Beena Rai, The Eternal Anarkali

"Ae Baad-e-Saba Aahista Chal, Yahaan Soyi Hui Hai Anaarakali.
Aankhon Me Jalawe Saleem Ke Liye, Khoyi Hui Hai Anaarakali.
Hai Shaheed-E-Ishq Ka Maqbara, Zara Chal Adab Se Yahaan Hawa.
Tujhe Yaad Ho Ke Na Yaad Ho, Mujhe Yaad Hai Us Ka Maajhara."


(Oh zephyr, move slow, Anarkali is asleep here.
In the fantasies of Salim, Anarkali is lost here.
This is the tomb of the martyr of love,
Please move around respectfully here oh breeze.
You may perhaps not remember, but I do remember her woeful tale.)


When I listen to these words, I instantly remember my dad's first stereo player -- a National Panasonic model -- with huge round steel-framed speakers, which he bought in Jodhpur and carried with him long after his retirement from the Air Force. I also remember the cassette cover of Anarkali -- Salim looking over a sleeping Anarkali even as Akbar loomed large over them. The cassette doubled with the songs of Nagin.


They were a part of my childhood, my growing up. However, it was a long long time before I could give the poignant character Anarkali a face. Till then, I had to depend on some of the most enchanting songs ever of Hindi cinema. Like:


"Yeh Zindagi Usiki Hai, Joh Kisi Ka Ho Gaya, Pyar Hi Mein Kho Gaya"


or


"Mujhse Mat Pooch Mere Ishq Mein Kya Rakha Hai"


or


"Wafaaon Ka Majboor Daaman Bichaakar,
Dua Kar Gham-e-Dil, Khuda Se Dua Kar
Tu Aakar Gham-e-Dil, Khuda Se Dua Kar"


Of course, Lataji had to be the voice behind. Otherwise it would have been incomplete.


Then one day -- long after the triumphant march of TV -- I caught a glimpse of Anarkali. In the soft light of ancient cinematography, with a deliberate, naughty slant of the lips and lifting of an eyebrow, Beena Rai, with a single curl of hair dangling tantalisingly on her side forehead, completed my picture of the legendary Mughal courtesan who dared to challenge the might of Akbar only for her love.


I never followed up on her. Beena Rai never caught my imagination as a Sadhana or Waheeda Rehman did. Yet, she kept coming back to me, through Anarkali and through my grandmother's ruminations about her youthful days with my grandpa (The rascals used to watch three movies a day -- morning, matinee and night show -- at cinemas during holidays!!!).


But there was something Rai that I couldn't let go of her association with Anarkali. Even after the irresistable Madhubala took on the mantle (and how!) through K Asif's Mughal-e-Azam and Naushad-Lata's "Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya".


I couldn't forget the way she sang:


"Dhadak Raha Hai Dil To Kya, Dil Ki Dhadkane Gin.
Phir Kahaan Yeh Fursaten, Phir Kahaan Yeh Raat Din."


even as a mesmerised Pradeep Kumar held a bunch of grapes to her lips.


Even in black and white and degenerating film quality -- and of course also considering my young age -- I couldn't help but fall in love with Anarkali a.k.a. Beena Rai.


Today when I read about her passing away, I see an era of (at least perceived) beauty, creativity, passion and innocence passing by. When I see my grandma reminiscing about her dream honeymoon that lasted close to 40 years, I rue the fact that I was not born 60 years ago, when I could have perhaps enjoyed the little joys of life – like watching Beena Rai on the silver screen -- much more fully.


RIP Beena Rai.

Dev D -- by Anuraag Kashyap

I had been resisting watching this movie simply because I didnt want to do anything with the character Devdas, especially after watching bits and pieces of Bhansali's version. Even when everybody told me this was an antithesis to Bhansali.

On Saturday I decided to get over my revulsion.

I enjoyed Dev D, and how?!

I loved the way the otherwise loveable drunkard was shown his true place -- particularly by the women.

"Main Tumhe Tumhari Aukaad Dikha Rahi Hoon," says Paro, played by the hot hot hot Mahi Gill. And it sums up the movie.

As the storyline is well known to any Indian who cares a wee bit about movies, Kashyap plays truant and turns the perspective upside down. He shows what a loser the Devdas character is actually.Psychedelic colours, contemporary subplots -- like the MMS scandal of DPS R K Puram--Delhi, the BMW hit & run -- are all weaved into a narrative that eviscerates the hideous nature of Devdas.

Absolutely no sympathy for the scum.By the end of it, one was left wondering if Kashyap was showing his middle finger to the character Devdas or to those movie directors who have eulogized him for decades till now.

Abhay Deol sinks deep into Devdas’s skin and comes out trumps. The guy is a class act.

All Quiet On The Western Front

It is a coincidence that I got to watch this movie at a time when the Vande Mataram controversy has raised its ugly head again, for the umpteenth time. When energy and time is being wasted on the mere singing of a patriotic song – which of course does not guarantee that the singer is patriotic or that the one not willing to sing is unpatriotic.

If we are to believe the words of those who want the beautiful song sung compulsorily and those who refuse to sing – both dogmatic and irrational – then the very basis of one’s identity is based on this one sung, whether it is sung or not.

Drunk high on the poison of nationalism, we are ready to believe any bit of trash as long as it is garnished with now vacuous but still high-sounding words like “country” and “motherland”.

History repeats itself. In another country. Among another set of people. Often ruthlessly…

The Franco-German border. It’s All Quiet on the Western Front. And then the air is split by the shock waves of bombs, splintering shrapnels, gunfire and, most horribly, the desperate shrieks of the dying.

Raids and counter-raids on each others’ trenches is the stuff their routine lives have been all about for over a year now. It didn’t take long to drain them of the puffed-up patriotism that their teachers, fathers, neighbours injected into them as teenagers.

“Germany is a nation of high culture, science, arts…” their affable schoolmaster Kantorek once told them, goading them to do their duty for the Bharat Mata… err sorry, for the fatherland. And what is that duty? Fight a war. Fight the First World War. Fight to conquer and decimate other people. People who are inferior. The “other”.

It’s not difficult to blame Germany, all right. Although these very words would have easily adorned the speech of the haughty British, the proud French, the arrogant American… and of course the patriotic Indian.

For eons, waging a war has been the easiest way to demonstrate one’s virility. Barbarians we still are, at heart. And in the meaningless nationalism of this age, we have found the perfect alibi to turn fighter cocks at the drop of a hat.

So we had a Germany, proud of its racial purity and of course superiority. We had a Britain ever carrying its “Britishness“ on its sleeve. We still have a vain France. And then we also the have the upstarts– China and India—the neighbours whose claim to high civilization is destroyed by the mass murders, ethnic cleansing and racial jingoism that mark both their internal and external affairs.

Lewis Milestone gives vent to an entire generation’s agony, brought about by a war that only the political masters waged. He portrays the desperations of the soldiers—like today, fed on an overdose of nationalistic steroids that quickly wears out--at the front.

So what if they were Germans! The emotions, I am sure, are the same among all soldiers across the world.

It’s not difficult to see the common sense message of the movie: “Nationalism is the witchcraft used to bewitch a population and lead them to war. Nationalism is malignant. Nationalism sucks!”

Of course we are not willing to learn.

Because now, our time, India’s time, has come.

Mera Bharat Mahaan!

Khuda Ke Liye

Curiosity about the Pakistani civil society is never quenched for us Indians. And apart from the internet and an ocassional writeup in the newspapers, rarely do we get a glimpse of the social currents there. Given this scenario, Khuda Ke Liye comes across as a breath of fresh air.

If one takes away the slightly dragging narrative, hints of self-pity and the victim-complex, the movie does a decent job of dealing with religious fundamentalism.

Of course, most of what is shown is what we see in our own country too -- brainwashing, fundamentalism, violence, innocents getting caught in the whirlwind etc etc -- though may not be on that scale.

What is the most important aspect of the movie is that it shows there is a liberal stream flowing in that country too -- and that needs to be harnessed.

Naseeruddin Shah, in his cameo, does an expectedly decent job. However, what is surprising is the role he was chosen for -- a liberal Mullah who shreds into pieces that many popular, anachronistic and regressive notions about Islam that are used by his fundamentalist counterparts to wage "Jehad" across the world.

The story revolves around two musician brothers. While one fals prey to the mullah's manipulations, abandons the "haram", forcefuly marries his own elder cousin and then rapes her, the other pursues his interest further, marries an American -- and yet is branded as a terrorist by the simplistic reasoning of the US authorities in the aftermath of 9/11.

The entire fare is a tracking down of the trajectories the lives of these siblings take.

Good movie overall.

High And Low -- Akira Kurosawa

There are two parallel movies in High and Low.

Don't be mistaken. Its not an earlier version--in format--of Naalu Pennungal.

High and Low, like wikipedia rightly says, plays out in virtually two acts.

But the last scene of the movies proves that actually it is not two separate acts. It is just a contrast.

A top business executive -- of course, it has to be Kurosawa's favourite Toshiro Mifune -- has a detailed plan in place to take control of his company, National Shoes, and topple other direcors who are plotting to dethrone the owner. After even mortgaging his hill-top villa, Gondo has staked every penny of his for that one masterstroke.

Then, disaster strikes.

Gondo gets a call, which claims to have kidnapped his son. The ransom: 30 million bucks (yens, I presume).

Of course Gondo is willing to pay up to save his only son.

But by a quirk of fate and through mistaken identity, the family realises that the child kidnapped is not Gondo's son, but his son's friend--the son of his chauffer. A man of integrity, what course does Gondo take?

After a lot of contemplation, Gondo decides to rescue the child at the cost of utter ruin.

The second act, which actually has already started playing itself out with the police's involvement, starts in earnest now.

The working out of the case by the police is a treat to watch. The meticulous planning, detailed procedures--and status reports--media moves, which otherwise would come across as plain drudgery, are so smoothely and excitingly portrayed that I wished our Suresh Gopi brand of filmmakers picked up a page or two from this.

Just when we start thinking that the movie has completely lost the original track, we reach teh climax scene.

This last 5 minutes, I felt was the capsule form of Dostoyvesky's Crime and Punishment.

The kidnapper, now apprehended and behind bars, seeks to meet Gondo.

He expresses his angst, explaining why he hated Gondo for his wealth and status -- as symbolised by his house on the hill top -- as compared to his own penury in the slums downhill.

While trying to maintain his composure and moral posture, the kidnapper simply uses word to justify himself, while a visibly serene Gondo hears him out.

After all that grandstanding and brouhaha, the kidnapper ends the scene--and the movie--with a violent fit that he throws, out of sheer frustration, guilt and angst.

A fantastic movie...

Yojimbo -- Akira Kurosawa

I was on a movie and book shopping spree last week. And thankfully I got to lay my hands on four Kurosawa classics (all starring his favourite Toshiro Mifune).

I started with Yojimbo, a comic-thriller in the western genre, with the lone wandering warrior-shootout-money theme.It is said that Clint Eastwood's "For a Fistfull of Dollars" (I haven't watched it) is modelled on Yojimbo.

The story is centred around an eccentric but skillful wandering Samurai -- Sanjuro -- who reaches a small town. Covered by a shroud of melancholia thanks to two warring factions, headed by two brothers, who have torn apart peace and prosperity, the citizenry is distraught and suspicious of any and every human being around.

Sanjuro -- a name he gives himself on a whim, as his real name is never revealed in the entire movie -- takes it upon himself to play each faction against the other and in the process make some money...

The entire movie is centred around Sanjuro's endeavours to rid the town of the menace posed by the two brothers...

A thoroughly entertaining affair, Yojimbo is said to have set many trends in world cinema, including Hollywood.Watch it when you get a chance...

I V Sasi

He believed is mass movements and mass movies.

Often one felt that the sole purpose of Sasi making movies was to provide employment to industry actors. Particularly in the 80s, if it was an I V Sasi movie, then the who’s who of Malayalam cinema was bound to have a bit role in it.

Sub plots & sub plots & sub plots & sub plots & sub plots & sub plots, a raunchy club dance, some semi-porn scenes, more than a couple of fights (often among the masses), a childish “smuggling” sequence, marked his movies, especially those made with T Damodaran.

Yet, suddenly out of the blue he came out with some absolutely brilliant stuff. Uyarangalil, Aalkoottathil Thaniye, Devasuram, Ina, Itha Ivide Vare, Avalude Raavukal and Mrigaya can be remembered in this context.

Characterisation, scripting, acting, dialogues – you name it and Sasi excelled in these fields once in a while.