is killed." The ever-lasting myth of the big screen has been providing a catharsis to audiences as they sit every night at half past ten to watch Kyunki Saas bhi Kabhie Bahu Thhi. Smriti Irani, playing Tulsi Virani in the serial has done the Mother India act with aplomb by killing Ansh and winning the approval of the viewers.
The mother figure in the Indian psyche is different from that in the West. Julia Glancy, a Britisher and wife of a pre-Partition Punjab Governor once during her stay in India remarked in surprise, "The strongest relationship in India is between mother and son and not husband and wife." To the Indian mind, deeply entrenched in the concepts of Mother Earth and Mother Goddess, there is nothing strange or surprising about this.
They do not have the Freudean theory of the Oedipal complex to bother about.This concept has been liberally splashed in popular art, including calendars, posters and advertisements.
When Mehboob made Aurat in 1940, it was the time of the national struggle against the colonial rule. Mehboob combined in his creation of the mother figure the two concepts of Mother Earth and Mother Goddess. The film thus gave a vigour to the national movement as this was the time when posters were being printed of Bharat Mata in chains and suffering. Or martyrs like Bhagat Singh offering their heads to Bharat Mata. Post-Independence India saw the image of Bharat Mata with her chains broken, the tricolour on the border of her sari and a smile on her face to encourage her favourite son Jawaharlal Nehru.
It was in the renewed scenario that Nargis was reborn as Mother India, striking a famous pose with the plough on her body. To save the honour of the village, she even kills her son, played by Sunil Dutt, who turns a dacoit and is making way with the wicked money-lender’s daughter. She kills the son she loves the most for she upholds dharma.
People just loved it and the film has the reputation of running till date in one cinema hall or the other in the country and still attracting audiences.
Every decade has seen one or more films which played with the myth in one way or other. It was Ganga Jamuna in the 60s, Deewar in the 70s, Ram Lakhan in the 80s, Vaastav in the 90s and Koi Mere Dil Se Poochhe in the new century.
And now the small screen has appropriated this myth giving Tulsi Virani the greatest status that the Indian imagination can envisage. Women in the neighbourhoods are talking of little else and when the story was leaked out a couple of weeks before the trigger was actually pulled, it made front page news in national dailies.
So the moral of the story is when all other formulae fail, it is best to have a good mother and an erring son. Mama mia! A killer mother never fails for the Mother India myth is forever.

Films on Prem Chand's fiction

Munshi and the movies

Nirupama Dutt

THE buzz in movie circles is that Vidhu Vinod Chopra after caressing the hearts of moviegoers ever so tenderly with Parineeta, a love story penned by Bangla writer Sarat Chandra, in 1914 is now looking for a classic from Hindi. And his heart seems to be set on doing Munshi Prem Chand’s classical pastoral novel, Godan, all over again. Well, if Bimal Roy could retell Sarat Chandra’s Devdas after Barua and Sanjay Leela Bhansali could re-re-tell it, then why not a retake on Godan.
In fact, Premchand’s writings have inspired many memorable films, including two unforgettable ones by Satyajit Ray, Shatranj ke Khiladi (1977) and Sadgati (1981).
The first film inspired by a Premchand story was Mazdoor. It was made way back in 1945. The second film was Heera Moti (1959), based on a short story called Do Bailon ki Kahani. It had the famous pair of Bimal Roy’s pastoral classic Do Bigha Zameen(1953) in the lead, Balraj Sahni and Nirupa Roy. However, Chopra was no Roy and film is all but forgotten but for a pleasant duet so beautifully depicting the Ganga-Jamuni culture, Kauni rang mungva/ Kauni rang motia/ Kauni rang ri nanadi tore birana, that can sometimes be heard in a programme of Bhoole Bisre Geet.
Sanjeev Kumar and Saeed Jaffrey in Shatranj ke Khiladi
Trilok Jeltley directed Godan (1963) is still etched in the mind for its realistic narration on celluloid of the struggle of the Indian farmer with Raj Kumar and Kamini Kaushal in the lead. The musical score was by the sitar maestro Ravi Shankar and one of the best Purvia songs of Hindi cinema was from this film, Pipra ke patva sarikhe dole manva, Ke hiyara me uthat hilor.
Godan, the last complete novel by Premchand, is considered one of the greats and has been translated into many languages. Krishna Chopra along with Hrishikesh Mukherjee made yet another film on a Premchand story. This was Gaban (1966), the story of a clerk who embezzles funds to buy a coveted necklace for his wife. Sunil Dutt played the clerk and a deglamourised Sadhana danced to the music of Shankar Jaikishen singing, Maine dekha thha sapne mein ik Chandrahar. Mere balam ne pehana diya.
With the Chandrahaar saga not clicking too well with the masses, it seemed the days of social realism a la Premchand were over. But in 1977, Satyajit Ray made his first Hindi film on a story by Premchand set in the large backdrop of colonial India and the annexation of Oudh. In spite of criticism that by changing the end of the story in which the two nawabs kill each other for honour’s sake Ray had done injustice to the spirit of the conquered, Shatranj ke Khiladi is considered one of Ray’s most important films. Ray’s telefilm, Sadgati (1981), with Om Puri and Smita Patil in the lead, was soul-stirring as it raised the question of caste that is as alive in society today as it was when Premchand wrote the film.
Last year, Gulzar turned his attention on the Munshi with a 26-episode serial for Doordarshan called Tehreer as part of the 125 th centenary celebrations. For Gulzar it was a project after his heart as he wished to leave his stamp on the works of a genius as he had done with a difference by a serial on none other than the great Urdu poet, Mirza Ghalib. But the response of the audiences was not all that admirable.
If Bhansali can send Devdas to Oxford or make Paro and Chandramukhi shake a leg and much else, or if Vinod Chopra can reset the 1914 love stories in the Calcutta can of the Sixties, Godan’s Hori, the protagonist too, is bound to undergo change. Change is after all the spice of life and more so the movies. Putting Munshi’s heroes in movies of these times may well mean changing the landscape of Godan from Uttar Pradesh to the BT cotton fields around Bathinda.
The battle between lovers of literature and makers of movies will thus carry on. Story tellers in celluloid will continue to look the way of classics.

The doomed hero never fails

The Devdas Syndrome

Nirupama Dutt

Few fictional heroes have dominated the India male psyche in the 20th century more than Devdas. Indeed, among the many sins’ novelist Sarat Chandra Chatterjee may have committed, the greatest is that of authoring Devdas. For, the eponymous hero of Chatterjee’novel has come to symbolize the weakling, indecisive male who can do little but drink himself to death. And this even when he had the choice of living in companionship with two women-- his childhood sweetheart Paro or the repentant prostitute Chandramukhi.

Considered the ultimate in romance of the unrequited, Devdas came alive on the silver screen as early as 1935, courtesy Paramtesh Chandra Barua. This prince from Assam identified so closely with Devdas that he made two versions of the film. In the Bengali version, he played the doomed hero. For the Hindi version, Saigal did the role with those haunting songs like Dukh ke din ab beetat naahi. As far as alcoholism went, saigal anyway embodied shades of Devdas -- and the portrayal was easy for the singing star.
Barua had staked his all in the production of these films. It is said that he went to the premiere with a loaded revolver, determined to kill himself were the people not to respond to the film. Devdas, however, was an all-time hit. New Theatres in Tamil remade the film next year, and it became a rage down south too.

Such was the power of this hero of fiction that he almost replaced Majnu of the Laila fame. The colloquial question to any unshaved man looking a bit lost would be: ``Kyon bhai, Devdas ban gaya kya?’’

Twenty years later when people had not quite forgotten Saigal’s portrayal, Bimal Roy who had worked as a cameraman for Barua remade Devdas with Dilip Kumar as hero, Suchitra Sen as paro and Vyjanthimala as Chandramukhi. The film, released in 1956, didn’t make just cinematic history but social too. One generation wept for Devdas played by Saigal; it was the second generation that was now deeping for Devdas again.
Recalls Hindi writer Shailendra Sail, who was a student in the days when Roy’s film was released, ``We lived and breathed like Devdas, growing our hair, sitting for long hours in the coffee house smoking and, those who had the dare, drank too. We all saw ourselves as clones of Devdas.’’ And now when we were moving through the very upbeat, upmarket, high-tech 21st century, the danger of Devdas returned courtesy Sanjay Leela bhainsali of Ham Dil De Chuke Sanam Devdas with Madhuri Dixit as Chandramukhi, Aishwarya Rai as Paro and Shahrukh Khan as Devdas. The choice of Shahrukh was interesting considering that he achieved stardom as psychopath lover.

What is the USP (unique selling point), as the modern marketing jargon goes, of this fiction-made monster? Fiml writer Firoze Rangoonwalla in A pictorial History of Indian Cinema writes, ``The essence of Devdas is love denied by class differences, so that the man drifts to ruin with wine and woman while the beloved becomes the housewife of a rich widower with children of the same age as their step-mother. In a much adored ending Devdas makes a long cart journey in the last stage of his life to die at Paro’s doorstep.’’ But this intention of focusing on social inequity was muffled by the sheer passion and intensity of the tragic romance.

Devdas and the eternal triangle became a recurring theme in Indian cinema. This was most evocative in Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa, in which social concerns were portrayed more potently. But it was in Kagaz ke Phool (1959) that Guru Dutt rehearsed his own death by suicide. Playing the role of producer-director who’s remarking Devdasa, and caught between two women, Guru Dutt’s own story became a doomed-hero saga with poet Kaifi Azmi crying out: `Ik baar to khud maut bhi ghabra gayi hogi; Yoon maut ho seene se lagaya nahi karte.’’

What irks one is that even in these days of instant love we have no yet finished with Devdas. The next generation too should take out the `kerchiefs and get ready to weep for him.

Train as a metaphor for life

Rail romance in reel life

Trains have served Indian filmmakers and lyricists well down the decades, returning to our screens and soundtracks every now and then as either a narrative leitmotif or a lyrical flight of fancy. Nirupama Dutt captures the high points of the abiding journey

Of all the things that fascinate India’s filmmakers, nothing can ever match the abiding appeal of trains. This is one mode of transport that has scored above the handier bus or the faster plane in its depiction in cinema the world over. Come to India and the story of rail on reel seems to have been tried out in every possible way and neither filmmakers nor cine-goers have tired of it.Way back in the 1930s, Fearless Nadia gave a hard fight to the villains atop the roof of a fast moving train in Miss Frontier Mail (1936). A few years later, Kanan Devi, with her mesmeric voice, had the whole nation swaying to the rhythms of the train as she sang: ‘Yeh duniya, yeh duniya Toofan Mail...’ for the film Jawab (1941).The wheels haven’t stopped rolling since then. Take the classic example of Devdas. The hero journeys aimlessly across the length and breadth of the country, dying of drinking until he comes somewhere close to the village of his lost love and gives up his life at her doorstep. The train continued to be the symbol for the drift of the lovelorn hero through Bimal Roy’s version in 1955 with a one-reel sequence that is still considered to be one of the greatest. It was also the starting point for the narration of the journey. Of course, Sanjay Leela Bhansali had the train all made over to resemble a Palace on Wheels in keeping with the opulent fantasia of his 2002 version.Guru Dutt, who was fascinated by the tragic tale of Devdas, gave it yet another extension in Pyaasa (1957), an epic replete with symbols in which a train accident with a beggar wearing the hero’s coat gives a twist to the poetic tale with the world happier with the poet dead rather than alive.Suspense, action and drama in trains has been a part of many Bollywood masala films but when Ravi Chopra tried out a Hollywood inspired, high-action thriller The Burning Train (1979), it was a disaster at the box office. However, a song picturised on Asha Sachdev in the coach is remembered till date: Pal do pal ka saath hamara, Pal do pal ke yaarane hain. This song, like the earlier Kanan number, equated the journey of the train with life’s journey. Talking of songs on wheels, there was a memorable number picturised on comedian Johnny Walker in a rather obscure film called Door ki Awaaz (1964): Ik musafir ko duniya mein kya chahiye, Sirf thodi si dil mein jagah chahiye… Surprisingly, the good little girl of the old days of Hindi cinema, Nanda, was chosen to play the con woman in The Train (1970). It is back to the same title with The Train (2007) which winds its way through a thriller of sorts laced with love, lust, murder and deceit.

The best action-packed train scene was to be seen in Sholay (1975) in which the Amitabh-Dharmendra duo fought the dacoits in true heroic way to save a train. However, Sunny Deol taking on the Pakistan Army single-handed in Gadar (2001) was a bit hard to take. Coming to the Partition of India in 1947, trains became the slaughter houses of humanity.Forgetting the grim and the gory, we come to the depiction of the train at its happiest when it is playing the benign cupid arranging the boy meets girl rendezvous. Chance meetings have led to many a romance blossoming in trains and there are many songs filmed in, around and even on top of trains. One of the early favourites was Hemant Kumar’s ‘Hai apna dil to awara…’ and it was picturised on debonair Dev Anand flirting with the runaway teenager Waheeda Rehman in Solvan Saal (1958). Later, of course we had Rishi Kapoor atop a train singing to Padmini Kohlapure in Zamane ko Dikhana Hai (1981): ‘Jag mein tumse pyara kaun…’ Shahrukh khan danced a whole ‘Chhaiya Chhaiya’ the same way in Dil Se. The recent Jab We Met was a train special with the Mumbai to Bathinda train becoming the meeting ground for Shahid Kapoor and Kareena. The train came to the rescue of the small town dreamers in Bunty aur Babli (2005). So tired of the long boring afternoons and slow life they pack their bags singing ‘Dhadak dhadak dhuyan udhaye re, Dhadak dhadak siti bajaye re…’ and catch the first train that can reach them to the big, bad world. Recall the dialogue of several decades ago when Raj Kumar wrote a note and tucked it in Meena Kumari’s toes in Pakeezah (1972) with the line 'Aapke paon dekhe, bahut haseen hai inhe zameen par mat utariyega – maile ho jayenge'. The compliment is remembered some 35 years later and so is the song that was picturised in the film in a glittering mujra on Meena Kumari.The Mumbai local train too has had its share of glory in Bollywood. This was where Tony Braganza and Nancy (Amol Palekar and Tina Munim) met in the ride from Bandra to Churchgate in a delightful light romance Basu Chatterji style in Baton Baton Mein (1979). Dev Anand playing a desi Henry Higgins discovers Tina Munim in a local and decides to make a star of her in Man Pasand (1980). The railway platform was the place for the Vijay Anand and Jaya Bhaduri coming together in Kora Kagaz (1974) and much later Naseeruddin Shah and Rekha meet at a platform only to part in Gulzar’s Ijaazat (1987). Sunil Dutt’s debut film was Railway Platform (1955) and Amitabh Bachchan played the porter in Manmohan Desai’s Coolie (1983). The moving train with one of a couple offering a hand to the other just like Shahrukh Khan and Kajol in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayeinge (1995) has been repeated on different actors down the decades and has clicked each time. Rail romance definitely seems to be evergreen.
TSI

Punjabi film fare

Balle Balle on celluloid !

The lucrative NRI market for Hindi cinema has led to an upsurge of the Punjabi family drama on screen, writes Nirupama Dutt

Punjabis have long dominated Bollywood what with scores of Kapoors, Chopras, Anands, Deols, Mehras, Sagars, Sahnis, Roshans and many more having a firm hold on Mumbaia films for long years. However, there were just a film or two in many decades that carried a flavour of Punjabi life and culture. Of course, some themes were perennial favourites like the love legends of Heer-Ranjha or Sohni-Mahiwal and the inspiring saga of patriot Bhagat Singh were made over and again.
Apart from these, there was very little else to give a feel of the land that these scores of filmwalas came from. Now, there is an upsurge of the Punjabi family drama and other themes close to the soil. Veer Zaara is the latest to capture the soul and spirit of Punjab on both sides of the border. Not just Mumbai cinema, the Punjabi family drama courtesy Gurinder Chadda has become a sought-after theme even in British cinema. And the lady has been honoured for setting this trend in the British House of Commons. Well she has made a heady cocktail of Austen and Amritsar and it is balle balle all the way.
If one delves into the past then very few films reflected the Punjabi way of life. One old black-and-white movie that did give a feel of life in the Punjabi-speaking hilly areas of Punjab, before the 1966 reorganisation of states when the Kangra valley went to Himachal, was Bambai ka Babu. It was a Dev Anand thriller that began in a smoky gambling den in Mumbai and moved to a hilly village in the north. The film had some memorable musical numbers like Chal ri sajani ab kya soche and Diwana mastana hua dil set to the magical music of S.D. Burman. Later, B.R. Chopra’s Waqt of the Sixties took up the story of a Punjabi trader, Lala Kedar Nath. But for the initial few scenes capturing the lost lifestyle of Quetta in the North West Frontier Province, the film soon moved to the very cosmopolitan Delhi and Mumbai, exploring the usual lost-and-found formula that Hindi cinema delights in.
One always wondered why no Punjabi had gone out to make a film reflecting the land and its people they way they were. I remember putting this question to many and always getting evasive replies. I recall Dev Anand telling me, "You see we belong not just to Punjab, we belong to the whole country." Gulzar, the Bimal Roy assistant so smitten by Bengali culture, said, "I can read Bangla and not Punjabi so my films are more often based on Bangla stories." Of course, he went on to make Maachis many years later but that even with Chappa chappa charkha chale was more a film on the theme of terrorism and Punjab was incidental. Good old Dara Singh gave an interesting reply to this query in the course of an interview many years ago. He said, "You see Hindi films are not based on reality. These are fantasies catering to many areas so they must have a bit of Rajasthan and a bit of Kashmir and so on." However, the reason for this is the inferiority complex that Punjabis suffer from when faced with lingual areas that have more developed traditions of art and literature. Probably, this kept them away kept them away from touching the homegrown.
The tide changed in the mid-1990s when Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol danced their way into the hearts of the audiences in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayeinge(DDLJ). This blockbuster released in 1995 has made history by showing for eight long years in the same cinema hall in Mumbai. With Kajol playing Simran, the story moves from London to a Punjabi village haveli with hordes of relatives. The success of this film inspired similar back home in the big house in the village experiments like Dhai Akshar Prem Ke but that film did not do well. However, the big house of the landlord, the nearly extinct tribe of salwar-kameez-clad Beejis (grannies) and turbaned kith and kin have come to stay in the films. The multi-starrer Kabhie Khushi Kabhi Gham (K3G) had both naani and daadi of the theth Punjabi variety portrayed by Achla Sachdev and Sushma Seth. In fact earlier, but for the historical and religious films, Sikhs were often crudely caricatured. The Shammi Kapoor and Sharmila Tagore starring film An Evening in Paris had a caricatured portrayal of a Sikh done by Rajendra Nath. Following protests, certain scenes had to be taken off the film.
After the grand success of DDLJ, it was British filmmaker of Indian origin who portrayed the Punjabi family drama with aplomb in Bend It Like Beckham. This NRI family story gave us a very endearing portrayal of the turbaned father by Anupam Kher. More recently, it was a re-mix of very Victorian Jane Austin with Amritsar in Bride and Prejudice. The essential ingredients for the Punjabi family drama are kinship, love, and hurdles. Of course, all this has to be punctuated liberally with the steps of the Bhangra with the forefingers raised up to a Balle Balle! Chadda also portrays the mood of the Indian origin girl who makes it in life. She does so by catching the White man for lover or groom. At one time that was the achievement factor for the men in life but on screen they would give up the bad Western woman for the good desi bride.
Could the phenomenon of Punjabi pop have contributed in re-shaping the destiny of the Punjabis on screen and having the whole film revolve around them? Perhaps not so. For Hindi films made liberal use of Bhangra and the tappa, but that would just begin and end with the picturisation of the song. In the 1950s, Vyjyanthimala and Dilip Kumar sang Udhein jab jab zulfein teri the Punjabi way clad in tehmats but switched to central Indian attire soon after. Similarly, Raj Kapoor had the famous song with Manohar Deepak doing bhangra in Jagate Raho but that was all that was of Punjab there. Subsequently, many films had songs inspired by Punjabi folk. The song over and Punjab is forgotten.
More recently, Punjab returned in full force in Partition films like Ghadar and Pinjar, the latter based on a novel by Amrita Pritam. Before Pinjar too a number of films were based on literature of the soil. These include Pavitar Paapi, based on Nanak Singh’s novel, Uski Roti, inspired by a short story of Mohan Rakesh and Ek Chaddar Maili Si, based on a classic novella by Rajinder Singh Bedi. In fact Bedi, a talented filmmaker had wanted to make this film himself, way back in the Sixties with Geeta Bali and Dharmendra in the lead. But the project was shelved with Geeta’s sudden death. Two decades later Sukhwant Dhada made the film with Hema Malini and Rishi Kapoor. The film fell short of promise. Interestingly, even when the scenario has been Punjabi very rarely has a Punjabi actress played the lead. The old film Bambai ka Babu had Bengal’s Suchitra Sen in the lead, Maharashtrian Tanuja in Pavitar Paapi, Tabu of Hyderabadi fame in Maachis, and Rano of Bedi’s classic was the dream girl from down South. Even Chadda picked the Manglorian Aishwareya for Bride and Prejudice and dulhaniya of DDLJ was Kajol. This even when there are more Punjabi lasses around than in the old times.
Not just the big screen, even the small screen is relishing in putting together the Punjabi act. While Des Mein Nikla Hoga Chand is a desi saga between London and Chandigarh, death and rebirth with the current heroine actually named Heer, even Saas bhi`85 sent Tulsi on an amnesia trip to be found in a silken salwar-kameez, jutti and parandas in Chandigarh.
Not just that, the Gujju ladies in this serial have even learnt to do Karva Chauth the Punjabi way. Our beebi rani Jassi has set unparalleled records and our lovely Juhi is so enchanting uttering the ever so familiar ‘Mummyji’ just as we do it back home in Sector 23, Chandigarh. The distinct flavour of the culture or as some would say agri(culture) is catching up. The trend is welcome even if the credit for it must go to the dollars and pounds earned in Toronto or Birmingham. Well no apologies please, we are as Punjabi as can be.

December 5, 2004, The Tribune

Muslim Mystique in Hindi films

Palaces, Brothels and Slums

Nirupama Dutt

Watching Mughal-e-Azam in a nearly empty theatre in Chandigarh had its moments of high when two middle-aged cinebuffs sitting right behind me would utter the dialogues before the actors. The experience was akin to sitting and listening to a mushaira where the audiences already know the couplets of the star poets. The other high was when my surly teenage daughter, most displeased at being taken to this vintage drama, started tapping her feet and enjoying the film when Madhubala broke into the famous song-and-dance number Jab pyar kiya to darna kya. Well some things never grow outdated. Love and rebellion are among them. For me, of course, watching this film meant many things. I had seen it first as a five-year-old at Chandigarh’s lone Kiran cinema in 1960. Interestingly, it was released repeatedly with a new song added to it and each time cine-goers rushed to it. At the recent show, two of the sad songs were edited out. Never mind, watching this film took one back to the whole orb of films on the Muslim ethos even although they were not made on a scale as grand as this extravaganza by K. Asif.
Preceding Mughal-e-Azam was Anarkali with Bina Rai and Pradeep Kumar playing the lead. It had some great songs sung by Hemant Kumar and Lata Mangeshka—Jaag darde ishq jaag and Zindagi pyar ki do chaar gharhi hoti hai. Historical films like the above mentioned and others like Taj Mahal and Jehanara apart, three decades starting with the 1940s were a time when Muslim social dramas were much in vogue.
Period pieces
The decline came in the 1970s. Films were still made portraying the Muslim way of life but the scene had shifted from the mainstream to parallel cinema. Two remarkable films, once again focusing on the Muslim way of life, came as period pieces in the backdrop of the 1857 War of Independence against British rule. These were Satyajit Ray’s Shatranj ke Khiladi (1977), based on a story by Munshi Prem Chand, and Shyam Benegal’s Junoon, based on Ruskin Bond’s story A Flight of Pigeons (1978).
A resurgence of sorts took place in the 1980s and the 1990s when Muslim, with a difference, re-entered the realm of the Indian cinema. Many films came that were able to bridge the gap between parallel and mainstream cinema. Worth a notice is the fact that filmmakers from both communities contributed in the building of the Muslim ethos on the silver screen. Sohrab Modi, Guru Dutt, Satyajit Ray, M.S. Sathyu and Shyam Benegal have contributed along with Kamal Amrohi, K.Asif, Saeed Mirza and, now, Khalid Mohammad in the creation of this phenomena of the silver screen. Filmmakers had begun to sensitively portray the condition of the Muslims in the present-day world.
If one goes back to the roots, Sohrab Modi’s Pukar (made way back in 1939) was the first Muslim social. Although set well within the Mughal court of Jehangir and Noorjehan, it took up the theme of justice as the queen accidentally kills her husband. There was no looking back from this trend and the film world was indeed dominated by artistes, musicians, lyricists and directors who came from the Muslim way of life. Later Modi went onto make Mirza Ghalib (1954), with Surayia and Talat Mehmood singing the much-loved poetry of this great Urdu poet in mesmerising melody.
Muslim socials
Tales of nawabs, purdah, qawwalis and ghazals made up an enticing world and the 1960s saw Muslim socials in full glory. Among the notable films were Chaudhvin ka Chand, Barsat ki Raat, Chhote Nawab, Mere Mehboob, Benazir, Ghazal, Palki, Bahu Begum and Mere Huzoor. One still recalls Sadhana’s beautiful eyes rolling in the window of the burqa and Nimmi dancing to the number Allah bachaye naujawanon se in Mere Mehboob. Then there was the rain-drenched Madhubala in Barsat ki Raat, with its famous qawwali— Na to karvan ki talash hai. Till date the dialogue mouthed by Raj Kumar in Mere Huzoor is repeated in jest— kaun se aise shehar mein kasun si aisi firdaus hai jise hum nahin janate.
According to renowned film critic the late Iqbal Masud, Muslim ethos was a mix of elements of Arabian, Turkish and Persian cultures. He said, "An essential element was the elegance of speech and surroundings which became a marked feature of a Muslim ‘social’—meaning films dealing with Muslim families and social problems." Another element was the depiction of Hindu-Muslim ties and harmony. Jehangir’s Prime Minister is a Rajput who fiercely guards his independence in Pukar. This harmony extended to films like Dharmaputra and Dhool ka Phool, which had a mixed Muslim-Hindu social scenario. The latter had the inspiring lyric by Sahir Ludhianvi—Tu Hindu banega na Musalman banega, insan ki aulad hai insan banega. This song sums up the secular and harmonious aspect of the Muslim mystique in Indian cinema.
In 1971, came Kamal Amrohi’s Pakeezah, which had taken many long years to complete. This film was Meena Kumari’s swan song. Following her death after the release, the film went onto be a blockbuster.
Courtesans were a favourite theme in cinema of the Muslim ethos because as professional performing artistes they had contributed immensely to dance music and etiquette. This theme made a comeback in a far more remarkable film a decade later with Umrao Jaan (1981), Muzaffar Ali’s adaptation of the first great modern Urdu novel, Umrao Jan Ada. Based on a novel by Mirza Ruswa (1905), it brought back the lost elegance as well as expressed the tragedy of a woman’s existence. Rekha played the Lucknow courtesan with aplomb and the film had some fine music, with Khayyam weaving the lyrics of Sheharyar.
Pakeezah is counted as one of the last films classified as Muslim ‘socials.’ The early 1970s saw the emergence of another kind of cinema featuring Muslims, which rather than revelling in the lost grandeur brought home the ground reality. This turning point came with the release of M.S. Sathyu’s Garam Hawa (1973), based on a short story by Ismat Chugtai. The film told the story of a Muslim family that chooses to stay on in India after the Partition. The protagonist of the film, Mirza Salim, a shoe-factory owner of Agra, has to pay a heavy price for this choice as history and circumstance play havoc with human lives. His daughter, betrothed to her first cousin, cannot marry him as he has migrated with his parents to Pakistan. The youth tries to come back only to be sent back by the police because he is a Pakistani national and has crossed the border illegally. Her second attempt to marry another cousin too fails as his family too migrates to Pakistan. She cuts her veins wearing her bridal dress. Mirza’s business declines and his older son too migrates to the new land. The younger son is jobless, Mirza too decides to leave, albeit reluctantly. But the twist in the tale is that the son joins the procession of trade unionists. The family’s decision is to stay on in their own land and fight for their rights.
Interestingly, the Censor Board was quick to ban the film on the pretext that it might incite communal fights. However, admirers of Sathyu in the government and the media protested against the ban. The ban was lifted and the film went onto win a National Award for highlighting the theme of national integration. After Sathyu’s masterpiece, came Sagar Sarhadi’s Bazaar (I980), a significant film that dealt with forced marriages of poor Hyderabadi girls with those from the Gulf. And then we move to the cinema of Saeed Akhtar Mirza. Saeed focussed on the problems faced by the Christian community in secular India in Albert Pinto Ko Gussa Kyon Ata Hai (1980). By the last year of the decade, he was ready to address the problems of the Muslim community, to which he was born to, in Saleem Langde Pe Mat Ro (1989). The film, taking up the story of criminalisation of youth in the slums, gave a message against communal riots.
Communal harmony
The 1990s saw a new and unhappy phase in the country’s body politic. It was the rise of the forces of Hindutva. The demolition of the Babri Masjid on December 6, 1992, and the riots that followed became the theme of a memorable film by Saeed. Naseem (1996) looked at these sad events through the eyes of a 15-year-old and her progressive grandfather, played by the celebrated Urdu poet Kaifi Azmi, who allegorically dies the day the domes crash down. When Sathyu in Garam Hawa had shown a Muslim youth choosing to stay on in his own country and fight for his own identity, it was not just wishful thinking. In the context of Indian cinema, we have witnessed the emergence of journalist-turned-scriptwriter- turned director Khalid Mohammad. The former editor of Filmfare penned the eloquent script of Mammo (1994), a film directed by Shyam Benegal, in which a woman breaks barriers to be with her kith-and-kin in India although she is a Pakistani national. Khalid in Sardari Begum, Fiza, and, most recently, in Zubeida (2000) underlined the shared history of the two communities in the country. Mammo, in particular, was the only film after Garam Hawa, which addressed the dilemma of the people of the two countries. Khalid summed it thus, "A search for identity and belonging led me to deal with such subjects. We live in India, but have relatives in Pakistan. Although we share a sense of belonging with its culture, people and heritage, we share the lack of it when translated in political dynamics."
Those who wept over the decline of the Muslim socials were shedding tears in vain. A particular way of life went away and with them the stories of badshahs, nawabs and tawaifs. From Anarkali to Pakeezah and thence to Madhur Bhandarkar’s Chandni Bar— in which Tabu plays the role of a girl who migrates from her hometown after riots to the big city where she has to jig to old Hindi numbers in a dingy bar—it is goodbye to the time gone by and its tales. The Saleem of Saeed is different from the Saleem of Asif What has emerged is a dynamic Muslim ethos in Indian cinema, which looks at today and its tidings.

January 22, 2005, The Tribune