Kitnay aadmi thay ? The complete film

In all my life there is only film I have seen at least fifteen times and wouldn't mind seeing it another fifteen times. Considering that Sholay was released forty five years ago and has become one of Indian film's biggest  money makers ever, that is not surprising at all. Over this period, I have seen this film in Mumbai, I have seen it in Pune, I have seen it in Delhi , I have seen it in Ludhiana, I have seen it on the television, I have seen it on YouTube, I have seen it alone, I have seen it with friends, I have seen it with my wife and again with my wife and daughters.

I was posted to Ludhiana in 1980, just after my marriage. This industrial town in the Punjab was slowly evolving then from being a small town to a large city. One of the traits of a small town it retained was the way films were advertised locally. There would be a man sitting in a tanga, a horse carriage, with a microphone. A couple of men carrying dhols or large drums would walk alongside, beating their drums. When the man in the tanga felt that enough people had been attracted, he would start his sales pitch. It would start with the name of the movie, then move to the names of the stars in it and the next part would be more or less standardised. The standardised part would invariably emphasise action, romance, comedy, tragedy and songs as the main ingredients for all movies with appropriate sound bytes as samples of each to wow the audience.

Let us look at each of these ingredients as they appear in Sholay to try to understand what made it the super blockbuster it was .

* Action: the iconic goods train scene with which the film starts was a good example. It may have been inspired by Westerns but it was very well adapted to the Indian milieu. There is a surfeit of action throughout and in some sequences you suspend belief when you see two small time rowdies tame by themselves a gang of almost a hundred desperadoes led by a psychopath. That's par for the course in Hindi films after all. The confrontation between Sanjeev Kumar and Amjad Khan in the climax is just rivetting in its ferocity

*Romance:  peppered throughout the film are two developing romances -  an open one of Dharmendra with the tangewali Hema Malini and a very underplayed, almost forbidden one of Amitabh Bachchan with Jaya Bhaduri, the widowed daughter-in-law of the Thakur. The former may be in-your-face but the latter, especially the understated acting of both these actors is what stays in the viewers' mind

* Comedy is often used as a tension reducer in stories and there is both comedy and tension in good measure in the film. Be it Jagdeep as the Bhopali wood seller or Asrani as a dim-witted jailer or even Keshto as the jailer's stool pigeon, each leaves his mark. A couple of the main stars too are uproariously funny in their comic sequences. Dharmendra's drunken profession of love from atop a water tank and Amitabh's attempts at singing his friend's praises to Hema Malini's aunt to make her agree to her niece getting married are almost iconic.

*Tragedy: the tragedy at the core of the movie is of course the wiping out of the Thakur (Sanjeev Kumar)'s entire family by the dacoit Gabbar Singh, Jaya Bhaduri's husband is one of the victims and her transformation from a happy-go-lucky village girl to a very young widow having to take care of a handicapped father-in-law is chilling

* Songs are not really important in such an intense story of loss and revenge and this is certainly not one of R D Burman's best scores. The friendship song between Jai and Veeru became quite popular as did the song Mehbooba in a sequence where the arch-villain Gabbar Singh is being entertained. Such was the magic of Sholay that even the two artistes who figure only in this song - Helen and Jalal Agha - are remembered even today .

So what was the magic of Sholay? While each of these ingredients was great , what was the X factor which made this film tick?

Was it the story? A dispassionate look will actually tell you that Bollywood has worked the revenge trope to death. In fact , if you look at an earlier successful film called 'Mera Gaon Mera Desh', many similarities come to the fore - an arm-less central character, a vigilante or two helping a village fight dacoits and even almost identical names for the main villain - Jabbar Singh vs, Gabbar Singh in Sholay. Thus, Sholay's story was actually not pretty original.

Was it the dialogues? The dialogues were quite crisp and punchy. Every time I saw the film in a theatre, I would hear virtually every one join in to say the punch dialogues together. Some of them like 'Arre o Saamba', 'Kitnay aadmi thay?' 'Bahut yaarana hai kya?', 'Tera kya hoga re, Kaliya?' and 'Aao maharathi' have almost become part of folklore. Again, would just hard-hitting speeches be enough to sway audiences? I wonder.

Was it the acting then? Bachchan senior and Dharmendra as the two vigilantes, Sanjeev Kumar as first the brave police officer and then as the handicapped Thakur seeking revenge and Jaya Bhaduri as first the ebullient teenager whom life deals lemons and changes her drastically - were all brilliant. Hema Malini as the village belle did a very decent job as did many of the actors in smaller roles - to name a few, Hangal, Satyen Kappu, Iftekhar, Viju Khote, McMohan, Sachin, Each one of them left his mark. Among so many stalwarts, however, a debutant held his own. He was Amjad Khan who acted as the psychopathic Gabbar Singh. His was easily one of the best debuts ever in Hindi films. None of his roles in later films was so impactful. 

I think the answer to all these questions is like the cooking of a great dish. For that, everything has to be just  so - the right quality of the best ingredients prepared exactly in the right proportions and cooked for the appropriate length of time to the perfect temperature. Sholay had all the components - an engaging story, the right personnel for each role, proper dollops of emotion, action, comedy and tragedy and the entire amalgam turning out just so !

That is why for me, it is the complete film !

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Taala mai kholunga, Peter

(I thank my friend, Sriram Krishnamoorthy, for giving me the germ of the idea for this blog post, in a conversation we had.)

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Deewar, the Hindi word for wall brings to my mind two public performers who have given me lots of happiness. One is Rahul Dravid, the noted Indian cricket player who was known as The Wall. Understated to the core as he was, it took fans and critics the end of his illustrious career to understand the depth of his impact on Indian cricket. This blog is not about him though but the other public performer, a film star.

Amitabh Bachhan, the other person who has given me much joy too can be called a Colossus of India's film world. Among his many memorable screen personae was his role as Vijay Verma, the intense brooding gang boss of the 1975 film Deewar. This was the phase he was reinventing himself as an 'angry young man' and carving a big niche for himself. Deewar was released forty five years ago, in 1975 and to me, in this genre of films, has many clones but hardly any equals. Apart from the skill in Yash Chopra's craft as the director and Bachhan's towering performance, the real heroes of the film were its tight screenplay and powerful dialogues - both written by the duo of Salim-Javed. After the success of Deewar, Salim - Javed were virtually the first writers who could command a fat price for their services.

Deewar is the story of how Vijay Verma gets transformed from an innocent child into one of the most notorious gang bosses of Mumbai. Bachhan's smouldering presence almost sets the screen on fire, especially when he renders the fiery dialogue conceived by Salim - Javed. A few pieces of punchy dialogue at crucial junctures of the film not only stay in memory but also act as milestone markers in the main protagonist's hurtle towards a pinnacle before falling as drastically to his doom.
Let me take you along these markers.

1. Mera baap chor hai (my father is a thief)
The film starts with showing the idyllic life of Anand Verma, a trade union leader, his wife and two small boys. Sure enough the peace is shattered. The crooked seth, a Hindi film trope kidnaps Verma's family before a crucial union negotiation and Verma is forced to concede all the gains he has made earlier. Unable to face the wrath of his constituents who feel let down, he just slinks away from home in the dead of night. It is now the turn of his wife and the two boys to bear the brunt of Verma's forced comedown. The climax to this happens when a bunch of drunk workers seize the older boy, Vijay and get 'Mera Baap Chor hai' tattooed on to his forearm. This sears the young child's mind and is the first step to make him a non-conformist and a fighter. This event also forces the family to move to the relative anonymity of bustling Mumbai and eke out their living there.

2. Ye lamba race ka ghoda hai (this is a horse for the long race)
Vijay Verma who is the child with the tattoo on his forearm helps his mother, a construction worker to run the household by shining shoes. Since his younger brother is good at studies, Vijay sacrifices his education to meet the bills. Two goons who go to the races, always get their shoes polished at a stand where Vijay plies his trade. One day one of them throws the coin in payment at the little boy. He asks his customer to respect him and give the money in his hand, saying he doesn't pick up money thrown at him. While the goon demurs and is about to beat the boy, his boss tells him to give the money in the child's hand and tells the assistant in an aside that this boy has staying power - he will go far. You can expect that there will be a link to this 'significant' dialogue when Vijay Verma grows up .. and there sure is!

3. Taala me kholunga, Peter (I'll open the lock, Peter):
By now, Vijay has grown up and has become a dockyard worker. On pay day, a group of goons corner all workers and force them to pay a substantial part of their wages as 'hafta' or protection money. One new boy who protests and refuses is brutally killed to silence any recalcitrant labourers. Something snaps in Vijay's mind and he decides to take the goons on, despite the entreaties of the workers' overseer. Knowing that the goons are looking for him, Vijay waits for them in a warehouse and when they rush to lock the door to stop him from going out, he in turn locks it before them, takes the key, puts it in the pocket of Peter, the head of this small group of rowdies and tells him that the door will be opened only by him after taking the key from Peter, meaning after he beats the goons up. In true filmi style, an unarmed Vijay single-handedly beats up seven or eight tough, armed goons, takes the key out of Peter's pocket and comes out to the applause of the suppressed workers. This gets him the attention of a master goon, Dawar, who surprise surprise is the person who predicted earlier that Vijay is one for the long race. Peter's boss is Samant, who is Dawar's biggest rival in crime. Dawar now takes Vijay into his gang and sure enough, the first payment is thrown across a table. As expected, Vijay reminds him of his visits to the races and asks Dawar to give the money respectfully.

4.Mere paas ma hai ( I have our mother with me)
Vijay joins Dawar's gang and has many skirmishes with Samant. He invariably wins, because of his street smartness and some luck. He becomes very rich and moves the family to a much bigger house. In the meantime, the younger brother, Ravi, completes his studies and joins the Police. The first case file handed to him is that of apprehending a big gang of smugglers. When he goes through the file, he is shocked to see Vijay's photo staring at him. He and his mother move out to their old house and this shakes Vijay. Both the brothers meet near a deserted bridge in one of the memorable scenes from the film. During the confrontation, Vijay tells Ravi that he has all the comforts money can buy which the police uniform cannot even attain in its dreams. Ravi retorts that he has their mother with him, an iconic punch line of the film. He then entreats Vijay to surrender to the police. The title refers to the Deewar or wall between the brothers.

5. I am falling in love with a stranger
These are the opening words of a song played softly in the background in a high-end bar when Cupid strikes Vijay. (Ravi is already attached to his class mate, the Police Commissioner's daughter). Vijay meets Anita at the bar, they decide to get married and he seriously contemplates turning himself in to the law. While looking for Vijay, Samant and his men barge into his house when he is not there and kill the hapless Anita. In rage, Vijay chases Samant to his lair and literally throws him out of the window. This intensifies the gang war and the police also enter the fray

6. A long conversation with God at a temple
One day, Vijay finds himself being chased by the police. While trying to escape, his talisman falls out of his pocket and his brother's bullet grazes him. He manages to get to his car and during the chase, gets seriously injured when the car hits a wall. By coincidence, it is the wall of the temple where he would take his mother daily but not go inside. He realises he is dying and has a conversation with the deity talking about all the injustice done to him and trying to justify what he did. His mother reaches the temple during this diatribe and he just about manages to fall in her lap and die.

Hopefully these milestone dialogues help you to remember the film if you have already seen and if you haven't seen it, give you a framework to follow the movie.

In postscript, that year, Deewar swept the Filmfare awards,  winning in six categories of the nine for it which it received nominations. The irony here was Bachhan as Vijay Verma did not win - he was pipped at the post by an equally consummate actor, Sanjeev Kumar for the latter's role in Aandhi. To add to the irony. Shashi Kapoor got the award for Best Supporting Actor at the Filmfares.

Forty five years later, when I look back at Deewar, I see many of the cliches and standard tropes of Hindi films, especially of those from that era. What made the film memorable was Yash Chopra's craft, the taut story and screenplay and punchy dialogue with the pair of Salim - Javed being responsible for all the three. Amitabh Bachhan's delivery of the dialogue and his portrayal of the angst of the little hurt boy transforming into rage at society is what remains in the mind of the viewer, especially this one.

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What were you doing when India won the cricket World Cup?

For Indian cricket aficionados of my vintage, the cricket World Cup victory refers only to 1983. India has won two more World Cups subsequently - the first T 20 World Cup in 2007 and the ODI World Cup in 2011. Foe me, neither has created the same impact as the 1983 victory did. The 1983 win is also more vivid for what I was doing that day.

At the time I started following cricket, Test cricket was the only form of international cricket - leave alone T 20s, even ODIs started only a decade or so later. Indian players would probably play a maximum of two series a year, one at home and one abroad and often lose both. Newspaper coverage was extensive even of Ranji Trophy matches. I distinctly remember, as a small child, spreading the newspaper on the dining table and poring over the sports page while sitting on my haunches on the chair. Radio coverage was also available for all international matches.

In the midst of all this, a major innovation took place - One Day Internationals. The first World Cup of ODIs happened in 1975. India's performance in both 1975 and 1979 was nothing much to write about and the 1983 World Cup happened in this backdrop. Even Indian fans did not give their team much of a chance at the start of the tournament though the team was decidedly much better than before. In the league stage, captain Kapil Dev's epic 175* against Zimbabwe was virtually the difference between yet another early exit and a tilt at glory. Came the final on Saturday 25th June. Looking at the stalwarts in the West Indian team - the openers Haynes & Greenidge, the great Viv Richards, the captain Clive Lloyd, the awesome quartet of fast bowlers Roberts, Holding, Marshall and Garner - Indian fans and the Press had virtually resigned themselves to being runners-up.

The company I was working in then - Kinetic Engineering, Pune - very conveniently sent me to Mumbai on the day of the Final, a Saturday to meet some of our important vendors and chase them for components required for a model of a moped under development.

I left home before 6 am and reached Mumbai at around 10, being dropped by the company vehicle in the central locality of Dadar, I wended my way to a manufacturer of shock absorbers at the faraway suburb of Bhandup after meeting a couple of vendors en route. I just about managed to meet my contact, the avuncular Mr Jayaraman before he left for home to watch the match on TV, collected some samples which were ready and prepared to go across the length of Mumbai to book these by road to our works. I was accompanied by Irfan, his colleague  who kept cursing me good-naturedly because I was preventing him from seeing the match. By the time we finished our work and went back by train, he to his house and I to my next port of call, both in the same direction, we found that the Indian innings had ended and at only 183 runs, which only got me more friendly abuse from Irfan!

My next meeting was at an industrial estate in the western suburb of Andheri with a company manufacturing locks. I reached the factory and found the shutters down. Talked to the person in the next office who was also closing shop and got a pitying look from him for working when the World Cup final was on! Fortunately, he not only was a friend of the lock manufacturer, Anant, he also knew where he lived. Trudged again to the nearest railway station, traveled by the suburban train back to Dadar where Anant lived. Located his house, he fortunately had the samples I needed ready and he invited me to watch the match on his TV set. I did do so for a short time to see Greenidge losing his stump to Sandhu! West Indies 5 for 1, which gave a small sliver of hope.

I then booked my return ticket to Pune by the Government ST bus from the Dadar bus stand and went to a nearby restaurant for a quick bite. While I was having my dinner, found that West Indies had reached 50 for no further loss which only made me feel more tired (I had been on my feet virtually from 6 am and it was now about 9 pm). Suddenly, in quick succession , we heard bursts of crackers four times - West Indies had suffered a meltdown and had slumped to 66 for 5 with both Richards and Lloyd back in the hutch. Indian hopes slowly rising.

I boarded the bus and was very happy to see a Sardar co-passenger glued to his transistor. Glory be! We could keep track of the score on the way. The ST bus even stopped in the city to enable him put fresh batteries in his set. Soon Faoud Bachus got out, the last of the recognised batsmen, WI 76 for 6 and Indian fans dreaming big. But Dujon, the wicket keeper and Marshall the fast bowler dug in and kept scoring slowly but steadily. The total moved from 80 to 90, 90 to 100 , to 110, 115 and now Indian fans were certainly skittish! Mohinder Amarnath worked his magic and bowled Dujon and soon had Marshall too. WI 124 for 8. India almost had their hands on the cup, especially when Kapil Dev got Andy Roberts soon, trapped in front of the wickets WI 126 for 9. Just one wicket for India to cause a stupendous upset. We did not bother about the 57 runs which their last wicket needed!

All this while, we did not take any notice of where the bus had reached. Each time a  West Indian wicket fell, the Sikh would break into a bhangra - on the moving bus, mind you - and most of the other passengers would join in. We noticed the bus stopping and were a bit surprised to see that we had reached the half way stop of Lonavala. Surprisingly and considerately, the time keeper at the bus stand relayed the radio commentary over the PA system. Indian nerves started getting frazzled again as the last pair of Garner and Holding held fort. They didn't score much but weren't getting out either. A screech over the PA system rent the air finally - Amarnath had trapped Holding lbw and West Indies had collapsed to 140 all out, leaving India World Cup champions for the first time.

My enduring memory of that final ball is of a 65 year old man leap into the air and let out a blood-curdling scream. The sweet shop at the Lonavala bus stand never had it so good. An avalanche of customers from the buses waiting there descended on the shop and in a jiffy, bought all their wares. Total strangers were offering sweets to each other while dancing and shouting - all this at 11.30 in the night. Even I did so! The rest of the journey was almost an an anti-climax and quite frankly, I don't remember much of it now.

I did see on television every ball of India's subsequent World Cup victories and was thrilled to see Mahendra Singh Dhoni lift the cup both at Johannesburg in 2007 and Mumbai in 2011. But for me, the drama in these victories was just not there - despite the fact that the opponent in 2007 was Pakistan and that it was a much closer match.

Maybe the earliest victory has stayed in my mind because of the physically tiring work I put in that day- about three hundred kilometers is the round trip distance between Pune and Mumbai and comfortably another hundred at least  I would have covered that day within Mumbai by train, taxi and auto-rickshaw. Being on one's feet for eighteen hours at a stretch and travelling about four hundred kilometers while doing work is not for the faint-hearted, but I was only thirty then and India did win, didn't it !

Hope you enjoyed this account ! If nothing else, for me it refreshed thirty seven year old memories !

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Guide - the film and its story through its music

In a lifetime, even if one is not an inveterate moviegoer, one ends watching perhaps hundreds of films. Of these films, I don't even remember the names of some today, others I may have enjoyed then but may find boring now, yet of others I would recall many scenes but these would not have really changed my life much. At the very top of my list are just about a handful of movies which have seeped into my consciousness and stayed there. In this elite lot is the 1965 Hindi film Guide, based on R K Narayan's eponymous novel. After the film was completed, R K Narayan dissociated himself from this project as he had major differences with the way a couple of seminal relationships were depicted, but that is not germane to this blog post.

I have also had a love affair with music of different genres for almost six decades with Hindi film music occupying the stellar position. Maybe my choice of film music is stuck in a time warp of the sixties and seventies - maybe, but I am of late trying to make myself au courant with film music of later years also. In my pantheon of music director stars, there are many notable composers - Shanker-Jaikishen, R D Burman, O P Nayyar, Laxmikant Pyarelal, Roshan, Madan Mohan, Naushad , to just name a few - but the numero uno composer for me has always been Sachin Dev Burman, the scion of the royal family of Tripura. Again, I could reel off, at any time, the names of at least fifteen films with S D Burman's mellifluous music but here again for me Guide is my first choice. I have read elsewhere that he himself considered this film to be his best and was sorely disappointed at it not getting any major awards. I think the very fact that we talk about its music and hum its songs even fifty five years after it made its debut is the best award  Sachinda could have got.

The best part of the music and songs of Guide, for me was that none of the songs was an add-on or a diversion from the main plot. Each song was integral to the story, blended perfectly with what happened before and after and helped to move the narrative along. This is due to the craft of both the film maker and the music director and the tremendous synergy between the two of them.

Let me now try to tell you the story of Guide through its songs. This sequence is not necessarily that in which the songs appeared in the film

*The film opens with 'Wahan Kaun hai tera'. As the credits roll, we see Raju the guide being released from jail and being undecided on his next step. Sachin Dev Burman's mocking tone and the almost haunting deep notes of the flute rub in Raju's dilemma clearly.

* Rosie, the dancer and progeny of a courtesan has had to sacrifice her love for dancing for respectability. When she gets an opportunity to dance, the flood of emotions breaks through the dam of her restraint and she breaks forth with lyricist Shailendra's apparent contradiction 'Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai, aaj phir marne ka irada hai'. The words are poignant and ironic at the same time as this is a short while after she has attempted suicide, in the film.

*Rosie and Raju spend a lot of time with each other and the almost inevitable happens. Raju falls in love with her and expresses his feelings with, what is to me, the most romantic love song filmed ever! The song .. Rafi's 'Tere Mere sapne ab ek rang hain' of course.

*Rosie takes time to reciprocate and she does do so later. singing along with Raju the ebullient, bouncy  'Gata rahe mera dil' . To convey this joie de vivre , the composer has used Kishore Kumar with Lata Mangeshkar here. Rosie and Raju now defy society, burn some bridges and set forth together as a joint venture.

*Rosie's career as a dancer is launched with the screen name of Nalini and the lovely Lata Mangeshkar number 'Piya tose naina laage re' shows her transition from a virtual nonentity to a star dancer, The device of showing different festivals in the song transports the story further.

* The beautifully soft, maudlin Rafi number 'Din dhal jaaye' shows Raju slowly taking to both drinking and gambling and also the widening of the crack in the relationship between Raju and Rosie.

*The next dance number 'Mose chhal kiye jaa' which is followed immediately by another Rafi hit 'Kya se kya ho gaya' jointly present the story of a crime and a betrayal, as at the end of the second song, a handcuffed Raju is seen being taken away. Raju forged Rosie's signature (and got caught) not only because he wanted Rosie's jewels but because he didn't want Marco, her estranged husband to meet her and take her away from him. He is not able to explain this to her, either, because by then their relationship has soured quite a bit.

* The other two songs in the films - 'Allah Megh De' and 'He Ram Hamare Ramchandra' are sung by the residents of the drought-hit village to which Raju stumbles when running away from the world on his release from jail. He reluctantly becomes a Swami and is dared into fasting for rains to save  the village. The film ends with the rains falling and the villagers celebrating. The camera then pans to a supine Raju, who has passed away.

This is my bit of the intertwining of the story line and the songs to explain the plot. I would love to hear from you what you think of this bit of story weaving from my end!

^^^^^^

Of dhotis and lungis

One point of amusement or irritation to a South Indian, depending on his mood, is when his friend from across the Vindhyas calls his dhoti a lungi. What is worse, the latter often doesn't even realise why the former is getting miffed with this description.

Maybe this will help .. or maybe not ! A dhoti is a dhoti is a dhoti .. right? Well ... no.


I first started wearing LUNGIS at home when I was about 16 or so - bright colours, vivid designs. Remember particularly one with red swirls on a yellow background !


On formal occasions - marriages in the family, temple visits - I still wear a white two-layered MUNDU (Malayalam)  or a VESHTI (Tamil), often having a thin zari border. This is wrapped around the waist and sometimes accompanied with a small cloth called an angavastram draped across one shoulder.

For very formal or religious occasions - the wedding of my daughters or my parents' shraaddham - I wear it PANCHAKACHAM style - similar to the way a dhoti is worn on formal occasions in the rest of India.

From lungis, I moved on to KAILEES - usually checks of one colour on a different background, often white.

Now at home I wear what in Kerala is called a KAAVI MUNDU - similar to a white one in that it is wrapped around the waist but usually single layer and in a variety of colours. Kaavi is the word for saffron - these started as different shades of saffron, but are now available in many colours. I have even a light blue one !

Next time somebody calls my mundu a lungi, I'll compliment him on the dupatta he wears with his churidar - kameez !