KAHIHI

Just a few days before the Oscars, I watched “The Artist”, a movie that was much talked about. I was rather a little skeptical to watch it. However, a conversation with Bollywood enthusiast and a columnist urged me to finally book a ticket at a “not-so-good, not-so-bad” theatre in Pune. I wish I could have got to watch “The Artist” in Regal, Eros, Sterling, theatres where I have enjoyed most English classics.

I had had enough of Apes, Spider-men, Lord of Rings, all sorts of aliens attacking our planet, and many other specially-abled creatures with high visual-sound effects.

“The Artist” was a welcome change for my movie watching experience. Black-and-White and Silent, a courageous thing to do in the times of 3D-VFX etc. A wonderfully crafted movie at the able hands of writer-director Michel Hazanavicius, and effortlessly portrayed on screen by Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo. The movie is an exciting ride with classical imagery and impressive-inventive filmmaking techniques. It is packed with apt adroitness, euphonious background music, impressive acting with right coalescence of exactitude and melodramatic hyperbole.

In its most entireties, “The Artist” is a work of perfection that B/W hue can be experimented with. I watched the movie once again yesterday. This time, I was transported to the golden era of our black & white movies, when our industry was still known as Indian Cinema and not Bollywood. While I am in no power to draw parallels between “The Artist” and our times of B/W cinema, watching “The Artist” for the second time echoed “Pyaasa” and “Kagaz Ke Phool” all the while; the themes differ though, While Michel's creation has a comical-happy ending base, Guru Dutt movies were dark with tragic ending, but both the creations are equally iconic.

When I talk to some people I know about Guru Dutt movies, ridges of cynicism get etched on their forehead. They consider Dutt’s movies to be slow, melodramatic, and archaic much similar to the reputation that silent movies have. I have seen only few silent movies (including our very own "Raja Harishchandra") and found them to be lissome and amusing contrary to the belief about silent movies. Silent movies focused more on acting skills as evidently referenced in Sunset Boulevard, “We didn’t need dialogues, We have faces”. Filmmaking essentially is a means of communication, expressive means of narration using gestures and body language, when talkies was yet to be defined or rather technique to capture sound was to be devised. Cinema-men’s predicament could have been similar; they had ideas but no means (technically) to convey it. And then facial expressions, body movements, use of eyes was the resort to portray emotions on screen, which appealed to everyone universally, a language could still have been a barrier but emotions are same across the world – an upper curve of lips meant smile and downward meant a frown. Chaplin used this means effectively and to the optimum level, which makes him undisputed king of silent movies.

Guru Dutt has such a widespread that he could have effortlessly made silent movies had he been in those times and he could have masterminded an equally picturesque “The Artist” in today’s times.

This 84th Academy Award winning film shot in black-and-white, is a pleasing experimentation of lights and shadows, of which our own Guru Dutt has been a master. Guru Dutt, a perfectionist with extraordinary vision. Like “The Artist” where language is no barrier to understand, Dutt’s movies too appealed universally and are a subject of research studies till date. I have watched “Pyaasa” over 50 times and each time I have found something new in it. For e.g. when I watched “Pyaasa” recently, I noticed when Dutt stands at the doorway with a halo-like effect behind him, and his hands stretched holding the door frame, it almost resembles like Jesus on the cross; wherein to my understanding, it was like Vijay (the poet in “Pyaasa”) had been crucified by the immoral & selfish attitude of the society, and possibly enlightening the people that what you seek is not the ultimate thing at all through his ‘yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye toh kya hai’.

Like in “The Artist”, the reel hero (Valentin) and the real hero (director Michel Hazanavicius), concentrate on the form of art than the glamour, Guru Dutt too focused on the artistry and not on the success that is made of few awards or bunch of flowers, may be just like the “Kagaz Ke Phool”. Michel could have easily used the latest technology and effects to make a movie. But perhaps he wasn’t just making a movie, he was trying to make a difference. Much like what Guru Dutt tried to do at that time, when in the post-independence era Satyajit Raj was epitomizing poverty, Raj Kapoor was giving life to street characters of Mumbai, Bimal Roy was marching ahead with social issues, Mehboob Khan was glorifying romance-melodrama. And there was this Guru Dutt trying to differ by portraying a different point-of-view, nihilistic story telling. Dutt focused mostly on the hypocrisy of the society, the pseudo-morals they followed, and the exploitation of the underprivileged.

The poise of “The Artist” lies in the fact that though watching a silent, black-and-white movie, you are in no way conditioned to think that it is an old-fashioned ancient movie. Dutt’s movies had a similar virtuosity that effortlessly bestrode the demarcation between socio-contextual cinema and a form of prevalent movie without burdening the audience.

Dutt was gifted with great musical sense and he was a trained dancer too, which made his movies musically pleasing and aesthetic. He understood the depth of acting which made him a successful director who could make his actors emote naturally. Guru Dutt, a master of camera tactics, along with V. K. Murthy (the best cinematographer Indian Cinema has ever had), captured the best frames, they knew well when to take a long shot and when to capture the glitter in the eye (see Waheeda Rehman in Jaane Kya Tuney Kahi in “Pyaasa”).

“The Artist” a great collaborative effort by Michel Hazanavicius (writer-director), Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo (main leads), Ludovic Bource (music), Guillaume Schiffman (cinematographer), went on to sweep the Academy Awards. Well, a kind of magic that Guru Dutt, V K Murthy, Waheeda Rehman, Abrar Alvi, S D Burman, Sahir Ludhiyanvi created 50 years ago and they could have surely done that today as well with striking screenplay, particularized cinematography, and mellifluous dialogues.

His movies went to become cult classics, with “Pyaasa” and “Kagaz Ke Phool” enjoying the status of finest films ever made with a mention in the prestigious Time. Unfortunately, Guru Dutt could not live so long to see his days of glory, and witness the resonating impact his movies have on hearts & minds of many across the world, they have cult following in Germany, and France, from where comes “The Artist”.

- Redam

Today, it was that time of the year when millions of Mumbaikars gather in long processions to welcome their beloved elephant God – Ganesha. People enjoy the dhol-tasha-lezhim rhythms, the carefree dancing, the colours of gulal, and are lost in the spiritual extravaganza seeking blessings from their Lord. The elderly watch the processions with their folded hands, and the little ones smile-giggle-clap looking at the huge idols. The mood overall all is ecstatic and emotional. I have been watching such scenes year after year, and I still enjoy it, especially the dhol music. I got nostalgic, remembering the times when I used to dance in such processions, caring a damn about anyone is thinking about my dancing patterns. Till date, my legs shudder when I hear the dhol and tasha beats.

From my balcony, I was closely observing the men, women, children dance, all alike. It is so much fun to dance like that, everything natural and uncontrolled.

I was reminded of Shammi Kapoor, whom we recently lost. An iconic, stylish dancer.

The dance steps of the people in the processions closely resembled that of Shammi Kapoor. I was soon absorbed into thinking about all his dance oriented songs, his dance lets out an unprompted merriment. I doubt if his songs were ever choreographed, every step and movement he did appeared very natural. Much of the Ganpati dance that I have seen others do, and even which I did during my younger days, draw straight references from Shammi Kapoor’s dance steps, directly or indirectly.

Do you remember any of Shammi Kapoor’s dancing acts? From where did he get an inspiration for such impromptu steps? "It was an expression of joy after having won over my lady love,” he admits profoundly. Shammi Kapoor was among the India’s first singing and dancing star (Dev Anand had just swayed in his songs, his performance in song were commendable, albeit). Shammi Kapoor’s dance format is still acclaimed with the “Indian Beatles” status. He had indeed developed a style of his own and there was a period when audiences rushed to movie halls just to observe his gestures and lively performances. Look at his style of strumming the guitar and taking bending footsteps, he was compared to Elvis Presley, and soon became an Indian version of Presley.

Shammi Kapoor confesses in an interview on BBC (Hindi) that though he had tried dance classes he could never learn it and failed miserably. Possibly, he practiced his own discoveries of dance. May be, he had good sense of music and rhythm. He also admits modestly that when Helen would dance, he would just contribute with facial expressions and brisk movements – he isn’t a bluffmaster…hahaha. He could roll, turn, jump, bend, sway, fall, crawl with amazing grace. In all his dance numbers he has showcased zany dance steps. However, despite all twists and turn in any direction and still maintain his balance.

Still looking at the dancers in the procession, some songs flashed across my memory that truly depict the Shammi Kapoor’s dancing talent, and the resemblance to present day tapoori dance. “Govinda Ala Re” (Bluff Master) is among my best Shammi Kapoor songs, watch this song for the real street dance, and I am sure you will want to dance like this during next Govinda and Ganpati festival.

Then there is “Dil Deke Dekho Ji” (Dil Deke Dekho) with excellent drumming skills displayed, nodding of head, and shrugging of shoulders – everything stylish and elegant sitting at one place. I also like the song “Aiga Aiga Kya Ho Gaya” (Boyfriend) with Shammi Kapoor opposite Madhubala. One more song from the B/W era that I like and enjoy his dance with Asha Parekh is “To Boloji Kya Karey Diwana” (I don’t remember the movie :-[ ) – in this song you must also watch the steps of the dance troupe and their clapping sequences synchronized with their dance steps.

Come the colour movie revolution and Shammi Kapoor roared “Yahoooo” in his first colour movie Junglee. “Chahey Koi Mujhe Junglee Kahoo” and “Din Sara Gujara Tere Angana”, two songs from this movie that have vibrant and wonderful dancing moments. Every song in Teesri Manzil is an amazing hit where Shammi Kapoor pumps life into dance sequences. “Badan Pe Sitarey Lapatey Huye” (Prince) is a classic representation that in this song lay the roots of today’s Ganpati dance. See “Aaj Kal Tere Mere Pyaar Ke Charche” (Brahmachari) and you will be reminded of the Beatles dancing. “Taarif Karu Kya Uski” and “Meri Jaan Balle Balle” from Kashmir Ki Kali are again two songs that showcase Shammi Kapoor’s boneless body movements. These are just a few songs that I could remember looking outside the bus window. There will be many, I am sure, if you want to see Shammi Kapoor’s dance mania.

Many dancers later came into the Bollywood like Govinda, Mithun, and others (Hrithik, Shahid fall in a different league) who just improvised what Shammi Kapoor had sowed. There was Bhiku Mhatre (Manoj Bajpai in Satya doing “Kallu Mama” and “Sapne Mein Milti Hai”), who was copied for some time for dances on streets, his steps however, short lived. I must make a special mention to Bhagwaan Dada here (“Bholi Soorat Dil Ke Khote” fame), who also had introduced a unique style of dancing and was popular among many. People danced Bacchan, Kaka, and various other forms of dancing. However, observing all those, I still feel that the modern day dance forms (specifically the freestyle-carefree ones) are offshoots of Shammi Kapoor’s dancing pattern. This Prince(ly) looking, Junglee dancer was can be truly called the Professor of freestyle dance.

Have you seen Grace defined in dictionary as elegance and beauty of movement and expression, at a handshakes distance? I have. Back in mid-sixties. When coup d'oeil was a rarity.

The days were of Guide. Hoardings displaying Dev Anand tying ghungroos around Waheeda Rehman’s ankle were shining on the broad turns of wide roads in Mumbai.

Cinema was the only perennial medium of mass entertainment then, barring dramas and seasonal cricket matches. Seasonal!

Dev Anand was darling of the audience, the only Indian face having international features. The most impeccable male face on Indian screen.
Waheeda Rehman, originally a girl from Hyderabad, had more sharp features, more piercing eyes.

The city was charged by the ultimate handsome pair on Indian screen. Raju guide and Rosy ruled over every heart.

Actors didn’t mingle among people, then. To get a pass of movie premier was a bigger achievement than an honour that government would confer on, for the audience. Those who couldn’t get that, thronged in thousands near the theatre to have a single glance.

Watch Kaala Bazaar (1960) written and directed by Vijay Anand and enacted by our pair, and thank full team of Navketan for that experience. Dev Anand selling tickets of Mother India (1957) in black; actual shooting!

I worked in the biggest branch in central Mumbai of one of the leading banks as a locker assistant. The under ground safe deposit vault was famous enough to attract customers like Raj Kapoor and many other tycoons. We were two assistants under a Parsi custodian officer.

Our branch manager (called Agent then) received a phone one morning; Waheeda Rehman is coming in half an hour to open her safe deposit locker. Our Parsi officer told both of us and ordered to stick to our chairs.

I’ll not allow any nonsense. If someone else sits in your chair you have to go upstairs, he warned adding, there won’t be a fourth man here.

The news spread in the full blast air conditioned premises, a rarity that time. In the hope of seeing the charming queen of the Indian screen who exuded nothing but grace at a handshakes distance other assistants constellated in the vault space. Our Parsi officer whisked them off immediately.

Forget handshake. It was a non-happening.

We glued to our chairs till she came with her cousin sister. Our handsome Agent came down to greet her and opened her locker himself. Our mouths wide open in awe.

It happened once again within a couple of months. This time she sat opposite me. We weren’t extra smart to open dialogue with any celebrity, a strict norm of the period. Neither were we allowed to behave so.

This was the lady who did magic on the screen making you forget any kind of sorrow earlier in Mujhe Jeene Do (1963) dancing a mujra on the lilting 'chhum...chumm...' tunes of Jaidev instil haunting song “Raat Bhi Hai Kuchh Bhigi Bhigi”.

After a few years I went to my branch. A young boy of my age then was sitting in my chair.

Waheeda Rehman sat here two decades ago, I said to him.

What! The boy literally jumped from the seat, exclaiming. There was a feeling of disbelief in his eyes that he couldn’t hide; his eyes as expressive as Waheeda Rehman, that moment.

We have marked her initials on the back of the chair she sat, I told him.

He dragged me to the extension of the adjacent vault space. The old chairs lay there. We spotted it out; he cleaned it and sat on it.

Need I tell you further what a spell means?

Or need I go on describing about her intense looks in Pyaasa or Teesri Kasam or any of her unforgettables? No, they are to be experienced.

However, I can’t resist telling this one

V. K. Murthy the renowned cinematographer said once that Waheeda Rehman was the only actress with flawless face where we didn’t have to search at all for perfect angles. Her left cheek as shot in the song sequence of Pyaasa (1957), “Jaane Kya Tune Kahi, Jane Kya Maine Suni” by V. K. Murthy is the ultimate close-up on the screen any time, I think, notwithstanding.

The sharp featured actress who has experienced glamour in the days of Guide, I am telling you about, was honoured with a Padma Shri then (1973), has retained her recluse and humility that has brought her the honour of Padma Bhushan, who now is supporting for the cause of improvement in primary education remaining behind limelight.

I might be staying some 1250 kilometers away from her residence of recluse in Bengaluru but have a feeling that the grey haired lady is sitting just opposite me without her black glasses, exhibiting the aura of modesty.