The god-like reverence that film stars receive in India is a phenomenon one rarely witnesses elsewhere in the world.
From fans waiting for hours outside the houses of their heroes for a glimpse to constructing temples in their name, cinema is almost a religion in this country.
But sometimes the fine line between looking up to a celebrity and becoming darkly obsessed with them fades, and things take a black turn.
Last week, a young fan of Yash, a superstar from the Kannada film industry, set himself on fire outside the actor’s house.
A resident of Laggere in Bengaluru, Ravi Raghuram came to the house on Yash’s birthday, hoping to wish the actor. However, after failing to meet Yash, Ravi immolated himself.
Ravi succumbed to his injuries the next day. Tragically, Yash, who usually did meet all of his fans on his birthday, was not even in town this year – something he has announced many days earlier.
This was not even the first time Ravi would have met the star. He has met Yash, and clicked pictures with him, on other occasions – including during Yash’s birthday last year.
Once the incident came to the notice of Yash, he rushed to Bengaluru and visited the hospital where Ravi was admitted.
Such acts of extreme celebrity obsession are nothing new in India. In most such situations, actors are known to either take a tight-lipped stance or give statements of sympathy.
But very rarely does the actor in question plainly and openly condemn such acts, stating some facts and opinions that may perhaps seem harsh, but are very necessary.
Yash refused to let the incident pass and spoke to the media immediately after meeting the young fan. Here are some of his statements:
“We cannot call this ‘fandom’, as no one will feel happy over this. Please do not take what I say in the wrong sense, and even if some people feel I am being very hard-hearted about this, I still say no actor, person, or anyone with any humanity would be pleased about such acts.
If anyone feels the need to show the depth of their fandom through such acts, I definitely do not accept them as fans of me or my work.
What can we say to his parents? Who will fill the gap in their lives now?
I can only beg forgiveness from his parents with hands folded. As I stress in all of my interviews if you want to display your fandom towards me, look after your parents well. As a ‘Yash fan’, go out and earn a decent income for your home, and share the cost burden at home, and that is the only blessings both me, and my fans, need.
What will his (Ravi’s) parents do now? They are such large-hearted people that they quickly told me they understood that there was nothing I could have done about it. But that is their greatness. I still feel the sting of guilt,” he said to local media channels.
In a country where young kids and teenagers grow up looking up to film stars and often treat them as demigods, Yash’s words might sting, but they are very important.
“My coming here actually sends the wrong message. I firmly state openly, from henceforth no matter what happens, I will not come and visit such a fan. It is entirely wrong that some fans feel happy that they get to meet me after doing such things. ”
An honest truth, shared by a clearly shaken actor.
His words are taken seriously by lakhs who see him as their a role model. So his vocal opposition to extreme celebrity worshipping is a welcome note, from an industry that usually revels in the fanatism of its fans.
“Respect, love or fandom must be kept in the heart and mind. Everyone must work hard to build their own lives. Watch our films, try to learn some useful lessons from our onscreen personas, work hard and prosper, but never do such acts that will never bring happiness to anyone,” he concluded.
For cinema buffs in India and around the world, the name Merchant Ivory Productions holds a very special place. Over the course of their remarkable 44-year partnership, the producer-director team of Ismail Merchant and James Ivory gave us high-quality period dramas made on low budgets that pushed the boundaries of independent cinema both in the United States and India, particularly in the 1960s and 70s.
Although the initial objective of the production house was “to make English-language films in India aimed at the international market”, they went onto do a lot more with their nearly 50 movies, earning 31 Academy Award nominations and winning 6 Oscars.
One half of this partnership was Ismail Noor Muhammad Abdul Rahman (Merchant), who was born on December 25, 1936, in Mumbai, to a middle-class family. His father Noor Mohammad Rehman was a textile trader. Learning Gujarati and Urdu at home, he had also learnt English and Arabic in school. Like many of his era, Ismail was too deeply affected by the events of the Partition, which happened when he was only nine.
Unlike many Muslim households at the time, Merchant’s father refused to leave India. However, the legendary producer did carry the memory of ‘butchery and riots’ he witnessed into his adulthood. His life, however, changed for the better when he established a close friendship with an actress of yesteryears, Nimmi, who introduced him to the film studios in Mumbai.
He was only 13 at the time, but their interaction inspired him to reach for the stars. Nonetheless, it was when he enrolled into St Xavier’s College, that he really developed a passion for movies. When his venture into production first began, Merchant was in college, staging plays and finding innovative ways of raising money to produce them.
Following college, he went to New York University for his MBA and gave up the family name (Abdul Rehman) for Merchant, which he thought sounded more cosmopolitan at the time. During his time in New York, he discovered the works of legendary Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray, who would later go on to mentor him, Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini and Vittorio de Sica. Graduating from the university in 1960, he made his first short film called ‘The Creation of Woman’.
“With trademark chutzpah, he sent fake press releases to media outlets announcing that a famous Indian producer was coming to Hollywood. Then, since a film must be shown for three days to be considered for an Academy Award, he persuaded an art cinema to show his short alongside a Bergman film. The upshot? ‘The Creation of Woman’ was nominated for an Oscar and sent to the Cannes Film Festival as the official U.S. entry that year,” says this obituary in Newsweek.
On his way to Cannes, he saw James Ivory’s documentary ‘The Sword and the Flute’. Mesmerised by how Ivory had captured India, Merchant later went on to claim that it was “something I’ve never encountered in an American before or since.”
He offered Ivory the chance at a partnership whereby they would make films set in India for an international audience. The partnership entailed Ivory directing these films, and Merchant raising funds, hiring actors, handling production on set and distribution.
Merchant Ivory Productions opened for business in 1961.
Next, the partners enrolled Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, a German-born Jew married to an India, asking her to convert her book ‘The Householder’ into a screenplay. Although none of the three had any experience making a full-length feature film, it didn’t stop them from going ahead, primarily driven by Merchant’s passion and optimism.
James Ivory & Ismail Merchant. (Source: Twitter/Film Forum/Robin Holland)
Starring Shashi Kapoor and Leela Naidu, The Householder was a major hit with both audiences and critics. Unlike legendary Hollywood hits like Ben Hur, which was made on a budget of $15 million, The Householder was released for just $125,000. Herein lay Merchant’s magic as a financier who could not only raise money effectively but also develop sets that look opulent on picture but in his words would cost “peanuts” compared to other films of that era.
The Merchant-Ivory-Jhabvala partnership would go onto work for nearly two dozen films. “It is a strange marriage we have at Merchant Ivory . . . I am an Indian Muslim, Ruth is a German Jew, and Jim is a Protestant American. Someone once described us as a three-headed god. Maybe they should have called us a three-headed monster,” said Merchant once, when asked about the collaboration between the three.
However, Merchant Ivory Productions arrived on the international stage with Shakespeare Wallah, starring Shashi Kapoor and Madhur Jaffrey with Satyajit Ray composing the music. The film’s plotline revolves around a troupe of British actors who perform in different towns in post-Independence India.
There were other classics like Bombay Talkie (1970) and Heat and Dust (1983), but it was the Ivory-directed A Room With A View (1985), which earned the production house its first Oscar. Once again, the movie was produced by Merchant and written by Jhabvala based on EM Forster’s novel of the same name. Eight years later, the same team delivered Howards End starring Hollywood luminaries like Anthony Hopkins, Emma Thompson and Helena Bonham Carter. The movie won three Oscars for Best Screenplay (Jhabvala), Best Actress (Emma Thompson) and Best Art Direction.
A personal favourite is The Remains Of The Day (1993), starring Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson, which was based on the Booker Prize-winning 1989 novel by legendary author Kazuo Ishiguro about a butler and housekeeper in post-war Britain. Once again, it was the same dream team of Merchant, Ivory and Jhabvala at work.
Despite going international, Merchant’s love for India remained true till the very end, and that reflected in the many movies the production house made. In 2002, the Government of India awarded him the Padma Bhushan, the nation’s third highest civilian honour.
Meanwhile, two other fascinating facets of Merchant’s life deserve a mention—his romantic relationship with Ivory and famed culinary skills.
Ivory and Merchant’s relationship began in the early 1960s when they first met. Staying true to each other for decades, the partners sadly had to part on May 25, 2005, when Merchant died during surgery at the age of 68. While many suspected of a relationship between the two, any references to “their personal life together were only ever made discreetly and euphemistically by the press, if at all,” says The Guardian.
Following the release of Ivory’s gay coming of age film Call Me By Your Name in 2017, which won him the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay (the oldest ever to win it at the age of 89), he spoke The Guardian at length about his relationship with Merchant.
The dynamic trio. (Source: Merchant Ivory Productions)
“That is not something that an Indian Muslim would ever say publicly or in print. Ever! You have to remember that Ismail was an Indian citizen living in Bombay, with a deeply conservative Muslim family there. It’s not the sort of thing he was going to broadcast. Since we were so close and lived most of our lives together, I wasn’t about to undermine him,” said Ivory.
It is indeed tragic that Merchant was not alive for the historic Supreme Court decision last year decriminalising homosexuality.
Another interesting facet was Merchant’s culinary skills. According to this obituary in The Economist: “His own gifts lay elsewhere—a combination, perhaps unique in modern cinema, of taste, discipline and financial acumen. He also made possibly the best curry ever served up by a producer, and would cook it for the whole cast and crew on a shoot, every Friday, as if they were one big family.”
Once, British actor Hugh Grant told the press that they worked at Merchant Ivory Productions, not for the money, but “for the curry”.
What Merchant leaves behind is not merely a stunning Filmography, but a phenomenal risk-taking entrepreneurial spirit who dared to take India to the world.
What a remarkable man!
(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)
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For Dominic Sangma, a leading independent filmmaker from Meghalaya’s Garo Hills, the journey from a remote village on the border with Assam to the glitz and glamour of the Festival de Cannes has been one of quiet self-discovery.
While the selection of his second feature film ‘Rapture’ (Rimdogittanga) for La Fabrique Cinéma, a programme organised by the Institut Français for this year’s Festival de Cannes, brought him onto the international stage, his films remain grounded in the oral storytelling traditions of his forefathers.
Of course, there are other influences as well like legendary Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke and Russian filmmaker Andrey Tarkovsky, but Dominic’s films are grounded in his local surroundings.
“I come from a family of oral storytellers. With no access to electricity in my village, it wasn’t until I was 10 years old when I first came across a television. The first time I saw a film was when one night, a rich family in the village hired a television and screened a film. Growing up, I loved writing and telling stories, although even as a teenager I never thought that one day I’d make a film,” says Dominic, in an exclusive conversation with The Better India (TBI).
Dominic Sangma with legendary filmmaker Mira Nair at Festival de Cannes. (Source: Facebook/Dominic)
It was in high school, when Dominic, frustrated with the dynamics of conventional schooling, read about an institute which taught filmmaking. After graduating from high school, he asked his elder brother, who was financing his education, whether he could take up a course in mass communication. Instead, his brother advised him to study some other subjects because filmmaking is not easy to pursue. Dominic ended up graduating in Economics.
Finally, in 2008, he applied for Satyajit Ray Film and Television Institute (SRFTI), Kolkata. Initially, the aspiring filmmaker had dreams of coming to Mumbai and making Bollywood films. By the time he graduated in 2014, his aspirations had completely changed.
“But SRFTI completely changed me. The kind of films I saw at the institute completely changed my perspective on the possibilities of cinema, the art form itself, and how it can influence our life, and the way we look at it. That’s when my love for cinema grew, and my understanding of film completely changed. It also changed my mind about going to Bombay. Instead, I wanted to go back home and tell my stories,” he recalls.
Out on a shoot. (Source: Facebook/Dominic Sangma)
However, during his time at SRFTI, there were times when he wanted to quit filmmaking altogether, grappling with questions about why he wanted to make films in the first place. Was it for the money, fame or something else? The turning point came while he was making his diploma film. At the time, he had broken his leg. The time Dominic spent recuperating, he thought long and hard about these questions.
“What makes my life beautiful is the books that I read, films that I watch, paintings that I look at and the music I listen to. These are elements of life that resonates with me deeply. That’s when I decided, maybe I should make a film for people like me, who have endured similar troubles. Maybe, some day they will stumble upon my work and that may inspire them to go on with what they’re doing. Having said that, the reason why someone make films itself keeps changing. If you ask me right now why I’m doing a particular film, I couldn’t give you an answer. As a storyteller, I was probably more equipped to think visually, and cinema was the best medium through which I could express myself,” claims Dominic.
In his films, he seeks to capture the small incidents, moments or expressions of human gesture that are all so fleeting. A lot of commercial films tend to over express everything. However, this means we fail to notice or miss out on the small gestures of life that tells us so many things about our lives, a stern expression here and glance there. His cinema seeks to capture these small details of life.
Dominic’s strengths lie in observing people.
“One day, I was at church, where a preacher was giving a rousing sermon. Sitting in front of me were a mother and child. While the mother was intently listening to the preacher, the three-year-old daughter was playing with her mother’s hair, clothes and just admiring her beauty. Suddenly, the mother turned and slapped the daughter for disturbing her. The mother’s reaction really shook my heart because the daughter started to cry a little and her mood completely changed,” he recalls.
For Dominic, he had become the camera that had captured the scene. He wondered if the mother would ever understand that she had slapped her child for admiring her beauty. The daughter would always ask herself, why her mother had slapped her.
“See, that’s what a camera does. It gives us a perspective that we often miss out on in real life. I like to observe the small details in life, and want to put it into my films. Cinema can capture these moments. Cinema shows us the third perspective which we don’t see when say you and I are walking together on a street—a word we say to each other unintentionally or a small gesture thrown here or there,” adds Dominic.
More than the dialogues in a film, what’s important is how his actors express them and the things that are left unsaid because that’s what life is about anyway.
Dominic Sangma
Ma.Ama
Take the example of his seminal debut feature film in Garo, Ma.Ama, which first featured last year in the prestigious Mumbai Academy of the Moving Image (MAMI) Mumbai Film Festival in October. The film was completed in June 2018. This low-budget film was shot in two schedules over 12 days by Dominic and cinematographer Acharya Venu.
Co-produced by Chinese filmmaker Xu Jianshang the film will have its international premiere in the 22nd Shanghai International Film Festival, where it has also been nominated for two awards. Earlier this month, the movie also won three awards, including Best Actor and Best Director, in the recent Prag Cine Awards North East 2019. It also won Best Film in ’14th International Film Festival of Thrissur’ this March.
‘Ma’ means mother, while ‘Ama’ refers to longing. In essence, the movie comes from a deeply personal place. Featuring his own father Philip, a devout Catholic, the movie is both an autobiography and observational documentary woven into a feature film.
From Left to Right at the Prag Cine Awards North East 2019: Dominic Sangma (Best Director), Lasubon Lyngkhoi (Best Female Actor) and Philip Sangma (Best Actor). (Source: Facebook/Dominic Sangma)
The story revolves around his mother Anna, who passed away in uncertain circumstances when Dominic was just two-and-a-half years old, and how his father deals with her passing despite remarrying.
“My father deeply misses his first wife, my mother. He understood his deep love for her only after she passed away. Initially, he thought another woman could replace her, but he couldn’t hide from the truth. He couldn’t really love my stepmom. The movie was about his struggles in dealing with this conflict, while I was also trying to understand my own mother. Personally, making this film took me through a healing process. The entire experience of making this film was deeply cathartic,” he says.
Through the movie, he even found a way to accept his step mother, who has laboured under the memory of Anna.
Shooting for Ma.Ama
There are segments in the film that capture these little moments poignantly like the scene where Phillip cleans his wife’s grave, something which he does in real life as well.
“Making this movie was also like a test for me. If I’m telling a story about others, will I be able to tell a story about myself without fear of judgement and in complete honesty? How much of the truth was I willing to put out? If I could pass this test, maybe I’m capable of making a movie about others. If I fail, maybe it’s time to do something else in life,” he adds.
Ma.Ama Film Poster
Undoubtedly, he passed the test. There is no question that works like Ma.Ama took Dominic to places like Cannes and other locations around the world. The experience at the prestigious international film festival was truly a transformative moment for him.
When at Cannes….
“Sitting at the 2500-seater Grand Lumiere Theatre, seeing the detailing of the picture, hearing the sounds and generally sitting inside and watching a film is in itself an experience. The kind of filmmakers and other professionals in the business that I met at the festival was a truly transformative experience. Sometimes, we from the Northeast, tend to think about films only within the confines of our geographic space. I believe filmmakers from the region are very talented, and that our films can reach those heights,” he says.
“Until and unless you don’t experience that sort of space (Cannes), you will not realise what’s at stake when you make a film. It’s not like we’re from a backward place and can’t do these sort of films. We can definitely put our films on those kinds of screens,” adds Dominic.
If a film from small countries like Hungary or Venezuela are going to Cannes, then why cannot films from Meghalaya or other parts of the Northeast make it?
When at Cannes…
“There is a certain inferiority complex that we carry about our own expressions and films. It’s not as much about technology or its lack thereof, but about finding out who we are as filmmakers, as persons and our voice that we need to put out there. That’s what really stuck with me. One day, I would love my movie to run on the Grand Theatre Lumiere. I want to show the world that we also have fascinating stories to tell as well,” says Dominic.
Selected for La Fabrique Cinéma, a programme developed by the Institut Français, Dominic’s second feature film Rapture (under production) was among the 10 projects chosen from hundreds of other applications by first or second time feature filmmakers from around the world. The objective of this event is to help talented upcoming directors to make their film. Those selected have the opportunity to meet producers, distributors and agents from Europe and around the world.
“As soon as your project is selected at Le Fabrique, producers from Europe know that your film is of a certain high standard and have the confidence to put money into it. I’m the third Indian whose work has been selected at La Fabrique,” he says.
As an independent filmmaker, at some point the hope is one can recover all the money spent on his/her film. However, he didn’t make Ma.Ama thinking about these things or acquiring popularity, although the search for an audience is always constant. The movie was made with honesty, sincerity and his own voice. Add his skill behind the camera, and it’s not hard to understand why he’s getting selected at Cannes, earning various national, regional and international accolades, or even getting producers on board for future projects.
“See, I don’t look for instant gratification. Hopefully, at some point, I recover all that money, but I feel my film should stand the test of time. It should still feel like a story about a human being that you can relate to anytime in the future. That’s the kind of film I want to make. If my movie is of that quality then maybe in 10 years I will get back a lot more than I originally spent,” says Dominic.
Dominic Sangma is today going places because of the sincerity of his films. (Source: Facebook/Lokesh Kanithi)
Unlike their commercial counterparts, the bar for independent filmmakers is very high. The storytelling and craft should contribute something unique to the world itself. Take the example of Assamese filmmaker Rima Das, whose films are travelling all over the world.
“This is because people from all over the world are connecting with them even though they are small budget, independent and in a language they do not understand. My movie Ma.Ama is also travelling all over the world. Independent films need to be presented in a cinematic language that shows the world something new,” says Dominic.
(Edited by Saiqua Sultan)
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‘Yeh aap par itne phool barsaingi, itne phool barsaingi . . . ki aap bloody fool ho jayenge’
(They will shower so many flowers on you . . . that you will turn into a ‘bloody fool’)
Known as the king of comedy in Bollywood, Johnny Lever is a legend who reintroduced Indian cinema to the staple Shakespearean fool invoking side-splitting humour, all with a pinch of wit!
A secret to a healthy life is hidden in the bouts of lighthearted laughter, and of course a light diet. While Johnny Lever continues to take care of the former, we have a few options for the latter.Check out organic options here.
But, while this household name is well-known for causing laughter riots everywhere he goes, there is a lesser-known side to him.
Much like American humorist Erma Bombeck’s idea that a thin line indeed separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humour and hurt, Johnny Lever’s life too has been a boat rocking between fame and big struggles.
So, on his 60th birthday, let’s take a peek into the life of a person who has tickled our funny bones for generations, worked in more than 300 films, and inspired thousands to fight for their comic break!
Though born in Prakasam, Andhra Pradesh, to a Christian Telugu family, Johnny Lever, whose real name is John Rao Prakash Rao Janumala, was brought up in the narrow lanes of Dharavi, Mumbai.
His father worked as an operator in Hindustan Unilever Ltd (HUL) and earned barely enough to sustain the family, which comprised of Johnny along with three sisters and two brothers.
Owing to the financial problems, Johnny had to leave school when he was in Class 7 and take up odd jobs. From selling pens and dancing on the streets of Mumbai to mimicking Bollywood actors, Johnny did it all.
For young Johnny, his genuine passion for comedy blossomed amid all these hardships and these experiences played a pivotal role in making him what he is today.
After a few years, Johnny’s father began to bring him to work at HUL. To his surprise, his son became popular among his colleagues, not for his work, but for his mimicry skills.
This hidden talent needed a platform, and that came in the form of the company’s annual function where he mimicked some senior HUL officials.
The absolute cracker-of-a-show earned him the nickname Johnny ‘Lever,’ and this was something that he carried with him forever.
The response boosted his morale, and it pushed Johnny to try harder and make something out of his passion. Soon, opportunities of stand-up comedy shows began to pour in.
His popularity grew by leaps and bounds, and he finally quit his job in 1981 after six long years to start working as a full-time comic.
As he continued to garner popularity from the stand-up comedy shows in orchestras, he got a chance to join the Kalyanji-Anandji group, which gave him a more considerable exposure both nationally and internationally.
Slowly, but steadily, Johnny Lever rose to become one of the first mass popular stand-up comedians in India.
Johnny got his first break in the industry with Tum Par Hum Qurban. It was during the shooting for this film that actor-director Sunil Dutt recognised his talent and offered him a role in his movie, ‘Dard Ka Rishta’ in 1982.
Since then, Johnny Lever has worked in more than 350 films including Jalwa, Tezaab, Kasam, Kishen Kanhaiya, Baazigar, Khiladi, Love Ke Liye Kuch Bhi Karega and so on.
Be it Harry’s abba dabba jabba in Judaai or Aslam Bhai’s Dubai Ka Chashma, his characters, though touted as side roles, have become timeless, thanks to his incredible comic timing. A legend in Indian comedy industry, Johnny lever has indeed done it all!
From bringing comic respite to the most tense and thrilling scenes to transforming a villain’s lair into a house of comedy, his jokes and most importantly, expressions, never have—and never will—grow old.
Long before modern-day actresses took to the international stage, it was a Mumbai born and bred, former Miss India who blazed the trail for Indian actors to venture into Hollywood.
She made hearts flutter as a fierce and breathtaking Deltan Starfleet officer on board the ‘USS Enterprise’, in the first instalment of the iconic American sci-fi film series – Star Trek.
This Parsi woman was none other than the ethereal, Persis Khambatta!
Persis Khambatta, as Lt Ilia in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Source: Intl Stark Trek.com
In her role of the humanoid navigator Ilia for Star Trek, she challenged conventional beauty norms by rocking a bald look. Yes, and that too at a time when women with long tresses were considered the epitome of beauty, she shaved her head for the role and commanded limelight not just in India but in the international arena too.
And yet, Persis is lost in the pages that narrate stories of the most unrivalled Indian actresses of their times.
This is her story.
Persis was a child born in free India to a Parsi couple in the maximum city on 2 October 1948. She was only two years old when her father walked away from the family.
Her tryst with fame began at the age of 13. A well-known erstwhile Bombay photographer captured her in a set of candid pictures which were used for a successful campaign by popular soap brand Rexona. These marked her baby steps into the world of modelling.
At the tender age of 17, she walked the ramp for the celebrated Femina Miss India pageant which was in its second year. She wowed the judges and ardent viewers and emerged its winner.
The young beauty also moved on to become the third Indian woman to participate in the Miss Universe pageant in 1965. All of this while dressed in last-minute off-the-rack clothes!
With her newly-gained fame in India, she modelled for big names like the national carrier Air India, cosmetics brand－Revlon, and famous clothing line, Garden Vareli.
She made her Bollywood debut with K A Abbas’ avant-garde 1968 film Bambai Raat Ki Bahon Mein in the role of a cabaret dancer, Lilly, crooning the title track. Soon, she left for London to continue with her modelling career in Britain.
Persis_Khambatta won Femina Miss India in 1965. Photo Source: Wikimedia
Her first brush with Hollywood came in 1975 when she played small roles in Conduct Unbecoming with Richard Attenborough, Michael York, and Trevor Howard and The Wilby Conspiracy opposite Michael Caine and Sidney Poitier.
And yet, the break that catapulted her into fame came in the form of Lieutenant Ilia－the daunting character in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. She was then 29 years old. The truth of the matter is that Persis was initially signed to play the role for five years, as the intention was to create a new Star Trek television series. And though it meant she lost five years of work, she admitted that she was thrilled that the project became a movie instead, citing a greater impact on her career. The rest, as they say, is history.
It was the love, admiration, and respect that she had garnered through her work in the film that led her to become the first Indian to present an award at the Oscars in Los Angeles in 1980.
She also starred opposite Sylvester Stallone in Night Hawks the same year and later appeared in lesser-known science fiction films like Warrior of the Lost World and Mega Force. Though her acting career had begun a downward spiral, Persis never lost sight of the bigger goal.
Back in the US, she leveraged her Star Trek success to campaign for actors from ethnic minority to play ethnic roles, than having white people play roles with bronzed skin.
Painful challenges came in the form of a grave car crash in Germany, which left a huge scar on her head in 1980 and a coronary bypass surgery in 1983. In 1985, she returned to Bombay and appeared in a Hindi television series Shingora and a few cameos in Hollywood television series such as Mike Hammer and MacGyver.
In the 90s when different feminist schools of thought opposed the beauty contests that flaunted women as sex objects, she wrote and published a pictorial anthropology of former Miss India’s and Indian women who had participated in international beauty contests.
Persis’ last role was in the 1993 pilot episode of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman.
Five years later, she was rushed to the Marine Hospital in South Bombay when she complained of chest pains. On 18 August 1998, she suffered a heart attack and passed away at the age of 49.
To honour her legacy, the Persis Khambatta Memorial Award was instituted in 1999.
With a scholarship and trophy depicting her in her role in Star Trek, the award is given annually to the top graduating student of the National Institute of Fashion Technology. It was designed and funded by Sanjeev Chowdhury, former Vice-Consul of Canada at the Canadian Consulate in Mumbai, who was Persis’ best friend and the last to dine with her before her death.
With Persis’ passing, India lost a gem. And though she may have gone in flesh, the true force of nature and fierce spirit that she embodied will continue to inspire women for years to come!
Rest in peace, Dear Lieutenant Ilia. May you continue to shine in the vast universe with your bright light.
Babumoshai . . . zindagi lambi nahi badi honi chahiye,
said Anand Sehgal, a terminally-ill cancer patient to his friend, Dr Bhaskar Banerjee.
The quote roughly translates to “Life is not about how long you live; it is about how well you live it”. This dialogue, immortalised by Rajesh Khanna who played the namesake in the 1971 classic-Anand, sums up the life of its legendary director Hrishikesh Mukherjee.
It’s a moment in the film which evokes an amalgam of pathos and hope.
Life, after all, is about living through different moments and experiencing them to the fullest. Is it any surprise that for the film, Mukherjee took inspiration from his own life? Mukherjee’s bond with actor Raj Kapoor, who was ill at the time, inspired the relationship between Anand and Dr Bhaskar (played by Amitabh Bachchan).
Kapoor would call Mukherjee ‘Babumoshai’ as Anand calls Dr Bhaskar in the film. Anand Sehgal, meanwhile, is a Punjabi, just like Raj Kapoor.
The story of Anand, in many ways, was inspired by Mukherjee’s fear of losing Raj Kapoor. Mukherjee crafted his movies using the mould of life. This is the reason why he directed some of the best and most memorable Hindi movies of yore.
Born on 30 September 1922, in pre-Independence Kolkata, he traversed the path of an ordinary middle class Indian; studying science, graduating with a BSc in chemistry wanting to become a biochemist, and eventually teaching. However, he soon caught the art bug and worked at an editing lab before taking on the role of a cameraman and editor in New Theatre, a Kolkata-based film studio, where he mastered the art of film editing.
Following his stint there, he would work with acclaimed filmmaker Bimal Roy in Mumbai as his film editor in landmark films like ‘Do Bigha Zamin’ and ‘Devadas’. Mukherjee was an editor par excellence who could salvage films out of the depths of despair. Under the mentorship of Roy, he learnt all aspects of filmmaker and even wrote the script for ‘Do Bigha Zameen’, which was inspired by the Italian classic ‘Bicycle Thieves’.
But it was the iconic actor Dilip Kumar, who Mukherjee credited for making him into a filmmaker. Kumar worked for free in Mukherjee’s first film Musafir (‘traveller’), which deals with the cycle of life of the three families living in the same house.
Most of the 40-plus films Mukherjee made in his storied career articulated the human condition. There was nothing extravagant, ostentatious or experimental in form, themes or treatment he adopted, but his work resonated deeply with both critics and audiences alike because of “their middle-of-the-road accessibility, heart-warming irony and literate sensibilities,” writes film historian Dinesh Raheja for Rediff.
Add to these sensibilities, his films have a fantastic sense of humour about them as well like Golmaal and Chupke Chupke, and it was not of the kitschy slapstick variety.
Many critics often state how his ‘middle-of-the-road’ films like Anuradha catered to the educated middle class of the time. The film explores how Anuradha Roy (played by Leela Naidu) grapples with the choice of living with her husband Dr Nirmal Chowdhary (Balraj Sahni), an idealistic doctor serving the poor in a village, and her passion, which is music. However, that’s a lazy understanding of Mukherjee’s work. His films cut through that divide.
There is Satyakam (1969) starring Dharmendra, Sharmila Tagore, Sanjeev Kumar, and Ashok Kumar, which focuses on a young man’s disillusionment with what Independence has brought to India. Did freedom from the British mean replacing foreign oppressors with local ones? Then there is also Namak Haraam, which once again stars Rajesh Khanna and Amitabh Bachchan. Vicky (Amitabh Bachchan) is torn between his friendship with Somu (Rajesh Khanna), a blue-collared worker in a factory, and fulfilling his capitalistic dreams.
His characters spoke the same language, faced similar issues, and their heartache and happiness found an echo in your own. If Bawarchi was about a large dysfunctional Indian family that needs a little push to realise there’s love beneath all that friction, Khoobsurat pitted the young against the old but underlined that every generation has its strengths and weaknesses. But mostly, his cinema was about the primacy of human relationships, writes film critic Jyoti Sharma Bawa.
Many of his classics reflect this assessment as well—Khubsoorat (1980), Naram Garam (1981), Anupama (1966), Guddi (1971), and Milli (1975)—amongst many more. Besides introducing stars like Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bachchan to mass audiences, he also brought home their own lives and struggles.
Mukherjee would go onto win the Dadasaheb Phalke Award by the Government of India, in 1999 and the Padma Vibhushan for his contributions to Indian cinema. He passed away on August 27, 2007, in Mumbai as a consequence of renal failure.
“Standing on your balcony, one can look down and see the dirty drains or can look up and see the beautiful sky and stars,” Mukherjee once said in an interview.
In many ways, these words articulate the human condition which navigates through moments of beauty and darkness. He brought this facet onto his cinema and thus brought colour to our own everyday lives.
Before Madhubala, Nargis, and Meena Kumari, there was Devika Rani, a star actor and film producer, who co-founded Bombay Talkies, India’s first self-contained film studio, alongside her first husband Himanshu Rai in 1934, and later became its sole boss after Rai’s untimely death.
She donned these roles at a time when the very concept of working women wasn’t celebrated with fanfare in mainstream society.
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A pioneer in the truest sense, Devika played a fundamental role in bringing Indian cinema to the world. She acted in 15 movies in 10 years, and headed Bombay Talkies for 5 years, before abruptly quitting the film business altogether in 1945 following a business dispute, according to this Indian Express profile.
Born on March 30, 1908, Rani grew up in affluence. Her father, Manmathanath Chaudhuri, was the first Indian surgeon-general of Madras Presidency, and Rabindranath Tagore was her granduncle.
Sent to a private school in London, she earned a scholarship from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in the United Kingdom to pursue her dreams of acting at the age of 16.
In addition to acting, she also studied textile design, décor and architecture. She met her first husband Himanshu Rai in 1928 while assisting with costume design and art direction for his experimental silent film ‘A Throw of Dice’ in 1929.
Rai was 16 years her senior, but the fact hardly bothered Rani, and the couple wed the same year. Soon, they shifted base to Berlin, where they worked at the UFA studios, a once-legendary German motion-picture production company, where Rani received training in several aspects of filmmaking under various luminaries like director GW Pabst and Eric Pommer.
“I first entered as an ordinary worker and was an apprentice in the make-up, costume and sets departments. I worked under their most famous make-up man. And yet, after two years of intensive general training and tests, you were asked to forget it all, because you had become too mechanical! You were asked to become yourself,” she said in an interview to Filmfare after receiving the first Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 1958.
Devika Rani with Ashok Kumar in Achut Kanya. (Source: Twitter/NFAI)
Rani eventually made her on-screen debut in 1933 alongside Rai in his bilingual film, Karma.
The film was premiered in England and received excellent reviews with Rani’s performance coming in for special mention. The movie was particularly known for its nearly four-minute-long kissing scene between Rani and Rai, which unfortunately did not endear Indian audiences when it was re-released in India as Nagin Ki Ragini the following year.
However, it did not stop them from setting up Bombay Talkies the same year on an 18-acre plot in Malad, Mumbai, alongside Bengali screenwriter Niranjan Pal. The studio released its first film Jawani Ki Hawa (1935), a crime thriller, starring Rani and Najm-ul-Hassan.
But it was during the shooting for the next film Jeevan Naiya when the relationship between Rai and Rani fell apart with the latter eloping with Najm-ul-Hassan.
Sashadhar Mukherjee, an assistant sound-engineer, helped the couple come to a truce which held among other things that Rani would have sole control of her finances and the firing of Najm-ul-Hassan from the studio.
For the remainder of the film, Mukherjee’s brother-in-law, the legendary Ashok Kumar, who was a laboratory assistant at the time, was hired and cast opposite Rani. The following year, the Rani and Ashok Kumar were paired together in Achhut Kanya (1936), portraying the roles of an untouchable girl and Brahmin boy who fall in love.
It was a remarkable film for its time, depicting the caste system in all its ugliness. The pair would go onto act in nearly ten films that were largely based on strong women characters with a heavy dose of social realism.
The reputation of Bombay Talkies as India’s premier film studio was largely down to Rani’s charismatic performances on-screen and her ability to pitch these films to financiers.
In 1940, Rai died after a “nervous breakdown,” and subsequently, the board of directors at Bombay Talkies selected Rani to take up the top job and run the studio.
In the following five years, the studio produced hits like Naya Sansar (1941) and Kismet (1943), a noir film and “one of the early blockbusters of Indian cinema”which ran for three straight years at Kolkata’s Roxy theatre.
Rani also gave Dilip Kumar his first major break in the film industry with Jwar Bhata (1944), casting him as the lead.
Despite her success, the film industry was an arena dominated by men where sexism reigned supreme. In 1943, Mukherjee led an exodus of talent from Bombay Talkies, which included among other people, Ashok Kumar, to establish Filmistan.
After a string of films which failed to break the bank, the knives were out for her exit. Instead of suffering the indignity of being ousted, she resigned herself and quit the business altogether. Suffice to say, Bombay Talkies never recovered from her resignation.
She would go onto marry Russian painter Svetoslav Roerich, the son of legendary Russian artist Nicholas Roerich, and move to an estate in the Kullu Valley, Himachal Pradesh, before retiring altogether at the 468-acre Tataguni Estate on the outskirts of Bengaluru.
She passed away on March 9, 1994, in Bengaluru.
In a world where women would endure several hard knocks for even contemplating these measures in the film industry, Devika Rani walked a path that few women in Indian cinema have managed to, and showed them what it means to take ownership of their craft and finances.
For filmmaker Pradip Kurbah, life has come a full circle. On 5 October, his third full-length feature film ‘Iewduh’ premiered at the Busan International Film Festival (BIFF) in South Korea, which ranks among the most significant platforms for Asian filmmakers. At BIFF, he was also nominated for the highly prestigious Kim Ji-seok Award given to emerging Asian talent.
As a young boy, Pradip was inspired to pursue cinema as he watched his father renting out VHS cassettes from his video library in Iewduh Market (Bara Bazaar) in Shillong and listening to him cry out for authentic Khasi cinema to find its place on the world stage.
The movie is set in the narrow and crowded lanes of Iewduh Market, one of the oldest and largest public markets in the Northeast. There, he tells the story of ordinary people who inhabit it.
“Rather than talk about the market itself, I seek to depict human relationships and the existence of different kinds of people who exist there. Iewduh is such a massive and old market that there are stories in every lane. The movie is basically the story of everyday people. Maybe they aren’t your typical movie heroes, but it’s their stories. When people saw the film in Busan, many came up and told me that they had undergone very similar life experiences to those characters portrayed in the film,” says Pradip, speaking to The Better India.
There is no single protagonist in the film, but many characters whose stories criss-cross amidst all the chaos.
Dominic Sangma, a Shillong-based filmmaker invited to Cannes earlier this year, says, “Iewduh is among the best films to come out of the Northeast. The main character is the bustling open market of Iewduh, but the film’s beauty lies in its depiction of familial bonding between disparate characters beyond blood ties. One of the key characters, a toilet cleaner, finds family through all that chaos. The film shows how people from different and desperate circumstances like a drug addict or someone suffering from dementia find each other in startlingly unanticipated ways and establish a deep bond. There is so much humanity in the film.”
For Pradip, the first thing on his agenda was documenting the market. There are people from different communities, religions and tribes coexisting and selling fish, vegetables, meat and any other item on the face of this earth. It is often said that if you don’t find something, you’ll probably find it in Iewduh.
“Nonetheless, these communities do hold age-old suspicions and grudges, but it’s not something I sought to highlight in the film. These divisions and negative elements of Shillong society are nonetheless presented in a subtle manner,” says Pradip.
Iewduh Market was also the site of recent communal clashes between the Khasis and Mazhabi Sikh community, but what Pradip chose to do was present a story steeped in humanity despite its crowded nature and contradictions.
“As a filmmaker, you will be surprised how he managed to shoot in such crowded spaces. The market is marked by narrow lanes with people pushing you around and garbage strewn all over. It’s amazing how he brought the market and the people who inhabit it, to life. My perspective on the market has changed after watching this film,” adds Dominic.
Pradip’s focus was more on the positive aspects of the people making a living in the market—their warmheartedness, compassion, kindness and sense of equality.
“This is my perspective of the market. Maybe someone else could have a different view. Some would say the market is dirty, shabby, and that they hate going to market. For example, my son doesn’t like visiting the market because it’s dirty, but I don’t want to reduce this place to such images. Everyone from my great grandparents, grandparents and parents have run shops in this market. Despite retirement, my father still visits the market everyday,” he says.
Self-taught & Early Days
Dropping out of school after Class X, Pradip took the gamble of coming to Mumbai in the early 1990s living with a friend who worked in the film industry. He wanted to find gigs assisting various filmmakers and learning the craft.
Without a college degree, he had no chance of studying it at institutions like FTII and SRFTI. From 1992 to 2000, he found gigs assisting directors in Bollywood and Tollywood while shuttling between Mumbai and Hyderabad. One of his last gigs during this time was as a chief-assistant director for ‘Raju Chacha’ starring Ajay Devgan.
Despite these unique experiences, at the back of his mind was a burning desire to tell stories from his region. That was always the end game. Following his return to Shillong, Pradip ventured into making music videos, tele-films and short films.
It was in 2014 when he released his first full-length feature film titled ‘Ri: The Homeland of Uncertainty’, which dives into militancy in the state and how it affects ordinary people, particularly the youth. It’s a film he had been wanting to make since 2003. At the time, however, producers weren’t willing to come onboard because militancy was quite active in the state.
Unwilling to remain hostage to these circumstances, he started his own production house. His next film ‘Onaatah: Of The Earth’ (2016), which won him a National Award and is available on Netflix, was driven by his own production house. It’s a remarkable narrative about a survivor of sexual assault and how she navigates life following this traumatic incident.
Poster for ‘Onaatah’.
Inspiration for Onaatah came from Pradip’s deep-lying frustration about the media narrative surrounding sexual assaults in the state. He was frustrated that the narrative never extended beyond the incident itself. No one followed up on what happened to the woman in her pursuit for justice or how she deals with life in the aftermath of such an incident.
“In 2014-15, I met three survivors of sexual assault. Over a period of seven-eight months they shared their stories with me. Naturally, there was great resistance on their part in talking to me, but over time a certain degree of trust had developed and they soon grew comfortable. They talked about acceptance in society, whether they’d be able to have families of their own and whether they can fall in love again. That’s why Onaatah happened,” he says.
Incidentally, on 11 October, a Marathi remake of this film titled ‘Man Udhan Vara’, produced by Satish Kaushik, will release in cinemas across Maharashtra.
This is the second movie from the Northeast to be remade in another Indian language after the Assamese film, Chameli Memsaab in 1975.
Pradip says that cinema is the best way to bridge the gap between the ‘Northeasterners’ and the ‘mainlanders’. “Getting remade in another Indian language, particularly Marathi, feels like a great achievement for us. We never knew this would happen so soon with Onaatah. I’m very thankful to Mr Satish Kaushik for taking my film up for adaptation,” gushes Pradip.
“Meghalaya is home, and I want to take Khasi cinema to another level. Showcasing a Khasi film at BIFF is part of that journey. I will continue making Khasi films as well, while assisting other non-Khasi projects like The Maya Tape, starring Nawazuddin Siddiqui,” he says.
“Pradip is the face of Khasi cinema. With Iewduh getting premiered at BIFF and Pradip getting nominated for Kim Ji-Seok Award, this will now put a spotlight on Meghalaya. It’s no longer just about cinema from the Northeast. With Iewduh, Pradip is now representing Indian cinema on the international stage,” says Dominic.
“More importantly, his work brings hope that we, as filmmakers from Meghalaya, can break the regional ceiling and make it on the global stage. This will shatter the inferiority complex many of us have long held and eradicate the desire to seek validation from the outside,” he adds.
Even Pradip sees this promising future.
“It was a real honour for me to premiere the film at the Busan Film Festival, considering it comes from such a small state in Northeast India where cinema is still at a nascent stage. We never thought that our films would make it to such international platforms. However, when we interacted with people, I realised there are no language or other barriers as far as cinema is concerned. At the end of the day, all you have to do is tell a good story,” he quips.
Pomu Das (Pradip’s father) and producer of the National Award winning film ‘Onaatah’ receiving an award from former President of India Pranab Mukherjee. (Source: Facebook/Patricia Mukhim)
Independent filmmaker?
Pradip hesitates to call himself an ‘independent filmmaker’ even though he fulfills a lot of those parameters.
“Yes, at some level I do consider myself to be an independent filmmaker. But every time I set out on a project I always have people beside me. In this regard, producers who back projects like mine deserve a mention because they too struggle in ensuring that my films reaches the public. Making films today has become easy but releasing them is very difficult. To reach mass audiences is very tough but I don’t depend on other parts of the country to reach my audience. I’m dependent more on the people of my state,” he says.
With just three theatres in Shillong, it’s hard to recover all his money, but what’s important to him is reaching out to people in the villages.
“I tour these villages with my films, literally travelling door-to-door showcasing it. This is the only way I can recover money on my films. For Onaatah, I travelled through every nook and cranny or the Khasi and Jaintia Hills. Once you discover your passion and love for cinema, you need to find a way of recovering the money spent,” informs Pradip.
For Iewduh, however, he was lucky to find a National Award-winning producer in Shankar Goenka, a major distributor in Assam. Goenka has aspirations of releasing this film in different cities across India. Soon, you could have Khasi reaching different parts of the country.
In the meantime, Pradip is looking to tell more stories from his state, bringing Khasi cinema and culture to the world.
78 murde insaan zinda ho gaye. Unko bolte dekho? or as the English tagline ran: All living. Breathing. 100 per cent talking. This is how director Ardeshir Irani advertised India’s first ever talkie or sound film—Alam Ara in 1931. The tagline worked like a charm and created waves across Bombay (now Mumbai) in no time. Interestingly, the first Indian talking picture was made without any sound equipment!
And as some sources say, it all started with a lottery win.
Irani was born into a Pune-based Parsi family in 1886. An alumnus of Bombay’s J J School of Arts, Irani was a school teacher before he embraced the entertainment industry. Following in his father’s footsteps, he dealt with phonographic equipment and musical instruments.
With the majority of Mumbai spoke Marathi and Gujarati, Irani made the film in Hindustani language (mix of Urdu and Hindi) to reach a wider audience. In an era where the theme of mythology ruled the silent movies, Irani chose the unconventional path and adapted a popular play written by the Bhagdadi Jew dramatist—Joseph David.
Once the plot was chosen, Iran got down to the logistics.
As the movie was to be shot at his studio, the shooting took place between 1 AM and 4 AM as the racket of the passing trains drowned all other sounds. The movie was completed in four months and was shot in Tanar single-style camera that captured the sound directly onto the film. Furthermore, to capture sound, the actors had to walk around and act with huge microphones inside their clothes. With no music recording studios available in those days, Irani had to call harmonium and tabla players to the set for the background music and songs. The musicians had to hide behind trees to stay out of the frame.
Upon learning that the audience would be able to listen to the voices of the actors, ticket prices skyrocketed from four aanas(25 paisa) to Rs 5—a huge sum in those days.
The excitement and craze for the talkie (or halti chitra/moving pictures, as coined by Dada Sahab Phalke) with sound was made without any sound equipment? reached such a fever pitch that riots broke out as the crowds went rogue. And as for Majestic Cinema in Mumbai, the police had to be brought in to control the mob.
“. . . theatre was mobbed. Tickets were unavailable for weeks and the police was called in to control a riotous mob,”writes film historian B.D. Garga in his book, Art of Cinema.
The movie had a successful run for the next eight weeks. The film unit even went on a tour with projection equipment to let people experience the newly-born cinematic masterpiece.
The Plot
The plot revolves around two childless queens (Navbahar and Dilbahar) of Kumarpur. When a fakir predicts that Navbahar will soon be pregnant with the child of the army chief Adil, Dilbahar tries to destroy their lives. The baby born is named ‘Alam Ara’ (which translates to ‘The Ornament of the World’) who exposes Dilbahar’s intentions in the end.
It is believed that Mehboob Khan (the legendary director who made the classic, Mother India) was chosen to play the lead but was later dropped as Irani wanted a commercially known face.
He opted for the Marathi actor Master Vithal as the lead actor and Prithviraj Kapoor, a blessing for the Indian cinema, best known for the role of Emperor Akbar in Mughal-E-Azam.
A young girl by the name of Zubeida was chosen to play the female lead. Interestingly, she sang most of the songs and introduced the concept of playback singing in the country. Irani even hired a watchman who sang the famous song ‘De de khuda ke naam par’.
After Alam Ara
Post the overwhelming response of Alam Ara, Irani went to make several films including India’s first colour feature film ‘Kisan Kanya’ before he passed away in 1969.
Even though Irani scripted history, there is no copy of Alam Ara available.
“It’s a sad commentary that we, as a country, have not been able to preserve even a single print of that film, not even in poorly-kept condition. ‘Alam Ara’ pioneered something extraordinary and it should have been preserved like the majestic Taj Mahal,” Shivendra Singh Dungarpur, an award-winning filmmaker toldHindustan Times.
Since Alam Ara, Indian cinema has gone through a glorious journey, making its presence felt across the world.
Alam Ara turned 88 this year and we have come a long way since then. Today, our movies boast of every modern production technique, celebrity families (like the Kapoor clan) versatile actors, fancy shoot locations, peppy dance numbers and most importantly, the glamour and glitz of the industry.
Yet, in my opinion, that generation is and will always remain more fortunate to witness the cinematic marvel that became an instant rage!
Yahan se pachas pachas kos door gaon mein … jab bachcha raat ko rota hai, toh maa kehti hai bete so ja … so ja nahi toh Gabbar Singh aa jayega.
Dressed in a khaki suit and armed with a belt, when the most dreaded dacoit of the country with curly hair and black teeth delivered this dialogue on a 70 mm screen, it sent shivers down my father’s spine who was then barely eight.
“While Sholay had several racy dialogues, this threatening dialogue stayed with me as I walked out of Bombay’s Capitol Theatre. For the next couple of days, I started sleeping without making a fuss fearing Gabbar Singh would appear. Till this date, Amjad Khan’s tone makes me uneasy,” says my father.
The ‘Gabar fever’ went beyond my father and seized millions of cinemagoers, leaving an ever-lasting impact and of course, setting an almost unsurpassable bar for many actors.
With the most simple and not-so-profound dialogues like Kitne Aadmi The, Jo Darr Gaya Samjo Marr Gaya and Tera kya Hoga Kalia, Khan had arrived on the Bollywood scene, giving life to one of the most celebrated and iconic characters in Hindi cinema.
On his 79th birth anniversary, here are five amazing tales of actor Amjad Khan, probably the only actor who could go from sets to sets playing nine different characters in one day!
1) Life Before Movies
Born to actor Jayant (Zakaria Khan) in undivided India’s Peshawar, in 1940, Khan belonged to a Pashtun family.
Khan was a bright student who completed his schooling from St Andrew’s High School in Mumbai and got into R D National College. While at college, Khan was active in his college’s political scene, getting elected as a Student Body President.
A still from Lekin. Source: Film History Pics/Twitter
He loved reading English poets like Wordsworth and Keats and eagerly engaged in political theories or philosophies of Plato, Socrates and S. Radhakrishnan.
After completing hisMastersin Philosophy from Bombay University (now Mumbai University), Khan joined the world of theatre to give a chance to his passion for acting that he had imbibed from his father.
2) Khan was Not the First Choice In Sholay
Can you imagine anyone else ace those dialogues while chewing tobacco in the magnum opus? Though actor Danny Denzongpa had bagged the role of Gabbar, another commitment forced him to give the role up.
BTS from Sholay. Source: Sholay The Movie/Facebook
It is said that the film’s writers, Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar, developed a new lingo or the character of Gabbar. No wonder both, Sanjeev Kumar and Amitabh Bachchan were ready to shed their ‘hero’ image to play the vicious villian.
But destiny had different plans.
Watch Gabbar Singh’s famous dialogues:
Salim and Javed had spotted Khan on stage plays. Once they arranged a meeting with Khan and director Ramesh Sippy, they wrote Bollywood history.
3) The Family Man
As hard as it may seem to believe, Bollywood’s legendary villain lived a quintessential love story.
Khan and his love interest Shehla, daughter of the late writer and lyricist Akhtar-ul-Iman, lived in the same building in Bandra, Mumbai.
She was merely fourteen when Khan, who was then doing his Bachelors, fell for her. According to Filmfare, he even sent a marriage proposal which was rejected as she was too young.
Their romance continued in true movie fashion through letters when Shehla was sent to Aligarh for studies. And, this particular love story saw a happy fate when the two lovebirds got married in 1972.
Amjad Khan with his wife, son and Father-in-law. Source: Film History Pics/Twitter
Khan and Shehla had three children and the day their eldest son, Shadaab, was born, Khan signed Sholay. Despite being busy with movies, sometimes shooting multiple movies in one day, Khan always made time for his children just like any doting father.
“Obviously, while growing up, kids my age would think that my father’s real-life nature was similar to his on-screen persona, but once they’d meet him they would become very fond of him because in real life he was a fun-loving and gentle person who was particularly good with children,” Khan’s son and actor ShadaabtellsMan’s World India magazine.
Though Khan passed away before Shadaab made his onscreen debut in the movie Raja ki Aayegi Baarat, Khan made sure his son did not become a product of nepotism. He always encouraged Shadaab to write his own destiny and leave his ‘ego’ at home.
4) The Versatile Actor
Throughout his professional journey, Amjad Khan portrayed many roles with panache and ease.
Whether it was risking his business and family life as Bishan for his childhood friend Kishan (played by Bachchan) in the superhit movie Yaarana or playing the funny policeman in Kumar Gaurav’s Love Story, Khan never shied away from stepping outside his comfort zone.
One of his most powerful and memorable performances was in Satyajit Ray’s Shatranj Ke Khiladi (1977), where he plays Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, an artist, poet, and a sympathetic character.
Shatranj Ke Khiladi poster. Source: Indo Islamic Culture/Twtitter
Khan received several chances to play interesting and colourful roles and he credits his directors and writers for seeing him beyond ‘Gabbar’ and giving him platforms to explore himself.
“They saved me from getting typecast, always keeping an element of surprise for the audiences,” hesaidan interview.
He also, unsuccessfully, tried his hand at producing and direction but gave up after a few failed attempts.
5) Being the Right Kind of Senior Colleague
Being a President of the Cine and Television Artists Association, Khan was a benevolent leader who would go out of his way to sort issues in the film industry like demands for fair wages and better working conditions. He was also known for helping his juniors and other industry people in tight spots.
A still from Suhaag/ Source: Film History Pics/Twitter
“He helped his friends in turning producers and friends from his theatre days by encouraging them to be directors and actors in films. He helped two of his ordinary tailor friends to start designer outfit shops which are still doing well,”writesveteran film journalist Ali Peter John in Bollywood Hungama.
In a career spanning two decades, Khan went on to do over 130 movies, some of which will always be evergreen classics.
It was in 1976 that Khan met with a serious accident on the Mumbai-Goa highway, on his way to shoot for the film The Great Gambler. It is said that the drugs he was administered during recovery caused him to gain weight very quickly. This led to Khan developing heart complications. And in 1992, at the mere age of 51, Khan died due to heart failure.
A versatile actor still remembered for his portrayals of ruthless antagonist and on point comic timing, Amjad Khan will always live in the collective memory of colleagues, friends, and admirers for his reel and real persona.
While his boss is screaming at him, an LIC agent checks the picture of an old lady that flashes across his mobile screen. Later, the agent rings a bell and the same old lady opens the door.
“Nomoshkar, Agnes D’Mello?” asks the innocuous-looking, smiling LIC agent.
The moment the woman confirms, “Ek minute,” says the LIC-agent-cum-contract-killer and pulling out his silent pistol, shoots her in cold blood.
Before leaving, he whips out his phone to check whether he had killed the right person, and calmly steps out.
For people who still have not guessed, he is Bob Biswas, who personally renders me speechless every time he shoots people dead, smiling in an innocently-creepy way after his humble ‘Nomoshkar’.
The scene where Bob Biswas shoots Agnes D’Mello dead. Still from the movie—Kahaani.
A psychopath, Bob Biswas, played by Bengali actor Saswata Chatterjee, is an integral character in the 2012 thriller Kahaani, starring Vidya Balan.
Bob is not your quintessential villain who has a vicious laughter, a fit body and evil expressions. In fact, he is an ordinary man with a paunch, who goes to the office during the day, wears huge glasses and can easily disappear in the crowd.
Bob’s character is now getting its own movie starring Abhishek Bachchan and as soon as the news broke, social media pages were flooded with excitement. Finally, the fans will now get an insight into Bob’s life.
Like Bob Biswas, Hindi cinema has given birth to terror-inducing and vicious villains, malefactors and assassins who have left a lasting impact in the minds of movie enthusiasts with their impeccable performances.
Here are seven other villains, who we feel, have left a mark on the history of Indian cinema:
1. Lajja Shankar Pandey: Movie—Sangharsh
The scene where Ashutosh Rana dressed in a red saree, screams madly at a scared Preity Zinta is nothing short of a nightmare.
Lajja Shankar Pandey is a character in Sangharsh who kills young children with a hope to become immortal.
Rana’s performance is remembered as one of the most intensely-portrayed one and is engraved in the list of the most iconic villains, ironically immortalising the character.
Rana’s ghastly role in the Kajol-starrer Dushman as Gokul Pandit, a serial rapist and murderer, is also unforgettable.
2. Gabbar Singh: Movie—Sholay
Dialogues of Gabbar Singh from the 70s superhit movie Sholay are probably the most imitated dialogues transcending all generations.
Even if you have not seen this Ramesh Sippy action-drama, you must still have come across Gabbar’s loud voice and notorious laughter somewhere on television.
Essayed by late actor Amjad Khan, the character took a lot of time and effort to be perfected by the dream team of Salim-Javed. No wonder, actors like Danny Denzongpa, Amitabh Bachchan and Sanjeev Kumar were in the race to play Gabbar.
Know more about the life of Gabbar aka Amjad Khan here.
3. Mogambo: Movie—Mr. India
As soon as you type Mogambo, Google will complete the rest of the sentence for you “. . . . khush hua”.
Amrish Puri did not conform to the stereotypical image of a movie hero and thanks to that, Hindi cinema got to witness him play some of the most memorable bad guys.
But of all the roles, Mogambo from Mr India, stands out.
Amongs all the villains in the world of bollywood, Mogambo still remains the most villainous of them all. Source: Bollywood Art project/Facebook
Interestingly, actor Anupam Kher was the first choice for the role. Though upset initially on being replaced, Kher later confessed that the makers of the film took the right decision.
“When you are dropped from a film then generally an actor feels bad, but when I watched Mr India and saw Amrishji’s work as Mogambo then, I thought the makers of the film took the right decision by casting him in their film,” he told IANS.
Actor Saif Ali Khan turned out to be a surprise element in Vishal Bharadwaj’s Omkara—an adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Othello. After playing a metrosexual man in movies like Hum Tum, Dil Chahta Hai and Salam Namaste, Khan wowed people with his body language and perfectly-delivered lines in the local dialect of the interiors of western UP, outperforming his co-actors in several scenes.
Treacherous, cold-hearted and manipulative, Tyagi walks with a limp and plays revenge games with Kesu Upadhyaya (Vivek Oberoi) and Omi Shukla (Ajay Devgn).
5. Rahul Mehra: Movie—Darr
In the long list villains in the cinematic world, Shahrukh Khan too has left his mark.
Way before Shah Rukh Khan conquered millions of hearts across the world with his charming and relatable roles, he was every woman’s nightmare as an obsessive stalker in Yash Chopra’s Darr.
Shah Rukh Khan’s character in the movie is so obsessed with Kiran (Juhi Chawla) that his intentions turn malicious and murderous, hell-bent on killing the man Kiran was in love with.
This is not the only film where Khan played an antagonist. Who can forget the scene in Baazigar where he pushes Shilpa Shetty from the terrace of a building to her gruesome death?
6. Isha (spoiler alert!): Movie—Gupt
In a movie full of villains, Kajol takes the crown.
Throughout this whodunnit, audiences are left guessing the identity of the mysterious killer.
Is it a politically-driven murder, money dispute or it is really Sahil (Bobby Deol) who killed his step-father for publicly insulting his girlfriend Isha (Kajol)?
I remember how my elder sister refused to speak to her best friend for months after she revealed the name of the murderer. And she was not the only ‘unlucky’ one to get the spoiler.
In a major plot twist and against everyone’s expectation, Kajol turns out to be the killer who ruthlessly stabs people who come in her and Sahil’s way.
It was a very bold move on Kajol’s part for shedding the heroine image and playing a villian in the beginning of her career.
7. Makdee
Witches have always been villains. And Shabana Azmi played one to the T.
In and as Makdee, Shabana Azmi managed to convince cinemagoers, especially children, of a world where witchcraft was still alive.
With her long nails, demonic look, evil laughter and hatred for children, Azmi is unrecognisable in the movie.
She transforms Munni (Shweta Basu) into a chicken after she enters her house due to a prank. So, her identical twin Chunni agrees to bring a chicken daily in hopes of getting her sister back.
Released in 2002, Vishal Bharadwaj’s directorial Makdee definitely gave sleepless nights to many who feared entering a dilapidated building alone, even during the day.
A hero falls in love with the heroine. Since he crosses hurdles and challenges to ‘get’ her, her world revolves around him. In the end, he ‘rescues’ her from all worldly atrocities and they live happily ever after. Pick any film from Bollywood, decode the plot and you will see the ‘cinderella-isation.’
However, this is not to say that the glamorous industry has not witnessed path-breaking female-centric roles. There are but a few.
Smita Patil in Bhumika (1977), Rekha in Ijaazat (1987), Shabana Azmi in Fire (1996), Madhuri Dixit in Lajja (2001) and Tabu in Astitva (2002) are some of the staggering examples.
A paradigm shift was witnessed in the past decade, where filmmakers wrote meatier roles for women, celebrating womanhood. Actresses on their part also took ‘bold’ decisions (sans relying on exposing their figures) and believed that Indian audiences would accept this new wave of feminism.
Spoiler alert, here’s a look at seven such films that also went on to motivate writers to ideate and actresses to demand better roles.
Right from her entry, Vidya Balan gives you an impression of just another pregnant lady who is very careful while sitting on a chair and entering a taxi.
What one also sees is her determination to find her missing husband even if it means hacking a computer system or breaking into an old government office. It is only towards the end that the audience sees that it was she who was driving the entire narrative of the film.
As we worry about her safety from the spectacled man with a creepy smile, Mr Khan who wants to use her as a scapegoat and the serial killer on the loose, she turns out to be an agent who is out to kill the killer.
Balan’s character, the breathtaking climax and emotional ride is something that will forever be etched in Bollywood’s cinematic history.
Playing an autistic girl without being the butt of jokes and proving that a disabled character is not someone who only shouts like a ‘retard’, Priyanka Chopra Jonas delivered one her finest works in Anurag Basu’s Barfi.
The film came at a time when the industry was still male-dominant, and heroines were eager to be a part of the Rs 100-crore club. Though there are no dialogues for the then 30-year-old Priyanka in this film, her adorable yet determined expressions do the work.
Be it her love for Nanu (maternal grandfather), her affection and possessiveness towards Barfi (Ranbir Kapoor), her disgust for muck on shoes, Jhilmil comes out as a courageous figure who is ready to take on life as it comes.
Hats off to Priyanka for venturing into unknown territory with so much grace and conviction.
Rajouri-based, (a residential neighbourhood in Delhi) Rani cannot contain her excitement to get married to her love-interest Vijay (Rajkummar Rao) in the opening scene of superhit film, Queen. But little does the young bride know that her dream of being his wife will come crashing down only because Vijay thinks she is naive and uncool.
After being distressed for a couple of days, Rani (Kangana Ranaut) decides to go on her honeymoon to Europe, alone. Rani’s transformative journey on the trip is gradual but steady. Her self-confidence restores with her postponing her return ticket.
What follows is Rani dancing her heart out in a club, burping loudly, driving a car, showing her cooking skills, kissing a stranger, living with four men and finally dumping her fiance because compromising on her individuality is no more acceptable to her.
Kangana Ranaut’s character did not have to fight evils of society, go against her parents or rebel without a cause to discover her true self and shatter patriarchal norms that slide in subtly every once in a while. It was like she found her new self while retaining who she was, and this, in my opinion, is an example of brilliant character development.
Rani Mukerji gave a finesse performance in Mardaani, a film that addresses sex trafficking.
Shivani is a fearless cop who is out to bust the trafficking racket and rescue girls, one of whom happens to be her daughter’s friend. Besides being mentally strong, she is also physically fit, a trait that is very rare to find in a female character. She keeps her emotions aside when necessary and fights nasty goons.
It is amazing to see Rani in a new avatar with her no make-up look. It was indeed a bold move on her part to shed her ‘heroine’ image and carry the film on her shoulders.
Though the film leaves you with a heavy heart, it also establishes faith towards the police department and respect for female cops.
Calling out your relative for sexual harassment is never easy. So it is no wonder that many such cases of abuse and assault go unreported, all to retain the family’s prestige. Director Imtiaz Ali addressed this topic in Highway, starring then-newcomer Alia Bhatt.
After playing the glamorous student, Shanaya in Student of the Year (2012), Alia shocked everyone, including the critics, with her character Veera, in Highway. Who can forget her powerful monologue where she lets out years of suppression in front of her family!
She breaks free from the conditioning to be poised and graceful in public, and like Rani in Queen, discovers herself and feels liberated even though she is in captivity.
It is very rare to see a raging character like Veera in Indian film cinema, an industry where girls and women are all about sanskar and traditions.
Ye paani hai, ye aag hai Ye khudi likhi kitaab hai Pyaar ki khuraak si hai Piku!
This excerpt from Piku‘s title track sums up Deepika Padukone’s character in the Shoojit Sircar directorial.
An architect by profession, the C R Park resident is fierce, unapologetic, ambitious, caring, and independent. Piku may not be the definition of an ideal Indian daughter but she is certainly a daughter every father wants.
Not conforming to the principles set by others, Piku does not marry, and one of the reasons is her ‘Baba’ (played by Amitabh Bachchan). She breaks the stereotype that only a son can take care of his parents and normalises singlehood.
From praying in front of her mother’s frame every time she leaves the house to making firm decisions in her personal and professional lives, she is the perfect amalgamation of modern and traditional.
The father-daughter road trip from Delhi to Kolkata surely touched the chords of our hearts.
After giving spectacular performances in films in like Chandni Bar (2001), Astitva (2002), Maqbool (2003) and Haider (2014), Tabu proved yet again that she will always be the queen of ‘grey’ as Simi in the 2018 thriller, Andhadhun.
The film revolves around Akash (Ayushmann Khurrana) who wants to build his name as a pianist by moving out of India and playing blind. A victim of unfavourable circumstances, he comes in contact with Simi, a housewife of a yesteryear superstar.
In the turn of events, you see Tabu, a step-mother, being an accomplice to the murder of her own husband. In the next scene, she effortlessly throws her old neighbour from the building to erase suspicions. Simi then falls into a trap and is blackmailed for money by Akash, who has seen her commit the heinous crimes.
Mind you, at no point in the film, does Simi feel victimised, guilty or vulnerable.
Tabu’s flawed yet honest character is strong or at least pretends to be. With no insight into her past, one can only guess the reasons behind her not-a-single-flinch expression while killing the poor lady.
Though as an audience, we can differentiate between right and wrong, accepting Simi as the film’s antagonist is challenging. Personally, this is one Bollywood ‘villain’ that I rooted for. Writing strong and honest female characters is not a difficult task if actresses are courageous enough to play flawed characters. It is no wonder that director Sriram Raghavan kept Tabu in mind while writing the script.
For Tahira, a resident of Kodungallur, a town in Kerala, depending on people for help or sitting at home was never an option.
She was only 14 when her father passed away. Seeing no other way out, she discontinued her education and became the sole breadwinner of her family, taking up multiple daily wage jobs to sustain her family of seven members. From selling fish, rearing cows, to even starting a driving school—Tahira soldiered on and fought all the odds that came her way.
But never in her wildest dreams did the 41-year old think that one day, she would star in her own biopic, ‘Tahira’ and that it would receive widespread appreciation from film critics.
The Struggle For Survival
After her father passed away, sustenance became a huge question mark for Tahira and her family. She was the middle child—there were three elder sisters and two younger ones—but decided to take it upon herself to bring her family back to the shore and began tagging along with her mother for daily wage work.
“At that point in time, it was odd to see a girl in her teens doing multiple jobs. But I never really got to choose the work I do because I was in a race for money,” Tahira recalls.
Clad in a men’s shirt and a long skirt with a towel around her head, she would go about her work and was never seen resting at any point in time.
“I used to be mocked by several people for dressing as I did, and I guess many of them found it odd that I was doing jobs that were predominantly taken up by the men in our society. But, I turned a blind eye to all those remarks because that’s what my father would have done. He started fishing at a very young age and was the eldest of 10 siblings. He spent his entire life taking care of his siblings just like me. You could actually say I’m following in his footsteps,” she explains.
She always had an eye on the future. While working at a shrimp factory, she used her savings to purchase a few cows and started selling their milk.
“I would wake up at 4 AM every day, milk the cows and then distribute it from door to door. Soon, I got myself a second-hand scooter so that the delivery could be faster and I could save time. But even then the people around couldn’t digest the fact that a woman was driving a scooter,” she mentions.
This small business took off, and a few years back, Tahira purchased a car, learnt how to drive, and now offers lessons to other people as well.
“Tahira’s perseverance and grit is the sole reason we can live with dignity today. Although she was not able to finish her studies, she made sure that her two younger sisters were sent to school. Both of them are now teachers. I couldn’t be more proud to have a daughter like her,” says Tahira’s mother, Beepathu.
Into The Limelight
Tahira with director Siddique Paravoor
For Tahira, life was always about survival. She was always flitting from one job to another and had no time to spare for anyone—
or any other activity.
But when Siddique Paravoor, a renowned director in the Malayalam film industry heard Tahira’s story, there was no turning back.
“I was visiting my folks in Kodungallur when I happened to see Tahira going from house to house delivering milk in her scooter. It was definitely something that caught my attention so I enquired about her and that’s when I heard her story, and was immediately intrigued” explains Siddique.
After a few weeks of discussions with producers and his colleagues, Siddique decided to go ahead and direct a movie on Tahira’s life. But there was a huge challenge to overcome.
“I had the enormous task of casting someone who could do everything that Tahira did, that is from fishing, rearing cows to even driving a car. I realised that she was an irreplaceable protagonist and only she could take up the role,” he explains.
Tahira was extremely hesitant, but Siddique had patience on his side, and eventually, she came around and agreed to give acting a try.
Lights, Camera, Tahira
Tahira at the International Film Festival Kerala
“This was the first time in front of a camera for me. I was obviously frightened by all the chaos that was happening at the set, a completely new experience. I fumbled, I cried, and I couldn’t comprehend the directions given by the cameraman,” mentions Tahira.
“But Tahira didn’t give up. She asked me if she could try out a few shots without instructions from the cameramen. I agreed, and that’s when we saw the film truly come to life. Her mannerisms and language brought a taste of her own life’s struggle into the movie, making it as genuine as it could be,” Siddique explains.
Besides facing the cameras for the first time in her life, Tahira who had never travelled outside Kerala was thrilled about the experience of flying to Delhi and Chennai for the premiere of the movie.
“This movie has changed my life. I was lucky enough to see people from across India appreciating my work and determination. That’s somewhat of a miracle, isn’t it?” she asks with a smile.
Life Today
Since the film’s release, Tahira has received help and donations from all corners of the world. An anonymous benefactor even provided her with 5 cent plot of land, where she has now built her own home.
When asked if she would continue to act in movies, Tahira jokingly replies, “ If someone’s willing to make another movie about my story, then sure! But till then I’ll be busy with all the other work I have.”
With The Positive Collective, The Better India’s COVID-19 coverage is available to regional language publications for free. Write to editorial@thebetterindia.com for more details.
On the way to Goa, Bengaluru-based independent filmmaker Sarah Thomas came across a group of older women in the countryside.
“It was 5 AM, and these women were dressed in a unique manner—their upper torso was covered in an elaborate layer of beads, and the lower body was in a saree draped like a towel that reached a little beyond the knee. They were working and seemed to be crooning a folk tune,” shares Sarah.
At the time, she was compiling a film on the Dom community in India, but this chance encounter intrigued her deeply. Upon a little research, Sarah discovered that they belonged to the Halakki Vokkaliga tribe of Karnataka—one of the most overlooked and socially ostracised communities in the state.
Those women Sarah saw were a few of the remaining practitioners of their traditional way of life. After facing decades of ostracisation from the ‘civilised’ society for their unique culture, the younger generation of the Halakkis is opting not to reveal their ancestry and blend in with the others.
Sarah decided to document the life and culture of the Halakkis, but the harsh realities that she found out during the research and filming process of her film ‘The Unsung,’ made their way into the film and it has ended up being a heartwrenching chronicle of a tribe that has been stripped of its identity and is slowly fading into oblivion.
Sarah Thomas
An elderly Halakki woman (still from the movie)
The Padma Shri awardees among the Halakkis
Interestingly, this small tribe boasts of of two Padma Shri awardees. In 2017, Sukri Bommagowda earned the honour for her folk singing and social activism to save their fading tunes. In 2020, Tulasi Gowda from the Halakki tribe won the Padma Shri for her encyclopedic knowledge of plants and large scale tree plantation.
Padma Shri awardee Surki Bommagowda
The individual stories of these two women have been highlighted in the media time and again, but their tribe hardly ever found cognisance.
Sarah adds that almost all Halakki women possess one or the other of such incredible skills. In fact, their culture mandates them to sing while working. They also seem to have brilliant know-how about medicinal plants, and they strive hard to preserve the environmental biodiversity.
Sarah in conversation with Surki Bommagowda
Hiding Their Identity to Blend in
“Presently, the tribe has around 2 lakh remaining members, but barely 1% of them, who are a group of senior women, respect and uphold their culture till date. The tribe believes that they originated from rice and milk that split while Goddess Parvati was trying to feed Lord Shiva,” reveals Sarah.
She faced a series of challenges when she started her journey to meet the members of the tribe. This is primarily because rampant deforestation has uprooted them from their original forested areas, and also because, as mentioned earlier, the present generation prefers to keep their identity hidden.
“People would tell me it was nearly impossible to reach the Halakkis. I was searching for them near Gokarna at that time. I was almost on the verge of giving up when I casually inquired the hotel receptionist lady one day. With a great deal of embarrassment, she expressed that she also belonged to the Halakki tribe but chose not to disclose her identity.”
Sarah (in white cap) and her crew filming in a Halakki settlement
She guided Sarah in the right direction, who finally managed to find them in Ankola. Accustomed to living amid the forest’s bounty, they were now struggling to settle in makeshift tents and camps in the coastal town. Around two decades ago, corporate greed drove them out of their forested homes, forcing them to settle near the sea—an unfamiliar habitat. The legal ban on game hunting had also caused the tribe to rethink their dietary choices.
Nearly 40% of the youth in the community are graduates, but they still work as seasonal farmers, fruit vendors, grocers and even labourers. The society looks down upon their community with such prejudice that they can’t blend in with the mainstream unless of course, they hide their identity.
A glimpse into a cramped tent by the sea – present residence of the Halakkis
The traditional beaded attire
Traditionally, the men in the tribe have worn lungis, but the present youth find the Western outfits far more comfortable. While the elderly women still stick to their traditional attire, the younger generation of women finds it immodest while the men consider it to be “indecent,” or “perverted.”
“When I asked the women about the reason behind wearing the beads, nobody could answer. They all said that perhaps their mothers and grandmothers would have been aware, but now they continue wearing it to uphold their esteem,” mentions Sarah.
In fact, no Halakki woman has strewn a beaded necklace in the past few decades. The ones wearing them now have inherited the same from their mothers as a family heirloom. Even the original and all-natural composition of the beads now remains a mystery.
The beaded necklace
These Halakki grandmothers continue the practice of singing while working. These songs are tribal ballads which have no documented existence and have been passed down orally over generations. Their celebrations comprise ‘Janapada’ dances and songs which depicts their unconventional rituals and customs. “They even narrate a version of Ramayana much different to the Valmiki Ramayana we grew up with,” shares Sarah.
Patriarchy and Alcoholism
Communicating with the older generation was another hurdle for Sarah because they speak a strange mix of old school Kannada and Telugu. It took her months of translation and interpretation to understand them. Even then, there are a lot of untold stories which she regrets not knowing or understanding yet.
“The tribe used to be inherently matriarchal, with a woman leader chosen as head of the community. Other than that, they had a very egalitarian outlook that believed in equality of genders. However, in the recent past, the ills of Indian society have penetrated their lives. Despite having a female leader, patriarchy now dominates; with rising incidents of domestic violence on women,” informs Sarah, lamenting how the roots of rot have seeped in on them from the outside.
Happy faces
Another problem now plaguing the Halakkis is severe alcoholism. With their exposure to the mainstream, the young men, and even teenage boys at times, are dangerously becoming addicted to liquor. Many of them are succumbing to liver damage at a tender age.
In an attempt to bring the Halakkis into the mainstream, the state government has branded them as a Scheduled Caste, making them eligible for certain reservations in education and career. To attain this tag, the tribe had to prove their ‘backward’ identity through criteria like primitive facial features, shyness of contact with the modern world and geographical isolation.
But Sarah’s film captures the repercussions of the same.
Halakki women dancing by the sea
“We urban people consider them to be backward. If we are not marginalising them, then our saviour complex and privileged upbringing prompt us to think they need our saving. This attitude is proving detrimental to the Halakkis, and many other Indian tribes for that matter. In our attempt to modernise them, we are obliterating their rich culture,” she asserts.
A Film That Has Won Several Awards
Released last year, the film by Sarah’s STOM Productions have gone on to earn accolades from around the world, including 15 nominations in seven countries. ‘The Unsung’ also won the award for best editing at the Dada Saheb Phalke Film Festival.
‘The Unsung’ captures the untold story of the Halakkis and their struggle of cultural sustenance amid a global wave of appropriation. It is high time we take note and do our best to preserve the culture and heritage of such communities in nooks and corners of the world.
“Mohabbat Karte Hai Hum Apni Haveli Se, Be Inteha” – You can hear a decrepit Mirza enunciating this line in the preview of Shoojit Sircar’s latest offering ‘Gulabo-Sitabo’ – the Haveli in question is over mildewed, century-old mansion somewhere in Lucknow. The trailer reveals the premise of the movie, which primarily revolves around an aged Mirza, played by Amitabh Bachchan, and his endless bickering with his reel-life tenant Baankey Rastogi, portrayed by Ayushman Khurrana. One of the initial scenes of the movie brings forth a reference to the interesting title, where a roadside puppeteer can be seen putting up a show with two gaudily-dressed hand puppets – the hard-working, relatively mellowed housewife Sitabo, and her husband’s paramour, the charming Gulabo.
The story of the puppets Gulabo and Sitabo goes a long way back across the lanes of Uttar Pradesh, where their squabbles are presented through limericks, hilarious banter, sardonic barbs and often prurient jokes.
The Real Story of Gulabo-Sitabo Dating back to Post-Independence India
The story dates back to the early 1950s, when puppetry was one of the dominant sources of entertainment in the newly-independent country. Be it at country fairs thronged by inquisitive children and their parents or at street sides on a lazy afternoon, the art of puppetry was yet to be museumised in the country.
At that time, a nomadic family from Naraharpur village in UP’s Pratapgarh district was well-known in the hand puppetry scene of North India. This family is often credited for its contribution to Concept Puppetry – where social messages were neatly woven into the puppetry performance. Ram Niranjan Lal Srivastava, a member of the family who worked in the Agricultural Institute of Allahabad (present Prayagraj) at the time, decided to try his hands at the lineal vocation.
He created the two puppet characters – Gulabo and Sitabo, destined to be each other’s sworn enemies. They fight over the same invisible man, Sitabo’s husband and Gulabo’s lover, and their arguments mostly deal with matters of the household, while ribald jokes are infused in between to amuse the audience.
However, the creator, Ram Niranjan chose to incorporate occasional jibes at social evils of the times like child marriage, female infanticide or dowry system.
Soon, Ram Niranjan began touring the country with his family, putting up his Gulabo-Sitabo shows everywhere. Word about the story soon spread. On a cold winter morning over chai, or maybe on a sultry summer afternoon, crowds would jostle to get a glimpse of Gulabo and Sitabo being at each other’s throats.
The main storyline remained the same, but different sub-plots were added often by the creator to keep the audience entertained throughout. The precisely engineered characters and sharp dialogues with a tinge of humour are often attributed to the success of Gulabo-Sitabo.
In 1956, when the Literacy House was established in Lucknow to promote adult and non-formal education, it soon became a hotspot for rendering education through various forms and forums, including puppetry. Bill and Cora Baird, a famous puppeteer duo from USA, helped create the Educational Puppetry Department at Literacy House – to uphold the objectives of Sakshar Bharat programme through such informal means.
Ram Niranjan was a part of the early team at the Department, where his puppetry was used for raising social awareness.
Resuscitating a Fading legacy
The Gulabo-Sitabo performances soon became a phenomenon in Uttar Pradesh and beyond as many small-time puppeteers adopted the story and started presenting it in their own ways. In general, Gulabo and Sitabo puppets are generally made of paper-mâché and dressed in shiny, vibrant attires, adorned with trinkets and jewellery. Among the two, Sitabo’s attire and appearance are purposefully shown less enchanting than the scintillating Gulabo. The puppetry show is generally accompanied by drum (Dholak) and cymbals (Manjira).
“The a capella narration, rendered in the spoken-sung style by the puppeteer seated on the floor, constructs a semi-improvised plot which is a mixture of salacious jokes, caustic reflections, laced with local humour, and songs relating to shared incidents and the vicissitudes of daily life” – World Encyclopedia of Puppetry Arts writes about Gulabo-Sitabo.
However, the legacy of Gulabo-Sitabo faded over time, occasionally resurrected by a few professional puppeteers here and there, and many unnamed ones who still continue to entertain wayfarers with their captivating rendition of the age-old story.
A still from ‘Gulabo Sitabo’ movie trailer
Padma-Shri awardee puppeteer Dadi Pudumjee had revived an interest in puppetry for a while at his Ishara Puppet Theatre, but the craft failed to garner much of the previous attention.
That is until, filmmaker Shoojit Sircar and screenwriter Juhi Chaturvedi decided to revive this dying art form through the more popular silver screen.
In fact, the surviving members of Ram Niranjan Lal Srivastava’s family, who still pursue puppetry as their sole profession, were reportedly elated to hear the two familiar names resurface in the popular media again. They, along with many practising puppeteers of the country, hope that the film will pique the audience’s interest in this beautiful art and save it from fading into oblivion.
A Tale of Melancholy in Satire
Gulabo Sitabo happens to be the first Hindi film to see a digital release before hitting the theatres. The film explores the typical animosity between landlords and tenants, through humorous dialogues, and antics. Veteran actor Amitabh Bachchan steals the show with his caustic camaraderie with Ayushman Khurrana’s character throughout the film.
The two lead characters’ hysterical rows, complete with all known forms of jibes, jeers and taunts – subtly expresses an underlying tone of melancholy, perhaps picturised as the crumbling heritage mansion Fathima Mahal.
Interestingly, Pratapgarh is the district where the ancestral family of Amitabh Bachchan belonged. In fact, the puppeteer Srivastavas still continues to refer to the Bachchan family as their own “hamare hi Pratapgarh ke”. With the Gulabo-Sitabo film, perhaps that connection comes a full circle.
The craft of puppetry in India can be traced back to 4000 years ago, where contemporary Sanskrit plays were enacted through these performances. However, the heritage craft now faces the threat of extinction. Here’s hoping that the Amitabh Bachchan-starrer rekindles the lost interest in the domain.
Baburao Painter refused to budge when people told him shooting at night won’t get him any results. One of the pioneering filmmakers of India, Baburao ignored the warnings, mockings, and accomplished the impossible.
The year was 1923, an era when technological advancements and shooting equipment had not yet made inroads into India. Born in 1890 as Baburao Krishnarao Mestry in Kolhapur, Maharashtra, he used a packet of gunpowder to create artificial light in a fort.
He lit the gunpowder a few seconds before the shot, and aced the night shoot for a scene in the Marathi film Sinhagad. He was even felicitated at the Wembley Exhibition in London the following year.
It was probably the first time anyone had used artificial lighting, a concept that is widely used in filmmaking today, almost a hundred years later.
This was not the first time Baburao broke away from the conventional norms of cinema and made his own rules in the silent era.
Sadly, not many are aware of his unparalleled contribution to the Indian film industry. One of the reasons could be the lack of importance given to people behind the camera. Plus, he was busy forming his own identity vis-a-vis his competitor, Dadasaheb Phalke, also known as Father of Indian Cinema.
But then Baburao was a person who never demanded any attention. All through his life, his primary focus was to spread awareness about social issues through his entertaining films.
Baburao started his career with his cousin, Anandrao Painter, as a painter.
The duo left a remarkable imprint through their artworks in theatre and drama troupes. They would draw and design backdrops and curtains for Sangeet Natak and Gujarati Parsi theatres. This introduced him to the mesmerising and fascinating world of acting, drama, and plays, which gradually manifested into silent films.
After seeing India’s first full-length feature film, Raja Harishchandra, Baburao started watching more movies.
One day, he decided to make his own camera and approached Phalke, who had purchased a film camera from Germany. With several questions and excitement, Baburao met Phalke, but he was turned down.
Not willing to give up, Baburao decided to make his own film camera with a second-hand projector. His cousin, Anandrao, and his disciple, V G Damle, helped him make the camera in 1918.
In 1919, Baburao established his film company, Maharashtra Film Company, in Kolhapur with his friends, including India’s finest filmmaker, V Shantaram. The company had to be closed down later as the members joined The Prabhat Film Company.
A year later, Baburao was ready to shoot his first film, Sairandhri based on the mythological epic, Mahabharata. The story revolved around the villainous Keechak and Sairandhri, the persona adopted by Draupadi in her thirteenth year of exile.
This movie drew the attention of the British Government who asked Baburao to censor a scene from the film. This was the first instance of censorship in India. The story, narrated by Marathi filmmaker and painter, Chandrakant Joshi to Indian Express, goes:
“There is a scene in Sairandhri that shows Bhima slaying Keechak. It was so realistic that during the first few shows, the women in the audience started screaming, assuming it was real. While there is no document that suggests the scene was edited, apparently, a representative would announce prior to the screening that it was shot using props.”
The critical acclaim and the effect this film had on people, motivated Baburao to make more films. His filmography boasts of 18 silent films and nine talkies.
When filmmakers like Phalke centred their films around myths and stories of faith, Baburao took the unusual route. He depicted realism and societal issues.
Take, for instance, Savkari Pash (1925) that exposed the plight of poor farmers reeling under debt. However, the film did not see success as cinemagoers of the time preferred a fantasy world.
Meanwhile, his other production, Sinhagad was widely watched and appreciated. This propelled the Revenue Department to introduce the Entertainment Tax, another first in India that came through Baburao.
Apart from directing his own films, he also took care of aspects like designing sets, writing screenplays, fleshing out characters, and designing costumes.
Baburao also introduced technical advancements such as artificial lights, reflectors, and three multi-dimensional spaces. He was perhaps the first to understand the significance of film promotion in India. For this, he would design pamphlets and booklets.
Baburao managed to accomplish multiple things at a time when there was no internet, guidance, or formal education on filmmaking. He gave our industry aspects without which filmmaking cannot be imagined.
With so many feathers in his hat, Baburao who passed away in 1954, truly, was a visionary filmmaker.
“The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.” -Arthur C Clarke, British science fiction writer
Over the last few months, the entertainment industry has come to a standstill. But Coronavirus-related restrictions have also compelled young filmmakers to shoot in closed spaces by casting their closed ones, friends, and even professional actors. They embraced the lockdown constraints as creative choices, right from writing the screenplay to shooting the film.
The release of the anthology film Home Stories, available exclusively on Netflix India’s YouTube Channel; Banana Bread, a short film by Srinivas Sunderrajan; and Love In The Time of Corona, an experimental visual essay by filmmaker Anirban Dutta, speaks volumes about this tricky new process of shooting and structuring films.
Conflicts and complexities of existence
Clocking 45 minutes, the four films in the anthology Home Stories present different genres, styles, and themes of filmmaking.
Out With It, featuring Arjun Mathur, delves into the psyche of an agoraphobe, who refuses to leave the protective confinement of his home during the pandemic, having to confront his worst fears.
Will You Be My Quarantine, featuring Saba Azad and Imaad Shah, narrates the fates of two individuals whose rendezvous for a one-night stand turns into a three-week standoff due to the lockdown.
Delivering Smiles, featuring Tanmay Dhanania, depicts the tale of a delivery executive, who records his food delivery journey to customers, in the form of Vlogs, during the problematic situation.
Web Ne Bana Di Jodi, featuring Veer Rajwant Singh and Apoorva Arora, among others, sketches the knotty onus of a couple getting married during lockdown, while trying their best to go through the ceremonies of an online wedding.
Sahirr Sethhi, the director of Out With It, is an Indian filmmaker and commercial director, screenwriter and producer based in Los Angeles and Mumbai. Graduating from the film direction program at University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), he won a Student Emmy for his short-film Zoya. During the pre-production of Out With It, he was aware that he had to direct the film over video chat.
So he began by breaking the script into simple beats that would be easy to communicate and execute. He went through multiple drafts with his co-writer Kaivalya Kulkarni to develop the characters, create a structure, and layer the film with metaphors and misdirects. He put together an elaborate look-book with paintings by artists like Edward Hopper and Salman Toor and stills from various films to convey a sense of claustrophobia and isolation.
The protagonist, Arjun Mathur, got on board enthusiastically and agreed to film in his apartment, knowing well that he would be multitasking while acting.
He says, “My experience as an assistant director helped me during the shooting. The limited crew with their varied skills had to come together. Moreover, since the shooting was taking place in my home, a space I am aware of, I was taking instructions from the director, and also actively involved in the process of storytelling.”
The cinematographer, Jay Oza used his iPad to be on a continuous video chat with Sahirr. He would use the iPad’s front facing camera to mimic the main camera’s POV (point of view) so Sahirr could block the scenes. Following this, Arjun would set up the main camera and show the final frame to Sahirr. When ready for the shot, Jay manned the main camera, while the iPad would be placed in front of Arjun, so that Sahirr could direct his performance.
Tiya Tejpal, the production designer, arranged the next set. For instance, while a scene was filmed inside the bedroom, she would set up the scene where Arjun’s character was solving the puzzle.
The process involved a lot of coordination, patience, and trust. Other actors who appeared in the film, self-shot their scenes on personal devices while the director guided them over video chat.
The post-production was also done remotely. The editor, Utsav Bhagat, used a screen-share option to show the director his timeline. Neel Adhikari, the composer, discussed music ideas before filming and created a scratch track that was played on set to inspire the pacing. It was even used in the first cut.
Sound designer, Soutrik Chakrabarty, had to send exported files constantly, so that the post-production team would listen and convey their notes. Colour correction and a little bit of VFX (visual effects) were all done remotely.
The team did not let social distancing norms interrupt the collaborative dialogue between the cast and crew; if anything, the rules helped them to listen and trust each other to elevate the storytelling.
In the words of Sahirr, “While so much is happening around us, our stories go on. With Home Stories, we wanted to push the boundaries for creativity and bring four such short stories, made with love and care at home during this unimaginable time.”
A Chance Encounter
Srinivas Sunderrajan, an Indian musician and an independent filmmaker based in Mumbai, directed the short film Banana Bread remotely. He is known for The Untitled Kartik Krishnan Project (2010), Greater Elephant (2012) and the metafiction web series TXDRMY (2016).
The 12-minute film was co-written by Rasika Duggal and Mukul Chadda, who not only acted, but also shot the entire film. They shared the script with Sharanya, the head at Terribly Tiny Talkies. Sharanya then discussed it with Srinivas, who liked it, despite the challenges with ‘shooting remotely’. There was no cinematographer present during the shooting.
The team first got together through video conferencing to familiarise themselves with one another. In the next stage, the actors got familiar with the technical aspects of shooting. Then followed the sessions of delving into the script and performance, where one-on-one video sessions helped understand the characters’ stories and graphs.
The idea was to invoke the sense and feel of the 70s and 80s films of Basu Chatterjee and Hrishikesh Mukherjee while bringing out the story and chemistry between the two protagonists.
The director decided the frame and provided the actors with a PDF document. So, technically speaking, Srinivas was also the director of photography, while the actors also operated the camera. The film was shot for two days from 10 a.m-4 p.m.
Since the film was shot with natural light, it was essential for the team to find the pockets in the location that had daylight filtering in and avoid places where it was dark, since phone cameras function poorly in such settings. So, a small video recce of the house, where the film would be shot, was done to figure which locations would work best for the scenarios in the film.
After the shooting, the files were all uploaded on Google Drive, which Srinivas downloaded and edited on his home setup. The end credit sequence and poster concepts were discussed with the design team of Terribly Tiny Talkies, who executed it.
Despite overcoming the challenges, Srinivas shares that the process drained him mentally and physically than real world shooting.
A dream-like hold of memory and reality
Anirban Dutta is a self-taught filmmaker. His debut feature film Jahnabi – Personification of a woman as many Rivers was premiered in various international film festivals and received critical acclaim. Love In The Time of Corona is a visually poetic depiction of our current predicament.
Sudeep Sen, the writer of the titular poem, approached Anirban and they discussed a film adaptation. Anirban read the poem multiple times and tried to find metaphorical references. He also spent time scripting the sound design. His idea was that the images and the sound must represent a bold dialogue, somewhat unsaid and unspoken, but thoroughly embedded in the skin of the film.
Besides taking some new shots, he used some old footage, shots which he could not use in his previous films, but felt relevant to the character of the film.
The young director is a one-man crew, who shot, edited and layered the sound design.
Alternate exhibition process
Under the present situation, making films and releasing them online or on Over-The-Top (OTT) platforms seems to be a viable option. The release of Shoojit Sircar’s Gulabo Sitabo on Amazon Prime last month, is an example of this new phenomenon gaining popularity in the industry. Unlike Amazon Prime, OTT platform Disney+Hotstar is geared to premiere seven Bollywood movies, which were originally slated for theatrical releases–Dil Bechara, Laxmmi Bomb, Bhuj: The Pride of India, Sadak 2, The Big Bull, Khuda Haafiz and Lootcase.
So, can we consider such options as the future of film distribution?
“Until it is safe to enjoy a collective movie-going experience in theatres again, digital distribution will help make content accessible to viewers in the comfort of their homes,” says Sahil.
Srinivas opines, “I feel the pandemic is a boon to smaller filmmakers because this opens up a door of OTT platforms for distribution, though I would wait to see how the OTT market shapes up as the lockdown is being relaxed. But the notion of OTT being the future of film distribution is stronger now than it was before.”
But Anirban believes, “Given the worldwide health and economic crisis, responsible films should be distributed and promoted with due diligence and credibility. Distributors should find unique, ingenious, non-partial platforms to showcase good cinema. This is needed more than anything else now. As mere creators of art, we can only hope for better days ahead and support each other in this journey.”
(Written by Dipankar Sarkar and Edited by Shruti Singhal)
In a video published earlier today, 15 lyricists from the Hindi film industry demanded that they receive proper credit for their work on music streaming platforms and YouTube channels.
Titled ‘Credit De Do Yaar,’ it shows the lyricists taking a stand after being sidelined for eons.
“Currently, no music streaming apps/platforms have any algorithm of prominently displaying lyrics credits or making a song searchable by the lyrics writer’s name. On official YouTube channels of almost every big music company, hundreds of song videos have wrong or missing credits of lyrics writers. Be it legends like Sahir saab, Shailendra saab, Gulzar saab, Javed Akhtar saab, Anand Bakshi saab, Sameer saab or contemporary writers like Puneet Sharma, Abhiruchi Chand and others — this culture of apathy and erasure runs across generations. Respect is all we desire.”
Speaking to the Hindustan Times, Shailender Singh Sodhi, commonly known as Shelles, the lyricist behind films like Shahid, Manmarziyaan and Jawaani Jaaneman, highlights the fundamental concern in not properly crediting lyricists.
“There’s a rule: if the name is missing, the royalties from the song won’t come to you, be it YouTube or music apps. Unlike abroad, we don’t have the rights. These music apps have a different algorithm. If we are given our credits, we will start getting the royalty. But what about the royalties of the past? We don’t do any gigs or concerts like singers, who get paid Rs 40 lakhs sometimes. We just get paid peanuts once, and there are negotiations, and nothing after that. Then we have to resort to doing other things like dialogue and script writing to earn extra moolah,” says Shailender.
A still from ‘Credit De Do Yaar’
Besides their names not appearing on streaming platforms, there are other ways in which lyricists don’t receive their due credit. Some have their work plagiarised, while some songs are wrongly credited.
1) Genda Phool: Rapper Badshah fell into hot water earlier this year for the song Genda Phool for not crediting Ratan Kahar, an 85-year-old Birbhum-based folk artist, who originally wrote the hook “Boro Loker beti lo/lomba lomba chul/ emon chul e lagiye debo laal genda phool (Daughter of a rich man/ long, long hair/ I shall adorn such hair with a red marigold).”
After getting panned on social media, Badshah spoke to Kahar, paid him Rs 5 lakh and has offered to work on a song with him once the pandemic subsides.
2) O Saathi, Baaghi 2: In the song, there is a couplet, “Betaabiyaan Samet Ke Saare Jahaan Ki / Jab Kuchh Naa Ban Sakaa To Mera Dil Banaa Diya”, which was either written by poets Najmi Naginvi or Jigar Moradabadi. Credit for these lyrics on the official T Series YouTube channel, however, is given to a certain Arko with no mention of the poets.
3) Ek Chatur Naar: This iconic song from the 1968 cult-classic Padosan was originally sung not by Manna Dey and Kishore Kumar, but his brother Ashok Kumar in the 1941 film Jhoola. Originally written by Kavi Pradeep, the lyrics for the more popular version of the song, however, was solely credited to lyricist Rajendra Krishan.
4) Dilbar, Satyamev Jayate: On the T Series YouTube channel, the credit for the lyrics of one of last year’s biggest hits was wholly given to Shabbir Ahmed when originally the song was written by Sameer Anjaan.
5) Don’t Be Shy, Bala: On the Sony Music India YouTube page for the song ‘Don’t be Shy’ in the 2019 film Bala, the credit for the music was given to Sachin-Jigar, while Badshah and Mellow D were credited for the lyrics. However, on both counts, they failed to credit the original composer and songwriter Baljit Singh Padam, better known by his stage name Dr. Zeus, who delivered ‘Don’t be Shy’ performed by the girl group Rouge and the Punjabi smash hit ‘Kangna.’
Meanwhile, a YouTuber has compiled a list of 50 songs on the streaming platform, where official channels of music studios haven’t credited the lyricists for their songs. On streaming platforms like Spotify, the list goes into the hundreds. None of these songs would be what they are without the lyrics and therefore lyricists must be credited for their words.
Varun Grover, the lyricist credited with films like Gangs of Wasseypur and Udta Punjab, showed how to credit lyricists the right way. Writing a song based on legendary Hindi poet Dushyant Kumar’s ‘Tu Kisi Rail Si Guzarti Hai’ for the film Masaan, Varun reached out to both the late poet’s descendants and publishers and sought their permission to use just two lines from the poem.
If you visit the official Zee Music Company channel on YouTube, where the song is posted, you will find that Dushyant Kumar has been credited.
It’s not very hard to credit the original writers. Unfortunately, some don’t make the effort, but that needs to change now.
(Edited by Gayatri Mishra)
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Harshad Mehta is in the news again. The mastermind of the 1992 securities scam which shook the Indian stock market is back in discussion after almost three decades with the teaser release of Sony Liv’s new web series — Scam ‘92.
Directed by National Award-winning filmmaker Hansal Mehta, this series is based on journalist Debashis Basu & Sucheta Dalal’s book, The Scam.
The Big Bull, directed by Kookie Gulati, starring Abhishek Bachchan which is set to release this year is also based on the same event.
Claimed to be one of the biggest stock market scams committed in India, this fraud was systematically executed by stockbroker Harshad Mehta. It paved the way to a complete structural change of the financial security system of India bringing in a slew of reforms in stock transactions.
Speaking to The Better India (TBI) about the web series, Sucheta Dalal, the journalist who investigated, and broke the story of the Harshad Mehta scam says, “We have no role in the series other than having clarified some things in the book. After nearly 30 years, it is good that people will get to know about markets as they existed at that time and what the scam was about.”
Mehta allegedly committed a fraud of over Rs 1,000 crore from the banking system of India to buy shares on the Bombay Stock Exchange. The scam impacted the entire exchange system, and with the securities system falling apart, investors losing huge amounts of money. The scam affected lakhs of families and the stock market experienced a sharp fall in share prices leading to a loss of Rs 1 lakh crore in market capitalisation.
In the early 1990s, India had just launched its equity markets and taking this to his advantage Mehta decided to finance his share market holdings. He promised banks higher interest rates and used the money provided by them to buy stock shares.
In 1992, Sucheta brought the scam to light. She was intrigued by the luxurious lifestyle led by Harshad Mehta and investigated the sources of the wealth he had gathered over the years. As a result, she exposed the scam on 23 April 1992 in a Times of India column.
She also published a book in 1993 titled The Scam: Who Won, Who Lost, Who Got Away along with Debashis Basu based on the event.
The Journalist Who Went Sleuthing
Born in Mumbai. Sucheta, a trained lawyer joined The Times of India in the early 1990s as a journalist for their business and economics wing. She brought to light cases besides the Harshad Mehta scam of 1992, including the Enron scam, the Industrial Development Bank of India scam, the Ketan Parekh scam of 2001.
“This was the mother of all Indian financial scandals. It exposed the utter lawlessness and absence of supervision in the money markets; it allowed funds to be transferred with impunity from banks and corporate houses into the equity markets; and saw thousands of crores of bank funds to move in and out of brokers’ bank accounts in what was later claimed as “accepted market practice,” Sucheta wrote on her website.
She also goes on to explain how Harshad Mehta made a comeback in 1998 to create a website to hand out stock tips and wrote columns in several newspapers.
“His relentless rigging of BPL, Videocon and Sterlite shares ended with the inevitable collapse and a cover-up operation involving an illegal opening of the trading system in the middle of the night by the Bombay Stock Exchange officials. It cost the BSE President and Executive Director their jobs,” she writes.
Of the 27 criminal charges brought against Harshad Mehta, he was only convicted of four, before his death at the age of 47 in 2001 due to cardiac arrest.
The highly-anticipated web series will be a glimpse into the 1990s India when the Harshad Mehta scam blew up across news channels and made headlines.
Sucheta, a Padma Shri Awardee for journalism in 2006, tells TBI, “Most of the audience for the series was probably not even born then. So that is great. Applause Entertainment is a credible name and Hansal Mehta is a great director, so I guess expectations are high!”
Sucheta was also awarded the Chameli Devi Award instituted by the Media Foundation for excellence in journalism and the Femina’s Woman of Substance Award for her work on the Harshad Mehta scam in 1992.
She has also been a Member of the Investor Protection and Education Fund set up by the Government of India under the Department of Company Affairs as well as a member of the Primary Market Advisory Committee of the Securities and Exchange Board of India. She is also a Trustee of the Consumer Education and Research Centre of Ahmedabad.
‘Soorarai Pottru’ is a Tamil movie starring actor Suriya, scheduled to release on Amazon Prime on November 12. Going by the trailer, the movie is an action-packed drama about a man from a village who takes on politicians, business people, and bureaucrats to fulfil his dream of launching a low-cost airline service.
There is quite a lot of drama, many tears, a near-crash and of course, actor Suriya’s trademark swag.
Artistic license aside, the movie is actually based on Captain G R Gopinath, the pioneer of low-cost aviation in India. The movie was inspired by his 2011 autobiography ‘Simply Fly’, which outlines the journey of a young boy who went from riding a bullock cart to owning an airline.
While perhaps not as dramatic as the film, his vision really did change life in India forever, and he ideas set in stone what most of us take for granted today – a flight to almost any major city in India, for a price every middle-class salaried person can afford.
Captain G R Gopinath, the pioneer of low-cost aviation in India
That was the high. There have been many lows in his life as well, including how that vision ended. And though the movie may choose to skip that, here is his life story in full so far – still quite amazing.
Who is Captain G R Gopinath?
Born in 1951, Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar Gopinath was raised in a small village named Gorur in Karnataka and is the second of eight children. His father, a school teacher and a Kannada novelist, believed that schools were a system of regimentation and decided to teach his son at home.
After a few years of homeschooling, Gopinath was enrolled into 5th standard at a Kannada-medium school. In 1962, he joined the Sainik School, Bijapur, where young boys are trained to join the armed forces.
He further went on to clear his National Defence Academy exams and graduate from the Indian Military Academy. Gopinath spent eight years in the Indian Army and fought in the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War.
Capt. Gopinath before he quit the Indian army.
At the age of 28, he took early retirement from the army. He went on to take a series of entrepreneurial roles such as dairy farmer, sericulture consultant, poultry farmer, hotel owner, Enfield bike dealer, stockbroker, and finally, aviation entrepreneur.
Life as an aviation entrepreneur
Capt. Gopinath’s aviation career started in 1996, and it is divided into three segments.
First, he started a Chartered Helicopter Service under the name – Deccan Aviation. This was aimed at providing Chartered helicopters for VIPs. The service was a hit among many politicians who took Deccan Aviation copters for their travels.
Deccan Aviation’s helicopter service.
After tasting success in this first venture, he decided to try something that benefits the lower-middle class and upper-middle-class. It was a dream because the cost of airfares was so high at the time, one had to be a VIP, or have a company pay for your tickets, to take that mode of transport.
His second venture, Air Deccan was launched in 2003 amid a booming Indian economy with flights from Bangalore and Hubli. To launch this airline, Gopinath invested Rs 5 crore that he gathered from his life savings, friends and family.
By 2006, Air Deccan operated a route network from seven base airports and maintained low turnaround times. The airline offered tickets at 50% the price of other airlines operating at the time, owing to their no-frills approach. This included a uniform economy cabin class and paying for on-air services like food and beverages. Cancellations were also made for an extra price.
Soon, the airline claimed a 22% stake in the Indian aviation industry with a fleet of 43 aircraft making 350 flights every day to more than 60 destinations. They earned revenue through advertisements that were allowed within and outside the aircraft and were well-known for introducing 24-hour call centres through which fliers could book their tickets.
In 2007, the company started to face stiff competition from other airlines, incurred heavy losses, and Gopinath was forced to sell to Liquor Baron Vijay Mallya, who merged it with Kingfisher Airlines and rebranded it as Kingfisher Red.
His third venture was an air-cargo service called Deccan 360. But, that was also shut down in 2013 after its revenue stream was not adequate to breakeven.
Deccan 360 launched in 2009.
What does Gopinath do today?
Not only did Air Deccan change the aviation sector in India forever, but it also turned flying into a reality for every middle class Indian. Later, Gopinath went on to contest in the Lok Sabha elections in 2014, which turned out to be a failed attempt.
After being an active and provocative columnist for media houses, In 2017, he went on to write another book named “You Cannot Miss This Flight: Essays on Emerging India” which captures Capt Gopinath’s interests and the depth of his commitment.
Where does he live now?
The 68-year-old now lives in Bengaluru with his wife and two children.
Calm, persistent and focussed is how I perceived actor Ashwath Bhatt’s character, Mehboob Syed in the spy thriller film, Raazi(2018). He portrays the role of a Pakistani army officer who eventually falls prey to Sehmat’s (Alia Bhatt’s character) ploy.
His performance in Meghna Gulzar’s directorial garnered praises from audiences and critics alike. In the recent past, Ashwath serenaded audiences with his feisty performance as Orakzai chief, Gul Badshah Khan in the Akshay Kumar-starrer, Kesari (2019).
On the sets of Kesari
After watching him on-screen in these two contrasting personas, I was eager to interact with the 45-year-old actor, who has a lesser-known side to him.
Originally from Kashmir, Ashwath was actively involved in helping students from across India in the aftermath of the abrogation of Article 370. Due to a complete shutdown of communication, several students from Kashmir were stranded and left with depleting finances.
An Act of Kindness
For many, paying hostel and tuition fees and buying groceries became a challenge. Travelling back home was not yet an option.
Having experienced Kashmir turmoil in the 1990s first-hand, Ashwath quickly rose to the occasion and used his social media platforms to connect with such students.
“I came back to India yesterday and I can see a lot of uncertainty and panic in Kashmiri people (living in various parts of the country), especially because of not being able to communicate with their families. Just drop me a message with your name and number. This is the time to help people in distress,” Ashwath wrote on Facebook in 2019.
Help poured in from his friends from the film fraternity like director Rahul Dholakia, actor Rajit Kapoor and Shishir Sharma; and ones in the theatre circuit such as Danish Hussain, Yuki Ellias and Mahesh Dattani. He received a flood of messages from people along with their bank accounts.
A still from an upcoming web series
“Around 15 second year engineering boys from Noida were held hostage by an owner of the private hostel when they decided to leave mid-way in their contract,” Ashwath, an alumnus of National School of Drama (NSD), recalls. He adds, “They wanted to leave because they didn’t have money. So I got in touch with the Superintendent of Police to help solve the matter. They were rescued and shifted to another place for a few days till they got in touch with their parents.”
“I was not able to talk to my parents for nearly two months and due to the lockdown, they were unable to do the bank transfer. Ashwath sir provided financial and moral support. His encouraging and comforting words is something I will never forget. It’s not every day that actors involve themselves personally to help common people,” says Irfan, one of the boys who received help.
Aquib, an MPhil student in Himachal Pradesh also faced a similar issue. He received around Rs 8,000 with which he paid his accommodation fees.
“I was swamped with my project work and had no contact with my parents for four to five months. We were practically strangers when I asked for help and he did it without any questions. Such people are very rare to find these days,” says Aquib.
Similarly, Ashwath personally interacted with nearly 100 students to understand their plight. Some students came to him more than once. He says, “I asked only for their photo id and bank account. The money we raised through social media was directly deposited into their accounts.”
The selfless initiative that lasted for a couple of months was not free of trolls that spewed hatred and questioned his intentions. However, Ashwath refused to stop in the face of adversities and made sure every student that came to him was helped.
An Aid That Can Shape Future Generations
Having grown up in a family that gives utmost importance to education, sponsoring school children came naturally to Ashwath. His schooling was disrupted after they were forced to flee overnight.
“Children in Jammu and Kashmir are hungry for knowledge and my visits only confirm that. These young minds will shape our future and education can give them the resources to do so. But due to the turmoil, many schools are unable to sustain themselves or function at full capacity. Poverty often leads to an increase in school dropout numbers,” explains Ashwath.
With help from his friends and peers, he is presently sponsoring 20 children from Jagti Migrant Camp at Hee Maa Public School in Jammu. He also helps the school get stationery, lab equipment, shoes and so on for children.
Hee Maa Public School
“From a son of a widow, an orphan and child of speech impaired parents’, we have sponsored students whose parents cannot meet ends,” adds Ashwath.
His humility and kindness stem from his life trajectory. Growing in the up valley, settling in Delhi and finding his way into the movie industry without any godfathers was not easy.
So how did he make it? Here’s his exceptional and inspiring journey.
‘I had no Godfather’
Like many Kashmiris, Ashwath grew up surrounded by the cinematic fervour. His mother was a staunch believer of ‘first day, first show’ and he found solace in the virtual company of Amitabh Bachchan and Dharmendra as a child.
The fascination for acting was seen through his school plays and singing performances at social gatherings.
But life turned upside down when the 15-year-old Ashwath was forced to migrate to Jammu before eventually settling in Delhi with his family.
His acting dreams vanished into thin air and the family was shackled by their mounting financial woes. He joined an evening college and took a full-time job in a travelling company.
Thankfully, he had a window of two to three hours after college to explore theatre. His penchant for the craft pushed him to work backstage and on-stage.
“I had no godfather or anyone in the family with any acting background so I had to learn everything from scratch. I honed basic skill set at theatre group, ‘Natkhat’ and doing a two-year acting course from Shri Ram Centre for Performing Arts in 1996. It helped me understand the demands of the profession,” says Ashwath.
He then went to join the prestigious NSD (1998) and subsequently bagged the Inlaks Foundation scholarship to study at London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts (LAMDA) in 2001.
Drama & Filmography
After passing out from LAMDA, he went on to work with reputed theatre firms like Oxfordshire Theatre Company (Oxford), GYLPT (Greenwich) and Flying Fish Theatre Company (Berlin). His hunger for acting did not stop there as he also began conducting acting workshops and mentoring newbies. A few years later, he even became a visiting faculty at his alma mater.
Ashwath inked his name in the world of theatre with his one-man show Ek Mulaqat Manto Se, based on the life of Saadat Hasan Manto. He also did several plays for BBC worldwide.
Stills from Ek Mulaqat Manto Se
His first film was Mahotsav – The Grand Festival in 2006. Although it was screened at various film festivals, it never got a theatrical release. Not the one to be dejected, Ashwath continued his stint in the theatre while tirelessly looking for opportunities in Bollywood.
Two years later he bagged a writing job from director Rahul Dholakia. He co-wrote the script of Lamhaa: The Untold Story of Kashmir, starring Sanjay Dutt and Bipasha Basu. The movie was set in the conflict-ridden Kashmir so here’s where his expertise came handy.
This marked Ashwath’s entry in the entertainment industry. He gradually worked his way up with sheer hard work and stellar performances. His notable works include Ballad of Rustom, Feast of Varanasi, Phantom, Haider, Raazi and Kesari.
‘The Joy of Doing Is Important’
On the sets of his upcoming movie, Mandali
From surviving on just one meal a day, juggling jobs and studies, facing rejections to establishing his identity in theatre and bagging pivotal roles in cinema, Ashwath’s journey is nothing short of a movie.
“It was an exhaustive journey,” he says, adding, “Today, when I look back, it feels surreal. No one except my family believed a boy from a Kashmir village could make a name in the field of drama. Now, those very people take pride in my achievements. I channelled all my anger and sorrow into acting, and that strategy worked. Try to focus on the journey instead of the outcome and that will unleash your potential in unimaginable ways.”
Ashwath believes that stepping out of one’s comfort zone, having discipline and curiosity to learn is the key to find success in any field. Recently, during the lockdown, he experimented with the digital theatre play, ‘The Last Poet’ and though it was challenging it meant turning a new leaf in his creative journey.
In future, he hopes to establish a film and drama school in Jammu and Kashmir for all the aspiring actors and bring them closer to their dreams.
Murda insaan (Dead Man) Abhi taaza taaza mare, abhi uth ke chal diye (A dead man just got up and left)
This satirical dialogue from Kagaaz, which stars Pankaj Tripathi, was once the reality of Uttar Pradesh-based farmer Lal Bihari Mritak’s life. The film is based on Bihari, who was declared “dead” in the revenue records from 1976 to 1994. He fought a “posthumous” battle against the system and unscrupulous relatives for 18 years to prove that he was, indeed, alive.
At the age of 22, Bihari, a resident of Azamgarh district, learned that his uncle had declared him dead after bribing the local official in order to inherit the family’s ancestral farmland.
“All it took was a bribe of Rs 300 for my uncle to usurp property, and a government official, who was once my friend, to join the enemy camp,” Bihari, now 64, tells The Better India.
Upon realising how easy it was for anyone to take advantage of the legal system and rob someone of their identity using just a piece of paper, Bihari braced himself for a legal battle, and subsequently, spent 18 years of his life to fix this.
Lal Bihari
In the process, he ended up establishing Mritak Sangh, the Association of Dead People, to highlight the issue and help others. “This was not an isolated case. You’ll be astonished to learn that thousands of people suffer from this bureaucratic inertia every year, which arises from intra-family fraud and diminishing lands,” he says.
Choosing humour over outrage, Bihari did everything – from kidnapping his cousin to bribing a government official, contesting elections, and applying for his wife’s widow pension to enter government records. To that effect, he even marched inside the State Assembly with a placard and shouted mujhe zinda karo! (make me alive).
When death is a beginning
Bihari’s father passed away when he was only a few months old. His mother remarried and moved with her son to Amilo-Mubarakpur from Khalilabad.
Having never gotten a formal education, Bihari learned how to weave Banarasi saris. At 22, he decided to open a loom workshop on his father’s property, which was one-fifth of an acre. He applied for a loan to set it up, but when he approached the district administration for legal permissions, he was denied.
“The officer in Khalilabad, who I had friendly relations with, pronounced me dead while I was sitting in front of him. Very casually, he produced papers that declared me as having been dead since July 30, 1976. The property then “rightfully” went to my uncle. Despite providing all identity proofs, the officer refused to entertain me,” Bihari recalls.
He adds that declaring someone dead is not a challenging feat, especially when the person has not been staying in the village. His uncle managed to prove that Bihari had not been cultivating or occupying the land, and hence, was dead.
After no help from the administration, he approached local lawyers. Some laughed at him, and some extended their sympathies, stating it is a common problem in hinterlands of India.
The news of Bihari’s peculiar “death” spread like wildfire in the village, and so began the mocking. People called him a ghost, and children ran from him. While at first, he was humiliated, with his wife’s support, he chalked out a plan.
His first strategy was to return to government records.
As silly and outrageous as it seemed even then, Bihari kidnapped his uncle’s son, expecting him to register a case. However, when his uncle pressed no charges, he sent his cousin back. Next, he tried to bribe an officer on duty. While handing him money, he requested the cop to arrest him. However, when the copy realised Bihari’s intention, he returned the money.
He also tried availing wife’s widow pension, but all in vain. During this time, he organised his own mock funeral too. “I didn’t want to take this matter too seriously, so I tried keeping my humour alive,” he says.
Bihari spent the next couple of months implementing such tactics, which caught the regional media’s attention. Now, he was in the papers, while somehow still being “dead” according to government records.
‘Mritak’
In 1980, Shyam Lal, a politician, reached out to Bihari after reading about him. He told Bihari to openly call himself mritak (the dead), and even use the term as a prefix to his name. From hereon, Bihari began signing his name with the prefix, and only answered when people added mritak to his name.
The same year, he started the Mritak Sangh Uttar Pradesh Association of Dead People, and invited people facing similar issues from across the state to join him.
To get more media attention, he even contested in the state elections in 1988 against former Prime Minister V P Singh. It kind of worked – people heard his story, and nearly 1,600 people voted for him. In the following year, he fought against Rajiv Gandhi in Amethi.
Finally, on 30 June 1994, the district administration fixed the land records and rolled back his “dead” status. Now that he had accomplished his goal, he made peace with his relatives, and allowed them to keep the land.
So why did he give up the land, because of which the entire circus began in the first place?
“I did start the process to launch my career as a weaver, but soon, it turned into a movement. People always said I would never win against the rotten system. They said a common man does not have power against the mighty ones. I said, ‘Let me try’, and the rest is history. As for my uncle, he is still my family, so winning against him would ultimately be my loss,” he says.
Five years after he was “reborn”, the Uttar Pradesh High Court ordered the state government to conduct an inquiry into cases like Bihari’s, and put out an advertisement in the newspaper, asking people to come forward if they had been declared “dead”. A year later, the state recorded 90 such cases, and the National Human Rights Commission was roped in to convene hearings on the matter.
Bihari’s story has inspired thousands of people, and through his organisation, he has helped close to 25,000 people across India.
Today, Bihari lives with his wife and son in Amoli-Mubarakpur, and he is currently focussing on a case he has filed in the Lucknow bench of Allahabad High Court to get compensation. It feels like he has embarked on a similar path – his room, once again, is piling with files and documents.
In 1930 (some say 1928), J C Daniel, known as the father of Malayalam cinema, directed and starred in Vigathakumaran (The Lost Child). The story was about Chandrakumar, who goes missing, and is accidentally reunited with his family years later. The movie led to many firsts — it was the first Malayalam feature film, and saw the industry’s first woman actor, and Indian cinema’s first dalit actress.
Vigathakumaran is now a lost film, with no known copy currently existing. Only one frame from the movie remains. Likewise, many aspects related to the movie remained forgotten until recently, including the fate and legacy of the film’s lead actress — P K Rosy. In 2019, the Women in Cinema Collective (WCC), an organisation for women who work in the Malayalam film industry, launched a film society named after Rosy, which finally brought her long-forgotten story to the forefront.
A still from the movie (Photo: Wiki)
Who was P K Rosy?
P K Rosy was born to Paulose and Kunji in 1903, in Nandankode, Trivandrum. She belonged to the Pulaya community, who were considered untouchable and formed one of the major social groups in modern-day Kerala and Karnataka. After her father’s demise while she was still quite young, Rosy spent her time working as a grass cutter.
Some accounts say she was born as Rajamma, which became Rosamma (and subsequently Rosy) when her family converted to Christianity. Others claim her name was changed by Daniel because he wanted her to have a more “glamorous identity”.
The Pulaya community is known for their affinity in craftsmanship and basket-making, as well as for their tradition of oral storytelling and folk songs. Rosy, too, had an unquenchable interest in the performing arts, particularly the Kakkarissi Natakam, and was enrolled in a drama company in Trivandrum. Of course, at this time, women performing in theatre were considered akin to prostitution, and for a woman of a lower caste to do so was even more unprecedented. Rosy continued, despite her family’s resistance.
It was during a Kakkarissi performance that J C Daniel first discovered her. She was chosen to play the role of Sarojini, the woman Daniel’s character falls in love with. Particularly, she was essaying the role of an upper-caste Nair woman. The Big Indian Picture said that in an article written in 2005 for Chithrabhumi, Rosy’s nephew, Kavalur Krishnan, said, “Rosy shot for the film for 10 days and was paid a daily wage of Rs 5.”
A pre-release advertisement for the movie (Photo: Wiki)
There are two release dates proposed for the film — 7 November 1928, and 23 October 1930. The movie was screened at Capitol Theatre in Trivandrum. Madhu Kevlar, another nephew of Rosy’s, said that at the time, south Travancore practiced untouchability stringently. He said, “A person from a lower caste couldn’t even walk on the road at the same time when someone from a higher caste was on it. And those were the times in which she went to act in films.”
The fury of upper castes
Daniel anticipated the possible backlash from the audience, and asked Rosy to stay away from the premier event. Regardless, she went to the theatre with a friend. Madhu said that one Malloor Govinda Pillai, an eminent lawyer of the time, was to inaugurate the film, but refused to do so till Rosy left. So Daniel asked her to leave, and come back for the next show instead.
The audience, consisting of caste Hindus who were already disgruntled at the portrayal of a Nair woman by a Dalit, were pushed off the edge when Daniel’s character kissed a flower in Rosy’s hair. There was massive furor, in which the screen was torn by the angry mob.
Journalist Kunnukuzhi Mani, who has been credited as the first person to try and dig out Rosy’s history, was quoted in the TBIP article: “There was a ruckus and they (the audience) destroyed the screen. A mob came to her house and began throwing stones at it. Then two policemen, whom Daniel had requested the Royal Court of Travancore to send, arrived on the scene. Eventually the mob dispersed. On the third night, after the film had opened, her house was set on fire.
However, Rosy, as well as her family, managed to escape. She reportedly ran in the direction of Karamana, and hopped on a lorry that had stopped after hearing her cries for help. The driver was one Kesava Pillai, who was enroute Nagercoil. He took her to his home, and it is said the two of them eventually married. Ironically, Pillai belonged to a Nair household, and after their marriage, Rosy did too. She changed her name to Rajammal – Ammal is used as a suffix by upper-caste women in Kerala and Tamil Nadu to denote respect.
According to the aforementioned article by the Big Indian Picture, years later, Kunnukuzhi reached out to Daniel, who only said he was aware Rosy had managed to escape too, but didn’t say much else. Vigathakumaran ended up being Daniel’s first and only film — he, too, was subject to so much backlash that he had to quit the industry and spent the rest of his days in poverty.
J C Daniel
‘The lost child’
Rosy reportedly died in 1988. Most accounts of her story are retellings, because while she was still alive, no one remembered, appreciated, or cared for the great feat she had achieved as a minority woman. The News Minute states that her children, who now live as Nairs, are reluctant to acknowledge her past before she met their father. In a video released by Asianet in 2013, the team tracked down Rosy’s daughter, Padma, in Madurai. “I don’t know how she was before she got married. But afterwards, she wasn’t into [acting],” Padma says. The team also tracked down Rosy’s brother, Govindan, who says her husband was a progressive man who didn’t discriminate against her family for their caste.
Much like Chandrakumar, who was lost and eventually found in Vigathakumaran, P K Rosy was lost for mainstream discussions in cinema and history, and only “found” decades after her passing, when film historians like Kunnukuzhi and author Vinu Abraham brought her story to the limelight. In 2013, a film named Celluloid was released, but was criticised by the Dalit community for not focussing on Rosy’s own struggle.
Capitol cinema, where the film was screened (Photo: Kerala Culture)
As film critic G P Ramachandran told The News Minute, “Even if Kerala may have overcome many caste-based discriminatory practices that exist in other states, caste is still very much relevant here. There was an uproar in those times because she played a Nair women, but even after that, there haven’t been too many Dalit women actors.”
Ramachandran goes on to say that there have been actors like Kalabhavan Mani, who was Dalit, but many women actors were reluctant to act with him. Moreover, he wasn’t given too many roles of a main hero. “There have been very few films with Dalit women characters, and even when they are released, the roles are performed by others. Two films that come to mind are Neelakuyil and Kismath,” he said.
While Rosy was, no doubt, a pioneer in Malayalam cinema, the industry failed to recognise her as such till it was much too late. Today, among a host of other problems, Indian cinema lacks an inclusive space, and Dalit representation in the industry remains arguably laughable. Had P K Rosy not been forced to flee her state by the moral brigade, and had been given a chance to bring more of her talent to light, would she be satisfied with the way we treat caste in her beloved industry almost a hundred years later? Perhaps not.
The film had no special effects, glamorous sets, superstars, smart gadgetry, mind blowing stunts or any filmmaking aesthetics. The movie was never part of Hindi cinema’s prolific industry, nor did it ever desire to be, and yet, eminent directors like Zoya Akhtar and Anurag Kashyap were spotted in the front row, thoroughly enjoying the special screening in 2011.
The movie, made on a shoe-string budget by Nasir Shaikh, is a desi version of Hollywood’s Superman. The superhero’s mission is to save Malegaon, Maharashtra’s textile hub, from a tobacco-loving villain.
In a cruel twist of fate, Shafique Shaikh, who played the lead, was addicted to tobacco and succumbed to mouth cancer six hours after the film screening. He was merely 25-years-old and is survived by his wife and two young daughters.
Shafique Shaikh, Superman of Malegaon
“Malegaon is a special place and Shafiq was a special person. He was in a bad shape, he just kept staring at us, he had an oxygen tube, couldn’t talk,” Kashyap told Mid-Day in 2011.
“An ardent fan of Amitabh Bachchan and Bollywood action movies, Shafique watched the film on a stretcher. Although he was unable to speak, he was thrilled to see over 2,000 people thoroughly enjoying his performance and frequently bursting out in laughter. We were glad to fulfil his dying wish, and I am sure he is flying high, wherever he is,” Nasir tells The Better India.
While Nasir was making the film, documentary filmmaker Faiza Ahmed Khan was shooting the crew behind the scenes. Titled ‘Supermen of Malegaon’, the fascinating one-hour homage follows a bunch of amateur filmmakers (who have full-time jobs by the day) capturing the true essence of the small city, which is about 300 kilometres north of Mumbai.
Faiza Ahmed Khan’s crew shooting Supermen of Malegaon. Source: Supermen of Malegaon/Facebook
When Khan learnt about this unheard film industry called Mollywood (in line with Hollywood) making ridiculously low-budget film cum spoofs of big-budget movies, she visited Malegaon with a potential documentary idea. At the time, Nasir had just begun shooting Malegaon Ka Superman.
“(The films) were a labour of love, and not just made for money. It was a community endeavour — everyone seemed to participate in some way. Technical hurdles were overcome by the most astonishing improvisations,” Khan recalled in a 2012-interview with The Indian Express.
Interestingly, the documentary became an instant hit and won several awards at film festivals, including Asiatica Film Mediale in Rome, Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles (IFFLA) and Karachi film festival.
The movie and documentary came out a decade ago, so why am I writing about it now?
A few days ago, a friend of mine was gushing (or rather, reminiscing) over the movie that I had no idea of, despite being up-to-date on all pop-culture nostalgia references. After some blasphemous taunting from my friend, I quickly googled, watched the documentary and immediately kicked myself for missing out on a legendary story.
So for those who are unaware, fret not, as we trace the history of people who refused to be bogged down by budget constraints, expertise and aesthetics. For them, all that mattered was entertaining the audience and fulfilling their passions.
Malegaon Ka Superman
You know your film is an all-out entertaining one when Mr Perfectionist himself lauds you. “Saw Malegaon Ka Superman some time back. What a fantastic film! Really loved it! I believe it has released today. Go for it,” actor Aamir Khan told IANS post the film’s release.
When Nasir was writing the film in his 100-page notebook, all he wanted to do was highlight local social and civic issues, by engaging with Superman. In many ways, he tried to make the film as realistic as possible. The biggest testimony is the hero, Shafique, who neither had 6-pack abs nor an intriguing voice. He was a thin chap with a soft voice. By choosing him, Nasir shattered the quintessential image of a hero and affirmed that Superman is one among us.
Superman udega toh pura Malegaon udega (If superman flies, the entire Malegaon will also fly) — with this moving tagline, Nasir began filming. He made his own green chroma (or as locally pronounced ‘Karoma’). To meet expenses, he even included subtle ad placements. A local milk centre gave around Rs 10,000 for brand placement.
Malegaon’s Superman is accident prone, scared to jump in the lake, falls in sewage while stopping a truck, and gets electrocuted while climbing a pole. In the trailer, you can see him floating down the river on a tire and fighting gutka barons. He wears a blue suit, red cape, rubber chappel and Bermuda shorts, and a visible naada (strongs to tie the shorts) as a comic element.
Meanwhile, the villain is a typical bald man, dressed in black clothes and with an evil laughter. “I want to see every person, old, young, women, men, children, spitting gutka on pavements. I like dirt,” he reiterates throughout the film.
The shooting process was an amalgamation of innovation and jugad. In Khan’s documentary, high-tension cables have been replaced with poles attached alongside the green chroma wall. Superman sleeps on the pole and with hands suspended in the air. The crew uses cardboards to fan Superman so his cape and hair fly dramatically. For crane shots, they have used bullock carts and motorbikes for tracking shots.
Needless to say, after doing goofy things throughout the film, the climax scene involved rescuing his lady love from the clutches of the antagonist.
Ronit Jadhav, an independent filmmaker from Mumbai, aptly sums the spirit of Malegaon ka Superman and says, “I remember watching this film in college. The sheer, genuine passion with which the makers were preparing for the film is what has remained with me still. This wasn’t a big-budget studio flick with stars and item numbers; this was just a bunch of villagers utilising their ingenuity to its maximum potential. This was passion-driven jugad, which was more honest and real than most box office hits.”
A product of pure & sincere love for cinema
Malegaon, a town in Nasik district, is infamous for its 2006 bomb blasts, which shook the city’s spirit and uprooted hundreds of lives. Once a settlement of migrant weavers, the town has numerous power loom factories that make grey cloth worth Rs 45 crore daily. Thousands of families, including Shafique’s, earn a livelihood from the factories.
Amid power cuts and 8-9 hours of laborious work, the traditionally conservative settlement found its solace in movies. It is a typical case of escaping from under the veil of depression and grim reality for a couple of hours, says Nasir, “Once you enter the theatre, you can feel like the hero. It’s almost as if Bollywood actors have taken efforts solely to entertain the people of Malegaon.”
Nasir’s fascination with cinema is slightly different. He once owned a video parlour where he would mostly screen English movies. His first stint with filmmaking came with cutting scenes with dialogues from these movies, and retaining the action scenes. Subtitles were not a thing at the time.
Nasir shooting Malegaon ka Superman. Source: Supermen of Malegaon/Facebook
During screenings, Nasir would closely observe the camera angles, lighting, background music and screenplay. He treated every movie as his guru and learnt whatever he could. He received his first creative validation through movie posters. He would draw and paint posters of the movies he had seen after understanding the plot. People loved the posters and his audiences increased.
Finally, in early 2000, Nasir borrowed Rs 50,000 from his brother and made his first spoof film — Malegaon ka Sholay. He shot it on a Handycam and edited it on VCR. He screened the film in his parlour, and it ran for over two months generating a profit of Rs 2,00,000.
Of course, it was nowhere close to a proper film. It had shaky footage, a sound lag, and poor writing. Yet, people rushed to purchase tickets in black, for it was the first time someone had made a film on them. Their city, their people and the local dialect was in the movie. This was the triggering point of what would be an emotional moviemaking journey.
Next came the spoof of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s Oscar-nominated film, Lagaan. It was made by Farogh Jafri, who ran a tile-polishing business. Jafri borrowed Rs 30,000 from a well-to-do man on the condition that the latter’s son would be cast as the main lead in Malegaon Ki Lagaan. Then came, Malegaon ki Shaan, Malegaon ka Don, Malegaon ka Ghajini and so on. Close to ten production houses sprang up.
These films were made with minuscule budgets and wedding videographers doubled as a cinematographer. Nasir mentions how sometimes actors wouldn’t turn up due to job commitments, cameras would spoil in between and power cuts stalled the schedules.
Low budgets meant not paying enough (in some cases, not paying at all) to the actors and the rest of the crew. It was almost like every film came with a disclaimer that roughly translated to, “You won’t be paid, but will get free food.”
Despite these issues, the community continued making movies. It didn’t matter that they were a laughing stock or that their movies tanked (though, rarely). Their passion, motivation and indomitable spirit made up for the lack of knowledge and expertise.
Some of them even received new opportunities from Mumbai. Nasir went on to direct a 26-episode series called ‘Malegaon ka Chintu’ that streamed on Sony Pal between 2010 and 2014. Meanwhile, the villain of the series bagged a pivotal role in a Marathi film.
However, the Mollywood industry shut in 2015, thanks to an influx of entertainment options including OTT. Everyone parted ways, some went back to their job and some ventured into new arenas. Nasir now runs a hotel in the city.
‘To what extent are you willing to go to fulfil your dream?’ is a question that cannot possibly have a measurable answer. But Malegaon and its people make for a perfect answer. They are just a bunch of movie fanatics, who came together, had fun on sets, created a hilariously memorable product, and translated their dream into reality.
Ever since Amole Gupte’s directorial biopic, Saina, on ace badminton player, Saina Nehwal released, everyone — from the media to netizens — are talking about how well Parineeti Chopra has embodied Nehwal onscreen. Whether it is the body language, intensity on the court, clothes, the way she holds the racquet or the footwork — the resemblance is uncanny.
But beyond commending the actors’ performance, it takes a lot more to get the elements of a biopic right. The makers, including the actors, have to be careful not to mock or mimic the main character. And the unsung heroes behind the scenes, working hard to authenticate every move of the central character, also deserve a mention.
Thane-based Shrikant Vad, the first Badminton World Federation (BWF) certified coach from India, was incharge of training Chopra to get the right moves.
The recently released behind-the-scenes video of Vad training Chopra shows his dedication to the role. In another article, Gupte talks about making a film on Vad.
“Vad Sir has been hiding behind a screen of anonymity for the last 32 years… picking students from challenged backgrounds and raising them in his modest house. They include eight Shiv Chhatrapati Award Winners,” he told the Hindustan Times in 2019.
Vad is also a real-life hero who has changed innumerable lives by training underprivileged players for free.
“I became a professional badminton player at 32 after quitting my well-paid job at a pharmaceutical company. I entered the sport late only because I had no guidance or mentor. So, I decided to become the coach that I wish I had. Society and people around me have given me a lot, and in order to give something in return, I decided to teach talented children who couldn’t afford coaching fees,” Vad, who is the founder and president of Thane Badminton Academy tells The Better India.
Vad has religiously dedicated three decades of his life to nurture ace shuttlers and bring Thane district at par with the rest of India in terms of badminton rankings. He has taught thousands of students, of whom 500 come from low-income households. Sixteen of his students are national champions, 42 are international players (including Nehwal) and hundreds have played at the state level.
“Way before Nehwal etched her name in the world of badminton, she had attended one of my camps. I was thrilled to see a player so hungry and focussed. I have seen all her matches and there is no one like her. Eshan Naqvi, a shuttler-turned coach who essays the role of Nehwal’s husband in the movie, is also my student,” the 65-year-old shares.
‘Talent doesn’t see one’s economic status’
Born and raised in Thane, Vad’s life was on track till he entered his 30s. He completed his graduation and secured a well-paying job. His interest in badminton was limited to playing in college and his society complex.
“Back in the ’60s, there was no infrastructure or professional coaching to pursue badminton in Thane. I was good in college so I continued playing local matches after I started working. I loved the sport and always wondered how I could be closer to it. Then in 1988 I got my chance. The municipal corporation was building Dadoji Kondadev Stadium and I wanted to be part of it by coaching beginners. The authorities agreed on the condition that I become a certified coach first. So, I took leave from my job and went to Patiala for the course. I also went on to play district and state matches during that period,” recalls Vad.
At 32, he officially joined the association and quit his job with the sole purpose to create champions. His family, including his wife, wholeheartedly supported his decision to switch careers.
In 1992, the first batch of players trained under Vad was selected to play for India. Amrish Shinde, coach of the senior Indian team, was his first student to play in England and there was no looking back.
A few years into coaching, Vad realised talent and hard work transcends all irrespective of one’s economic status and that’s how his hunt for deserving students from underprivileged backgrounds began.
“There is a different kind of burning desire among kids who lack resources and opportunities to showcase their talent. They have so much to give and are so eager to learn. It pained me to see their dreams shatter even before they were given a platform. Taking them under my wing is the best decision I have made,” says Vad, who also provides shelter along with training to the ones who need it. Many of his students have stayed in his home for months. Akshay Dewalkar, a national champion, stayed at Vad’s house for 10 years.
Vad is also coaching disabled players. Two of his students, Girish Sharma and Arati Patil, are paralympic players with commendable world rankings.
Vad has received several laurels for his commendable work including the prestigious Dadaji Kondadev Award (Best Coach, 2003) and Samaj Shakti Puruskar (2011).
When asked what qualities make for a player great, Vad says, “It takes nothing less than a combination of talent, desire and sacrifice to become a world badminton champion.”
Lata Kare from Baramati, Maharashtra first made headlines in 2013 when she ran the first marathon of her life, barefoot and wearing a saree, at the age of 60. She ran neither for glory nor to fulfil any lost passion.
The marathon was her final shot at arranging Rs 5,000 — a sum needed to pay for an MRI scan for her husband’s cardiovascular problem. During the sprint, she stepped on pointy stones, burned her feet on the road, and her ankle-length navari saree obstructed free running. But it didn’t matter, for her only goal was to win the race under the senior citizen category.
And she did. As her chest touched the red ribbon, tears rolled down her cheeks, but she quickly gathered herself, proudly walked up the stage, and collected the prize money.
A still from the movie
A few days later, doctors were able to identify the compromised areas of her husband’s heart and prescribed medicines to keep heart inflammation in control.
“Love can make you do things that you never thought possible,” Lata, now 68, tells The Better India. “Love helps you develop a can-do attitude, which makes you fearless and optimistic. Even if the world does not believe in you or mocks you, you know there is one person who will be your cheerleader no matter what. This is exactly how I would summarise my relationship with Bhagwan, my husband.” The feisty woman is a wife, and a mother of four.
Her exceptional journey was made into a Marathi movie, Lata Bhagwan Kare, and released in 2020. Directed by Karimnagar-based director Naveen Deshboina, the movie is one-of-a-kind, as Lata plays her own character, reliving her own story. In the recently announced National Film Awards, the movie bagged a place under the special mention category.
Naveen read about Lata in the media, and approached her for a film in 2017. “Lata ji,who I call ajji (grandmother), was very adamant about playing her own role, even after knowing she would have to run, lift weights and train for real. We included some shots of her falling or bruising her feet and she did them flawlessly. At her age, she learnt acting and never complained about having to give innumerable takes. She even fell sick due to the physical exertion, but her spirits never deteriorated,” Naveen tells The Better India.
Running the extra mile
A still from the movie
A decade ago, Lata, a farm labourer and Bhagwan, a security guard, had just married off their third daughter. The wedding had drained their savings, and the couple decided against retirement. Their daily wages were just enough to survive, and so they were content. But in 2013, Bhagwan suffered a heart attack, and their lives were uprooted overnight. While he survived the episode, it left him with unbearable chest pain.
“The doctors asked for an MRI scan and a few other tests, which cost Rs 5,000. There was no way we could save that much money from only our meagre salaries. I shed my self-respect and begged neighbours, villagers and my employer for money, but received no help. Meanwhile, Bhagwan’s health deteriorated further, and the medication proved to be expensive as well. It felt like we had reached a dead-end, so I took up a second job at a school,” Lata recalls.
Here, she overheard a student talking about a senior citizen marathon and the winning amount. She got hold of a poster to know further details. With only a few days left before the event, Lata took help from a fellow villager to prepare.
While her body was not used to physical exercise, her determined mind found a way. Every day, she would run early in the morning, holding two buckets filled with water. She’d run uphill and on rocky terrains as well.
Stills from the movie
Finally, on the day, she turned up without any registration. Needless to say, the organisers didn’t allow her to participate at first, but when she revealed her reasons, they agreed.
Narrating what was going on inside her mind as she stood at the starting line with other participants, Lata says, “I was terrified when I saw others wearing swanky shoes and appropriate sprinting attire. I was in a saree with no footwear, and this was my first ever marathon. I was scared of falling in between and dying. Once the race began, everything else was a blur. All I saw was money that would save my husband.”
Thanks to the prize money that Lata won, Bhagwan could not only get the required tests done, but also purchase the expensive medicines. However, Lata knew this wouldn’t be the happy ending everyone had hoped for. His unpredictable health still meant that they needed money for operation and post-op care.
Fortunately, by this time, Lata had become a known face in the state, after the regional media had written about her. Donations began pouring in from strangers, politicians and villagers.
“People were kind, and helped selflessly. I was pleasantly surprised. After that, we were invited to certain charities where they supported us financially. But I didn’t want to depend on others. So I ran and won two more marathons, in 2014 and 2016,” Lata says.
The husband-wife duo was also paid a hefty amount for the movie, which allowed them to finally retire. Today, Bhagwan is doing well, and is on lifelong medication. As for Lata, she finally feels unburdened, and is happy about the recognition her film has received.
“I am extremely proud of my wife, who literally went miles to save my life. I don’t think anyone is as strong-hearted, kind and gracious as her. She is the best partner I could have asked for,” Bhagwan says.
About 10 and a half minutes into freelance filmmaker Hemant Gaba’s National Award-winning documentary, An Engineered Dream, an IIT coaching academy teacher is seen telling a group of 15 to 16-year-old students: “This period of nine months is similar to the nine months you were in your mother’s womb… Forget everything else, just remember your parents’ faces the day you left them to come here. You are doing this for them.” As the documentary progresses following the lives of four teenagers from different corners of India to Kota—a city famous for its coaching centres—in Rajasthan, it’s hard not to escape the kind of indoctrination or ‘brainwashing’ that students sent there undergo.
For the duration of their high school, these students cage themselves in cubicle-sized rooms to prepare for the Joint Entrance Examination (JEE) to the Indian Institutes of Technology (IIT). Every year, 150,000 students make their way from small cities, towns and villages to Kota to get admission into the IITs. With an acceptance rate of less than 1%, it’s one of the toughest undergraduate engineering exams in the world.
Speaking to The Better India, Hemant says the objective of the film is not to criticise or question the hard work students put into preparing for these exams, but whether they were given a choice at all and presented with all the possibilities available to them.
Is this their dream? Or is it a dream forced upon them by their parents? This is perhaps why Hemant chose the title ‘An Engineered Dream’ to highlight this discrepancy.
Documentary film poster
The Making Of
The process of making this documentary began almost by accident in 2016 when Hemant was approached by a Bollywood-based writer to direct a feature film based in Kota.
“He had pitched a fiction film idea based in Kota and I went to do some research on his behalf. Although I had never been to Kota before, I had heard about the coaching centres and intense pressure students go through while preparing for JEE. While conducting my research, I decided to simultaneously work towards making a documentary,” says Hemant.
After all, he had heard about an open call for human interest documentaries from the Asian Pitch. Launched in 2006, the Asian Pitch is backed by Asian public broadcasters willing to fund high-definition documentaries produced by Asian documentary makers. Initially, all Hemant had to do was create a trailer, write a treatment and synopsis, and submit it. Within three months, his first pitch came through and he soon received an invitation to deliver an in-person pitch in Taiwan. His documentary was chosen among nearly 140 other proposals.
Hemant Gaba
“I first raised funds for the film in September 2016. With funding from Asian Pitch, the film was telecast by public broadcasters in Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan and Japan in 2018. By the following year, it was licensed to History TV 18 in India and the national broadcaster of China. Despite an original run time of 72 minutes, many of these broadcasters presented a shortened 48-minute version, which we had to make,” he says.
Meanwhile, to shoot this film, Hemant spoke to a variety of students across Kota for a year and even lived in a hostel room for two weeks with one of the four protagonists. A lot of work went into establishing a good relationship with these students to make them feel that they weren’t talking to hostile ‘outsiders’ or strangers. One of his editors even stayed with the family of a girl in Surat for a few days.
“Before shooting this documentary, we spoke to over 100 kids in Kota to finalise our four main characters. We needed to check whether they were comfortable speaking in front of a camera. We also had to obtain consent from students and their parents as well,” he says.
For an hour of raw footage, his team would often have to wait for two days. Along expected lines, however, not all hostels complied with Hemant’s request to shoot the documentary. He had to ask one of the students to shoot the footage himself in a style similar to vlogs.
A still from the documentary.
Asking Difficult Questions
“Through the film, I was trying to ask some hard questions concerning the indoctrination that is passed on from one generation to another and how the pursuit of an engineering course at elite institutions in IITs is a part of it. Today, it’s engineering, but a couple of decades down the line when the profession is less in demand, something else might take its place. What remains is a herd mentality and the process of indoctrination around it imposed by families and the larger society. Children have no choice,” says the 41-year-old freelance filmmaker.
Hemant argues that in the course of interviewing so many parents and students, he realised that nearly all of them weren’t making an informed choice about sending young boys and girls to Kota, where they have no life beyond academics.
“A major motivation driving parents is the desire to see their child climb up the economic ladder. By sending their child to Kota, parents hope that it will result in admission into the IITs and eventually a couple of years later, a well-paying job. These parents feel that within one generation they can climb the economic ladder from lower middle class or middle class to upper middle class or higher. Of course, there is a desire to garner society’s respect in the process. As per my estimation, less than 5 per cent of students study in Kota out of any genuine love for science or engineering,” informs Hemant.
Most children who study there between the age of 15 and 17 aren’t even aware of the other academic or career options before them because their exposure is very limited, he observes.
“Students who come to Kota aren’t usually from big cities, where they have resources and coaching institutions to prepare them. Comparatively speaking, in smaller towns, students have less exposure and endure greater pressure from parents and society,” he adds.
Another still from the film.
Missing Out on Life
Most children in coaching classes don’t attend regular high school, while some go to Kota after it. It is hard not to observe that they are missing out on life.
“Those years are a major part of growing up. In the first sequence of the film, you can see a very famous ‘godman’ or ‘spiritual guru’ speaking at an event attended by 1 lakh students from different coaching centres. Sponsored by the coaching centres, who have brought him in a helicopter, even the chief minister of the state is in attendance. This ‘godman’ tells students not to focus on relationships, but on their studies. But children at that age [15-17] get into relationships and develop crushes. When children ask questions about feeling lonely in a place like Kota, he tells them to just focus on studying, a message reiterated by parents. How can these children branch out from all this pressure created at home and Kota,” he asks.
Loneliness is a major concern for students even though 150,000 students come to Kota every year. This problem is exacerbated by the intense pressure they are under. Some coaching centres bring in former JEE rank holders to meet the current batches and are absurdly showered with praise for not having other hobbies.
One of the most poignant moments in the documentary is when one of the students, who shot the footage by himself, prays to Donald Trump for starting a Third World War before the exam. He follows this by wondering out aloud the possibility of killing himself. Between 2013 and 2018, 77 students died by suicide in the city, as per government data.
Another major issue is claustrophobia, which Hemant witnessed first hand.
“While making the film, I took a room in one of the better hostels. It was a very small room without a window. Attached with a washroom, there was no daylight coming through. I lived there for about two weeks at a stretch and felt so claustrophobic. Mind you, I’m a well-adjusted adult, who has experienced many challenging circumstances. Living there, I wondered how a 16-year-old child leaving home for the first time in his life, who has never lived without his close family and friends, would feel in this room. Their life consists of sleeping, studying, eating and using the washroom and that cycle goes on,” he recalls.
Despite so many children living in these hostels, there is little to no socialising, which is looked down upon. Fortunately, children in Kota are now talking about loneliness.
There is another part of the documentary, where a gentleman who runs one of the bigger coaching institutes, tells students during an orientation session that they are not there to make friends. He says their personal lives don’t matter at all and that they’re there to take their parents out of their current economic situation to a better place.
Though, not all children choose to endure the pressure of getting into IITs. There are few students who don’t want to be in Kota but they don’t have the courage to say no to their parents. Instead, they spend their time playing computer games, making memes, videos, watching porn, etc. This small minority knows that getting admission into an IIT is impossible.
“Before I went to Kota, I would hear the media cursing coaching institutions. But going there, I realised they weren’t the real villains. They are opportunists there to make money. The real villains are families and society who create pressure and foster a toxic environment for these children. These institutions are just catering to a particular demand. None of them are forcing people to come to their coaching institute in Kota. Families exercise an active choice to send their children there. Of course, many coaching institutes engage in sleazy practices, but ultimately it’s the parents’ choice. These institutes are unethical, but they use the same business practices many use to make more money,” says Hemant.
Helping These Students
It’s a sad commentary on Indian society that parents will continue sending their children to coaching institutes in Kota despite these harsh realities. This practise won’t stop in the near future. So, what can be done to alleviate their troubles?
Many coaching institutes have now instituted helplines for students suffering from mental health issues while others have in-house mental health professionals. The problem is that someone alone and severely depressed will not seek professional help.
In the documentary, the local district magistrate tells Hemant that his administration has been introducing a variety of extracurricular activities to take the stress off these children. Despite their best efforts, he admits that suicide rates haven’t dropped. After all, he admits that those who are severely depressed will not participate in such activities or seek help.
“Also, considering the number of students in these hostels attending coaching classes, it’s not logistically possible for each of them to get 30 minutes a week with a mental health professional. It’s a massive task. Coaching institutes can mitigate some of the problems students face there, but that’s not enough. The toxic environment there induces so much pressure. It’s a larger culture that has to be addressed. Governments and mediums of popular culture like movies, TV shows, web series or news media organisations will have to play a role in disseminating a message to parents living in small towns and cities that even chefs, musicians or athletes can enjoy a successful career. After all, it takes one successful generation to break out of the cycle of wanting their children to become a doctor, engineer, civil servant or any of the preferred career options today,” he says.
(Edited by Yoshita Rao)
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“Yeh khana toh Astik bhaiya bhi na kha paaye. (Even Astik won’t be able to eat this bland food).”
When Parchun, essayed by Aasif Khan, says this to Sandhya (Sanya Malhotra), in Netflix’s Pagglait, it feels comforting. Not just to Sandhya, a woman who has just lost her husband, but even to the viewer. In the next scene, we see Parchun sneaking into Sandhya’s room with a packet of chips so she doesn’t have to further torture herself by eating the bland food, as ancient custom demand of widows.
Pagglait (2021), the much-talked-about dark comedy-drama film by Umesh Bist, touches upon the problematic patriarchal customs that revolve around the fate of a widow in India. Aasif portrays a character that lightens the atmosphere, filled with heavy mourning, with his goofiness. He is that friend, who subtly shares your misery without necessarily seriously addressing the issue at hand.
A still from Pagglait
Parchun is in stark contrast to the misogynist Ganesh, a character in Amazon Prime’s Panchayat (2020) series. Here, Aasif plays a privileged groom brought up in India’s rural landscape, who demands to be treated like a king, for his wedding is the biggest day of his life. His vile and entitled behaviour to get a chake waali khursi (a chair with wheels) will make you hate him as much as you loved Parchun in Pagglait.
The viral meme that brought Aasif into the limelight
For Aasif, an aspiring actor from Rajasthan’s Chittorgarh district, this is his biggest reward — to be able to make people feel for his character.
“I remember how none of my classmates agreed to do a role where their pants accidentally fall in a school play for comic relief. They were embarrassed but, for me, it was an opportunity to make people laugh, which they did. As a Class V boy, I perceived this as magic, and knew I wanted to entertain people for life. I carry that same enthusiasm and desire while performing as an adult,” Aasif recalls in a conversation with The Better India.
Aasif may have just started his journey, but has already left remarkable impressions in the audience’s minds with the multiple OTT movies and series he has starred in within a short period of time. These include Mirzapur, Paatal Lok, Jamtara, Panchayat and, of course, Pagglait.
The 29-year-old came to Mumbai from India’s hinterland to fulfil his one true love — acting. The expensive city that doles out hard-hitting lessons to everyone alike was no different to Aasif. Odd jobs, innumerable auditions, and rare joys were part of Aasif’s journey as well, but the only thing that set him apart from the rest was his fearlessness and iron will.
From working as a waiter to acting alongside industry stalwarts such as Pankaj Tripathi, Raghuveer Yadav and Anushka Sharma, Aasif’s journey resonates with thousands of young boys and girls who leave everything only to end up in the city’s cramped rooms with pockets leaking quickly.
Building his own narrative
Aasif hails from Nimbahera village, which is one of the largest cement manufacturing centres in Asia. His father worked with JK Cement and, like most men in his village, Aasif was expected to finish his graduation and join one of the cement companies. But Aasif was unwilling to join the rat race. He says he was never really interested in academics, and that grace marks would save him every time.
Somewhere in the mid-2000s, Aasif started binge-watching The Great Indian Laughter Challenge. He was mesmerised by how comedian Raju Shrivastav was entertaining the viewers and judges alike. The trend of rookie stand-up comedy had picked up in Rajasthan too. Aasif would often participate in local stand-up comedy competitions.
“I was hosting our family and mohalla gatherings. I never dealt with the fear of public performance or stage fright. I was too young to decide a career back then, but in my heart I knew that acting was an option,” he says.
Aasif (in red) in a school play
In 2008, his father passed away, and Aasif had to be moved to an evening school due to financial constraints. He took up a part-time job in a telecom company to ease his problems and worked till his elder brother found employment.
Soon after, he expressed his desire to go to Mumbai to try his hand at acting, but was met with disappointment. No one in his family ever pursued a career in the film industry, or even any other art medium. In a family filled with doctors and engineers, he saw his dream dying, so he quit his schooling in 2010 and ran away from home.
“I sat on the train and reached Borivali the next day at 7 in the morning. I had never seen so many people assemble in one place. I was overwhelmed by the crowd, hunger, and this giant city, but managed to find a friend’s connection in Bhayandar area. I stayed at his place for five days. I looked for jobs but no one wanted to hire an 11th-passout. Finally, I received a job as a waiter at a five-star hotel. Thus began my saga of innumerable auditions, living with nine boys in one room, and learning to survive in Mumbai on vada pavs and poha,” he recalls.
This whirlwind lasted for about two years.
It took several heartbreaks and rejections for Aasif to realise that acting is a craft that needs to be seriously honed. By this time, his mother had come around, and would constantly tell him that one day, he would become a ‘hero’. Her confidence pushed him to learn acting via theatre groups in Jaipur.
He joined Sabir Khan’s Sarthak Theatre group. He planned to learn acting and return to Mumbai in six months. Instead, he ended up staying for six years. Interestingly, Irrfan Khan, who was also from Aasif’s district, has worked with the Sarthak group in his early days of acting.
A still from one of Aasif’s plays
“With movies such as Paan Singh Tomar (2012), The Lunchbox (2013) and Haider (2014), this Rajasthani guy with big eyes was making a mark on India’s movie industry, and this gave me confidence that I could too. Neither did he have a six-pack, nor the quintessential looks of a hero. He was shattering glass ceilings with his extraordinary performances in content-driven movies,” Aasif says.
While working at the theatre group, he completed Class XII, and joined an Open University to complete his undergraduate degree, which he quit in his second year to return to Mumbai.
Lights, camera, action
With unwavering faith in his craft, Aasif ensured a growing acting graph — from a junior artist to doing a scene with one line, a television episode, 4-5 scenes with a superstar, and finally, the day when life turned around.
Aasif appeared in a few episodes of Crime Petrol and finally bagged concrete roles in Toilet – Ek Prem Katha (2017)and Pari (2018). However, in both the movies, his scenes never made the final cut.
“After working hard for years, reaching the audition stage, and beating hundreds and finally landing the role, you think you have emerged victorious. I remember I forced all my friends to watch Pari,and none of them could tell me my scenes were cut fearing it would break my heart. But I wasn’t dejected. I continued working and was finally selected for India’s Most Wanted starring Arjun Kapoor in 2019,” he says.
Stills from Panchayat
Not many know this, but Aasif had rejected Panchayat as he had already signed Mirzapur and Paatal Lok, in which he had more scenes.
“Panchayat’s director, Deepak Mishra, convinced me to do the film. I’d portrayed a dark character in Paatal Lok, so I treated this as a refreshment. Soon, the COVID-19 lockdown was imposed, and the series was released. I was flooded with messages, and I saw that many memes were being made on one of my scenes. Later, all his other series released as well, and OTT became a stepping stone for finer and bigger roles. I remember a COVID-19 positive lady admitted in Bengaluru hospital messaged me saying that she saw me in several series and forgot her pain. That is certainly the biggest compliment I have ever received,” says Aasif.
Despite his popularity, Aasif says he was aware it would last only for a while. Without letting the outpour of compliments go to his head, he continued working hard and bagged a few pivotal roles, some of which he didn’t have to audition for.
Aasif considers himself fortunate to be working under certain directors and alongside actors who are known for their exemplary performances. He loves observing how they prepare for roles, their dialogue delivery, improvisation and long pauses.
Meanwhile, he credits his mother and theatre group for fanning his dreams and keeping him grounded.
A BTS from Paatal Lok
“My mother was not impressed with Mirzapur and Paatal Lok because of the foul language but, thankfully, she liked Pagglait. She doesn’t openly compliment me, nor does she treat me like a star. Whenever I go home, I am always running errands for her. As for theatre, it has taught me to get the performances right in the first instance, as there are no retakes there. But the joy I get when people applaud at the end of the play is unmatched. That’s why I have continued theatre. At present, I am doing a Rajasthani adaptation of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
So what’s next for the actor? “I am currently shooting for Shubhratri and Humans, a Disney Hotstar production and a few other projects which I cannot reveal now. 2021 does look exciting,” he adds.
As I finished my interview with Aasif, I headed to the kitchen for some water and, ironically, saw my parents laughing at one of Aasif’s scene in Pagglait. Indeed, the impact of his acting chops and comedic timing transcend the boundaries of generations.
Sonal Naroth was in Class III when Ramji Rao Speaking (1989), a Malayalam cult comedy, became her favourite movie. Unlike children who are usually drawn to elaborate sets and action scenes with flying cars, Sonal found herself relating more with the characters and the intricate relationship they shared in this low-budget movie, which neither had fancy locations, nor song sequences.
She found a similar liking for films such as Minnaram (1994) and Hitler (1996). The dialogues, idiosyncrasies and emotional quotient left a mark on the now 31-year-old.
As she grew older, her love for cinema transcended geographical barriers to include Hollywood movies such as Alexander Payne’s Nebraska (2013) and Noah Baumbach’s The Squid and the Whale (2005). So one can only imagine her joy and ecstasy when she received an opportunity to work on Baumbach’s Marriage Story (2019). She worked as an art department coordinator for the Oscar-nominated movie, which stars Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson.
Born and raised in Kerala’s Kannur district, she studied in Bengaluru and moved to the United States a decade ago to study at the New York Film Academy (NYFA). Soon, she was working in Hollywood dramas as an art director and coordinator.
She speaks to The Better India about her journey in a foreign land, how she made her mark among the bigwigs of the industry, and how India has played an influential role in weaving artistic elements and visual pieces in her projects.
“Coming from India, I am no stranger to the exquisite chaos of colours and textures, and use this background and knowledge to the advantage of the projects I am in every single day,” Sonal says.
From China to Russia and the US: Bagging international projects
Sonal believes she was destined to enter the film industry. In fact, her mother was pregnant with her when the crew of Naduvazhikal (1989), starring Mohanlal and Madhu, shot a few scenes in their ancestral house. For her, the real struggle was not convincing her parents to let her pursue a career that didn’t guarantee a stable 9-5 job, but bagging film projects in New York, a city where the finest talents compete with each other.
Inheriting the values of hard work and ambition from her parents, she moved to Bengaluru in 2008 to study Mass Communication at Mount Carmel College.
“I had to make a short film at the end of our final year, which further pushed me into the process of filmmaking. I knew instantly that this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. It’s the thrill of creating something from scratch and being able to visualise and then execute it, which is what I wanted to chase all my life,” Sonal says.
In 2011, she started her course ‘Filmmaking and Screenwriting’ at the NYFA. One important thing she learnt was to build a strong network with peers, professors and guest lecturers. Attending every seminar, class and workshop helped her identify the department she was most interested in — Art. While directing the actors during projects, Sonal paid equal attention to colours, props and other elements of art and design.
Her artistic calibre and taste for visually-driven movies were reflected in her first short film ‘Tumbling After’ (2012) which was nominated at the American Spring Online Film Awards. Two years later, she co-produced ‘The Bicycle’, which won at the 2014 International Beijing Student Film Festival in China.
These short films, she says, gave her the confidence to opt for bigger projects, and she started approaching studios across the world. International studios from China and Russia gave her an opportunity to handle the art department for their movies to be filmed in New York.
Sonal is also the main art department coordinator for the Golden Globe-winning series, Ramy, which follows a first-generation American Muslim on a spiritual journey in his politically divided New Jersey neighbourhood. After wrapping the pilot of Ramy came an offer to work on Marriage Story from an acquaintance.
“It was inspiring to work in the midst of people who are completely immersed in their craft, who pay attention to every detail, no matter how minute. I found the script of the movie so wonderful that I was instantly excited about watching it, and for an instant, that almost overtook the realisation that I was working on a Noah Baumbach film,” she recalls.
Apart from working in the art department, Sonal has also worked as a cinematographer for an acclaimed ICN TV Network project, Qipao Flash Mob at Times Square, capturing the performance of 100 Chinese women, each dressed in a colourful traditional qipao dress. Her stunning cinematography led her to several more high-profile projects with Chinese companies, including TV fantasy The Starry Night and The Starry Sea for which Sonal acted as the main NYC art director.
‘Every challenge is an opportunity’
While Sonal has managed to add prestigious projects to her kitty with her sheer hard work and talent, she has also had to face her share of challenges in the form of rejections and insecurities.
“I’ve learned time and again that it takes unbelievable confidence in yourself and a self-replenishing supply of positivity to get through such a journey. I don’t wake up every day feeling confident or positive, so sometimes, I just have to fake it till I believe in myself. You just need to view and reframe every challenge as an opportunity,” she adds.
Sonal never considered her being an outsider as a disadvantage. “On the contrary, it helped me rely more on my own resourcefulness, creativity, and drive, and to essentially mould myself into the artist I wanted to be. You feel like you have a lot more to prove, so you tend to work harder and smarter.”
Over the next few years, Sonal wishes to work as an Art Director in the US and eventually develop and produce independent projects of her own. Although she has travelled to India only a couple of times since she left, Sonal hopes to work in the Indian film industry, especially after seeing movies such as Kumbalangi Nights (2019), Virus (2019) and Pagglait(2021).
To all aspiring filmmakers, Sonal says the best way to learn is on the job. Her experience in art direction came from working with prominent designers including Grace Yun, Alexandra Schaller and Roxy Martinez. “You start off as a production assistant in the department in which you see yourself working, and learn from watching directors, designers, cinematographers who inspire you. Make mistakes so that you can turn them into creative solutions when you’re running the show.”
Satyajit Ray’s cinema weaved together lyricism and realism like very few could. While many of his films are marked by stark realism, he never failed to capture the finer nuances of the human condition with incredible simplicity, beauty and excitement. (Image above of Akira Kurosawa and Satyajit Ray courtesy Facebook/Mubi)
He captured complicated experiences of people coming of age, daring to defy social expectations and thus moving their lives in a new direction with exquisite mastery. Nothing encapsulates this essence of Ray’s cinema better than The Apu Trilogy, a series of three films.
“While his long takes, deep focus and minimal camera movements feel worlds away from the mile-a-minute editing of modern Hollywood blockbusters, these allow Ray’s characters space and time to strike us as fully rounded human beings, not social representations or symbols. Even characters who should be condemned for their actions are allowed to engage us as people, and in Ray’s cinema, we catch an intimate glimpse of the many different kinds of lives lived in both colonial and modern India,” writes Sarah Jilani, a London-based film critic, for BFI.
In some ways, one could argue that this is the purest form of storytelling with characters who are not caught up in stereotypes or erased by a certain ideological mooring.
As Netflix prepares to launch ‘Ray’, a four-part series based on short stories written by Satyajit Ray adapted for the screen, on 25 June, it’s imperative to remind audiences who haven’t had the pleasure of watching his films about his standing in the history of world cinema.
In this listicle, we take you through what some of the most celebrated filmmakers have said about his body of work.
The legendary Japanese filmmaker, who directed classics like Rashomon (1950), Seven Samurai (1954), Yojimbo (1961) and Ran (1985) and influenced countless filmmakers all over the world, once spoke about the deep-rooted humanism that existed in Ray’s films.
“The quiet but deep observation, understanding and love of the human race, which are characteristic of all his [Ray’s] films, have impressed me greatly…Not to have seen the cinema of Ray means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon.”
He described watching Ray’s most popular film, ‘Pather Panchali’ (1955), as “the kind of cinema that flows with the serenity and nobility of a big river,” in a conversation with British author Andrew Robinson for his his book ‘Satyajit Ray: The Inner Eye’, released in 1989.
“People are born, live out their lives, and then accept their deaths. Without the least effort and without any sudden jerks, Ray paints his picture, but its effect on the audience is to stir up deep passions. How does he achieve this? There is nothing irrelevant or haphazard in his cinematographic technique. In that lies the secret of its excellence,” he adds.
Satyajit Ray pictured with Michelangelo Antonioni and Akira Kurosawa visiting the Taj Mahal in 1977. (Image Courtesy Twitter/Film at Lincoln Center)
Martin Scorsese, Film Director
Martin Scorsese, who is widely regarded as one of the most influential directors in film history and has made classics such as Taxi Driver (1976) and Raging Bull (1980) once said, “Ray’s magic, the simple poetry of his images and their emotional impact, will always stay with me.”
“I was in high school and I happened to see ‘Pather Panchali’ ” — the first part of Ray’s coming-of-age trilogy in the 1950s about a boy from a Bengali village — “on television. Dubbed in English. With commercials. It didn’t matter. The image of the Indian culture we had had before, and I’m talking [when] I was 14 years old or 15 years old, was usually through colonialist eyes. When Satyajit Ray did his films, you suddenly understood not the culture, because the culture was so complex, but you became attached to the culture through the people,” he said, speaking to the Washington Post in 2002.
While nominating Ray for a Lifetime Achievement Oscar in 1991, he said, “I have admired his films for many years and for me he is the filmic voice of India, speaking for the people of all classes of the country…He is the most sensitive and eloquent artist and it can truly be said in his case that when we honor him we are honoring ourselves.”
James Ivory, Film Director and Producer
James Ivory, one half of the legendary Merchant Ivory Productions, alongside Indian-born producer Ismail Merchant, and husband of legendary screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, had this to say about Ray’s work while nominating him for a Lifetime Achievement Oscar in 1991:
“Satyajit Ray is among the world’s greatest directors, living or dead…Isn’t it curious that the newest, the most modern of the arts, has found one of its deepest, most fluent expressions in the work of an artist like Ray, who must make his seamless films–many have been masterpieces–in a chaotic and volatile corner of one of the world’s oldest cultures, amidst the most stringent shortages of today’s advanced movie-making material and equipment?…It would be fitting to honour this great man, who has influenced so many other filmmakers…and to salute him with a Lifetime Award in the spring of 1992.”
Wes Anderson, Film Director
For his film ‘The Darjeeling Unlimited’, the American filmmaker and auteur took direct influences from Ray’s work. In fact, he claims Ray inspired him to come to India. In a 2007 interview, he said, “He is the reason I came here, but his films have also inspired all my other movies in different ways, and I feel I should dedicate the movie to him.”
Like many legendary filmmakers, Anderson is a student of Ray’s work. He was only 15 when he rented ‘Teen Kanya’ (Three Daughters) from a video store in Houston, Texas.
Besides The Apu Trilogy, if you want to understand which of Ray’s films to watch, Anderson offers a pretty exhaustive list: “His films (which were usually adapted by him from books) feel like novels to me. He draws you very close to his characters, and his stories are almost always about people going through a major internal transition. My favourites are the Calcutta trilogy of “The Adversary” (“Pratidwandi“), “Company Limited” (“Seemabaddha“), and “The Middleman” (“Jana Aranya“), which are very adventurous and inventive stylistically, and “Days and Nights in the Forest” (“Aranyer Din Ratri“), which I relate to the kind of movies and books that completely captured my attention when I was a teenager, with soulful troublemakers as heroes. I think “Charulata” (“The Lonely Wife“) is one of his most beautiful films, and also “Teen Kanya” (especially “The Postmaster”) and the Apu films.”
Francis Ford Coppola and Christopher Nolan, Film Directors
Coppola, the man behind the epic Godfather series, once said: “Whenever someone speaks from Kolkata, I remember Satyajit Ray’s call, praising me for ‘Godfather I’. He complimented me particularly for my discovery, Al Pacino, whom he considered the best actor of the 1970s. According to him, Marlon Brando was untouchable in ‘Godfather’. We know of Indian cinema through Ray’s works and, to me, his best is ‘Devi’, a cinematic milestone.”
Meanwhile, Nolan, the genius behind the Batman series, Inception and Interstellar, also spoke about his love for ‘Pather Panchali’, while shooting his film ‘Tenet’ in India. “I have had the pleasure of watching Ray’s Pather Panchali recently, which I hadn’t seen before. I think it is one of the best films ever made. It is an extraordinary piece of work. I am interested in learning more about Indian film industry and that is the reason why I came,” he said.
Beyond the Mainstream
Ray’s influence on filmmakers, however, goes beyond the mainstream. Speaking to The Better India, Rima Das, an independent filmmaker from Assam whose movie Village Rockstars became India’s official entry to the Oscars in 2018, said in a May 2020 interview:
“When I watched Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali in 2007, it made me believe that this is how you can also make movies. Growing up, making films didn’t feel like a realistic objective since I had known commercial cinema to be too big and expensive with massive budgets. I never thought I would make movies and that it wasn’t a realistic dream for me.”
She says watching a classic like ‘Pather Panchali’ opened up her eyes to making films centered on her village, people and local traditions. In fact, like in ‘Pather Panchali’, where Ray used ‘non-professional actors’, Rima also employed local, untrained and non-professional actors for some of her most successful films.
Thanks to Ray, filmmakers like Rima with genuine craft and imagination from largely forgotten parts of India like rural Assam have been able to take their movies rooted in their local social milieu to a global audience. Rima’s work has also received genuine appreciation from people rooted in vastly different cultures and sensibilities.
After all, it’s impossible to deny the magic of quality cinema, whatever the language and location.
(Edited by Divya Sethu)
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Even after seeing the image of late actor Dev Anand playing a shiny drum set, it is hard for me to imagine him in Teesri Manzil (1966). Anand was the original choice for the desi crime noir film of the 60s’ directed by Vijay Anand. The publicity stills were shot, Asha Parekh was chosen as the female lead, and the set was built. However, Dev was later replaced by the late Shammi Kapoor, and the rest is history.
With his flamboyant looks and energetic performances, Shammi gave Hindi cinema a fine thriller. However, it was songs such as Aaja Aaja Main Hoon Pyaar Tera, O Haseena Zulfonwali and O Mere Sona Re Sona composed by R D Burman that established him as a dancing sensation due to his frenetic movements.
Dev Anand, a still from Teesri Manzil
While there is no way to confirm from the horse’s mouth that the ‘replacement’ episode actually took place, the old still of Dev is visual proof.
There are innumerable such unheard of or lesser-known tales that have fewer or no documentation. In the pre-internet and smartphone era, publicity stills and behind the scene shots weaved the timelines and movie gossip.
If today, we have the privilege of seeing this vintage photo, it is all thanks to the Mumbai-based Kamat family that is behind Kamat Foto Studio. Damodar Kamat, the founder, shot most of the movie stills between 1940-1990. Known for his perfection and marvellous photography, he was a favourite of several film fraternity members, from Raj Kapoor to Guru Dutt, Bimal Roy, Rajshri Productions, Nargis, Dharmendra, Meena Kapoor, Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi.
Stills and portraits from various movies
After Damodar passed away in 1967, his son, Vidyadhar took over and today his grandchildren, Neha and Abhishek have also joined. While the digital age has reduced the scope of Foto Studios’ work, the family has been preserving more than 3,00,000 negatives.
These crucial negatives not only unravel the journey of Hindi cinema, but are also being used by academicians in the USA and UK, as well as in reality shows and by directors who want old vintage images for their movies. The company uses hi-tech scanning machines to source a quality photo from a negative.
It may come as a surprise to many that Damodar had no photography background or experience when he began his journey from a humble household of Belgaum in Karnataka. Neha Kamat speaks to The Better India about her grandfather, the significance of photography in filmmaking, and putting excruciating work to preserve the negatives, some as old as 1948.
A self-taught photographer
Damodar Kamat
Today, everyone knows how to click a photo, thanks to the convenience of smartphones and a plethora of filter applications. If you dislike the photo, simply delete it and continue clicking. Getting a perfect frame and light is no more an exclusive skill, and a camera is thereby not a prized possession.
But if you rewind a few decades, you will understand how exotic photography was. It was not yet a mainstream career and purchasing a camera was a distant dream for many middle-class households. Damodar’s was one of them.
He was born on 27 November 1923 in a family of engineers. Belgaum’s primary occupation is farming, followed by sectors manufacturing brass utensils, jewellery and wood products.
“My grandfather was inclined towards arts from his childhood. He was good at drawing and was fascinated by the camera. With permission from his parents, he left the city and moved to Kolhapur, a hub of photography then, when he was around 17. He didn’t know anyone in the new city but got a chance to meet Shantaram Samant, an ace photographer of his time. This kickstarted his journey,” says Neha.
Neha with her father Vidyadhar Kamat
However, learning the tricks and skills of the profession was hard, given that just like magicians, photographers would not easily share trade secrets. Damodar had to arrange tea, be a delivery boy of chemicals for developing the negative, and lived in the studio to be promoted as a painter for board signs, followed by photography.
Four years later, Damodar moved to the maxim city in 1940 to establish a career in film photography. He worked with Bombay Talkies studio till he started his own company in 1945.
Role of stills in movie budgets & success
Damodar Kamat with Prithviraj Kapoor
Today, making a movie is much more than just going on set, acting, shooting and post-production. It starts with an announcement on signing actors followed by Behind The Scenes (BTS) photos for social media to draw people’s attention. After shooting, a movie poster is released, followed by the teaser and then finally the trailer. By the time the movie arrives, you have partly made a decision to either skip or watch it.
This is in stark contrast to the earlier decades, when releasing trailers was not a thing. Publishing movie stills in magazines was the only way to get the audience excited. Thus, images played a defining role.
Photographers were given the task of analysing the sets, costumes and make-up to create a stunning visual appeal for producers. Using the pictures, the director would ask for more funds, says Neha, “The photos were also used to spread the word about the genre, star cast, tentative release dates and more. These photos included romantic poses, action scenes or portraits.”
Damodar used his studio to click portraits of upcoming actors as well. They would pose in specific costumes or with props that helped the director pick the cast. Rajendra Kumar Tuli, who acted in movies including Mother India (1957) and Sangam (1964), bagged a movie (Vachan, 1955) due to Damodar’s portfolio shoot. Some other actors include Waheeda Rehman, Amir Khan, Madhuri Dixit, Juhi Chawla and more.
Behind the scenes
Damodar was very particular about the process, given that each photo cost money and that it would determine his future projects. Plus, the luxury of colour correction was absent, so they had to get it right on set.
“My grandfather was otherwise shy, but when he was on sets, he owned them. Without coming in the way of any crew members, he would quietly take pictures and surprise directors like Raj Kapoor. Stills of Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai (1960) got him all other films of Kapoor even though he had an in-house photographer. Meena Kumari had a wide jaw so he would click from top angles and an impressed Madhubala even gifted him a Rolleiflex camera. He would place the camera at the exact spot of the shooting camera to get accurate stills,” says Neha.
Photos of Kamat Foto Studio displayed at the Manchester Contact Theatre
She spills the beans on certain iconic shots that further cemented Damodar’s reputation and respect in the glamour industry.
In Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai, he managed to get a complex picture of the actress, Padmini twirling with a basic camera. Taken from a top angle, she was still while the skirt was in motion.
Damodar was solution-oriented and quick on his toes. He managed to create an illusion of a library in his studio for Guru Dutt’s Pyasa (1957). He is the writer in the movie so Damodar made a pile of photo albums as books. An ashtray was kept out of focus on the table for a glimmering effect.
The illusionary still from Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa
Neha feels disappointed when the photos, which were taken meticulously and with great difficulty, are used without giving the studio credit. But she notes that she is happy that the photos hold nostalgic and priceless value even today.
As we come towards the end of the interview, I can’t help but ask her for more stories to satiate my movie trivia. And she obliges.
In Pakeezah, a movie that took over a decade to shoot, several actors and technicians changed over the years except for the director, Meena Kumari and Damodar. It is a love story between Nargis, a courtesan and Salim Khan, a forest ranger.
Meena Kumari and Dharmendra from a still from Pakeezah.
“We have a still of a wedding scene in the movie where Raaj Kumar is holding his sehra to marry Kumari. When I scanned it properly, I was shocked to see Dharmendra’s face. Both the actors’ body type was similar so to save on the cost, Kamal Amrohi, the director, did not click another picture,” she adds.
Shah Rukh Khan and Ajay Devgn posing for a movie still
Talking about replacing actors, Ajay Devgn was cast alongside Shah Rukh Khan in Karan Arjun (1995). The duo was at the Foto Studio to click publicity stills and Neha found a picture where Khan and Devgn are in leather and brown jackets respectively.
What happens with the negatives?
The Kamat family spends heavily on preserving the negatives. Multiple pictures of a movie are neatly kept on butter paper in a box. These boxes are changed every two or three years.
“We cannot afford to damage any of the boxes, given that they hold Hindi cinema’s entire journey. We have stills of recording studios, music directors, set designs, writers and other technicians who have worked hard to assemble a movie. The crew often goes unnoticed and if not documented well, people will only remember the main cast,” says Neha.
She is also excited about an upcoming book on Kamat Foto Studio that they are working on. We hope the book is released soon with pictures so that we can experience and celebrate our cinema’s past glory.
All images are taken from Kamat Foto Studio. You can follow them here.
Making a national award-winning film was never part of Samruddhi Porey’s plan. She is a graduate in microbiology and a lawyer by profession, but always loved storytelling as a child.
In 2010, she directed her first film, Mala Aai Vhaychay (I want to be a mother). This Marathi film is centred around the subject of surrogacy in India, and went on to win seven state and two national awards. The carefully woven narrative of the movie, starring Urmila Kanetkar, is about a foreign couple who sign a deal with a rural woman in Maharashtra to be their child’s surrogate mother.
The movie received worldwide critical acclaim and was even remade in Telugu (Welcome Obama) by renowned director Singeetam Srinivasa Rao in 2013. Now, Maddock Films Pvt Ltd is all set to release its Hindi remake, ‘Mimi’ starring Kriti Sanon, Pankaj Tripathi and Sai Tamhankar on Netflix.
Mimi movie poster (left) and Samruddhi Porey (right)
It finds a special place in Samruddhi’s life, as the story has been inspired by a case she worked during her time as a lawyer.
A real-life couple who abandoned one such contract within six months of the surrogate mother’s pregnancy after finding out that the child may be born with a disability. However, the child was born without one. The biological mother wanted him now, but the surrogate mother refused. So the two women approached Samruddhi. Moved by the issue, she dug further into the subject and learnt about the grim realities of surrogate women in India.
What has followed since is a slew of awards and recognition, alongside a brand new world for Samruddhi.
“I am ecstatic to see my child (film) grow. I made and nurtured this film as my own baby with a great deal of hardship, love, commitment and care. The Hindi film may have its additional creative inputs but the message is the same. Surrogacy has been a suppressed topic in our country due to the highly unregulated business and unethical practices surrounding it. For example, brokers often end up taking the lion’s share of the deal, mothers run away with the newborn, and families are duped,” Samruddhi tells The Better India.
A still from Mala Aai Vhaychay
Making a film on a social issue that is often stigmatised is not easy, especially for someone who has never held a camera before. However, Samruddhi embarked upon this journey with no film connections, experience or production backing. Her only aim was to bring the issue to light.
Finding success despite no takers
Born and raised in Amravati, Samruddhi would watch movies, give them a creative spin of her own, and narrate this version to her friends and family. While the movie bug never truly disappeared, like most children, she grew up and chose a non-film career. At 20, she got married and moved to Mumbai, ironically the hub of Hindi movies.
She completed her graduation here and soon decided to pursue law from the Government Law College, “After working for a brief period in a laboratory, I realised that was not something I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted a profession where I could help people and that’s how law came into the picture. By the time I finished studying, I was already a mother of two daughters. With my husband and family’s support, I started practising civil and criminal law. In the 15 years of my career, I have fought many cases and each one has left a mark on me. I helped underprivileged people and focused on contributing towards women empowerment,” she says.
Mala Aai Vhaychay poster
To remember each case, as well as the people and emotions involved, Samruddhi maintained a personal diary. The stories served as an inspiration and a reminder of how justice plays a crucial role in a person’s life.
Her reconnection with films happened through one of her cases for a film company. As a legal advisor, she ended up giving suggestions in the script. Impressed by her inputs, the producer asked her to write the story in her own style. She spent the entire night weaving a narrative. The exercise gave her a tremendous sense of satisfaction, which served as a triggering point to switch careers.
So Samruddhi took up a diploma course in Film Making from Mumbai University and began writing a script on surrogacy. She directed, wrote, produced, acted and did a lot more to complete the film.
Samruddhi Porey with Mala Aai Vhaychay actors
The toughest part, she says, was finding a white child for the role of Madhav, the son. “We took auditions of 200 children, but none fit the bill. I found my actor in a mall, finally. I convinced his parents over a cup of coffee to let their child act in a regional film with a first-time director. Incidentally, the boy, Aiden Barkely, was a surrogate child, so the father understood the plot and the message of my film. I used my life savings to shoot in 15 days in the interiors of the Melghat-Chikhaldara belt of the Amravati district in Vidarbha. It was a crazy experience but one done with complete sincerity and love.”
However, there were no takers for the film. No distributor was ready to bet on a new director and a precarious topic such as this. So Samruddhi put in her own funds again and gave it a theatrical release. Her worst nightmare came true when the movie received an underwhelming box office response. Still, she kept financing it and ran it in the theatre for 100 days.
Things took a dramatic turn when her film was accepted in film festivals, not just in India, but across the world, including the prestigious London International Film Awards. “The movie picked up again and the shows went housefull. Receiving two National Awards was the icing on the cake,” she adds.
After this movie’s success, Samruddhi went on to make two feature films – Dr Prakash Baba Amte – The Real Hero (2014)starring Nana Patekar, and Hemalkasa (2018). Samruddhi is presently working on multiple scripts on various social issues and hopes to start filming soon.
Years ago, I remember watching a movie starring Rekha called ‘Khoon Bhari Maang’ (1988). What stuck with me was Rekha’s look in the first half of that movie. As a visual medium, it is important that movies leave that kind of impact on their viewers.
Whether it was Amitabh Bachchan playing a 12-year-old Auro in ‘Paa’ (2009) or Rajkummar Rao’s cameo in ‘Raabta’ (2017), where he essayed the role of a 324-year-old man – makeup and prosthetics play a very important role in making a movie click with their audience.
Credit for some of these unrecognisable looks goes to Zuby Johal and Rajiv Subba, founders of Dirty Hands Studio in Ahmedabad in 2008.
Zuby and Rajiv with Anil Kapoor.
Post graduates in ceramic and glass design from National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, the duo decided on starting a studio together soon after their course.
In conversation with The Better India, Zuby speaks about the journey from being a design student to working with the biggest directors across Indian film industries. “Early on in our career, both Rajiv and I, have taken on various kinds of jobs – from designing logos to furniture. All of which now seems rather directionless and random,” she says. It was by chance that the duo got to see celebrated international sculpture Ron Mueck’s work with silicone at a time when it was an unknown material in India.
“This was even before we had silicone phone covers. In India, we were not using silicone for such work. When asked if we could do something similar, we jumped at it,” she says laughing.
Adding to this, Rajiv says, “In ceramics as well as sculpting, the moulding techniques are nearly the same but the casting material changes. This was also an era before YouTube, which meant that all the mistakes we made had to be our own. There was nowhere to turn to seek help.” Armed with a lot of silicone and enthusiasm to succeed, the duo worked on sculpting 18 mannequins made using silicone to Sadhu Vaswani Museum in Pune. Through these mannequins the story and teachings of Sadhu Vaswani came to life at the museum.
On The Silver Screen
Detective Byomkesh Bakshy – Silicone prosthetics and special makeup effects.
At the time when the duo was assembling the mannequins at Pune, each piece lay around. Looking at that Rajiv exclaimed that it looked straight out of some bomb blast scene in a movie. He proceeded to say that they should try and get into the movie business. “I remember asking him how we would do that given we had no connection with the industry,” says Zuby. What happened thereafter was perhaps coincidence or luck.
A week after installing the mannequins at Pune, the couple was back at Ahmedabad where they caught up with a senior who was working with director Anurag Kashyap as an Assistant Director (intern). Recalling those days, Rajiv says, “Every rupee mattered in those days. I remember calculating how much it would cost for us to take the Duronto Express to Mumbai, then a taxi to the set and back.” In hindsight, it was this meeting that changed their fortunes.
Recalling the first meeting with Anurag, Zuby says, “Just being on that set was something so different for us. Everything was new and once Anurag saw the head cut out we had brought along, all he did was turn towards the Gangs of Wasseypur (2012) script and handed it over to us. He asked us to go through the script and start work.” Zuby and Rajiv were given a complete free hand to explore their creative side for the movie and that is exactly what they did.
“If asked who the godfather of Dirty Hands Studio is, without a doubt I would say Anurag Kashyap.”
With Anurag Kashyap
“He saw in us what even we did not fully realise at that time. He even told us that in 10 years we would be at the top of our game. He was such a visionary,” says Zuby. Since Gangs of Wasseypur, Zuby and Rajiv have been a part of 36 films in multiple languages.
Zuby shakes her head vigorously from side to side, vehemently stating the journey was anything but easy. “We started work when silicone was not even a material that people thought could be used to make prosthetics. Silicone, as they knew it, was something used only to enhance breasts and buttocks. In a way, we were the pioneers who started exploring and using silicone in India.”
Learning with every project
Pluto Mehra from Dil Dhadakne Do and Rosie’s cat Nareus in the film Finding Fanny.
“There is no straight jacket method of doing this kind of work. From making a prosthetic cat in Finding Fanny (2014) to making a bodysuit to make an actor look more muscular, work has been so varied. With every project, we also get to learn and grow,” says Rajiv. Even Pluto Mehra, the much loved Bullmastiff from Dil Dhadakne Do (2015), believe it or not, was created in a studio by Zuby and Rajiv.
A lot of the work also depends on how comfortable the actor is with the prosthetics. Chandigarh Kare Aashiqui (2021), a movie starring Ayushmann Khurrana was amongst the most challenging projects according to Zuby. She says, “More than the work itself, it was the fact that the entire shooting was taking place during COVID. We had to relocate our entire studio to Chandigarh to ensure safety of the team.”
“Not being at your own workstation, having to work around all the curfew timings and the restrictions on the number of people on set was challenging.”
Uyare
While making prosthetics for movies is a big part of the work that the duo does, they also work with hospitals and doctors like Dr Devi Shetty, on making medical prosthetics. “We are designers and that is something that we do not want to compromise on. We cannot continue to make only scars and dead bodies for the rest of our lives. Challenges push us to be better,” says Zuby.
Zuby and Rajiv prefer being a part of the project from the early stage itself. “Once I read the script, I make note of my gazillion questions, which we then discuss with the director.”
Having worked on creating the look for Parvathy Thiruvothu’s character in Uyare (2019), Zuby says, “For that we met acid attack survivors and heard their stories. It wasn’t just enough to create a look for it, we wanted to do it right.”
With many young people wanting to get into the world of makeup and prosthetics, Zuby’s words of advice for them is to learn this art form before starting. “There are a number of great online courses and it will do you a world of good to learn. If you have the inclination to do it, you can do wonders. Those with a sculpting background might learn it faster, but learn, you will.”
The team at Dirty Hands Studio is extremely busy with a string of new projects coming up, which include some big names like the sci-fi feature titled Ashwatthama starring Vicky Kaushal; Indira Gandhi starring Kangana Ranaut and Dhaakad by Razneesh Ghai, among others.
“Spin shatters the stereotype that Indians can only thrive in STEM. We should not forget that our culture and heritage are very art-centric. We flourish not only in academics, but also in artistic fields. I hope that portrayals like in Spin will break myths about Indian families for international audiences. And more importantly, that they open doors for other actors of colour in Hollywood,” Indian-American actor Avantika Vandanapu tells The Better India.
The 16-year-old was cast as the first ever Indian-American lead of a Disney movie, Spin, that was released on Disney+Hotstar on 13 August this year.
Directed by Manjari Makijany, the movie revolves around an Indian-American teen Rhea (Avantika), who wants to make a career in DJing. She lives with her father Arvind (Abhay Deol), maternal grandmother (Meers Syal), and brother Rohan (Aruan Simhadri). The family runs an Indian restaurant.
Avantika (left) and with the director, Manjari (right)
The storyline comes as a breath of fresh air for its accurate and real characters. It attempts to break away from outdated depictions of the Indian diaspora that increasingly finds itself caught in the crossfire of cultural appropriation.
“Rhea’s passion and kindness drew me to her character and I could resonate well with her experiences. The aspects of family, love, and friendships piqued my interest in the character as well. I wanted to bring Rhea to life the moment I laid eyes on the script,” Avantika says.
Tollywood to Hollywood
It would be safe to draw parallels between Rhea’s love for art and Avantika’s passion for acting. Growing up in the United States as a second-generation immigrant, she was not expected to take the conventional route of pursuing a career in medicine, law or engineering.
When she first expressed her desire to act in movies, her parents supported her dream on the condition that she first finish her education. She marked her entry in the art industry by learning various dance forms such as kuchipudi, kathak and ballet. She won second place in Dance India Dance Lil Masters (North America Edition) in 2014.
Alongside, she started giving auditions for Hollywood and Tollywood productions. At the age of 12, she gave her first Hollywood audition for Spin while she was working in India.
“I got a call back from Spin makers and that was my ticket to Los Angeles. However, soon after, the film went on hold for further development for authenticity reasons. But it came back again at the beginning of last year and I re-auditioned for it. Disney told me I booked it [got the part] in the audition room, which is a bit unorthodox, but I was so excited!” she says.
In 2015, Avantika shot her first Telugu film, Brahmotsavam (2016) and went on to appear in movies like Manamanthan (2016) and Premam (2016) as a child artist.
But bagging movies was not as easy as it sounds.
In India, there are girls who may fit the part of an Indian girl more than Avantika and in Hollywood, the roles for Indians are limited. The thought of being neither here nor there did cross her mind, but didn’t stay for long.
“I can speak my mother tongue fluently so I’ve never felt out of place in India. When it came to Hollywood, my confidence was low when I was starting out. But with all the progress the industry is making, I feel much better about pursuing a career here,” she adds.
When asked how one makes a name for oneself in a country that still sees people of colour as outsiders, Avantika says, “You stay strong and carry yourself with the pride of your culture and heritage. There truly is no point in attempting to blend in – so why not embrace everything that makes you different? I am trying to make the best of both worlds and I think that’s what makes our family’s experiences special and unique. Bringing that into a performance is what separates one entertainer from another.”
Director’s take on redefining norms
Manjari, director of Spin
Disney movies are said to hold a legacy of being purveyors of popular culture, teen dramas and family entertainment. However some of its classic movies have been condemned or deemed inappropriate in today’s times. Whether it is Snow White (1937)or The Jungle Book (1967), some of its movies have ‘cultural warnings’ as well.
That said, by releasing movies like Moana (2016), Raya and The Last Dragon (2021), and Soul (2020), Disney has made efforts to break away from the western and male-dominated narratives.
With Spin, Disney has gone a step ahead.
Sure, there is teen romance between Rhea and aspiring DJ, Max (Michael Bishop) but it’s not the central theme. Spin is about a girl who is saving her own day instead of waiting for a guy to do it for her.
She is never put in a situation where she has to make a choice between family honour and passion, something filmmakers often use for conflict.
With a supportive grandmother and a father who is willing to understand his teenage daughter, this film certainly redefines what a traditional Indian family looks like.
A still of Abhay Deol with Avantika from Spin
This is what drew director Manjari to the script written by Carley Steiner and Josh Cagan. Manjari had just wrapped up Skater Girl (2021) when the script reached her.
She says, “My agent sent me a few scripts to read and Spin was the one I connected with. It’s Disney channel’s first Indian American story but more importantly, it was refreshing to have Indian characters represented in a contemporary way. I was excited at the opportunity to introduce our culture to a mainstream American audience. Projects like this allow me to bring the best of my two worlds together. The challenge was to steer away from stereotypes and present a different take that teens can relate to in today’s time. I prepared a detailed presentation for what my take was going to be on the story and pitched it to the studio and as luck would have it, they got behind that vision.”
Manjari shouldered the responsibility of staying away from stereotypes like a controlling father, conservative grandmother and a teenager who finds herself at crossroads with her family. Manjari sought inspiration for characters from her friends and family. She focussed on a relatable multi-generational family.
She made Rhea a confident lead with flaws on screen and embracing her heritage so that young girls around the world do not have unrealistic or fantasised notions of how a teenager is.
“Our casting was global too. Instead of getting an Indian American to play an immigrant and speak in a forced Indian accent – which is complex and nuanced to master – we opened up casting to India. That’s how Abhay Deol came on board. He spoke in his natural accent and it looked so much more real,” she adds.
Avantika and Manjari say their social media DMs have been full of heartening messages from people who wish they had a movie like this while growing up.
“Some of the best messages came from young Indian American girls who said they resonated with Rhea, felt seen and heard. That really moved me. It was a bonus when the desi DJ community sent their love and was thrilled to have a film about DJ-ing on Disney,” says Manjari.
Making Spin was a cathartic experience, she says. Disney’s approval meant a lot for Manjari, who is Mac Mohan’s daughter. For the last 13 years, she has been working non-stop to enter the Hollywood industry.
“I have to pinch myself sometimes to let it sink in. It doesn’t feel any different though, you think there will be this different feeling when you make your first feature or second, but it’s really just a new day at work, a new film with its new set of challenges to overcome as a filmmaker and I love every bit of it. I’m in a unique position of advantage, to be honest. It informs my work in a meaningful way and I bring a unique perspective to the table. The only challenge in shifting base to LA was having to start from scratch again. I moved here with no game plan on how to navigate the industry. It was one baby step at a time. I had to go back to assisting while building a foundation as a director here. I was doing the AFI DWW programme, assisting and also writing my feature as a director. It’s part of the exciting American hustle I guess,” she adds.
Mikhil Musale, the director of Wrong Side Raju (2016) and Made In China (2019) tries hard to evoke his memory of his engineering days. But he is unsure if it was the frustration of being stuck in a loop or his new-found love for movies in the second year of engineering that pushed him in another career trajectory.
However, he is sure that it was Anurag Kashyap’s compelling drama Gulaal (2009) that awakened the cinegoer in him. Awe-struck by the director’s story revolving around intoxicated power and ruthless politics, Mikhil wanted to make such soul-stirring content, too.
By his final year, he had made short films for college festivals and founded his production house ‘Cineman’ with Abhishek Jain in 2010.
But even with the production house and experience of filmmaking collected over the years, Mikhil trudged on the unconventional path with caution.
Afterall, he was a boy from a middle-class family living in Ahmedabad that emphasised on academics followed by a stable job.
So what made Mikhil, a national award-winning director, get on the uphill battle of establishing his credibility with a CV that contained an engineering degree and a few amateur movie projects?
“On the very first day of my [engineering] job, I realised this place and profession is not for me. The movie bug had already entered my veins and there was no going back. I brushed past the fact that I did not have a film school degree or any contact in the movie industry. Camera, curiosity and content got me started,” Mikhil tells The Better India.
From participating in college festivals, winning big at India Film Project (IFP), Asia’s largest content festival to getting a giant production house for his debut film and making a movie with stalwarts like Paresh Rawal and Rajkummar Rao, Mikhil shares his inspiring journey from Ahmedabad to Mumbai.
Building A Strong Foundation
BTS of Wrong Side Raju
Six years before his first feature film came out, Mikhil worked on several commercials and short movies that helped him learn, improvise, make mistakes and do everything experimental.
His utmost dedication towards his craft landed him several advertisements. There came a time when four out of seven oil brands in Gujarat collaborated with Mikhil and his company to direct commercials.
He also joined theatre to comprehend the nuances of acting, set designing, screenplay, dialogue writing and script writing.
“I was making short films at a time when the phenomenon of crisp and quick content was yet to take over India. I made movies on every issue, from mental health to adverse effects of smoking. The key was to let myself thrive on all kinds of content,” adds Mikhil.
One of the major learning curves came in 2012 when Mikhil participated in IFP’s 50-hour movie challenge wherein he had to write, shoot, edit and upload a film within 50 hours.
“It was an interesting concept and I was willing to try everything at this juncture. The festival was in its second edition and I had heard so much about content creators from across the country being given a chance to showcase their talent. It was challenging but equally thrilling to complete an entire movie in a limited period. I learnt so much while making the film like team management and how to quickly present a terrific idea,” says Mikhil.
His short movie, ‘Another Brick in The Wall’, won the Best Cinematography award that year.
For any newbie director, getting recognition in a film festival is a validation for their craft, skills and that their content is acceptable. It was a matter of pride for Mikhil, who would go on to apply his learnings of IFP on his huge sets.
Life came full circle when Mikhil returned to IFP in 2019 to promote his movie, Made in China along with Rajkummar Rao and producer Dinesh Vijan.
“IFP has become a global phenomenon where aspiring artists can display their years of hard work. This platform has changed the way in which content can be created and viewed. Ritam Bhatnagar, the founder of IFP, was very sure of the idea and over the years made the festival aspirational. I know of so many participants who have turned into commercial filmmakers. Platforms like these can give direction to budding filmmakers who are confused and unsure about their talent. It is an opportunity that should not be missed,” says Mikhil.
In the last 10 years, IFP has seen participation of over 8 lakh creators comprising filmmakers, writers, storytellers, musicians and photographers. Last year the festival took place online and saw 55,000 creators from more than 30 countries.
In its eleventh edition this year, the filmmaking challenge will take place from 24 September to 26 September. The 50-hour music challenge was between 17 and 19 September. And the 7-day challenges were between 4 and 11 September.
Mikhil will be hosting a pre-challenge workshop on ‘How to make an award-winning short film in 50 hours’ on 24 September. Get more details here.
Want to try and make a film in 50 Hours? Head to this link to find out more.
On Making ‘Wrong Side Raju’ and ‘Made in China’
With the cast of Made in China
Mikhil took nearly 1.5 years to write the script of his directorial debut starring actor Pratik Gandhi. Before this Mikhil had worked in Kevi Rite Jaish (2012) and Bey Yaar (2014) that helped him gauge if the Gujarati audience was ready to consume different kinds of content.
Based on the positive reaction, he co-wrote a script with Karan Vyas and Niren Bhatt on a hit-and-run case based loosely on a real life incident. For the first time such a thrilling movie was being made in Gujarati regional cinema.
The promising script was rejected by several actors before Pratik—who was a newbie back then—accepted it. Mikhil went all out by getting Phantom production house, music composers Vishal Dadlani and singer Arijit Singh for the gig.
This film’s outcome would help shape Mikhil’s film career and so he left no stone unturned to make the process and final product memorable. Firsts always ride on merit and Wrong Side Raju accomplished that.
His cinematic marvel won a national award for ‘Best Gujarati Film’ and was accepted in 17 film festivals.
A year later, Mikhil moved to Mumbai to explore Bollywood and in 2019 marked his debut in the industry. Made in China was about Raghu, an entrepreneur who travels to China in search of new business opportunities but returns as an illegal supplier of aphrodisiac.
Mikhil assembled a varied cast from television star Mouni Roy, veterans like Boman Irani and Paresh Rawal to web artists like Gajraj Rao and Sumeet Vyas.
“Making Made in China was an enriching experience. I learnt so much from actors. Working with talented and dedicated people will always take you forward and I have been fortunate in that area,” says Mikhil, who is currently working on varied upcoming projects.
“How dare you step in front of my carriage,” blurted an ‘evil British officer’ in a television series played by Richard Klein. He then whipped the poor street urchin and hauled endless curses.
But as soon as the director yelled “Cut”, Richard apologised to his co-actor. The American-born actor then easily brushed aside any hard feelings by joking about how he isn’t even British.
“Even after 10 years in the industry, I dislike insulting my co-workers based on race, fully realising it is only acting,” Richard tells The Better India.
The 45-year-old is from the league of ‘firangi’ actors who are often seen in Indian movies with typical roles such as that of an officer, businessmen or the mafia. Usually decked up in black suits, they may not always get meaty roles and yet their presence leaves an imprint, albeit in a comical way such as Bob Cristo and Tom Alter from the 70s and 80s. More recently, Kim Bodnia, a Danish actor, in Delhi Belly (2011).
You may have seen Richard in movies such as Dear Zindagi (2016), Karwan (2018), Thugs of Hindustan (2018), Kesari (2019), and more recently, Sardar Uddham (2021) and Sardar ka Grandson (2021).
Born and raised in California, Richard moved to India in 2010. He started as a dubbing and junior artist and soon bagged roles of officer, businessmen, scientist, doctor, chef and spy.
He shares what it’s like to move continents to feel at home, adapt a new culture and find work as an outsider.
50 Films, 3 Decades, 2 Continents
Richard Klein in an ad
Richard’s curiosity for India, a country 8,000 miles away from his home, began during graduation. His course in philosophy and spiritualism had a chapter on India’s yoga and meditation culture.
“I was drawn to the Indian customs and traditions while studying but never got a chance to visit India. After completing my studies I started teaching maths and science in middle school in San Francisco and it went on for nearly 18 years,” says Richard.
He was a teacher by day and a performing artist at night. From being part of local singing groups to representing the US at international dance meets, Richard’s inclination towards art escalated over the years.
Acting, however, was never on the cards. It was his desire to live in India at some point that drew him to Indian cinema.
In 1991, he visited India for the first time as a tourist and it was instant love.
“My trip was stretched to over three months. Now you can imagine the warmth and love that I must have experienced. Like every foreigner, I went on a meditation retreat to Dharamshala, explored the capital and visited the city that houses one of the seven wonders of the world. I just couldn’t get enough of it, so I kept returning as a tourist. It is a country with inner peace and outer chaos,” says Richard.
While he certainly enjoyed teaching and performance gigs, he did not want to continue with this lifestyle. Part of the reason Richard wanted to shift continents was to live differently.
So why not quit teaching and do performances full time?
“It was extraordinarily difficult to make money through art in America. Back then our government did not fund the artists. On international meets, our team would be the only one with day time jobs. So, I opted for private tutoring and taught for six months to save enough for a trip to India for the other six months of the year. I followed that for a couple of years till I found the right opportunities,” says Richard.
Once in India, Richard took up various jobs like teaching music and doing voice dubbing to sustain himself. He also signed up with an acting agency to score auditions.
A nervous Richard even overcame the daunting task of moving cities in India with ease.
“Initially I did live in cheap apartments and it took me a while to get an AC or a geyser at home. I was even uncomfortable at times but it was like an adventure. I was finally living in the city of my dreams. Every day was different and exciting,” he adds.
In the first couple of years, Richard was a background artist. He was made to stand in the sun for hours, paid very less and treated with disrespect.
Richard Klein in a Punjabi movie
He bagged his first character in a South Indian film Nannaku Prematho (2015), as the head of the Spanish inspection team. In the same year, he was a part of a television series ‘Ek Nayi Umeed: Roshni’ as an eye patient. He did commercials and radio programmes in American and British accents too.
Two years later, he played ‘George William’ in a Punjabi movie Bhalwan Singh (2017), which was the turning point of his career. In this movie, he had multiple dialogues which helped him bag future projects.
Working With The Khans
If there were any brownie points for being a junior artist or sidekick it would definitely be the chance to be a part of several movies and act alongside the who’s who of the industry.
Richard certainly has pocketed quite a few of those roles.
Richard Klein in Kesari
He worked with Shah Rukh Khan, the late Irrfan Khan, Salman Khan, and most recently, Aamir Khan in an upcoming movie — ‘Lal Singh Chadda’.
Dishing out what it’s like to work with these actors, he says, “Irrfan Khan was an incredible actor. It is unbelievable how he would turn into his character at a lightning speed. Just watching his body language and improvisation techniques was such an honour. Likewise, Shah Rukh Khan is a creative genius. A charming personality, he was running around the set to make sure everyone was giving their best. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to direct a movie in future.”
“Aamir is called a perfectionist for a reason and I witnessed that during filming the movie. I am excited to be doing a brief appearance alongside him. Salman Khan knows exactly what is expected from him. We did an ad together and he gave such an effortless shot,” adds Richard.
But he hopes that filmmakers would cast him in different roles other than cameos, villains or the comical sidekick. His “dream role”, he says, is to play a scientist or a musician playing sinatra. And he would also like to sing!
“So far, I have done over 50 films and series and every project has been an amusing experience. Sometimes I get the script right before the camera is rolled. In one movie, I remember the writer running towards me after the shot and asking me what I said to include it into the script. There’s a lot of improvisation for the characters I have essayed but that has helped improve my craft immensely,” says Richard.
Two revolutionaries. Two rebellions. Two significant chapters of Indian history. How do they intertwine?
In 1922, Indian revolutionary Alluri Sitaram Raju led the Rampa Rebellion against the British raj for their imposition of the 1882 Madras Forest Act, which severely restricted the free movement of the tribal community within their own forests. Under the implications of this Act, the community was unable to fully carry out the traditional Podu agricultural system, which involved shifting cultivation.
The armed struggle came to a violent end in 1924, when Raju was captured by police forces, tied to a tree, and shot by a firing squad. His heroics resulted in him being titled manyam veerudu, or ‘the hero of the jungle’.
Close by, another revolutionary by the name of Komaram Bheem, had escaped from prison to a tea plantation in Assam. Here, he heard about the rebellion being led by Alluri, and found a new sense of inspiration to protect the Gond tribe to which he belonged.
Now, a hundred years later, National Film Award-winning director S S Rajamouli is tying these two historic threads in his upcoming film R R R. The movie has a stellar cast that includes N T Rama Rao Jr and Ram Charan in the lead roles, accompanied by Ajay Devgn, Alia Bhatt, Olivia Morris, Alison Doody, Ray Stevenson, Shriya Saran and Samuthirakani.
Source: RRR is to be set in a fictitious timeline in the lives of Indian revolutionaries Alluri Sitarama Raju and Komaram Bheem (Source: Wikipedia, Flickr)
The film is to be set outside the sphere of their contributions in leading rebellions against oppression. Instead, it seeks to paint a fictitious timeline where the two leaders might have become friends, and how their lives would have overlapped. Set in the 1920s, the movie will explore a brief period of oblivion before both figures took on the role of revolutionaries.
Alluri has been the subject of much deserved adoration; he became the subject of a popular Telugu movie, and his birth anniversary is marked as a state festival in Andhra Pradesh. Meanwhile, Bheem has become a key figure in Adavisi groups and Telugu folk culture.
A Nomadic Existence
Born in Telangana’s Adilabad district in 1901, Bheem was a member of the Gond community and grew up in the populated forests of the Chanda and Ballalpur kingdoms. During his childhood, he had no exposure to the outside world and received no formal education.
Instead, he grew up listening to stories about the struggles his community faced at the hands of the zamindars, police officials, and businessmen. As Mypathi Arun Kumar wrote in his book Adivasi Jeevanna Vidhvamsam (2016), “In order to survive, Bheem kept moving from one place to another, trying to protect himself from exploitation…Crops produced after podu farming were taken away by Nizam officials, janglaats [forest police] arguing that the land was theirs. They’d cut the fingers of Adivasi children, accusing them of illegally cutting down trees. Tax was collected forcefully, otherwise false cases were registered. After being left with nothing in hand from farming, people started moving out of their villages. In such a situation, [Bheem’s] father was killed by forest officials for asserting Adivasi rights. Bheem was agitated by the murder…and after his father’s death, his family moved from Sankepalli to Sardapur.”
In Sardapur, the gonds took up subsistence farming on land owned by one Laxman Rao. Journalist Akash Poyam detailed in Adivasi Resurgence that one day, “Patwari Laxman Rao and pattadar Siddique saab came along with 10 people, and started abusing and harassing Gonds to pay taxes at the time of harvesting. Gonds resisted and in this tussle, Siddique saab died [at] the hands of Komaram Bheem.”
As a consequence, Bheem was forced to go on the run to avoid capture, and found refuge with Vitoba, who was running a magazine against the Nizam and the British. Bheem learned English, Hindi and Urdu with Vitoba. However, the former was arrested by the police, and Bheem was forced to run away once again — he landed up in a tea plantation in Assam, where he heard about Alluri leading a rebellion against the British. Inspired by this, alongside by the struggles of chief Ramji Gond, Bheem decided to organise a struggle for the cause of the Adivasis.
Jal, Jangal, Jameen
After a brief arrest, Bheem ran away and returned to Ballalpur. He worked with head of Devadam village Lacchu Patel in settling land agitation against the Asifabad estate, which made him a well-known figure in neighbouring villages. After some time, he and his family moved to a region named Bhabejhari, where they were harassed by police officials for clearing a piece of land for cultivation under the claim that it was the Nizam government’s land. Bheem tried to set up a meeting with the Nizam to discuss the woes of his community.
Source: Wikipedia
However, the appointment was never made, and he realised the only way to move change was to launch a revolution. So he mobilised Adivasi youth and commoners from 12 districts, and together they formed a guerilla army to protest for land rights. He also proposed the plan to declare the group as a separate Gond kingdom, and Poyam noted that this was the first in a series of demands for an autonomous Gondwana state for the community.
As the revolution slowly swelled, making its way through Babejhari and Jodeghat, the Nizam government finally responded with an attempt at negotiation, which Bheem denied, insisting that the Nizam release those arrested on false charges and make a graceful exit from the Gond region.
It was at this time that the now infamous slogan of Jal, Jangal, Jameen (water, forest and land) was raised, and Bheem encouraged members of the community to fight for their rightful ownership over land, food and freedom. Meanwhile, Poyam wrote that the Nizam, unwilling to give into the Gonds’ demands, organised to have Bheem killed.
At first, an army of 300 men was sent to hunt him down, but failed. Then the Nizam bribed a member of the Gond community to become an informant.
Based on the information received, Bheem and his army were hunted down in September 1940, after the Nizam’s forces failed to get the leader to surrender. Apart from the Gond leader, as many as 15 warriors were martyred when the forces opened fire, and Poyam noted that many bodies were burnt unceremoniously, including that of Bheem.
He wrote, “Assuming that Bheem knew traditional spells, they feared he would come back to life…They shot him until his body became like a sieve and unrecognisable. They burned his body at the instant and left only when they were assured he was no more. A gond star had fallen on that day of Ashauja Porunima….The entire forest resounded with slogans like, ‘Komaram Bheem amar rahe, Bheem dada amar rahe’ (Long live Komaram Bheem).”
Bheem’s rebellion sustained long after his death, and eventually merged with the Telangana Rebellion of 1946 (Source: Wikipedia)
On The Silver Screen
Jr NTR will essay Bheem’s role in the upcoming movie, which is set to release in January next year. It is pertinent to note that portrayal has been met with controversy over a recently released clip of the movie, in which the actor playing Bheem walks into the frame dressed in white, with a skull cap and surma. While some have claimed that this is “portraying a Hindu nationalist as a Muslim”, Gond members, while denying that Bheem was a Hindu leader, have also expressed their displeasure over “warped portrayal” of the leader.
However, writer Vijayaprasad Prasad asserted in an interview with Film Companion the clip only represents a scene where he dons the attire because he is being “hunted by the Nizam, and is trying to escape [them]” and that the outfit is “camouflage”. Alongside, makers of the film continue to emphasise that this movie is only a fictional portrayal of the two leaders.
Meanwhile, jal, jangal, jameen remains the slogan of many Adivasi groups still struggling over land rights. Bheem’s rebellion sustained long after his death, and eventually merged with the Telangana Rebellion of 1946.
In 2004, after having worked in the corporate sector for six years, Manish Gupta finally quit his job to pursue his real dreams in the film industry. This may sound like yet another example of an engineer making the bold decision to switch his career mid-way, but Manish’s journey into movies is a bit different.
For starters, he had no connections in Bollywood, and pursuing a film degree at the age of 27 was out of the question for him. So what other avenue did he have to chase his dreams?
A literal chase, perhaps – Manish says that he spent a year and a half trying to meet his favorite director, Ram Gopal Verma.
The chase paid off, and in 2005, Manish wrote his first movie, Sarkar, starring Amitabh Bachchan. He then went on to weave a stellar career graph, with thrillers such as Darna Zaruri Hia (2006), The Stoneman Murders (2009), Rahasya (2015) and Section 375 (2019).
Ahead of his latest release 420 IPC, starring Vinay Pathak, Ranvir Shorey and Gul Panag on Zee5, The Better India chats with Manish, the boy who grew up in the bylanes of crowded Mumbai, about what it takes to make risky decisions, and his transition from being an engineer to copy writer, and finally, director.
How to bag films 101
Manish Gupta with Ranvir Shorey on the sets of 420 IPC
As a bright student born in a family of engineers, pursuing the field was an organic decision at first, he says. After four years of engineering at Bandra’s Father Agnel college, Manish took up a 9-5 job.
If he was so passionate about movies, why did he wait six years to leave?
“Sometimes, it takes a while to realise that you don’t want to do this for life. Before directly jumping into films, I worked in ad agencies for a brief period to get a taste of the media industry. I gave a written test followed by an interview. It was an organised process, contrary to what happens in Bollywood. In movies, no one asks your resume or makes you take a test,” Manish says.
Even as he sat through his job, he was writing copies by the day while in the office, reserved his nights for scriptwriting.
Then, he took finished the script and approached RGV.
“I grew up on a movie appetite that showcased realism, and Ramu was one director whose movies I resonated with. After seeing Company and Satya, I was keen on working on a similar project. After a lot of persuasion, he agreed to see my script and gave me an opportunity to write Sarkar,” recalls Manish.
Impressed with his work for Sarkar, RGV offered him four more scripts the same year. A year later, Manish made his directorial debut in Darna Zaroori Hai.
Recalling his first day on the set as a director, Manish says, “I was only 28 with no experience. The closest I had come to making films was shooting corporate videos during my ad stint. My assistant director and DOP knew much more and they even mocked my style. But I decided to not let that affect my craft. Learning to stand my ground and believing in my work was my first lesson in movie making.”
Another important takeaway for Manish while directing was being honest to the craft. He had succumbed to the pressure to include an item song in Stoneman Murders from the producers.
“I am very proud of the film, but the song looks inorganic in the plotline and I wish there was a way to change it. Having a clear vision of your work is necessary in order to churn good content,” he notes.
On making suspense thrillers
Manish Gupta with Kay Kay Menon
Manish’s filmography has revolved around narratives of suspense. Whether it is Rahasya, a 2015 thriller based on the 2008 Arushi Talwar case, Stoneman Murders, inspired by a serial killer of the 80s, or Section 375, which revolves around the misuse of law – all his scripts are inspired from real or near real-life instances.
The movies showcase different viewpoints without being preachy or judgemental. His writing leaves that for the audience to do.
“I choose subjects based on how intriguing or absurd they are, but something that could have happened in reality. While the twists can certainly gauge more viewers, the research side can be a bit tricky. If the research is inaccurate, it can send a wrong message or worse, distort facts. I spent nearly three years attended 157 court hearings and spoke to survivors of rape, families of the accused, and other stakeholders to write Section 375,” he says.
Though 420 IPC is not based on a true story, the court proceedings are as real as they can get, says Manish. The movie revolves around a chartered accountant arrested for bank fraud and forgery.
“It is a very intricate plot with several twists. This one does not have a social message and is an out and out entertainer,” says Manish who recently completed shooting for his upcoming venture ‘One Friday Night’ starring Raveena Tandon.
When Manish looks back at his journey he is grateful for all the bitter and sweet experiences, including the one where he says a director stole his script.
“I am not someone who is easily discouraged. If I see a problem, I punch it till it succumbs. My only advice to aspiring filmmakers is to enter this profession only if you are sure, as it consumes a lot of resources, energy and time.”
The pandemic facilitated drastic changes in many fields. One among them is the film industry. Booking a favourite seat in theatres to watch a big-budget film turned into watching movies at home in our cosy couches.
Out of the many popular films and shows released on both Over The Top (OTT) platforms and theatres in 2021, here’s a list of 10 movies that were bold and stood out from the rest:
Jai Bhim
Helmed by T J Gnanavel, this film pierces into the heart of viewers with its hard-hitting portrayal of caste-divided India. The true-life story of Justice K Chandru (Suriya) and his fight to protect Dalit lives is the crust of the story. The top-notch performances of Suriya, Lijomol, Manikandan and every other actor makes it stupendous. This Tamil film has been rated top on IMDb, beating classics like The Shawshank Redemption and The Godfather.
The Great Indian Kitchen
Don’t misread the poster and assume this film is a regular love story. Written and directed by Jeo Baby, this Malayalam film is a slap on the face of patriarchy. Nimisha Sajayan and Suraj Venjaramoodu as lead actors perform brilliantly as a couple where the former is enchained in the four walls of the kitchen by the latter and his family. The film ends blazingly with on-point dialogues and a song.
Sardar Udham
The film is more like a tribute to the unsung hero of the Indian Independence struggle – Sardar Udham Singh (portrayed by Vicky Kaushal). What makes this drama different from other patriotic films is the avoidance of blunt dialogues which are supposed to evoke emotions. Instead, it revolves around the grief of a man who is shaken by a massacre. Directed by Shoojit Sircar, this Hindi film is based on true events.
Garuda Gamana Vrishabha Vahana
A Kannada film helmed by Raj B Shetty conveys a story with a mythological context. Shiva (Raj B. Shetty), Hari (Rishab Shetty) and Brammayya (Gopal Krishna Deshpande) are the three major characters who have mythological references. The holy trinity is imagined as flawed human beings, which is the best part of the film and makes the plot realistic.
Shershaah
This biographical Hindi film directed by Vishnuvardhan is based on the life of Kargil war hero Vikram Batra. Vikram Batra (played by Sidharth Malhotra) and his comrade Bansi (Anil Charanjeett) take the viewers on an emotional rollercoaster. It shows a war scene, similar to other films in the same genre, but leaves a grave impact on its viewers.
Geeli Pucchi
Part of the Hindi anthology Ajeeb Daastaans on Netflix, Geeli Pucchi is helmed by Neeraj Ghaywan. It is the story of two equally talented and educated women from different backgrounds who eventually realise their feelings for each other. But the film doesn’t end like any other lesbian love story. The plot twist clubbed with the subtle but magnificent performance of Konkona Sensharma and Aditi Rao Hydari makes for one powerful short film.
Dhindora
Bhuvan Bam’s television series conveys the story of a common man and his fears about life. Shot in the lanes of Mumbai and Delhi, the show is full of impactful moments. Every emotion of an ordinary man is portrayed skillfully by Bhuvan and his co-actors. The extra-realistic and heartwarming season ends on a nail-biting cliffhanger.
Joji
Inspired by the Shakespearean play Macbeth, Joji directed by Dileesh Pothan is a well-made crime drama. This Malayalam movie is not full of surprises but is a bundle of amazing performances and a splendid storyline. Joji (Fahadh Faasil), Bincy (Unnimaya Prasad) and Jomon (Baburaj) are some of the many talents appearing on-screen. The minute actions and influential dialogues of the characters stay with viewers long after.
The Family Man (Season 2)
This Hindi spy thriller by Raj Nidimoru and Krishna D K is a top-rated television series with a star cast of Manoj Bajpayee, Samantha Ruth Prabhu, Priyamani, Neeraj Madhav, among others. The much-awaited Season 2 with 16 episodes is a chase of a ‘family man’ to stop a rebel plan — a big threat to national security.
Bombay Rose
This is a delightful hand-painted animation film by award-winning animator Gitanjali Rao. It contains three love stories, fantasy and politics. This 90-minute film talks about issues that discriminate against marginalised communities in Indian society. Set in the background of Mumbai, the film is a beautiful watch that invokes nostalgia in its audience.
Tabbar
A Hindi-Punjabi thriller television series, Tabbar, is the journey of a former police officer who defies all odds to save his family from the consequences of an unfortunate incident. Directed by Ajitpal Singh, the series mostly depicts the intensity of relationships between family members. Plot twists and performances of actors are the major points of attraction in this series.
Tribhanga
Written and directed by Renuka Shahane, this is a trilingual family drama film starring Kajol, Tanvi Azmi and Mithila Palkar as central characters. The story revolves around these three women, their struggles and aspirations. Three generations of women trying to be their best version of mothers and daughters but failing miserably is the crux of the story. The film tries to convey that there is no perfect way to be a mother.
Sherni
This is a Hindi action-adventure film directed by Amit V Masurkar with Vidya Balan playing the role of a forest officer. It tries to address the unanswered question of why animals attack humans and why tribal groups enter dangerous jungles despite knowing its risks. Forest politics and the effort of forest officers are deeply discussed in the film. And Vidya Balan’s terrific performance is icing on the cake.
As the Amitabh Bachchan-starrer Jhund hits theatres today, the story of Vijay Barse, around whom the biographical sports drama is centred, is emerging from obscurity. Directed by Nagraj Manjule, the movie tells the tale of how Barse transformed the lives of children living in slums through football.
Barse’s journey began in 2001 at Nagpur’s Hislop College, where he worked as a sports teacher. Here, he took note of some children kicking around a broken bucket as a makeshift football. He offered them a real ball, and encouraged them to continue playing.
The coach had recognised these children from when he saw them on campus grounds, usually smoking or hanging around. Watching them kick a bucket around was his revelation — football could help them move towards a brighter future.
At the time, Barse was already organising frequent rallies to protect sports grounds and promote fitness. So he decided to expand his work, and arrange a tournament for children coming from under-resourced families. To his surprise, around 128 teams participated in the event.
With this, Zopadpatti Football, or Slum Soccer, was born in 2002. This is a soccer academy that provides training and rehabilitation to children living in slum areas. When the initiative had just begun, sponsors were scarce, and the coach funded most of Slum Soccer’s expenses from his own pocket. Today, children from over 15 states are connected with the organisation.
After retirement, Barse spent Rs 18 lakh to set up Krida Vikas Sanstha Nagpur (KSVN), an NGO that would work as the parent organisation for Slum Soccer. The organisation conducts state and national level football tournaments and offers fair opportunities to these children.
In 2007, Barse and his team were invited to the Homeless World Cup in South Africa. Here, they had the chance to meet Nelson Mandela. “I received the biggest recognition for my work that day when he put a hand on me and said, ‘My son, you’re doing a great job’,” he said.
“I am a sports teacher, but I am not promoting the development of football,” he told The Indian Express. “I am promoting development through football.”
Barse was felicitated with the Real Hero Award by Sachin Tendulkar in 2012. This was for his selfless work in nurturing and moulding new talents in India’s football arena, especially those coming from low-income families. In 2017, he gained popularity when his story was told on Aamir Khan’s show Satyameva Jayate.
“I realised that these kids were away from bad habits as long as they were playing on the field. What else can a teacher give?” he said on the show.
Slum Soccer has many programmes for the development of children living in slum areas. For instance, their Deaf Kidz Goal project aims to train children with hearing disabilities to become coaches and teach children important life skills through football.
Barse has expressed immense admiration for the way he has been portrayed on the big screen. “It’s the biggest day of my life. I saw the movie. I must say director Nagraj Manjule has covered every moment of my life in these three hours. Nothing has been left. Amitabh, my favourite actor, has presented my every emotion just perfectly,” he told Times of India.
In a career spanning over four decades, 3,300 songs and more than 600 films, lyricist Anand Bakshi wrote the soundtrack to millions of Indian lives enamoured by popular Hindi cinema. (Image above of lyricist Anand Bakshi and legendary music directors Laxmikant-Pyarelal. Image courtesy Twitter/Bollywood History Pics)
Bakshi wrote songs capturing a myriad of themes ranging from romance like ‘Mere Sapnon Ki Rani Kab Aayegi Tu’ (Aradhana, 1969), ‘Humko Humise Chura Lo’ (Mohabbatein, 2000) or ‘Tujhe Dekha To Yeh Jaana Sanam’ (Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, 1995) to patriotism with ‘I Love My India’ (Pardes, 1997) and psychedelia like ‘Dum Maro Dum’ (Haré Rama Haré Krishna, 1971). Never one to forget his Punjabi folk roots and the ‘Pind’ his family had to leave behind following Partition, he also wrote songs like ‘Sawan Ka Mahina, Pawan Kare Shor’ (Milan, 1967), ‘Main Nikla Gaddi Leke’ (Gadar: Ek Prem Katha, 2001) and ‘Bindiya Chamkegi’ (Do Raaste, 1969).
He wrote for famous on-screen couples like Shah Rukh Khan-Kajol, Rajesh Khanna-Mumtaz and Hrithik Roshan-Kareena Kapoor and legendary composers including Naushad, SD Burman, RD Burman, Laxmikant–Pyarelal, Jatin-Lalit and AR Rahman, among others.
Playback singers from the likes of Asha Bhonsle, Lata Mangeshkar, Kishore Kumar and Mohammed Rafi to Udit Narayan have all breathed life into his words as well. Legendary Bollywood actor Dharmendra called Bakshi a ‘King’ for his immaculate body of work, while filmmakers like Mahesh Bhatt referred to him as “a steady flame, with a sound mind”.
From movies like Amar-Prem (1972), Bobby (1973), Sholay (1975), Amar Akbar Anthony (1977) to Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995), Bakshi’s lyrics left an indelible impression in the minds of multiple generations.
Here’s the remarkable story of this legendary, but forgotten figure in Hindi cinema.
Born on 21 July 1930 in Rawalpindi (now in Pakistan), Bakshi harboured ambitions of becoming a playback singer in the Hindi film industry. His family, however, had different expectations of him. His paternal grandfather, a superintendent of prisons in the erstwhile Punjab Province of British India, and father, a bank manager, actively discouraged Bakshi’s passion for music.
Inspired by the syncretic traditions of his hometown, where people heard music from the Mosque, Gurdwara and Hindu temples, and the folk songs sung by farmers, Bakshi found a way to escape his father and grandfather’s objections. Whenever they weren’t around, he would walk around his neighbourhood either reciting verses from folk poems or singing film songs.
By his teens, Bakshi had joined the Indian Navy, but soon after, Partition struck. Picking up whatever they could, the family took off in a Dakota aircraft for a new home in India. Post Independence, he even worked for the Indian Army. All these experiences would influence a large part of his songwriting, whether it was the nostalgia associated with his childhood, the pain of leaving his hometown during Partition or his patriotism having worked in the armed forces.
You can hear some of these influences on songs like ‘Aaya Hai Mujhe Phir Yaad Woh Zaalim’ (Devar, 1966), ‘Mere Desh Mein Pavan Chale Purvai’ (Jigri Dost, 1969), ‘Ghar Aaja Pardesi’ (Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge, 1995). And even in songs like ‘Yahan Main Ajnabi Hoon’ (Jab Jab Phool Khile, 1965) where he juxtaposes nostalgia for his childhood with the alienation he sometimes felt living in the bustling metropolis of Mumbai and its chaotic film industry.
One of Bakshi’s biggest influences growing up was his mother Sumitra Bali Bakshi, whom he tragically lost at the age of just six. In fact, one of the few things he was able to pick up from his home after escaping Rawalpindi during Partition was a photo of his mother. It’s a photo he kept with him throughout his life. Despite all the success that came later on, the event left a serious imprint on his mind and would go on to influence his songwriting too.
In a 1993 interview with journalist Mrityunjoy Kumar Jha, Bakshi recalled how music composer SD Burman explained a scene to him from Aradhana and asked him to write a song for it. About three days later, Bakshi came back with a song which excited SD Burman.
“How did you write such a wonderful song?” Burman asked Bakshi. To which he replied, “Dada, my mother passed away when I was a little child. When I wrote this song, I thought of her.” The song which emerged from this exchange was ‘Chanda Hai Tu Mera Suraj Hai Tu’ sung by the late Lata Mangeshkar. In the same film, however, Bakshi also wrote other classics like ‘Mere Sapno Ki Rani’, ‘Kora Kagaz Tha Yeh Man Mera’ and the timeless ‘Roop Tera Mastana’.
Making it in Bollywood
But before he could write all these songs, Bakshi had to get his foot into the door and that wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination. As he notes in a biography, ‘Nagme, Kisse, Baatein, Yaadein – The Life & Lyrics of Anand Bakshi’ written by his son Rakesh Anand Bakshi:
“I arrived here with lots of disadvantages. I knew no one to begin with and had no support [from] my family. However, in hindsight, I now realise that I had one very big advantage: I could sing and suggest Punjabi folk tunes with my lyrics; both came naturally to me. I had been singing and composing my own verses for friends since childhood; I did so for my peers in the army as well. I didn’t know then that it was to work to my advantage. Moreover, it was the singing I had been doing since childhood that made me want to write poetry in my teens.”
By the late 1950s, he had spent months calling studios to meet directors, composers and producers, but to no avail. He finally got a small break with the 1958 film Bhala Aadmi, when director and lead actor Master Bhagwan hired him to write songs. But his first major break in the film industry came the following year when noted composer Roshan [Lal Nagrath Mohan] chose him to write lyrics for his 1959 film CID Girl starring Balraj Sahni, Geeta Bali and Helen.
The story of how he got this gig exemplifies the intense work ethic and discipline that marked Bakshi’s career. One day, despite heavy rains that shut down Mumbai’s local train and bus services, Bakshi walked 19 km from his temporary residence in Borivali to Roshan’s home in Santa Cruz carrying a book of poems he had written and a broken umbrella.
Anand Bakshi seen here singing at a stage show with RD Burman. (Image courtesy Twitter/Film History Pics)
Process of Songwriting
There were two key facets to his process — a film’s storyline and simplicity. As Rakesh wrote in his biography, “Many directors told me that before beginning work on a song, Bakshi would ask them to narrate the entire story to him again and again. And once he had absorbed the film’s plot, even an earthquake could not have distracted him. Though the story was of prime importance to him, the lyricist understood and respected the role of the music composer. He knew that it was the trio of composer, singer and lyricist that brought a song together.”
Bakshi himself had said, “How do I write film songs? I always first hear the complete story, understand the plot and characters deeply, and then hear the individual situation of the song required. I think I am a very good listener. Good songs exist in good stories. It’s a matter of getting them out of the situation itself. I unlock my songs from the situations provided to me by the scriptwriter and director. Then I discuss all I have heard with the music director and director several times; only after that do we move on, together, to create the tune and lyrics.”
“The songs are in the story. I always picture how the song will play on the screen while writing. I can visualise it even if I don’t know how the director will shoot it. Filmmakers like Subhash Ghai lift my lyrics to extraordinary levels by picturizing them very well,” added Bakshi. There were even moments when he wrote songs “tuned to the metre of my heartbeats”.
The second facet of his songwriting process was ensuring that it was written in simple language which everyone could understand. Since his formal education only extended to Class 8, Bakshi would often admit that his vocabulary was ‘limited’. Nonetheless, his approach to songwriting was co-signed by other lyricists he respected dearly including Dinanath Madhok, Sahir Ludhianvi and Shailendra. They all advised him to maintain that simplicity.
Having said that, there were still those in the industry who looked down upon Bakshi’s work. They would say, “Anand Bakshi tukbandi karta hai. Woh toh shayar hi nahi (He is a rhymester, not a poet).” His response to these taunts was, “I have never claimed to be a poet. Moreover, khayal apna apna, pasand apni apni (Each to this own).”
As Rakesh wrote in his father’s biography, “Of course, the lyrics writer can fly, like a poet. But only within the sky of the story. This makes it a difficult discipline compared to poetry. Unlike a poet, the film lyrics writer has to gel with the others without losing his or her individuality.”
In the following sentence, Rakesh refers to a quote by Pt Narendra Sharma about film lyrics: “The film lyrics writer inspires and entertains the listener, encouraging him to believe he or she could perhaps be its writer, its singer, or its music composer.” Some would argue that songs like ‘Main Shaayar Toh Nahin’ (Bobby, 1973) and ‘Main Shaayar Badnaam’ (Namak Haram, 1973) were sly digs at those critics who demeaned his pen game.
Legacy
Besides all the countless instances of his lyrics inspiring millions of Indians, there is one that stands out in particular. According to multiple accounts, Bakshi one day received a letter from a fan who wrote to him about how his song lyrics saved him from dying by suicide.
The fan had allegedly laid down on the railway tracks passing through his village. But as he waited there for the train to come, he remembered the words of a song from the 1974 film Dost called ‘Gaadi Bula Rahi Hai Seeti Baja Rahi Hai’. Loosely translated a part of the song reads:
Don’t defame a train by keeping your head on the rail. Don’t lose faith and have patience, come, let’s go back home. This night is passing, the morning is arriving. The train beckons, blowing its whistle. Life is about moving on. Life keeps moving.
Realising his grave mistake, the fan got off the railway tracks and jumped out just as the train whistled past him. This letter, Bakshi believed, was his biggest award despite the 40-odd Filmfare awards he received for ‘Best Lyricist’.
He eventually passed away on 30 March 2002. Not a man to retire, he continued writing lyrics to film songs till a few days before he breathed his last. By any measure, it was an extraordinary career adapting to changing expectations, culture and sensibilities of the film industry into his 70s.
While his soul may have departed, his words will continue to stand the test of time.
As we approach the world-renowned Cannes Film Festival later this month between 17 and 28 May, which will take place in France, cinema aficionados across India will be looking forward to their favourite films and celebrities making an appearance. Over the years, Indian films have made their mark on this global platform.
(Above image is a poster of the film ‘Neecha Nagar’ directed by Chetan Anand)
Last year, it was independent filmmaker Payal Kapadia’s ‘A Night of Knowing Nothing’, which won the Oeil d’or (Golden Eye) award for best documentary. Going back further, the Irrfan Khan-starrer ‘The Lunchbox’ (2013) won the Critics Week Viewers Choice Award, also known as Grand Rail d’Or in 2013, while director Mira Nair won the Camera d’Or (best first feature film) and the Audience Prize at the Cannes for ‘Salaam Bombay’ in 1998.
Satyajit Ray’s classic 1955 film ‘Pather Panchali’ was awarded the ‘Prix du document humain’ prize at the 9th Cannes Film Festival (1956). Ray, however, found inspiration to make his first film from another classic titled ‘Neecha Nagar’ (1946) directed by Chetan Anand, which was the first Indian film to bag the top prize at Cannes then called the Grand Prix du Festival International du Film (now called Palme d’Or) in 1946.
After all, the Palme D’or was introduced only in 1955. Here’s the story of this remarkable film.
Director Chetan Anand (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Finding inspiration in social realism
In his autobiography, legendary stage and film actor Balraj Sahni recalls the first time Chetan Anand spoke about his plans to direct a film back in 1943 in Bombay (Mumbai).
“You know, I am not at all keen on acting. What I want to do is to make a realistic and purposeful film. I have decided to call it Neecha Nagar. I shall show in it the economic struggle waged by the different classes of our society and I am not going to make any compromise with the box office. In fact, right now, I am working on its scenario,” Anand told him.
Both Sahni and Anand were members of the nationwide Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA), a left-leaning cultural organisation which had a tremendous influence on early Indian cinema. With other alumni including actor Prithviraj Kapoor, filmmaker Bimal Roy, poet and lyricist Sahir Ludhianvi and film music composer Salil Chowdhury, the IPTA sought to promote themes related to the Indian freedom struggle while also attempting to bring about a cultural awakening among Indian masses through art stepped in social realism.
One of Neecha Nagar’s co-writers, Khwaja Ahmad Abbas, had once written a letter to MK Gandhi back in 1939 pleading with him to “give this little toy of ours, the cinema, which is not so useless as it looks, a little of your attention”. Inspiration for the film, however, came from the film’s other co-writer, Hayatullah Ansari, founder of the Urdu daily Qaumi Awaz, who wanted to adopt Russian dramatist Maxim Gorky’s 1902 play ‘The Lower Depths’.
Shooting for the film began in 1945 on a shoestring budget backed by producers Rashid Anwar and Chetan Anand, who was also a director. This was a year when the freedom movement was hitting a crescendo and nationalist sentiment was deeply felt among masses of fellow Indians.
For the people
The plot of the film is rather straightforward and an allegory for British colonial subjugation. Sarkar (played by actor Rafi Peer), an articulate industrialist who lives in a palatial estate, wants to construct a housing project on low-lying swampland. To achieve his goals, Sarkar plots to drain the swamp and divert its water through a sewage line that flows into the low-lying ‘Neecha Nagar’, where the poor live. Quite naturally, the village rises in protest. Sarkar breaks their unity through time tested methods like bribes and threats, amongst others.
Thanks to the toxic waste that now flows through their village, an epidemic breaks out. With no options left, the helpless villagers are compelled to visit a new hospital constructed by Sarkar. Balraj (Rafiq Anwar), a college-educated man leading the campaign against Sarkar, is having none of it and asks people to boycott the hospital even if it means losing their loved ones.
After Balraj’s sister Rupa (Kamini Kaushal) dies, the villagers find inspiration yet again to challenge Sarkar’s nefarious acts. Their struggle receives a flip when Sarkar’s conscientious daughter and Balraj’s friend, Maya (Uma Anand), agrees to join the struggle against her father.
Although there is no direct reference to the British, everything about the movie points towards an indictment of British rule from the ‘brown sahib villain’ with a name like ‘Sarkar’ (meaning government), a hero ‘Balraj’ who wears a Gandhi cap and advocates non-violence and a scene where many torch-carrying protests came together in formation to depict a rough map of India.
In addition to the actors mentioned above, the likes of Zohra Sehgal, who had a small part, and legendary sitarist Ravi Shankar, who composed the film’s score, made their cinematic debuts. Following Partition, Rafi Peer returned to Lahore and started his theatre workshop.
Despite critical appreciation, the film’s commercial fortunes suffered. As per some accounts, it was on the insistence of former prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru that the distributors released this film. Perhaps the audience wasn’t invested in the story or many were put off by the popular yet misleading notion that this was an ‘art film’ even though it was for the masses. Some accounts even suggest that the producer left for Pakistan after Partition and thus the film bore the brunt of the heated political climate.
In short, the film was a commercial failure. Chetan Anand, the film director, wouldn’t find work until his younger brother Dev Anand made his mark as an actor, following which they launched Navketan Films, a production company. Even then their first two films flopped before their first commercial hit came with ‘Taxi Driver’ in 1954. In the meantime, the reel for Neecha Nagar went missing while its negatives were burnt down in a fire. The reel was only found years later at a junk shop in Kolkata by Satyajit Ray’s cameraman Subrata Mitra, who bought it for just Rs 100 and saved it for posterity by depositing it at the National Film Archives of India.
Today, the movie is available on the streaming platform Mubi. Cinema aficionados can watch the film and appreciate the work it did in promoting Indian cinema on a global scale.
You know the saying, ‘a dog is a man’s best friend’ — it’s old, common, and true. If you’re a dog owner, you definitely agree. That bond between you and your furry friend is special and indescribable.
Caring for a dog is no easy feat, but it’s rewarding nonetheless. The relationship remains unique and real.
When it comes to celebrating the human-dog dynamic, movies across industries have captured different nuances — from Hachi (2009) to Chillar Party(2011).
And now, another addition to this list is the upcoming and highly anticipated ‘777 Charlie’. This pan-India venture from the Kannada film industry is directed by Kiran Raj, starring Rakshit Shetty and a labrador retriever named Charlie.
The movie, which will hit the screens on 10 June, is expected to deliver a light-hearted and breezy, yet emotional ride. “The film is about a loner and his relationship with a dog named Charlie. He does not even talk to his neighbours. Then Charlie comes into his life and the story is about how the pet changes his world,” Rakshit Shetty told The Hindu in an interview.
Produced by Rakshit Shetty and G S Gupta under the banner of Paramvah Studios, the movie is set to release in five languages — Kannada, Telugu, Tamil, Malayalam and Hindi — across the world. The trailer of the movie has already taken the internet by storm.
While 777 Charlie is based on a fictional story, there are thousands of real-life tales that show how intense the love between a dog and its human can be. We found five such real life stories that can be made into beautiful movies:
1. Gowtham Kumar and his dog Chandramouli, who went on a road trip together
Gautham Kumar with his pet dog, Chandramouli
Gowtham Kumar from Karnataka grabbed the country’s attention when he came up with a unique ‘dog ambulance’ for pet owners who struggle to find appropriate transport at the time of emergencies.
He later made news when he took his adopted pet dog — an indie named Chandramouli — for a road trip through Karnataka. The duo visited iconic tourist spots on Gowtham’s bike.
The idea of a road trip with Chandramouli came to him when he decided to combine his love for traveling and his love for dogs. He didn’t want to forgo his adventurous side and for his best friend to miss out on unique experiences. So he attached a dog carrier to his bike and gave it a few rounds of testing. He also fit a cushion in the carrier to make sure his canine companion was comfortable.
According to Gowtham, the trip, which lasted for around four days, was eventful. He says that Chandramouli loved traveling with him so much that she stayed awake in her crate almost throughout the journey.
2. Arya, who refused to leave the war-zone without her pet dog, Zaira
Arya Aldrin, a medical student in Ukraine, made news a few months ago when she refused to return to her home in Kerala without her pet dog Zaira, a Syberian husky.
Arya had started preparing to get the dog out of Ukraine even before the war was declared, and managed to get a pet passport, vaccination papers, and a microchip thinking that they could both fly out. But when the time came, the second year MBBS student had to face several hurdles to carry her pet dog along with her.
As the crisis escalated, she traveled by a bus to the neighbouring Romania and walked around 12 km with Zaira. She didn’t let her dog go even when the Romanian soldiers stopped her from taking Zaira along. Eventually, the soldiers allowed her to take her dog along.
“[At] six months-old, the pet dog is not used to long walks. She cooperated with me fully. At one point she was tired as blisters appeared on her pugs, so I dumped my bags to carry her,” Arya told the media.
When the duo reached the Romanian airport, she was asked to find a cage to put Zaira in while flying. Finally, after a few hours, a lot of running around and another missed flight, Arya and Zaira flew to India together.
3. Harvinder Singh, who takes around his puppy Ronnie in his auto-rickshaw
Harvinder Singh with his pet dog, Ronnie.
The story of Harvinder Singh, an auto-rickshaw driver in Pune, went viral for all right reasons. Pune-based author Manjiri Prabhu narrated the tale of how Harvinder rides his auto along with his adorable puppy, Ronnie.
When Manjiri and her sister hailed Harvinder’s auto, they noticed a small puppy curled up beside the driver’s seat. She asked him why he was carrying him around.
He told her that the puppy had been brought home by his son. However, since there was no one home to look after Ronnie, he decided to take him to work instead of abandoning him. Ronnie travels with Harvinder everywhere, and the latter even keeps food and water in his vehicle for him.
4. The couple who travel with their three furry friends on trains
Divya Dugar, a journalist from Delhi, and her partner Olivier Telle started documenting their Indian train journeys with their two adopted indie dogs — Tigress and Marcopolo — through Instagram in 2017.
Later, their family grew with the addition of one more indie dog Pari, and their son, Marius. Now they travel with their three furry friends and their toddler.
The couple started traveling via trains because Tigress had extreme car sickness. According to them, the Indian Railways is very pet-friendly, though it has several rules and regulations. Regardless, the family feels that traveling with dogs is rewarding, and they continue with their journeys.
They also help hundreds of pet parents who want to take their furry friends on trains by guiding them with all the tips and tricks required for the trip.
5. Divya, who feeds over 650 stray dogs everyday
Divya Gurwara
Divya Gurwara, a Delhi-NCR-based entrepreneur, went from not liking dogs to feeding over 650 stray dogs each day, through her initiative Kitchen for Paws.
Though she didn’t dislike strays, she never had any special liking for dogs until her son Dhruv brought home a 30-days-old beagle. Divya says her first reaction on seeing the little pup was not that of anger, but of sadness at the dog being separated from his mother.
There was an instant change in her attitude, and she eventually went from not caring to becoming a super caring pet parent, worried about every little move that the beagle made.
The beagle was named ‘Astro’, and he went on to stay with Gurwara’s for years.
It was this tiny dog’s influence that led Divya to start Kitchen for Paws — an initiative that feeds over 650 stray dogs every day.
Nearly a decade before Irrfan Khan made his mark on mainstream Hindi cinema with his visceral performance as Ranvijay Singh, a violent student leader in Tigmanshu Dhulia’s Haasil (2003), he starred in a gay romance film which never saw the light of day. It was banned by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC or popularly known as the Indian censor board) for its homosexual overtones. The censor board didn’t approve of homosexual romance in 1995. (Image above of Irrfan Khan in the film ‘Qarib Qarib Singlle’ courtesy Facebook/Irrfan Khan)
Ironically called ‘Adhura’ (meaning ‘incomplete’), the 1995 movie starring art dealer and gallerist Ashish Balram Nagpal, Irrfan Khan and Kity Gidwani, could have probably broken new ground in how queer identities were represented in mainstream Hindi cinema. Until Adhura was made, queer identities were stereotyped in the most jarring manner through flamboyant and effeminate caricatures often wearing ghastly makeup and characters depicted as criminals.
Adhura, on the other hand, a film directed by Sunil R Prasad was about a passionate homosexual relationship between an industrialist and a newspaper editor, according to a 1995 Indian Today report. Although both men are in love, Irrfan’s character (the editor) decides to remain in the closet and takes a wife, played by Kitu Gidwani. Reports indicate that in the film, this passionate relationship between the two men turns sour and results in a tragedy.
The film had the potential to be one step ahead of the typical caricatured portryal of homosexuals given the mainstream occupation of the characters. There were exceptions later in the decade like Tamanna (1997) directed by Mahesh Bhatt which features a story about Tikoo (Paresh Rawal), a trans person, abandoned by their mother. Despite box office failure, it won a National Award for Best Film on Other Social Issues (1998).
In a 2007 interview with journalist Upala KBR, Irrfan said candidly that he would have no reservations about playing queer roles. When discussing some of the ‘intimate scenes’ he shot with Ashish Nagpal on the set of Adhura, he expressed no discomfort.
“If Ashish had a crush on me, he expressed it in the most intimate way in the film! Adhura was made for TV audiences, but I don’t know why it never get[s] released,” he said. While reports pegged Adhura as a 90-minute movie, writer Andrew Grossman claims in his book ‘Queer Asian Cinema: Shadows in the Shade’ (2000) that it was made as a pilot for a television series.
The shelving of the film, however, didn’t deter Irrfan from playing queer characters down the line. In Mira Nair’s short film Migration, there is even a scene where Abhay (Irrfan Khan) confronts Imran (Arjun Mathur) after the former catches him with someone else. Imran responds by shouting at Abhay telling him to mind his own business and that this was his life. This was a more mature portrayal of a queer relationship dealing with the same issues of fidelity as a heteronormative one.
“I don’t think it’s detrimental to my career to play such roles. We are not laughing at gay people in the film. Mira’s film is about creating awareness about HIV/AIDS, so I don’t care about my image or what people will say,” said Irrfan.
But then again, films like Migration (2008), My Brother Nikhil (2005) and the likes often framed homosexual relationships within the larger discourse of HIV/AIDS. These films were probably made with the right intention of spreading greater awareness about this life threatening condition and showing greater empathy to members of the queer community struggling with it.
However, queer relationships are much more than a launching pad for wider discussions on HIV/AIDS. They deserve to be captured for all their complexities like how certain forms of mainstream cinema does for heternormative relationships. You had short films like Riyad Wadia’s Bomgay (1996) which featured a steamy sex scene between characters played by Rahul Bose and Kushal Punjabi in a library without making any apologies for it.
But the one film which made it to the theatres was Deepa Mehta’s Fire. It was probably the first serious portrayal of a queer relationship between two lesbians. Starring the incomparable Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das, the film was reportedly passed uncut in May 1998 with an ‘Adult’ rating.
When released in theatres, however, it created a massive controversy with conservative mobs burning posters, vandalising theatres and shouting slogans. Despite the public ire, it received a real vote of solidarity from the queer community and eventually the government of the day.
(Image above courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Another gem is the recently released Queer Parivar (2022), a short film that was screened at the KASHISH Mumbai Queer International Film Festival this year. Shiva Raichandani, who has directed the film and acted in the lead role, portrays queer grandparents and the narative of multi-generational LGBTQ+ idenitities beautifully in the midst of an ongoing Indian-style wedding.
However, it’s important to ask whether mainstream Hindi cinema/popular culture has done a better job of portraying queer relationships post the Delhi High Court’s judgement striking down Section 377 and the greater ‘mainstreaming’ of queer identities that followed.
With certain exceptions—like ‘Kapoor and Sons’ (Fawad Khan’s portrayal of the character Rahul), ‘Aligarh’, ‘Margarita with a Straw’ and OTT shows like ‘Sacred Games’ (Kubbra Sait’s portrayal of the character Kukkoo) and ‘Made in Heaven’—the answer is largely no.
Would Adhura have received the approval of the Indian censor board today? We don’t know the answer to that question, but given the circumstances with the striking down of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code by the Supreme Court and a more mainstream acceptance of LGBTQ+ identities, maybe it would have passed the censor board’s muster.
As we celebrate Pride Month, it’s important for mainstream Hindi cinema/popular culture to do a mature job of mainstreaming queer relationships. Maybe, if the makers of ‘Adhura’ decided to bring it back from the dead, we could usher in an era of wholesome LGBTQ+ films on the silver screen.
Along with some new releases that the OTT world has just witnessed, there are also some great old shows you could catch up on. Here’s a selection of ten such Indian shows and movies for you to select from and watch over the weekend. So, dive right in.
1. Forensic, Zee5
For all the thriller fans in the house who cannot keep their noses out of mystery, here’s something that you would enjoy. Forensic follows the trail of a detective and, as you guessed it, a forensic investigator. They are on the hunt for the face behind murders across the town.
What reviews say:
“The dramatic twists and turns of the story, which are required for these genres, as well as the fact that it is unpredictable from the beginning, make it the most intriguing aspect,” writes Archika Khurana for The Times of India.
2. Doon Kand, Voot
Two sides of the same coin are what the SSP of the police force’s personality is. One side is his noble professional one, while after duty it is the other side that emerges — one that sets on the trail to seek revenge for his brother’s death. Will the truth come to light? Will the smell of revenge deride his noble persona? Watch on.
Doon Kand
3. Nenjuku Needhi, SonyLiv
The cop drama addresses a crucial aspect of Indian society — casteism. Set in the village of Pollachi, the film tells the story of one man’s quest to end atrocities against the oppressed classes. Officer Vijayaraghavan is on a mission for justice and equality.
What reviews say:
“The writing is so effective as most of the dialogues deserve applause. Just when we think that things are going overboard, the makers justify it with interesting incidents and the setting in which the characters live,” writes Logesh Balachandran for The Times of India.
4. Sarkaru Vaari Paata, Amazon Prime
With mixed reviews to its credit, Sarkaru Vaari Paata is being applauded for its storytelling and plot. Though some reviews say the writing could be smarter or the gaps in the story lesser. The plot revolves around a boy’s parents who committed suicide due to their debts, only to have the boy grow up to be a money lender. The action drama unfolds when he is duped.
What reviews say:
“The thought is hammered through a narrative that is entertaining at first, even though familiar and formulaic, but eventually gets preachy and overdrawn,” writes Sangeetha Devi Dundoo for The Hindu.
5. Kuttavum Shikshayum, Netflix
The Malayalam thriller weaves the story of how a bunch of daring cops from Kerala are out to nab the suspects of a robbery that happened in the state. The action film also portrays what goes into being part of the police force, hours of hard work and skill for clues.
What reviews say:
“Without any sound and fury, the film manages to be a scary, edge-of-the-seat thriller. For those interested in police practices, this is unconventional yet exciting cinema,” writes Anna MM Vetticad for FirstPost.
6. Avrodh Season 2, SonyLiv
India’s Line of Control (LOC) is a much talked about topic with so many significant events happening here. Those who wish to delve deep into how the border force strategically plans their moves, and how risky it is to be at this first line of defence will be amazed at this new season that portrays this.
What reviews say:
“The eight-episode series celebrates the intelligence and courage of the Indian Army as it takes the viewer through numerous operations while building up to the final triumph,” writes Samriddhi Srivastava for India Today.
7. Pelli SandaD, Zee5
An old-school romance with a sportsperson falling in love with a girl he cannot marry as her father is not in favour of it. If you are a fan of cliche romances you’re probably bound to like this one. However, if you are looking for something more, you won’t find it here, say critics.
TBI recommends
8. Chandramukhi, Amazon Prime
The Marathi romantic film that had its big-screen release on 29 April 2022, is now available on Amazon Prime. The drama tells the story of a politician who is all set to ace his political trajectory when a picture emerges and threatens to put everything at stake.
What reviews say:
“The film is Amruta Khanvilkar’s first ‘in and as’ performance and she has pumped sweat and blood into this role,” writes Mihir Bhanage for The Times of India.
9. November Story, Disney + Hotstar
The detective flick traces the story of a person who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Will he be able to prove himself innocent? Watch as his daughter takes this case into her hands.
10. Article 15, Netflix
The film was celebrated post its release in 2019 for being one of the few which focused on the issues that are faced by the Dalit community in India. It continues to amass a fan following to date.
Actor R Madhavan’s directorial debut Rocketry: The Nambi Effect is all set for release on 1 July 2022.
Madhavan plays the title character, based on the life of an aerospace engineer at the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO), Nambi Narayanan, who was falsely accused in an espionage case. His career and personal life were in upheaval because of it.
Head of ISRO’s Cryogenics Division, in 1994 he was charged with leaking confidential information about India’s space developments to two individuals from the Maldives, who then allegedly sold the drawings of ISRO’s rocket engines to Pakistan.
Walking down the court steps after 11 days in custody, he wrote in his memoir, “I was in a shock, and then a trance. At one instance it appeared to me that I was watching a movie — with me as the central character.”
Following his arrest and interrogation, he claims to have been forced to make false accusations against ISRO’s top officials. He also claimed that he was interrogated through inhumane methods and tortured when he refused to accept their demands and confess. He spent 50 days in jail.
The film has accurately depicted these facts. “Only facts are narrated in the film. Certain portions had to be toned down for viewers, particularly the police torture. It was much more than what is shown in the film,” Narayanan tells The Hindu.
When he finally returned home, he recounts his wife’s reaction. “She turned around slowly, raised her head and stayed still, staring into my eyes. She had a strange expression as if she was watching me doing something horrible. Then she let out a shriek that I had never heard — from a human or an animal,” he told BBC.
In 1996, the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) submitted a report clearing him of all charges, since they hadn’t found any evidence of an exchange of information or money. ISRO’s internal investigation concluded that no sketches of the cryogenic engines were missing.
Two years later the Supreme Court dismissed the case. It also compensated him by asking the Kerala government to pay him Rs 1 lakh. It also gave him Rs 50 lakh as compensation for being subjected to mental cruelty.
In September 1999, the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) passed strictures against the state government for damaging Narayanan’s career and causing him and his family physical and mental torture, asking the government to pay Rs 10 lakhs to him as compensation.
Soon after he returned to ISRO with an admin job.
In January 2019, Narayanan was awarded the Padma Bhushan.
Narayanan had sued the Kerala government and in March 2021, he agreed to withdraw his case from the Kerala High Court, upon the government’s agreement to pay him Rs 1.3 crore.
“It was born out of one conspiracy. But the conspirators were different with different motives, and the victims were the same set of people,” Narayanan told BBC. “Whatever it is, my career, honour, dignity and happiness were lost. And the people who were responsible for this are still scot-free.”
Tamil drama film Soorarai Pottru has recently won the Best Feature Film award at the 68th National Film Awards. Actor Suriya also co-won the Best Actor award for the film, while actress Aparna Balamurali won Best Actress. The film also won the Best Screenplay and Best Music Direction (Background Music) awards.
The film is based on the story of Captain GR Gopinath, retired Army officer and founder of the Air Deccan airline. It is based on his 2011 autobiography Simply Fly: A Deccan Odyssey, which details his journey from riding a bullock cart as a young boy to owning an airline.
1. Gorur Ramaswamy Iyengar Gopinath was born in 1951, in a small village called Gorur, in Karnataka and is the second of eight children. His father homeschooled him for a few years and in class 5 he was enrolled in a Kannada-medium school.
2. In 1962, he joined Bijapur’s Sainik School, where young boys are given training so they can join the armed forces.
3. Following this, he cleared the National Defence Academy exams, graduated from the Indian Military Academy, and spent eight years in the Indian Army. He also fought in the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War.
4. He took early retirement from the army at age 28, and dabbled in several entrepreneurial ventures, including dairy and poultry farming, owning a hotel, stock brokering, and more.
5. He then started Deccan Aviation, a chartered helicopter service, catering to VIPs.
6. Tasting success in the aviation sector, he now wanted to cater to the lower and upper middle classes. In 2003, he launched Air Deccan, with an investment of Rs 5 crore collected from personal savings, friends, and family.
7. Though the company did well, Gopinath faced stiff competition and in 2007, was forced to sell to Vijay Mallya-owned Kingfisher Airlines.
8. He then launched his third aviation venture, Deccan 360, an air-cargo service, but because of inadequate revenue, had to shut it down in 2013.
9. Although he failed, he also contested for Lok Sabha elections in 2014.
10. In 2017 he wrote another book, You Cannot Miss This Flight: Essays on Emerging India, and serves as a columnist for several media houses. Last month, he also launched another book, Our India: Reflections on a Nation Betwixt and Between.
Gujarati film titled ‘Chhello Show’ has secured India’s official entry into the prestigious Oscars. A tweet by news agency PTI read, “Gujarati film Chhello Show is India’s official entry for Oscars 2023: Film Federation of India.”
Gujarati film "Chhello Show" is India's official entry for Oscars 2023: Film Federation of India
Following this, reactions started pouring in from the film world, all of them carrying the same message — the film deserves the honour.
Directed by Pan Nalin, Chhello Show has made headlines not only for being chosen as the official entry but also for its unique storyline that manages to strike a chord in every heart.
Nalin said in a tweet that he can “now breathe again and believe in cinema that entertains, inspires and enlightens”.
How often has the world of cinema seemed more than the glitz and glamour? Samay, a nine-year-old boy, is intrigued by the magic that lies behind filmmaking, the shadows and light that need to blend in perfectly to produce a film. And he decides to pursue this passion.
What makes the storytelling unique is that it bears an association with director Pan Nalin’s memories of how he was fascinated by cinema.
The Oscar entry is not the first recognition:
Chhello Show, Picture credits: Official Movie Poster
The film has also won hearts at previous film festivals. These include the Golden Spike at the 66th Valladolid Film Festival in Spain in 2021. It was also nominated for the Tiantan Awards at the 11th Beijing International Film Festival 2021.
A spectacular cast:
The film stars Bhavin Rabari, Vikas Bata, Richa Meena, Bhavesh Shrimali, Dipen Raval, and Rahul Koli, and is directed by Pan Nalin who has also been the brains behind films like Samsara (2001), Ayurveda: Art of Being (2002), Valley of Flowers (2006) and Angry Indian Goddesses (2015).
Chosen amongst some of the best films:
President of the Film Federation of India (FFI), TP Aggarwal said that choosing the film as India’s official entry into the Oscars was a unanimous decision.
He said to PTI, “The 17-member jury unanimously chose ‘Chhello Show’. There [was] a total of 13 films in different languages including six in Hindi– Brahmastra, The Kashmir Files, Anek, Jhund, Badhaai Do and Rocketry– and one each in Tamil (Iravin Nizhal), Telugu (RRR), Bengali (Aparajito) and Gujarati (Chhello Show) as well as few others.”
A pinch of nostalgia has made it win hearts:
Bhavin Rabari, who plays Samay, has debuted as an actor in this film and anyone who watches it will be transported back into their childhood days when the world of cinema seemed like a dream. The film also has something for those who remember their childhood days watching films that had long reels. The movie is set against a landscape of transition from this to digital.
Currently, the film has been chosen as India’s submission to the Best International Feature Film category at the 95th Academy Awards. Following this, the film now needs to bag a nomination to be shortlisted for the honourable award.
The 95th Oscars will be held on 12 March 2023 at Los Angeles’ Dolly Theatre.
SS Rajamouli’s much-acclaimed RRR track ‘Naatu Naatu’ has been topping the charts and has now found its way to the 95th Academy Awards 2023 shortlist for the Music category.
Here, it will be competing with 14 other songs from the same category. While it remains to be seen if the period action blockbuster’s hit song will indeed find favour in the judges’ eyes, it has already made history by becoming the first Indian song to be shortlisted for the Oscars.
Few are aware of the names behind this superhit song — lyricist Chandrabose and choreographer Prem Rakshith.
While the former has composed the lyrics of over 3,000 songs and has several awards to his credit, the latter has gotten several Telugu celebrities dancing to his tunes in the range of movies he has choreographed, including Baahubali in 2015.
‘Naatu Naatu’ was shortlisted in the Music category for Original Song, Picture credits: Twitter: RRR
The film chronicles the life of two warriors — Alluri Sitaramaraju and Komaram Bheem who oppose the British Raj and stand for the pride of the Gond tribal communities. During one instance in the film, when they are ridiculed for not being able to dance, the two give a fitting response through the song Naatu Naatu.
What unfolds next on screen is a beautiful combination of words, melody and moves strung together by choreographer Prem Rakshith, composer M M Keeravaani, singers Rahul Sipligunj and Kaala Bhairava, and of course the actors.
The culture of the country is reflected in the lyrics with every line evoking sentiments about the food and the flora and fauna of the nation.
Speaking to Cine Josh, Prem Rakshit revealed he worked for 30 days on 97 dance movements for the song and that the team used ultra zoom in order to get the sync right between the actors. While previously the plan was to shoot the song in the backdrop of 100 dancers, they later decided against it as the actors were phenomenal performers.
In the early 2000s, recalls Charuvi Agrawal, a woman in a film studio was a rare sight. A woman in an animation studio was even rarer.
Whenever the animator would meet clients, she would receive odd responses. Some would remark, “Oh, you’re a woman”, while others would think she was “too young”. Some would ask, “Can a woman do this?”
“The fact that a younger woman could make animations as good as a 50-year-old man hurt their ego. I knew I was in a male-dominated profession, but that never held me back,” Charuvi tells The Better India.
Today she is a well-known name in the animation and filmmaking industry. A painter, sculptor and animator, Charuvi’s work has received recognition from across the world.
At the age of 23, she was felicitated at the Incredible India @60 festival in New York as one of “the emerging 10 who would transform the global artistic landscape”. She has also served as a mentor for Epic’s first batch of the Women Creators Program in India,and jury for the Taiwan International film festival in 2022.
The 40-year-old’s most exquisite work was a moving exhibition — 26,000 bells of light, which included a 25 feet interactive bell installation, numerous mythology-inspired figurines, paintings, and an augmented reality installation. She is also a two-time recipient of the Limca Book of Records for her caricatures and sculptures.
She is a two-time recipient of the Limca Book of Records for her caricatures and sculptures. Picture credit: Charuvi Design Labs
‘My father became my inspiration’
Born in 1983 in Delhi, Charuvi grew up moving from one city to another because of her father’s job.
“I had a very interesting childhood, I got to travel and stay in so many places like Chandigarh, Kashmir, and Guwahati. I experienced a vast variety of cultures and traditions that the country has to offer,” she shares.
Charuvi’s father, though from a non-artistic background, always pushed her towards art.
“I remember my father telling me to try out different art forms and creativity. I would carve and work with clay, and he would join me during the weekends. I also saw my parents painting together, the gesture was beautiful. Art binds them,” she says.
“Even in school, I was pushed by my parents to participate in competitions related to art and craft. I was pretty sure art was going to be the way forward for me from a very young age.”
Charuvi made a series of caricature drawings that won her a position in the Limca Book of Records while she was still in school. This made her resolution of becoming an artist even stronger.
But while her father always pushed her towards art, he did not consider it to be a viable career option.
“My parents were skeptical when I decided to go to Delhi University and do graduation in Fine Arts,” she says.
Charuvi opted for fine arts in her graduation. Picture credit: Charuvi Design Labs
“I went to college and by the end of the course, I became a valedictorian. It was all the consolation my parents needed to believe that I might make a career out of it.”
Though Charuvi loved her college days, she knew fine arts came with its set of pros and cons. “I wanted a steady source of income and financial stability. The reason I chose animation was partly because of my love for art and painting, and partly because I wanted a commercial avenue.”
The struggle to find her place
With a heart full of hopes and a head full of dreams, she pursued a master’s in Computer Animation from the Sheridan Institute of Technology and Advanced Learning, Canada.
“Filmmaking is another risky career in terms of success. If you make it big, you make it big, but if you fail, there is no hope. My parents became my cheerleaders, they said, ‘Okay, now that you have chosen this, keep going’,” she says.
While she was scared of failure, another problem would soon follow.
“My career was laden with biases because I was a woman. In 2007, I decided to move to Mumbai. I would go to famous design studios, and the moment people saw me coming in, they would be taken aback,” she recalls.
In 2009, she founded her design studio called Charuvi Design Labs. Picture credit: Charuvi Design Labs
“Firstly, they would not be able to register the fact that a young person wants to be an animator. Then, they would try to schedule meetings post office hours and odd timings,” she shares.
Finding herself in a heavily male-dominated industry, Charuvi could not understand where to place herself.
“They were all men. At almost every position in the studios and animation companies, there would just be men. Their body language would change seeing a young woman in the meeting,” she says.
“Imagine a 24-year-old manoeuvring her way to get work dealing with 50-year-old men who did not believe in her. It was a struggle, and disheartening at times. The bitterness was always present and I could feel it,” she says, adding that it took her a while to understand that this bitterness would never go away.
“I decided to accept it, and in many ways, ignore it. I decided to start my own company, which goes by the name of Charuvi Design Labs (CDL), in 2009 so that I can change the way the industry works, especially for women,” she says.
The Gurugram-based company focuses on making high-quality animation content and artwork.
For her latest project, she has worked on two thirty-minute-long animated films on the life journey of Gautam Buddha. Picture credit: Charuvi Design Labs
She has worked on several projects including an animated series Shri Hanuman Chalisa, which features Lord Hanuman’s extraordinary journey of self-discovery. The film was made in seven different languages.
For her latest project, she has worked on two thirty minutes of animated films on Gautam Buddha’s life journey.
“As a studio, we want to make films that are an immersive experience. Back in 2013, with our film Hanuman Chalisa, we created a full exhibition. It has a sculpture of Hanuman, an augmented reality application and even merchandise. Whatever content we come out with, we want to cater to various audiences. We also wanted to look into live-action filming too,” she says.
“Additionally and most importantly, with my company, I want to nurture talent irrespective of gender. There are a lot of biases that I have faced, and I can only try to make it better. We also want to engage young talent in the industry,” she adds.
Charuvi believes that the industry has evolved compared to the time she started, but there is still a long way to go.
“Today, we can see female animators in a studio. It is not as rare a sight as it used to be. Women have been doing well in every field. The men in the industry are now getting used to the fact that women can do this too. Art was always my motivator, I knew I wanted to do this no matter what. Even when things were not ideal, what kept me going was my art and the urge to establish myself,” she reflects.
