My favorite movies: Mughal-e-Azam

It took eleven hours to watch this movie. Every scene was played twice, and sometimes thrice.

When you haven’t seen a very popular movie, you always wonder what all the hoopla is about. Every now and then I would watch a movie and wonder who the hell are Salim and Anarkali? Akbar’s son was Jehangir – according to class VIII history book (ICSE certified) for crying out loud.

Then the day arrived. Dad bought VCD (yes, it was that late) of Mughal-e-Azam – three VCDs actually, since DVD was yet to be invented. It was sometime in March 2001, the next day was my Chemistry exam and I was seeing benzene rings instead of those irritating worm-like strands every time I closed my eyes. I put the CD in the player deciding to take a half hour break. Ten minutes later, I heard this:

“Insaaf ke is mukaddas taraazu ki kasam, zindagi mein ek baar Akbar se jo bhi maangogi….ataa kiya jayega..”

I shook my head like a dog after an unwanted bath. What the fuck did he just say?  I paused the movie, went to the phone, called my cousin Peeyush and told him to come home right now. We both shared the passion for music and were starting to realize that songs have lyrics too. We were in the process of migrating from “Oonchi hai building..” and “Chalti hai kya nau se baarah..” to Kishore and Rafi oldies - hence my decision to call him and invite him to watch the movie together. For me, the fun of appreciating something, movies for example, doubles with a partner. And Peeyush was the ideal one. His “O bhaisaab..!!” and “Ye kya bola bh*****d..??” like anecdotes may lack lateral thinking but pack a punch with the same impact as Sunny paaji’s dhai kilo ka haath.

So when after a mind-blowing qawwali, Salim offers flowers to Bahaar and says to Anarkali,

“…tumhare hisse mein ye kaante aaye hain..” (Peeyush: “Kya chutiyapa hai..”)

And Anarkali replies,

“Zahe-naseeb…kaanto ko murjhaane ka khauf nahi hota...”, even the anecdotes were silenced.

To call this movie successful would be like calling Sachin Tendulkar a successful batsman. It just doesn’t do justice. It’s a cult classic (which, incidentally, is the highest rating I have for movies). However, to achieve such success (and rating from me), there cannot be just one or a couple of contributing factors. There has to be many, which I would like to list below.

The grandeur: Dad always said about Mughal-e-Azam that K. Asif’s greatest regret was that he didn’t make the whole movie in Technicolor. The first thing that came to mind was that he was right. The grandeur of the sets was unmatchable, and probably still is. The sheesh mahal can anytime give the titanic a run for its money. Simply said, you will just have to see it to believe it.

The cast: Because I saw this movie so late in my life, I had the chance to see different actors play the role of Akbar in various movies and tele-series, and some were actually impressive – like Vikram Gokhale in the TV series Akbar Birbal. After watching Prithviraj Kapoor, they all seemed laughable. How can you even imagine any other actor portraying that role? You literally start to shit bricks when you see him catch Salim and Anarkali red-handed.

Dilip Kumar is, well, Dilip Kumar. It was difficult for the first few minutes to watch him playing the role of a youngster (having not watched his earlier movies). The challenge was – it was not only the role of a crowned-prince, it was more a role of a dissatisfied son who, after so many years, still carried a pinch of grudge towards his father for sending him to battles as punishment instead of having a dad-to-son talk.

And o you beautiful Madhubala. A thousand Marilyns fade before you. She was the reason. If you ever, ever get a chance to see beyond her face, see her eyes. They are full of mischief in “Mohe panghat pe..”, innocent in “Teri mehfil mein..”, defiant in “Pyar kiya to darna kya..” and blank in “Mohabbat ki jhoothi kahaani..”. I rest my case.

THAT scene: Even when she closes her eyes. Damn it. People debate about the most erotic scene in the movies. Ladies and gentlemen, forget Basic Instinct, I give you Salim, Anarkali…and the feather.

The lines: Right from a one-word “Takhliya..” to the entire dialogue of Salim and Anarkali –

“Meri aankhon se mere khwaab na chheeniye shahzade..main mar jaaungi..”

- every line in this movie was poetry. For me, this was the real highlight. That’s why it took such a long time to watch it. Check this out, a meesenger comes to the court bearing news from Salim and asks permission to read the message. Akbar could have said something like “Go ahead dude..” or a simple “Padho..”, but hell no. What, instead, he says is,

“Ba-aawaaze-buland padha jaye..”. Damn. Another rewind.

1. Akbar: “Insaaf ke is mukaddas taraazu ki kasam, zindagi mein ek baar Akbar se jo bhi maangogi….ataa kiya jayega..”

2. Anarkali: “Zahe-naseeb…kaanto ko murjhaane ka khauf nahi hota..”

3. Salim: “Mohabbat jo chhup ke ki jaaye, wo aiyyashi hai..”

4. Anarkali: “Shahenshah ki inn behisaab baksheeshon ke badle ek kaneez Jallaluddin Mohammed Akbar ko apna khoon muaf karti hai...”

5. Akbar: “Tumhari maujoodgi naafarmaani ki daleel hai..”

6. Jodha: ”Ye hindustan koi tumhara dil nahi..koi laundi jispe huqumat kare..”

    Salim: ”To mera dil bhi koi aapka hindustan nahi..jispe aap huqumat karein..”

7. Akbar: ”Agar aisa hua, to Salim tujhe marne nahi dega, aur hum, Anarkali, tujhe jeene nahi denge..”

8. Salim: "Be-khauf hokar kaho. Kabhi kabhi daave dilchasp bhi hua karte hain.." 


9. Anarkali: "Unke huzoor mein tamannaayein bhi gustaakh nai ho paati.."

Classic. Cult classic.

UP-B and Bollywood

UP-B stands for Uttar Pradesh – Bihar. The badlands. Too often associated with lawlessness and corruption. For many outsiders, looking at these states with unjustified superiority, UP-B symbolizes a state of mind that has no use for the discreet veneer of democracy that hides the ugliness of corruption in their own states.

No wonder Bollywood has ignored, if not completely avoided, these states as settings of its stories. In the bygone era, UP-B was always the preferred setting for movies with rural background and stories – be it Ganga Jamuna or Do Beegha Zameen. Both these films belong to the golden age of hindi cinema – a time when UP-B was home of some of the most brilliant minds in the country.

Despite the neglect caused by Bollywood and the rest of the country, some really outstanding movies were made about or in these regions. Well aware of my biases, I always arrange these lists, if possible, chronologically.

1. Nadiya Ke Paar

My dad used to tell me the story about when this movie was released. Villagers from surrounding as well as far-off villages use to come in their carts and camp outside Maya cinema hall for a week or even ten days out. Just to queue up outside the ticket window and somehow manage to get them. Take that, Potterfans. This movie defines simplicity. Version 2.0 became the most successful hindi movie ever.

2. Bandit Queen

Brutal. The story, the lines, the lass, the lads, the land. For a pampered sixteen year old like me, it was more hard-hitting than today’s fuel prices. Although, a lot of questions were raised about the intentions of Shekhar Kapur, especially by Arundhati Roy, it doesn’t chip away the facts.

3. Shool

Another uncompromising story set in a small Bihar town. If Bihar is a byword for lawlessness, this total disregard for law and its enforcers is represented at its worst in a small town cowering under the heel of the local politician. Into this den of iniquity walks the upright, uptight, short-tempered Inspector Samar Pratap Singh (Manoj Bajpai in a towering performance where rage and sensitivity are finely balanced). The confrontation between the law upholder and the maniacal law-breaker unfolds like a series of well-placed time bombs. The script was tight, eminently plausible, except for the climax. If E. Nivas had opted for a muted ending, Shool would be in a class of its own - at the top.

4. Gangajal

Based on the infamous Bhagalpur blinding cases, Gangajal confronts us with a moral dilemma. What should you, as a police officer, do when you are thwarted at every step by a) politicians, b) gundas c) social workers or d) all of the above, while performing your duty? Should you bow your head, hunch your shoulders and accept the reality? Or you turn into vigilantes and render your own justice? Shehenshah style. Or Gangajal style.

5. Bunty Aur Babli

Lucknow, Kanpur, Agra, Bareilly, Bulandshahr, Varanasi. This movie is like a kaleidoscope of Uttar Pradesh. Romance, comedy, action se bharpoor. And of course, the greatest item number ever made.

6. Sehar

Out of complete boredom, I went to watch this movie without having a clue about the story. There was a criminal who was maintained by politicians of UP. His name was Shri Prakash Shukla. The film is based on how some dedicated policemen gave their lives away in trying to crackdown this guy. Having grown up in UP at the time when Shri Prakash shukla stole regional headlines, I was able to relate to the film totally. This is a tribute to those film makers who subtract flamboyancy from the narrative of the film based on real life incidents. All this was secondary. This movie had me at the first line: “Ye kahaani shuru hoti hai Gorakhpur se…”  

7. Apaharan

No one in Bollywood knows Bihar better than Prakash Jha. He seems to have intimate knowledge and the despairing rage of a commentator who can see the terrible history of his state with surprising objectivity. After the Gangajal revolution, he now examines the prevalence of and the reasons and justification for another peculiarly Bihari industry: kidnapping for ransom. There are no easy answers. It is perhaps enough to pose the questions.

8. Main, Meri Patni Aur Woh

Take a look at Indian society. Look closely at our hang-ups with marriage : caste, creed, gender, height, color, weight, wealth etc. Into this prejudicial society introduce a short, plain, unassuming man, and his tall, beautiful, vivacious wife. And let the fireworks begin. Although every member of the cast was brilliant, it was Rajpal Yadav who takes the cake. It was stunning to see him play the part of Lucknow University librarian to perfection. The language, the lines, the mannerisms, the articulation, and most importantly, the Lakhnawi tehzeeb and sharaafat – to exact proportions.

9. Omkara

Five years since the release, this movie still retains the same freshness. That’s Vishal Bhardwaj for you. Or, may be, William Shakespeare. Othello cannot have a different adaptation – from an Venetian general to a western UP baahubali. Cast is fantastic. Devgn is arresting. Saif undoubtedly steals the show. Dobrial was the film’s finding. Even Bipasha makes it work (yeah, wonders never cease).

10. Ishqiya

Again, Gorakhpur. But this story could have taken place anywhere. Then again, what better place to portray lawlessness than eastern UP? Like Popeye's simplistic philosophy, "I yam what I yam", Ishqiya tells it like it is - no judging. The brilliance of this movie lies in its crackling dialogs which throw up so many little gems it’s hard to pick just one, and the superlative performances by its cast. It is a delight to see Naseeuddin Shah in a meaty role, awe-inspiring to watch Vidya Balan con two cons and fun to see a very un-Circiut Arshad Warsi.

11. Ishaqzaade

This is one of those movies which portray a serious issue with such an uncanny ease it seems innocent. Not on the same level as Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron or Peepli [Live], this movie packs a punch with its story (tighter than Jeetendra’s pants), speed (faster than his jumps) and Parineeti Chopra. The hero, according to my wife, was lost somewhere behind his beard.

There are many more movies – Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi, Mrityudand, for example, worth mentioning here, but don’t get the space (yeah, like it’s coveted *eye roll*) because I haven’t had the honor to watch them.

UP-B is such a beautiful place, looking out from your train window, you can easily see that any field can host a DDLJ scene, the green pastures can give an equal fight to the Scottish countryside, and don’t get me started on the rivers and lakes. But they are still neglected because of many reasons – poor infrastructure, corruption, crime to name a few.

But every now and then a movie comes which tells a story about these parts. And whenever it does, whatever the story, I smile.    

Manali 3.0

To say that Manali has a special place in my heart will be an under(ground)statement. Not because of the utterly ordinary and drab little town on the banks of Beas, or the absolutely mesmerizing beauty surrounding it. It’s because I spent my honeymoon there. When you have had a love marriage, the honeymoon is not a vacation riddled with forced informalities or confused romance after six-months-in-between-engagement-and-marriage phone calls. It’s just easy. Easy and beautiful. And, of course, romantic. The fact that the location was Manali, makes it a permanent resident in the soft corners of my heart.

My second trip to Manali was a result of another marriage in a nearby town. It was a quick trip. And it was in a Maruti 800. Without air conditioner. In June. That time I got to visit Rohtang. It’s still the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited – at least for another year until I go to the Land of High Passes.

Manali three-point-oh was different. Partly because it was most unplanned (it was only the day before, when we saw in the news that it had snowed there, when the trip was finalized), partly because Sunil, colleague cum driver, is constantly in formula one mode, and partly because of the anticipation that if it’s late spring in Delhi, Manali would be snow-clad.

Day 1

The drive started from the office in Noida. After paranthas in Murthal and KFC burger in Karnal, we were at the outskirts of Chandigarh. Two hundred and thirty four rupees (a full tank of CNG) is all it took to reach there – cheap. Terror started at two in the morning when we reached at the foothills. Sunil has driven all along till now, but he has never driven on mountains. Amit didn’t know how to drive at all. I have driven on mountains many times but never at night.

Day 2

Nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving, I gulped, put on Kishore da on the stereo to calm myself, took the wheel, and started driving. After half an hour, I got the hang of it but was too tense to relax.

Seven hours later, we reached Manali, got a room in Vashisht, and crashed. After refreshing ourselves, we went for the customary tour of the Mall, the Club, and then the hot springs in Vashisht. That was all I could manage after thirty hours of zero sleep. It was raining, not heavily but constantly. Weather was cold. Road to Rohtang was closed. Food at the hotel was pathetic. Sleep was sound.

Day 3

Next morning, we decided to go as far as we can go on the road to Rohtang. It was still drizzling. Fresh snow was visible on the distant mountains. Road was wet and slippery – looking more hazardous with Sunil’s driving. But the scenery was pure bliss. The road was open only up till Gulaba. Hundreds of vehicles were parked there. Taxis from the other side and quad-bikes were taking tourists upto Marhi.

Marhi was completely differently from the last time I was here. The endless green was replaced by white snow. Hundreds of tourists were snow-sliding, snow-mobiling, snow-balling or just wondering what to do with all the snow.

We stayed there for a couple of hours until our feet were freezing inside the gumboots. Back in Manali, paid a visit to the Hadimba temple.

This night I was not tired enough not to notice Sunil’s and Amit’s dolby-surround-sound snores. Sleep came late.

Day 4

The day to return back. The day I always hate whenever I’m in mountains. We started early in the morning. Drove straight past Bilaspur to stop for brunch. Sunil’s driving mode changed from formula one to need for speed. After a terrifying, holding-the-edge-of-the-seat, shouting-obscenities-at-Sunil, seven hours’ drive in the hills, we reached the plains. Now I knew how pteromerhanophobics feel when the aircraft lands. But the feeling of relief lasted only for minutes. Now Sunil was in his own den. NH1 has never seen such driving from a non-jaat, non-gurjar and non-sardar maniac.

We reached Delhi in record time, and alive. I thanked all the Gods after switching on the air conditioner and, involuntarily checking for seat belts, safely tucking myself in the bed. 

P.S.: Pteromerhanophobia - fear of flying.