Big-hearted: Shammi Kapoor

Shammi Kapoor has long been a favorite among those who love Golden Age Bollywood; Memsaab has written that "I would rather watch Shammi in a bad movie than many other actors in good movies." Now that I've (finally!) seen my first Shammi movies, I'm beginning to understand why he inspires this sort of passionate fandom.

There is something completely endearing about him. Imagine someone with Elvis's charisma, but without a trace of self-consciousness. Someone who is big and teddy-bearish, but also surprising graceful. My partner compared him to a young John Wayne, but a John Wayne who can sing,* and dance, and emote: Shammi wears his heart on his sleeve. Watching him is just a joyful experience.

Here are brief reviews of the three movies of his we've seen, in the order in which we viewed them:

Brahmachari (1968; directed by Bhappi Sonie, written by Sachin Bhowmick)

A brahmachari is one who lives modestly and virtuously—an apt description of Brahmachari (Shammi), an orphan himself, who runs a home for orphaned children (and yes, the kids are too cute for words). Brahmachari's work as a photographer barely brings in enough money to keep the orphanage going. Its main source of income comes from blackmailing the landlord next door: whenever he shows his house to prospective tenants, the kids threaten to raise a huge ruckus that will scare them away. (In this case, as in many others, the higher virtue of supporting the kids outweighs the minor mischief that is sometimes required in order to do good in a corrupt and heartless world.)

One day, in search of a dramatic photograph for his editor, Brahmachari spots Sheetal (Rajshree) as she's about to throw herself into the sea. She's in despair because Ravi Khanna (Pran), a rich playboy, has refused to honor his promise to marry her. Brahmachari tells her that he will help her win Ravi if she will give the orphanage financial help after her marriage. Of course, Sheetal agrees.

Brahmachari infiltrates Ravi's birthday party as a deliberately clumsy waiter in blackface (!?), and then (shoe polish removed) performs a song with Ravi's new girlfriend Rupa (an adorable Mumtaz):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=werIEZNmY2U

"Aaj kal tere mere pyar" was composed by Shankar-Jaikishan with lyrics by Hasrat Jaipuri; the playback singers are Mohd. Rafi and Suman Kalyanpur. (Apologies for the sometimes distracting lack of synchronization between sound and image.)

Of course, as he works to transform Sheetal with a glamorous makeover and compel Ravi to pop the question, Brahmachari falls in love with her himself, and Sheetal with him (and the kids). Ravi, though, is attracted to the new Sheetal, and is not used to being thwarted when he sets his sights on a girl. When Brahmachari is threatened with foreclosure, Ravi agrees to pay the debt and save the orphanage—but only if Brahmachari pretends in Sheetal's presence to be in love with Rupa instead. And just to be sure nothing goes wrong, Ravi plans to kidnap the kids...

Will the orphanage be saved? Will Ravi's kidnap attempt be thwarted? Will the villain be reformed, the truth emerge, and true love win out? Of course, there is no doubt about the outcome, which the final half-hour prolongs unnecessarily. But who can resist Shammi and a dozen orphans? Not me, and not the Filmfare Award voters: Brahmachari won Best Film, Shammi Best Actor, Shankar-Jaikishan Best Music Director, Shailendra Best Lyricist (for "Main Gaoon Tum So Jao") and Mohd. Rafi Best Male Playback (for "Dil Ke Jharoke Mein").

Professor (1962; directed by Lekh Tandon, written by Abrar Alvi)

I was a bit taken aback by the writing credit on Professor. Abrar Alvi is probably best known for writing the Guru Dutt dramas Pyaasa (Parched, 1957) and Kaagaz Ke Phool (Paper flowers, 1959), and both writing and directing the harrowing Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam (Master, mistress and servant, 1962). Those films would seem to be worlds away from the comedic Professor. But Alvi also wrote the comedy Mr. and Mrs. '55, which features a strict, censorious aunt named Sita Devi, played by Lalita Pawar, who tries to prevent her niece from falling in love.

Pawar also plays a strict aunt named Sita Devi in Professor, only here she's trying to prevent two nieces from consorting with men. Rita (Parveen Choudhary) and Neena (Kalpana) recently lost their parents, and have been placed under the care of Sita Devi. She advertises for a tutor for the girls, but specifies that only an old man will be hired. Pritam (Shammi), who must somehow pay for his mother's life-saving treatment in a tuberculosis sanitorium, decides to apply in disguise, and as the elderly "Professor Khanna" he's hired.

He soon discovers that the two girls are chafing under their severe aunt's rigid rules, and that they see him as a collaborator with her restrictive authority. They play tricks on him and tease him mercilessly; in "Yeh Umar Hai," Neena (in white) and Rita (in blue) tell him that "It is our era." "I too was young once," he responds. "...There was someone who used to love me; we thought it was our era too":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxnwgQH-RYY

The music is by Shankar-Jaikishan with lyrics by Hasrat Jaipuri; the playback singers are the sisters Asha Bhosle and Usha Mangeshkar (a nice touch for the sisters Neena and Rita), and Manna Dey.

The Professor tries to help Neena and Rita understand that their aunt's strictness is an expression of her love for them, and tries to encourage the aunt to recognize that her nieces are nearing adulthood and that it's time to relax her rules—but to no avail on either side.

Pritam and Neena meet in the village when he is out of disguise, and soon the two are falling in love. Complicating matters, though (as if they needed any complicating) is that the tyrannical Sita Devi starts to become sweet on the Professor—and, strangely, she's less opposed to love stories when they involve herself. But, of course, Pritam's deception is discovered, and he is bitterly rejected by both Sita Devi and Neena. Can Pritam win back Neena's love, gain Sita Devi's approval for their union, and reunite the family? Are Shammi's eyes green?

Bluff Master (1963; direction and screenplay by Manmohan Desai)

Ashok (Shammi) has moved from his village to the big city. But without a job he finds that he has to scam strangers and neighbors in order to get by. He's not malicious—with his ill-gotten gains he buys cookies for the neighborhood kids—he just needs money (don't we all?).

After reading a want ad for a position as a newspaper photojournalist Ashok pulls a con on a shop owner to get a camera, and then lands the job—depending on the stories he can find. On his first assignment Ashok encounters petulant rich girl Seema (Saira Banu), and captures a photo of her slapping a harasser on the street. The front-page picture makes that issue of the newspaper a huge success, and Ashok thinks his job is assured; the only problem is that Seema herself is the owner of the paper (inherited from her deceased parents) and he gets fired.

Seema's financial affairs are being (mis)managed her by her uncle (Niranjan Sharma). He is looking to rescue his fortunes by marrying Seema to the wealthy London-returned Kumar (Pran). Kumar inspires nothing but indifference in Seema; Ashok, though, inspires annoyance, and so we know that love is sure to follow.

This being a Manmohan Desai movie, the songs often don't really further the plot. But they are so much fun, who cares? A prime example is the first number in the movie, in which Ashok dresses in drag as "Munnibhai" to perform a qawwali with Seema, "Chali chali":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnDA7CtEJJw

The music is by Kalyanji-Anandji assisted by Laxmikant-Pyarelal, with lyrics by Rajinder Krishan; the playback singers are Shamshad Begum (Shammi) and Usha Mangeshkar (Saira).

As in Professor, though, Ashok's run of luck can't last. When his ma (Lalita Pawar) comes from the village expecting to find her son respected and successful, Ashok's deceptions begin to unravel. The heartless and venal Kumar now sees his chance to marry Seema and get his hands on her money. Will Ashok be able to regain his ma's respect and win back Seema's love? I didn't think I was a big fan of Manmohan Desai movies, but the charming Bluff Master makes me wonder whether I've been missing something.

I certainly let too much time go to waste before watching my first Shammi movie. And I haven't even seen the legendary Junglee (The wild man, 1962, with Lalita Pawar and Saira Banu) or Teesri Manzil (Third floor, 1966) yet. More to come...

For another perspective on Shammi, please see Memsaab's wonderful appreciation and her very entertaining reviews (with screencaps!) of Brahmachari, Professor, Bluff Master, and other Shammi films. She also got the chance to meet Shammi in person and talk about his films.

---

* Of course Shammi doesn't actually sing, but he performs to the playback of Mohd. Rafi and others as he does everything else in his films, with complete conviction.

Some great filmi music

I'm a bit behind in my blog reading, so I'm just now catching up with two excellent posts on Indian film music.

I don't know why I wasn't aware of this series before (except that it began during my final exams), but Filmi Girl is posting a series of podcasts on Indian film music called My Filmi Mix Tape. The series is a terrific introduction to film music both classic and contemporary: episodes have already covered the playback singers Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, and Mohammed Rafi; another offers samples from Filmi Girl's picks for the top ten songs of 2008. If Filmi Girl isn't a radio announcer, she should be--not only is her delivery incredibly smooth and professional-sounding, but what a voice!

In recognition of AR Rahman's recent Golden Globe Award for best original score for Slumdog Millionaire (2008), Memsaab has listed My 15 favorite AR Rahman songs. She includes an appreciation of Rahman's lengthy career, and for each song in her list she offers brief commentary and links to YouTube clips or MP3 files. It's a wonderful survey of Rahman's marvelously subtle and evocative music.

Amitabh's breakthrough: Zanjeer

Zanjeer (Chains, 1973) is not the kind of film my partner and I normally seek out, and a glance at the blood, guns, knives, and angry grimaces on the poster will tell you why. But Zanjeer holds such a significant place in Hindi cinema that we thought it was worth a look.

Ranjit (M. Rajan) is involved in the illicit trade in fake medicines. When he emerges from prison to discover that his daughter has died due to an injection of the very product he's been peddling, though, he decides that he wants out of the business. But Ranjit's bosses aren't willing to let him go—he knows too much about their operation—and they send a hit man to eliminate him. Ranjit's son Vijay witnesses the brutal murder of his parents by a man wearing a chain bracelet with a white horse symbol:

Orphaned, Vijay is taken in and raised by the upright Police Inspector Singh (Iftekhar). Twenty years later, Vijay has grown into Amitabh Bachchan, an honest cop in a world full of corruption and crime.

His battle against evil is a lonely and dangerous one. Once the local gang boss Teja (Ajit)—who not only distributes adulterated medicines, but also adulterated booze—discovers that Vijay isn't deceived by respectable appearances and can't be bought, he frames him to make it look as though he is taking a bribe. The honest and compassionate Vijay is sent to prison for corruption.

But this just makes Vijay more determined to bring down those who sent him there. Months later, when he is released, he resumes his crusade. Teja, angry that Vijay hasn't gotten the message, orders him to be savagely beaten and left for dead. But Teja and his gang come to regret that they didn't finish the job...

Vijay does have a few allies in his battle against Teja's vast criminal enterprise. There is De Silva (Om Prakash), whose sons died after being poisoned by Teja's "whiskey." De Silva seems like a harmless drunk, and so he is ignored by the gang. But since they don't pay him any attention he is able to see and hear all about the gang's plans, and he telephones Vijay with information about their next moves.

Mala (Jaya Bhaduri) is an itinerant knife-sharpener. She is a prime witness when one of the gang's liquor trucks speeds through a checkpoint and plows into a group of schoolkids. Reluctantly, Jaya agrees to identify the driver; murderously pursued by the gang, she seeks shelter with Vijay. He takes her to the home of his step-brother and wife for safekeeping. But as Vijay and Mala are thrown into each others' company, tender feelings begin to develop between them...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI76QsObboU

"Deewane hain" (We crazy ones) was composed by Kalyanji-Anandji, with lyrics by Gulshan Bawra, and sung by Mohd. Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar.

Just remember that (to paraphrase Chekhov) if in the first act a knife is sharpened, in the third act it must wind up in someone's back—hurled there by Mala.

Vijay's other ally is Sher Khan (Pran). Sher Khan ran a gambling den that was broken up by Vijay. After the two have a brutal but honorable bare-knuckle fight that leaves them both dazed, they become fast friends. Sher Khan closes his establishment, becomes an honest auto mechanic and Vijay's two-fisted backup.

This is the first film that made us really notice Pran, who (both before Zanjeer and after) mainly played villains. We had seen him (without giving him special attention) in other classic films: Ram aur Shyam (1967), Bobby (1973), Don (1978). But Sher Khan is so memorable because he is such a delightful and strongly positive character: tough, fearless, and loyal, as he demonstrates in "Yaari Hai Imaan Mera" (Friendship is my honor, friends are my life; Pran's playback singer is Manna Dey):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=477ktukCn2k

With friends like these can Vijay's ultimate discovery of the identity of his parents' murderer, and his victory over Teja and his gang, ever be in doubt?

Zanjeer has a key place in Amitabh's career because he had not previously had a great deal of success as a leading man. It also has a key place in the career of the heroine, Jaya Bhaduri. At the time she was a more successful actor than he was; she had had several hits and had already won a Filmfare Award. It was something of a risk for her to appear with him, but (already in love with him, thanks to their work together on Bansi Birju the year before) she didn't hesitate. During the shooting of Zanjeer the couple reportedly decided to marry if the film was a hit. It was, and they married less than a month after its release. Ironically, the success of Zanjeer and the couple's subsequent marriage mark the beginning of the decline in Jaya's film career: a young wife and mother, she was soon displaced as a romantic heroine by other, unmarried actresses.

Zanjeer was also the first Salim Khan-Javed Akhtar scripted film in which Amitabh appeared. Salim-Javed went on to write the Amitabh-starring superhits Sholay (Flames, 1975), Deewar (Wall, 1975), Trishul (Trident, 1978), and Don (1978), among others. Although these Salim-Javed films are all very distinct, in each Amitabh plays a working-class man who is forced to respond—usually with violence— to the world's crushing injustice. The names of his characters? Vijay (Zanjeer), Jai (Sholay), Vijay (Deewar), Vijay (Trishul), and Vijay (Don).

Zanjeer is the film that made Amitabh Bachchan a superstar, and which defined the Angry Young Man role he would play for much of the next decade. And while it's impossible for us to watch this film without hindsight, it's clear that this kind of role became Amitabh's trademark because of his powerful charisma and fierce conviction—qualities that he continues to bring to his roles more than four decades later.

Favorites of 2010: Movies and television

The end of the year tends to put one—or at least me—in a reflective and retrospective mood. What follows is a list of my favorite movies and television from 2010; books, music, and art will be included in my next post.

Please note that these are not movies or TV shows that were necessarily created or released in 2010, but rather ones that I first encountered in 2010. As you'll see, almost all of these favorites date from years or decades earlier.

Bollywood 2010

Is it just me, or was this a pretty dismal year for Bollywood? I found myself following the examples of Memsaab, Beth, and Bollyviewer in turning primarily to Bollywood's Silver and Golden Ages for my viewing pleasure.

Favorite Bollywood movie: (tie)

Seeta aur Geeta (1972)

What a delightful movie! Hema Malini is adorable in a double role as twin sisters separated at birth. Seeta is raised to be a properly submissive daughter in a rich household, but her greedy relatives cruelly exploit her. The spirited Geeta is raised by a poor family and becomes a street performer with her partner Raka (Dharmendra). Of course the twins get switched, their respective families get big surprises, and many catchy R.D. Burman songs (and a few tight slaps) ensue before everything is sorted out. If for some reason you haven't yet seen this charmer (directed by Ramesh Sippy and written by Javed Akhtar, Satish Bhatnagar and Salim Khan) put it at the top of your list.

Sadhna (1958)

Yes, this classic from Yash Chopra's older brother B. R. is a tawaif-with-a-heart-of-gold story. But the great performance of Vyjayanthimala as the courtesan Champabai, the wonderful songs of N. Dutta (music) and Sahir Ludhianvi (lyrics), and the film's powerful indictment of the exploitation and oppression of women, make this a very special experience. As always, I'm lagging behind in my discovery: see Memsaab's post on Sadhna from two years ago, which is beautifully written and filled with screencaps of M.N. Malhotra's gorgeous black and white cinematography.

Favorite Bollywood soundtrack: Barsaat Ki Raat (1960)

This movie is full of wonderful music sung by the great Mohammad Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle. But what makes this one of the greatest soundtracks ever are a series of qawwali competitions where the performances just keep getting more brilliant with every exchange. Rohan (music) and our friend from Sadhna, Sahir Ludhianvi (lyrics), outdid themselves; this film has almost too much great music to take in. And if that's not enough, you get to see the songs picturized on Bharat Bushan, Madhubala, and the sparkling Shyama and Ratna.

Favorite non-Bollywood movie: Tokyo Story (1953)

An elderly couple (Chishu Riyu and Chieko Higashiyama) make a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the big city to see their children and grandchildren—only to discover that no one has any time for them. A radiant Setsuko Hara, the couple's daughter-in-law, is the only one who treats them with kindness; but we can see that her own life is cruelly constrained by her poverty and widowhood. Director/writer Yasujiro Ozu takes this simple story and creates a masterpiece of restraint in which details of the characters' lives and emotions are slowly unveiled. As rich an experience as reading a great novel.

Favorite English-language movie: Flushed Away (2006)

We're big fans of Nick Park's Wallace & Gromit series, but somehow we missed this Aardman Animations feature when it came out. Maybe the comical adventures of rats in the London sewers didn't sound all that appealing at the time. Flushed Away turned out to be hilarious, with sight gags and movie references coming so fast that it's difficult to catch them all. And the characters are voiced by actors Hugh Jackman, Kate Winslet, Ian McKellan and Bill Nighy.

Favorite TV show (on DVD, of course): Middlemarch (1994)

George Eliot's Middlemarch is an 800-page novel, but this excellent BBC/Masterpiece Theater series—written by Andrew Davies of Pride and Prejudice fame—manages to include virtually every major incident in the book (and many of the character-revealing minor ones). A wonderful cast, and of course fabulous costumes and locations, make this another great BBC adaptation.

Runner-up: Glee, Season 1

I wrote about Glee recently; since that post we've continued watching the first season. The story lines are getting ever more absurd, the quality of the music is wildly uneven, and it feels like the last third of the season is just marking time until the big finale. It still manages to be utterly addictive, though.

Next time: Books, music, and art

Prem Kahani

With a cast that includes Rajesh Khanna, Shashi Kapoor, and Vinod Khanna, the gender balance and narrative focus of Prem Kahani (Love Story, 1975) is definitely shifted towards the manly side. The "love story" of writer-director Raj Khosla's film is one of masculine friendship, loyalty and self-sacrifice.

But by far the most interesting character in Prem Kahani is Kamini (the adorable Mumtaz). Kamini is in love with her next-door neighbor Rajesh (Rajesh), an apolitical poet who plans to become a teacher. The famous Rajesh-Mumtaz chemistry is in full effect in "Prem Kahani Mein":

Prem Kahani's superb soundtrack is by Laxmikant-Pyrarelal, with lyrics by Anand Bakhshi; the playback singers are Kishor Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Mohd. Rafi and Mukesh.

Kamini's wealthy father, Judge Shrikant Sinha (K. N. Singh), is a supporter of British rule—the film is set during the days of the Quit India movement of the early 1940s, although the clothes and hairstyles scream mid-1970s—and he arranges Kamini's marriage with police inspector Dheeraj (Shashi). Defiantly, Kamini declares her intention to marry Rajesh. Her father tells her that if she goes against his wishes, she must carry her proposal to Rajesh herself—and she does:

But Rajesh's politically committed brother Brijesh (Trilok Kapoor) has been killed leading an anti-British demonstration. Rajesh, radicalized, has decided to join the freedom struggle. He sacrifices his love for Kamini because he doesn't want to see her widowed like his sister-in-law, and pretends that his feelings were never serious:

Kamini, deeply hurt and angry, agrees to obey her father's wishes and marry Dheeraj.

Rajesh now embarks on a campaign of assassination and becomes a wanted man. He's wounded during a police dragnet, and is smuggled to the house of a close friend in the truck of the Pathan tribesman Sher Khan (Vinod Khanna):

(Sher Khan doesn't realize how quickly his willingness to sacrifice himself will be tested.)

The close friend Rajesh has chosen to hide with is none other than...Dheeraj! And sending the irony meter pinging off the scale, Rajesh's unexpected arrival at Dheeraj's house interrupts Dheeraj and Kamini's wedding night. But Dheeraj has the right priorities:

Despite Dheeraj's and Rajesh's supposed closeness, apparently neither one has ever mentioned Kamini to the other. Of course, this puts Rajesh and Kamini in a painful and awkward situation, and they both pretend that they've never been anything more to each other than neighbors. But there's still plenty of emotion simmering beneath the surface, as in "Phool aahista phenko" (Gently pluck the rose):

When Dheeraj finds out that Rajesh was once in love, he puts him on "trial" with Kamini as the judge. She delivers her verdict on Rajesh's behavior towards the unnamed girl:

Of course, Kamini herself isn't being fully honest with Dheeraj—or, perhaps, with herself, as Rajesh's presence brings old feelings flooding to the surface (or should I say pouring down like the monsoon):

(Notice how, at the end of the song, Rajesh closes the windows—symbolically closing off the resurgence of their feelings for one another. It's just one of Raj Khosla's many telling directorial touches in the film.)

Meanwhile, Sher Khan has been arrested and is being tortured to reveal Rajesh's whereabouts, and Dheeraj can't intervene without throwing suspicion on himself and endangering Rajesh. (If you're thinking, as I'm sure you are, that this scenario is eerily similar to the moment in Puccini's opera Turandot when the servant girl Liù is tortured so that she'll reveal the true name of Prince Calàf, the parallels don't end there.)

As the police manhunt for Rajesh closes in, and as it becomes harder for Rajesh and Kamini to conceal their (former?) love from Dheeraj, Kamini is forced to make a final, fateful choice—a choice which, if the men had been listening, she made long ago...

You don't mess with Kamini!

Kamini is an incredibly compelling character: smart, courageous and complicated. And Mumtaz is wonderful in the role. In a film packed with male stars, she more than holds her own, and makes Kamini the focus of our sympathies

For an additional take on Prem Kahani (including the gorgeous lyrics of "Phool aahista phenko"), please see MemsaabStory. From this wonderful review, Memsaab on "Phool aahista phenko": "This is Hindi cinema at its finest, honestly. So much communicated so beautifully in one simple song! How to explain it when someone says 'Oh, Bollywood—those are musicals, right?' Sigh."

Favorites of 2012: Bollywood and Bengal

Meena Kumari as Lalita in Bimal Roy's Parineeta (The Married Woman, 1953)

This wasn't a great year for our Bollywood viewing. Films first seen this year included:

• Anamika (The Nameless Girl, 1973): a young Jaya Bhaduri and great songs by R.D. Burman don't quite compensate for the credulity-stretching script;
• Bhool Bhulaiyaa (The Maze, 2007) and Kismat Konnection (2008): Vidya Balan with a couple of misses after the successes of Parineeta (The Married Woman, 2005) and Lage Raho Munna Bhai (Go on, Brother Munna, 2006);
• Dil Maange More (The Heart Wants More, 2004): Shahid Kapoor before Vivah (Marriage, 2006) or Kareena;
• Don 2 (2011): SRK in a dispiriting and pointless sequel;
• Ek Baar Phir (One More Time, 1980): Pradeep Verma and the lovely Deepti Naval in a too-schematic story;
• Ek Main aur Ekk Tu (One Me and One You, 2012): Kareena in her umpteenth MPDG role;
• Mausam (Seasons, 2011): Shahid Kapoor and (fatally) Sonam Kapoor separated once too often by history;
• Namastey London (Greetings, London, 2007): Katrina Kaif before she got better;
• Ra.One (2011): SRK aiming for the teen boys market;
• Raajneeti (Politics, 2010): A Godfather remake, only without any of the touches that made Coppola's film so compelling;
• Satyam Shivam Sundaram (True, Eternal, Beautiful, 1978): Zeenat Aman wearing a fake scar and little else. 

As my capsule descriptions imply, all were disappointing in one way or another.

Old Is Gold

My favorite Indian film of 2012 was Bimal Roy's Parineeta (The Married Woman, 1953), made 60 years ago. You can read my full-length post, with screen caps and videos, by clicking the title link. The short version of that post is that this film fully deserves its classic status; Ashok Kumar and Meena Kumari give heartrending performances as the lovers separated by a family feud.

Dev Anand and Shakila in C.I.D.

 C.I.D. (1956): Coming in a close second is this effective Bollywood noir. It features Dev Anand as a detective investigating the murder of a crusading newspaper editor and Waheeda Rehman (in her (Hindi) debut!) as a femme fatale with a heart of gold (à la Gloria Grahame in Fritz Lang's The Big Heat (1953)). O.P. Nayyar's soundtrack is filled with memorable songs performed by Shamshad Begum, Geeta Dutt, and Mohd. Rafi, such as the bitterly ironic "Bombay Meri Jaan." As he did for so many Guru Dutt-produced films, V. K. Murthy provided the atmospheric black-and-white cinematography. On the Ultra DVD of the film, though, his haunting images are marred by a hideous red, white and blue logo on every frame.

Honorable mention:

Tanuja as Sunita in Baharen Phir Bhi Aayengi

Baharen Phir Bhi Aayengi (Spring Will Always Come Again, 1966): Until it goes off the rails with madness and melodrama in the final half hour, Baharen Phir Bhi Aayengi is a compelling love triangle between investigative reporter Jitendra (Dharmendra at the peak of his attractiveness), his courageous editor Amita (Mala Sinha), and her vivacious younger sister Sunita (a charming Tanuja). When the two women discover each other's true feelings towards Jitendra, each decides to sacrifice her own love for her sister's happiness. Very much worth watching for the cast, the gorgeous black and white cinematography of K.G. Prabhakar, and the lovely music by O.P. Nayyar. As I wrote in my full-length post, "...who can resist the combination of Tanuja and Asha in "Koi Kehde"? Certainly not Dharmendra:"

More Favorites of 2012: Movies, Television, Music, and Books

Aradhana

Mothers, don't let your sons grow up to join the Indian Air Force. At least on the evidence of our Bollywood viewing, characters in the Air Force may as well wear a sign saying "I'm doomed." We've seen Air Force pilots:

• Get killed when their defective planes crash (Flight Lt. Ajay Rathod (Madhavan) in Rang de Basanti (Paint it Saffron, 2006))
• Get imprisoned for decades by a certain hostile neighboring country (Squadron Leader Veer Pratap Singh (Shah Rukh Khan) in Veer-Zaara (2004))
• Get shot down during a border conflict with a certain hostile neighboring country (Squadron Leader Shekhar Malhotra (Shashi Kapoor) in Silsila (Connections, 1981))

So when we discover early in Aradhana (Adoration, 1969; directed by Shakti Samanta and written by Sachin Bhowmick) that Arun (Rajesh Khanna) is an Air Force pilot, it can only be a matter of time before the inevitable happens. First, though, he woos Vandana (Sharmila Tagore) by serenading her from a jeep as she travels through the mountains on a train in "Mere Sapno Ki Rani" ("Queen of my dreams"):

(You may recognize this song as one of the many to which Shah Rukh Khan pays homage in "Phir Milenge Chalte Chalte" from 2009's Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi (A Match Made in Heaven).)

Vandana is swept off her feet by Arun—who could resist?—and a few days later as they are visiting a temple they exchange wedding garlands in the presence of a priest. Caught in a sudden thunderstorm, Arun and Vandana take shelter, and of course Vandana has to remove her wet sari and warm herself by the fire. Although she modestly covers herself with a blanket, the temptation proves too much for both of them, as the thunderstorm raging outside echoes their own overwhelming passions ("Roop Tera Mastana" ("Your beauty is intoxicating")):

Afterwards, Arun assures the guilt-stricken Vandana that they will be married in the eyes of their families as well as in the eyes of God in just a few days; first, though, he just has to make a short flight to bring his uncle and aunt to meet Vandana...

I don't think it will be much of a spoiler if I reveal that, sure enough, Arun's plane crashes and he is fatally injured. On his deathbed, he exacts a promise from the pregnant Vandana that their son will grow up to be an Air Force pilot. That seems reasonable: what parents wouldn't want their son to take up the same profession that killed his dad?

Of course, Arun's death is only the first of a series of tragedies that strike Vandana; mild spoilers follow. Her father dies, leaving her impoverished, and Arun's family rejects her and her story about their secret marriage. She agrees to anonymously give her son Suraj up for adoption, but return to adopt him herself the next day. But her plan goes horribly wrong when another couple, the wealthy but childless Saxenas (Anita Dutt and Abhi Bhattacharya), adopts him first. Vandana then takes a job as a servant in the Saxena household so that she can be close to Suraj as he grows up, even though she can never let him know that she is really his mother.

As if this giant helping of Maternal Self-Sacrifice isn't enough, her employers' sleazy relative Shyam (Manmohan) tries to rape Vandana. The assault is only averted when Suraj comes to his beloved "nanny"'s rescue with a sharp pair of scissors. To protect him, Vandana takes the blame, even though she realizes that it means prison and a lengthy—perhaps permanent—separation from her son.

In the intervening years Suraj (Rajesh Khanna in a double role) becomes a young man, joins the Air Force (gulp) and, like his dad, woos a local beauty with a flirtatious song, "Baghon Mein Bahar Hai" ("Has Spring come to my garden?")

Will Suraj find happiness with the lovely Renu (Farida Jalal)? Will Vandana and Suraj ever be reunited? Will he ever learn that Vandana is his mother? And most importantly, can Suraj somehow avoid the Curse of the Air Force?

Even if you can guess the answers to most of these questions, Aradhana is very much worth seeing for Sharmila Tagore's whole-hearted performance as the devoted Vandana (I'm already seeing Vidya Balan playing the lead in The Sharmila Tagore Story), for the obvious chemistry between Sharmila and the far too handsome Rajesh Khanna (this was the role that made him a superstar), and for the classic S.D. Burman/Anand Bakshi songs sung by Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle, Kishore Kumar, Mohd. Rafi, and S.D. Burman himself.

For additional thoughts about Aradhana, please see the reviews by Filmi Geek and Philip Lutgendorf.

Thanks to RajShri Films, you can watch Aradhana with English captions on YouTube for free.

Update 21 March 2013: Memsaab has written two wonderful appreciations of Rajesh Khanna, My ten favorite Rajesh Khanna songs and The complicated superstar.

Awāra

Awāra (The Tramp, 1951) is one of the most acclaimed Indian films of all time. Raj Kapoor's performance in the title role is listed as one of ten Great Performances in Richard Corliss and Richard Schickel's "All-TIME 100 Movies since the beginning of TIME" (Feb 12, 2005). Awāra is featured in Rachel Dwyer's 100 Bollywood Films (BFI, 2005); Subhash Jha writes that it "figures in the list of the three most influential films in Indian cinema" in his Essential Guide to Bollywood (Roli, 2005), although he doesn't name the other two; and Philip Lutgendorf writes that the film is "generally considered one of Kapoor's finest."

My feeling is a bit more ambivalent, mainly because of the parallels between Awāra and my least-favorite Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Carousel (1945). More about those parallels in a moment.

There's no question that Awāra is filled with excellent performances. This was the first film in which Kapoor appeared as The Tramp, a character based on Charlie Chaplin's beloved Little Tramp, although Kapoor's character Raj has a harder, more criminal edge. In fact, we first see Raj as a prisoner on trial, accused of attempted murder:

Raj in the dock

(The film's often striking images were composed by Kapoor—Awāra was the third film he directed—and cinematographer Radhu Karmakar.)

Raj's intended victim was Judge Raghunath (Prithviraj Kapoor, Raj Kapoor's father—a relationship that will soon have resonance in the world of the film). Judge Raghunath has definite ideas about the origins of crime:

Judge Raghunath's genetic theory of crime

Raj's advocate is a young woman, Rita (Nargis), raised as the ward of Judge Raghunath. Throughout the film Nargis is simply radiant:

Rita for the defense

Under Rita's questioning, Judge Raghunath soon begins to reveal his family history: more than two decades ago, his wife Leela (Leela Chitnis) was kidnapped by a notorious daku, Jagga (K.N. Singh). This is no random kidnapping; Jagga had been unjustly sent to prison by Judge Raghunath, who condemned him because of his father's and grandfather's criminality:

Jagga discovers that Leela is pregnant and returns her to her home. When Judge Raghunath learns of the pregnancy, though, he believes that Leela is carrying Jagga's child. In an echo of Ram's repudiation of Sita after her rescue from Raavana, Judge Raghunath throws his pregnant wife out into the street on a stormy night:

Leela gives birth to a son, Raj, and raises him in poverty. At school the young Raj and Rita are classmates, and she befriends him. But they are soon separated when Judge Raghunath intervenes with the schoolmaster to have Raj barred from the classroom:

(If the young Raj looks familiar, it's because he's played by Raj Kapoor's younger brother Shashi.)

Leela falls ill, and a desperate Raj tries to steal some bread to ease her hunger, but he is caught and sent to a wayward children's home. Throughout the move Kapoor and writers K. A. Abbas and V. P. Sathe show how assumptions about criminality become self-fulfilling prophecies.

When we next see Raj, he's an adult, and has spent the past decade in and out of prison for a variety of petty crimes committed as a member of Jagga's gang, which he celebrates in the song "Awara hoon" ("I'm a tramp"; music by Shankar-Jaikishan, lyrics by Shailendra, sung by Mukesh):

Raj meets Rita again when he steals her purse, and then pretends to recover it from the thief. Raj and Rita begin a flirtation that soon deepens into love when the childhood sweethearts recognize each other.

Raj is torn between the salvation offered by Rita and the inescapable hold of Jagga; and this is where the parallels to Carousel start to become apparent. In the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, a man who lives outside of social norms (Billy Bigelow, a carnival barker) falls in love with a woman who is firmly tied to the local community (Julie Jordan, a millworker). Billy is lured into crime by a man named Jigger; is the name Jagga in Awāra a coincidence? When Billy dies he is taken to a version of heaven (Up There), but then plunges into a fiery hell before he can return to Earth; Raj similarly has a vision of heaven and hell in the famous dream sequence (the songs are "Tere Bina Aag Yeh Chandni" and "Ghar Aaya Mera Pardesi," sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Manna Dey):

One day at the beach, Rita playfully calls Raj a "junglee"—savage—and he flies into a rage. He twists her arm, chokes her, and then starts hitting her:

He slaps her three times hard across her face, and then shoves her to the ground. The violence of this scene is shocking. What makes it even worse is Rita's response:

This is where the parallels to Carousel become inescapable. In anger and frustration at his ostracism by the townspeople, Billy hits Julie, but she stays with him. When, later in the play, Billy strikes his daughter Louise, she notoriously asks her mother if a hard slap can feel like a kiss, and Julie agrees. Awāra's great music (the playback singers also include Mohd. Rafi and Shamshad Begum), gorgeous black-and-white images, and the fiercely committed performances of its cast can't outweigh for me the sickening image of Rita offering her face to Raj for a slap as though for a kiss.

Update 14 April 2014: Awāra may also have borrowed some imagery from the Hollywood movie Down To Earth (1947); you can see the visual evidence by clicking on the title link.

Bollywood and Hindu nationalism

Poster for Ali Abbas Zafar's Tandav (2021). Image source: IMDB

Samanth Subramanian's recent New Yorker article "When the Hindu Right Came for Bollywood" (issue of 17 October 2022) uses the controversy over the Amazon Prime series Tandav (2021) as an illustration of the pressure the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its Hindu nationalist satellite organizations are bringing to bear on the commercial Hindi film and television industry. That pressure includes calls for boycotts and outright bans; both veiled and explicit threats of violence (which sometimes have erupted into actual violence); and filing FIRs (First Information Reports requesting police investigation of alleged criminal wrongdoing) against actors, directors and producers for offending the religious sentiments of Hindus.

The BJP-led government has also moved to assert pre-release control over content: in 2020, the government ordered that streaming services such as Netflix and Amazon Prime fall under the censorship of the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, which has long been involved in film censorship through its Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). And in 2021, the government abolished the Film Certification Appellate Tribunal, where negative decisions by the CBFC could be appealed.

Tandav is about political betrayal, corruption, blackmail, and the cynical exploitation of social unrest to gain personal power. It includes a scene where a student leader named Shiva paints his skin blue and carries a trident (both elements of the iconography of the Hindu god). In response FIRs were registered in Bengalaru (Karnataka) against the actors Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub (Shiva) and Saif Ali Khan, writer/director/producer Ali Abbas Zafar, producer Farhan Akhtar, and head of Indian Originals for Amazon Prime Aparna Purohit. Accusations against each were made under Indian Penal Code sections 153A ("Promoting enmity between different groups on grounds of religion, race, place of birth, residence, language, etc."), 295A ("Deliberate and malicious acts, intended to outrage religious feelings of any class by insulting its religion or religious beliefs"), 298 ("deliberate intent to wound religious feelings"), and 35 ("When a criminal act is done by several persons in furtherance of the common intention of all, each of such persons is liable for that act in the same manner as if it were done by him alone"). Similar cases were filed in Maharashtra (the state that includes Mumbai), Madhya Pradesh, and Uttar Pradesh; in all, at least 10 FIRs were registered.

Ram Kadam, a BJP Member of the Legislative Assembly for Maharashtra who filed an FIR against the creators and stars of the show in Ghatkopar, a suburb of Mumbai, tweeted that the Shiva scene in Tandav "demean[s] Hindu gods" and called for a boycott. Under the hashtag #BanTandavNow, Dehli BJP leader Kapil Mishra tweeted to his 1.3 million followers that Tandav was "spreading massive hate against our dharma and our Gods making hero out of terrorists [i.e., Muslims] and making fun of our forces." [1]

On January 18, only three days after the series' release, Zafar tweeted an "Official Statement from the Cast & Crew of Tandav." Under the heading "Our sincere apologies," he posted:

We have been closely monitoring viewer reactions to the web series Tandav and today during a discussion, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting have informed us regarding a large number of grievances and petitions received on various facets of the web series with serious concerns and apprehensions regarding its content hurting the sentiments of the people.

The web series Tandav is a work of fiction and any resemblance to acts and persons and events is purely coincidental. The cast and crew did not have any intention to offend the sentiments of any individual, caste, community, race, religion or religious beliefs or insult or outrage any institution, political party or person, living or dead. The cast and crew of Tandav take cognizance of the concerns expressed by the people and unconditionally apologize if it has unintentionally hurt anybody’s sentiments.

Subramanian writes, "In Mumbai, people divide recent history into pre-'Tandav' and post-'Tandav' periods, reading the show’s fate—its bitter legal battles, its suspended second season—as a lesson in what can and cannot be said in Modi's India." While the manufactured outrage over Tandav is clearly intended to send a message to filmmakers, those who think it marks the beginning of an era have short memories. The tactics used against Tandav and its creators are well-established.

Poster for Deepa Mehta's Fire (1996). Image source: RogerEbert.com

• In 1998, screenings of Indo-Canadian writer/director Deepa Mehta's film Fire in India were violently attacked by members of the interrelated Hindu nationalist organizations Shiv Sena, Bajrang Dal, and the BJP; Mehta herself received death threats and required armed protection. Fire depicts two sisters-in-law (Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das), each trapped in a loveless marriage, whose growing emotional closeness develops into passionate erotic desire. Shiv Sena's founder and leader Bal Thackeray claimed absurdly in an interview that sexual relations between women "are not part of Indian culture.'' [2]
  
  
  
  Vishvanath Temple in Khajuraho, Madhya Pradesh, India. Photo credit: Aotearoa, CC BY-SA 3.0. Image source: Wikimedia Commons
  
  After theaters and audiences in Mumbai, Dehli, Surat and Calcutta (now Kolkata) were attacked—the audience in Calcutta fought back against the attackers and the screening continued—the film was withdrawn from theaters for recertification by the CBFC. Advocates for freedom of expression and gay and lesbian rights mobilized and Fire was recertified without changes. Theater showings resumed, although some theater owners feared renewed violence and were reluctant to book the film.

Poster for Karan Johar's Ae Dil Hai Mushkil (2016). Image source: dnaindia.com

• On 23 September 2016, as a response to an attack by Pakistan-based jihadists on an Indian army base in Uri, Kashmir, the Hindu nationalist group Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) ordered all Pakistani actors and film technicians to leave India within 48 hours or "we shall push them out." In a show of support for MNS, both the Indian Motion Picture Producers Association and the Film Producers Guild quickly followed this pronouncement with a call for a ban on the employment of Pakistani actors and technicians.
  
  Producer Karan Johar initially opposed the ban. However, after threats by the MNS to prevent screenings of his new film Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, which featured Pakistani actor Fawad Khan, Johar reluctantly joined the boycott, saying "For me, my country comes first. . .Going forward, I would like to say that of course I wouldn’t engage with talent from the neighbouring country given the circumstance."

Poster for Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Padmaavat (2018). Image source: Allociné

• In his New Yorker article Subramanian mentions a January 2017 attack on the set of the film Padmaavat during a location shoot at the Jaigarh Fort in Jaipur, Rajasthan, by members of the organization Karni Sena. A crowd of men chanting slogans invaded the set, struck director Sanjay Leela Bhansali in the head and seized him by the hair, and vandalized the set and equipment; a video of the assault can be seen on YouTube. A few months later, after the production was moved to Maharashtra, the sets were burned in a late-night arson attack.
  
  Karni Sena falsely claimed that the film contained a dream-sequence love scene between the Hindu Queen Padmavati (Deepika Padukone) and the Muslim Sultan Alauddin Khalji (Ranveer Singh), as though this would justify its violence. Mahipal Singh Makrana, state president of Karni Sena, later threatened to facially disfigure Padukone. Surajpal Amu, media coordinator of the BJP in Haryana, offered a ₹ 10 crore reward for the beheading of Bhansali and Padukone (₹ 10 crore is 100 million rupees, or US$ 1.3 million). Haryana BJP leader Subhash Barala asked Amu to "show cause" for his comments (as if there could be any cause to call for beheadings), but later refused to accept Amu's resignation. In 2021 Amu was appointed the spokesperson of the Haryana BJP. [3]
  
  It's ironic that Padmaavat was the target of Hindu nationalist violence, because the film depicts the Muslim characters as stereotypical villains: lecherous, treacherous, and murderous. In the final scenes—spoiler alerts!—the black-clad, black-flag-waving Muslim horde stabs the upright Rajasthani hero Maharawal Ratan Singh (Shahid Kapoor) in the back, and yes, I do mean literally. Subramanian writes, "Padmavati and her handmaidens are besieged by Khilji’s army. Instead of submitting, they dress in red and stream through the palace, like blood through an artery, to leap into a pit of fire—a happy ending, in the moral universe of the Hindu right." Padmaavat quickly took its place among the all-time top ten highest-grossing Indian films worldwide, and went on to win a slew of awards; Karni Sena withdrew its condemnation and declared its support. Padmaavat was named Biggest Disappointment in my year-end survey Favorites of 2018: Movies and Television.

Film critic Fareeduddin Kazmi has written,

Conventional Hindi films. . .instead of challenging the ideological assumptions of their times, tend to reinforce and perpetuate them. In India, the mass media are primary technologies of ideology, with the Hindi conventional cinema standing in the forefront. [4]

Although no film industry is univocal, in the decades following independence the ideology expressed in mainstream Hindi films tended to be pluralistic. This followed the lead of the modernization policy of the Nehru-led government which criminalized caste and religious discrimination and attempted to give women legal parity with men.

The quintessential example of a film reflecting pluralistic values is Manmohan Desai's Amar Akbar Anthony (1977).

Amar (Vinod Khanna), Akbar (Rishi Kapoor), and Anthony (Amitabh Bachchan) in Amar Akbar Anthony.

As I summarized the film in my Favorites of 2019: Movies and television, three little boys, inadvertently separated from their parents and apparently abandoned, are taken in by a Hindu police officer, a Muslim tailor, and a Catholic priest. Twenty-five years later, Amar (Vinod Khanna) has become a tough but honest cop, Akbar (Rishi Kapoor) has become a famous qawwali singer, and Anthony (Amitabh Bachchan) is a two-fisted, good-hearted bhai who rules his lane. When a blind old woman (guess who) is hit by a car and needs an emergency transfusion, the three men (who, of course, all share the woman's blood type) volunteer. As the blood of the three strangers who are her unsuspecting Hindu, Muslim and Christian sons mingles in Ma's veins to give her life—symbolism, anyone?—the credits begin to roll. The opening credits. This is just the pre-credit sequence.

Of course, the mid-1970s were also the period of the Emergency, during which Prime Minister Indira Gandhi ruled by decree. Political opponents were jailed and their organizations banned, civil liberties (such as political protests and trade union strikes) were restricted, and a program of forced sterilization was instituted that targeted the poor and marginalized, especially Muslims. The sentimental pluralism of films like Amar Akbar Anthony was belied by the actions of the Congress Party-dominated government.

One reason for the pluralism of many Bollywood films between independence and the early 1990s was not only the (stated) non-sectarianism of government policy, but the pluralism of Bollywood itself. As Maidul Islam writes,

. . .for many decades, Bollywood has remained one of the strongest bastions of secularism and 'perhaps the least religiously segregated place in India today where Hindus and Muslims work together as well as intermarry.' It is one of the few sites in India where Muslims are not marginal, but actually enjoy some prominence and success, and has many famous stars, successful directors, screenwriters, choreographers, lyricists, and composers. [5]

"Some prominence and success" indeed (links are to mentions in E&I):

• Actors from Muslim families include the current global superstars Aamir Khan, Salman Khan, and Shah Rukh Khan, as well as Tandav's Saif Ali Khan. Other well-known actors from Muslim families include Shabana Azmi, Irrfan Khan, Naseeruddin Shah, and Tabu, and stars from the 50s and 60s including Farida Jalal, Dilip Kumar (born Yusuf Khan), Madhubala, Nargis, Waheeda Rehman, Shakila, and Johnny Walker. 
• Muslim playback singers include Mohd. Rafi, Talat Mahmood, and Noor Jehan.
• Muslim writers and lyricists include Javed Akhtar, Kaifi Azmi (Shabana's father), and Sahir Ludhianvi.
• Muslim directors include Mehboob Khan (Mother India, 1957), K. Asif (Mughal-e-Azam, 1960), Muzaffar Ali (Umrao Jaan, 1981), Imtiaz Ali (Jab We Met, 2007), Farhan Akhtar (Dil Chahta Hai, 2001) and Zoya Akhtar (Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, 2011). Farhan and Zoya are the children of Javed Akhtar, and step-children of Shabana Azmi; Farhan was one of the producers of Tandav.

As the BJP, aided by Congress Party corruption and incompetence, developed significant political power from the late 1980s onward, pluralistic films continued to be made. Films such as Lagaan (2001), Veer-Zaara (2004), Rang de Basanti (2006), Dor (2006), Chak De! India (2007), and My Name Is Khan (2010) were critical and box-office successes.

However, with the ascendency in the 2014 general elections of Modi and the BJP, and their consolidation of power in the 2019 general elections, Bollywood is bending with the prevailing political winds. We were dismayed to learn from Subramanian's article about recent films such as the Hindu-chauvinist Samrat Prithviraj (starring Akshay Kumar, 2022), and prominent actors who have embraced the BJP and its Hindutva ideology, including Anupam Kher and Kangana Ranaut.

Even many of those who aren't vocal BJP supporters are keeping their heads down, or up, as the case may be. A 2019 photo from Karan Johar's Instagram account:

Ranveer Singh, Sidharth Malhotra, Karan Johar, Varun Dhawan, Ranbir Kapoor, Vicky Kaushal (? identification uncertain), Rohit Shetty, Ekhta Kapoor, Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari, Rajkummar Rao, Bhumi Pednekar, Alia Bhatt, Ayushmann Khurrana, and others surrounding Narendra Modi. Image source: India Today

Actress Nafisa Ali posted in response, "Felt sad to see my Fraternity being part of PM’s planned PR. . .I will pray that the truth is exposed and the closed door planning of divide & rule is understood. I worry for the Constitutional rights of every Indian. I was in Gujarat soon after the riots and will never forget the reality of what I saw. I pray for the Unity of India."

---

1. Mishra has been accused of fomenting the 2020 Dehli riots which started when a non-violent crowd blockading a road was attacked. The blockade was in protest of the discriminatory Citizenship Amendment Act, which provides a path to Indian citizenship only for non-Muslim immigrants from neighboring Muslim-majority countries. Over several days of violence and arson 53 people, more than two-thirds of them Muslims, were killed. ^ Return
2. Quoted in Barry Bearak, "New Dehli Journal; A Lesbian Idyll, and the Movie Theaters Surrender." New York Times, 24 December 1998, p. A4. https://www.nytimes.com/1998/12/24/world/new-delhi-journal-a-lesbian-idyll-and-the-movie-theaters-surrender.html. Bearak's smirking, flippant article betrays his own profound limitations of perspective as a cultural observer.
3. Throughout the anti-Padmaavat protests Hindu nationalists selectively conflated the characters depicted onscreen with the actors who portrayed them. Selectively, because while Padukone was threatened with death for what the perpetrators believed were the actions of her character in the dream of another (evil) character, apparently it didn't matter that offscreen Padukone and Singh were a real-life couple; they are now husband and wife.
4. Quoted in Maidul Islam, "Imag(in)ing Indian Muslims in Post-liberalization Hindi Cinema," in Indian Muslim(s) After Liberalization, Oxford University Press, 2019, p. 111. 
5. Maidul Islam, p. 93.