Silvat(2018): Playing a Muslim darzi in Tanuja Chandra 40-minute film situated in the crowded gully of what looks like Mumbai’s Haji Ali locality, Kartik is every bit Anwar, the shy sensitive tailor who develops a secret passion for his favourite client: a lonely abandoned wife Noor(Meher Mistry) whose husband has migrated to Riyadh for a job with nary a glance back for the woman he has left behind. The focus of the passionate plot, pulsating with unspoken ardour, is Noor. But it’s Kartik Anwar who silently steals the show. There is no exhibition of outward passion here. And yet so much is said through Anwar’s eyes. Every stolen glance is laden with longing. The film is shot on location in a Muslim locality with streetside vendors frying parathas and malpuas, hawkers selling bangles. The bustle of the street is weighed against those heavy, loaded silences between Noor and Anwar. This is 1997. And riots don’t happen only on the streets. Sometimes they also occur in a woman’s lonely heart.
Umrao Jaan (1981). 1981 was the year of realistic cinema, with Smita Patil in Marathi and Hindi in Jabber Patel’s Subah, Saritha in K. Balachander’s Tamil Thaneer, and Jennifer Kendal in 36 Chowringhee Lane, pulling out all stops. But Rekha as Umrao Jaan was extra-special. She proved she was the Chosen One. Umrao Jaan was the story of a restless woman whose wandering soul takes her through warm and robust relationships with a bashful Nawab (Farooq Shaikh), her childhood friend and admirer(Naseeruddin Shah), and a long-haired dacoit (Raj Babbar). There’s a touch of dangerous poetry in the presentation, as though underneath all the posturing of decorum, these characters are hungering for the same primeval satisfaction that less refined men and women express in a far more direct and sexual language. The beautifully crafted story begins and ends with a song. In the beginning, we see the child Umrao frolicking to the sounds of the traditional Bidaai song Kahey ko biyahi bides. The child is then abducted and trained to be a sophisticated tawaif. At the end, Umrao is back at her long-lost home, revisiting her childhood memories through the song Yeh kya jagah hai doston? Song and music have always been considered an integral part of Hindi cinema. Never have they been more integral than in Umrao Jaan. The lyrics, tunes, and Asha Bhosle’s supple singing carry the courtly tale to great heights of expression. Rightfully, Khayyam and Asha Bhosle won National awards for their efforts. So did Rekha, controversially beating Jennifer Kapoor‘s poignant performance in Aparna Sen’s 36 Chowringhee Lane to the honour. Umrao Jaan remains Rekha’s Mother India. She’ll always be recognized and wah-wahed for this role rather than any other. Not that she has anything else remotely comparable to Umrao Jaan in her repertoire. Interestingly, during the same year as Umrao Jaan, Rekha was also seen in Yash Chopra’s Silsila as the elusive, enigmatic, old-world beauty searching for love.
Chaudhvin Ka Chand (1960): Guru Dutt’s first and only ‘Muslim Social’, a genre of cinema that celebrated the obsolete if not altogether non-existent Nawabi culture, was made to counter the losses he suffered with the autobiographical Kagaz Ke Phool. While that film was all about life, Chaudhvin Ka Chand had nothing to do with real life. Two Muslim best friends, Aslam and Nawab (played by Guru Dutt and his real-life buddy Rehman), both love the same beauty, Jameela (Waheeda Rehman). The title song, written by Shakel Badayuni as the ultimate ode to love and beauty, captured the actress in all her resplendent beauty in colour, while the rest of the film is in black and white. The film is set in the city of nawabs, Lucknow, and captures the ethos of luxuriant romance rather flamboyantly. This is Guru Dutt’s least subtle work.
Mere Mehboob(1963): This Muslim Social blockbuster featured Rajendra Kumar and Sadhana, two non-Muslim actors, who fall in love on a train and have to go through various storms in ornate teacups before the ultimate nikaah. The film was remarkable in capturing the colours, music, and festive mood of a decadent nawabi culture. The songs composed by Naushad are especially delightful in their dulcet delicacy. My favourite being Sadhana and Nimmi dancing around water fountains and under sparkling chandeliers, singing Mere Mehboob mein kya nahin, not knowing that the ‘Mehboob’ they are both crooning about is the same person. After the release of this film, Sadhana was often mistaken for a Muslim, and she loved it. Rahul Rawail’s father H S Rawail, directed this all-time hit.
Pakeezah (1972): Meena Kumari lived the part of the tawaif Sahib Jaan, and the credit for her heart-melting performance must go to a large extent to the music by Ghulam Mohammed. As sung by Lata Mangeshkar, the Mujras, the life and breath of every tawaif’s tale, are among the finest heard in Indian cinema: Chalte chalte yuhi koi mil gaya ttha, Teer-e-nazar dekhenge, Thare rahiyo ho banke yaar re, Inhi logon ne le lee na dupatta mera…which one do we choose? All or none? I could watch Pakeezah a million times for the songs. Meena Kumari’s performance was dependent entirely on the music. During a large part of the film’s shooting, Meena Kumari couldn’t even move because of ill health, let alone dance. The Mujra Chalte Chalte was shot with chorus dancers, and Teer-e-nazar was performed by a duplicate dancer, Padma Khanna.
Nikaah(1982): The film that dared to challenge the Sharia laws of India. Salma Agha, freshly imported from Pakistan, played wife to Deepak Parasher, who divorces her by saying Talaq thrice. Boldly, the film questions the male spouse’s right to discard his marital duties on a whim. Salma Agha not only played the lead but also sang Ravi’s chartbusting compositions, which went a long way in making this film a superhit during the year of Amitabh Bachchan’s Nalam Halaal, Khuddar, Satte Pe Satta, and Desh Premee. Again, the music of Ravi went a long way in accentuating the film’s love triangle where Haider(Raj Babbar) loves Nilofer(Salma Agha), who ends up marrying Wasim(Deepak Parasher), who divorces her after saying ‘Talaq’ thrice. While Ms Agha was a Muslim, the two heroes were Hindus. Raj Babbar once told me he had to brush up on his Urdu to understand some of the songs and dialogues before vocalizing them.
Hum Saath Saath Hain: While most would opt for Sooraj Barjatya’s Hum…Apke Hain Koun as the ultimate festive fare, this feel-good follow-up after the historic Hum…Aapke Hain Koun from Barjatya’s school of familial merrymaking has a string of terrific stars from Salman Khan to Saif Ali Khan eating, singing, and dancing through a stream of nursery-rhyme styled songs composed in juvenile style by Ram Laxman. The entire 4-hour film is a pleasure binge for Alok Nath’s Chaturvedi family as they picnic, party, and celebrate from Eid to Diwali to marriage anniversaries. Life is one long celebration in this thinly plotted excuse to celebrate the joys a family togetherness.
Padosan: A delightful family comedy. Timeless and eternally enjoyable, featuring comic geniuses Kishore Kumar and Mehmood as rivals in love seeking the attention of the beauteous Saira Banu through songs that R D Burman composed in a state of sheer inspiration. The fun never stops. The music never ends. This is comedy that targets itself at every strata of viewership and hits the bull’s eye. Ek chatur kar ke shringar brings the house down every time. Enjoy it this festive season.
