Navratan Kurma, Lucknowi Style. Review on Pakeezah

The misconceived notion that the Hindi movies of the 1950s and 60s were predominantly elitist in their execution and meant for the classes rather than the masses still holds ground after all these decades. The arguments come thick and fast from two contrasting schools of thought but there’s some sense of unanimity when it comes to a few classics like “Mother India” (Rekh has just done a fabulous job on it), “Pakeezah” and “Anarkali”.

What was noteworthy about the above three movies was that they were all heroine-oriented movies and though conceptualized and shot as epic dramas on a grand scale, they struck the perfect chord with the audiences. That was the time when western influences were beginning to flow in and inspire the works of renowned directors like Satyajit Ray and Guru Dutt but the influence was not so much from the point of view of cultural sensibilities as much as it was in the form of technical finesse.

Introduction of the “Eastman Colour” cameras lent a totally new meaning to period epics and costume dramas. Pakeezah (Pure Hearted), released in 1971 was one such landmark movie. It was a heavily stylized, classical tale of a high-class prostitute and her unceasing search for unrequited love.

The movie was in the making for more than 15 years. Kamal Amrohi, the director and his wife, Meena Kumari (MK), started the movie in 1956 but had to shelve it when their marriage split a few years later. It was only during the last few years of MK’s short life that Sunil Dutt and Nargis prevailed upon Kamal Amrohi to complete the movie after being impressed with its rushes.

The movie was completed and released in 1972 only to be declared a flop initially, the rave reviews for MK’s acting notwithstanding. Sadly, she passed away 3-4 weeks after its release from chronic alcoholic abuse that caused liver schirossis. Needless to say, the movie then went on to become a huge hit and remains one of the most enduring period dramas in the history of Bollywood.

The setting of the movie is in an aristrocatic Lucknow at the turn of the last century and is replete with noblemen, courtesans, the life of ease and comfort, enchanting poetry and mesmerizing Urdu “mujras”.

Sahabuddin (Ashok Kumar), the scion of a Nawabi family, brings home a courtesan, Nargis (Meena Kumari) as his bride. His family refuses to accept her as the daughter-in-law. Shamed by the insults heaped on her and reluctant to return to her previous life of a courtesan, she flees and takes shelter in a secluded graveyard. By a twist of fate, a woman sells a bracelet to Nawabjaan (Veena, as MK’s elder sis) which she recognizes as being her sisters and on questioning of the woman, she gets to know that it belonged to a woman with a baby girl, dying in the graveyard.

She hastens to the graveyard only to find her sister dead and she takes the little child under her care. A distraught Sahabuddin, in the meantime is leaving no stone unturned in looking for Nargis. Many years later, he learns of the death of Nargis and traces his now grown up daughter, Sahebjaan (Meena Kumari again).

Lest Sahebjaan meet with the same insult insinuations that her mother did, Nawabjaan takes her away in a train to another town, far from Sahabuddin. It is here that one of the most famous dialogues in Bollywood history occurs. A dashing aristocrat, Salim (Raaj Kumar), accidentally steps into their carriage and leaves a note at the sleeping Sahebjaan’s feet which reads “Aap ke paon dekhe, bahut haseen hai. Inhe zameen par mat utariyega. Maile ho jayenge (I saw your feet, they are very beautiful. Please don't place them on the ground, they will get sullied).

The story takes a few twists and turns from here as Sahebjaan is eager to know who the charming young man was who left the note. They meet again a few days later when a barge on which she is supposed to be regaling a lecherous nobleman, Zaffarali Khan (Premnath) is attacked by rampaging elephants ans she wanders into a secluded tent in the forest.

History repeats itself “bees saal baad” as Salim brings Sahebjaan to the very same house to which his uncle (Sahabuddin) had brought Sahebjaan’s mother (Nargis). Does Sahabuddin realize that Sahebjaan is his own daughter? Do Salim & Sahebjaan get married? Does Salim’s family accept Sahebjaan as their daughter-in-law? These are all handled very sensitively as only a master director like Kamal Amrohi could have done.

Thus Spake TiC-uddin

Amrohi narrates a heart-touching tale permeated with the despondency and exhilaration of the oldest and most essential human desire – Love. The simple story is told with such mastery that the viewers could be forgiven for assuming that it was a real life incident being acted out on the screen before their eyes. The trials and tribulations of a courtesan have never been captured in a more sublime manner in celluloid nor will they ever be.

The stunning performance by Meena Kumari was perhaps monumental and set a new high which was only rivaled by Nargis in “Mother India”. Just as a candle flickers brightest before it runs out of wax, Meena Kumari belted out a stupendous performance in the double role of mother and daughter as only she was capable of. Her sublime, yet understated performance coupled with those huge lotus shaped moist eyes cast a hypnotic effect and added greatly to the pathos of certain situations.

The mellifluous songs and background music were composed by Ghulam Mohammad, who unfortunately died during the final stages of the movie (Naushad had to step in and complete the film). “Inhi Logon Ne”, “Chalo Dildar Chalo”, “Thare Rahiyo” and “Chalte Chalte” retain their original flavour and charm listeners even after all these decades.

The cinematography was by a German, Josef Wirsching and the most enduring piece of photography I have of the movie is of Meena Kumari running to the window to catch sight of a train chugging over a high-rise river bridge into the setting sun. That particular shot remains unrivalled to this day despite all the technological advancements.

The dances were very well choreographed and shrewdly hide Meena Kumari's inability to dance (due to her terrible state of health then). Here’s an interesting situation that apparently happened during the shooting of the famous number, “Thare rahiyo”. Meena Kumari rushed out of the sets and started crying when she couldn't match her dance steps to the song’s tune. Kamal Amrohi then got a famous dancer, Padma Khanna, to do that dance fully covered in a “ghoonghat”. Meena Kumari is said to have had a lengthy discussion with Padma Khanna before the song was picturised, to the extent that she made Padma practise walking like her (MK) for hours together to get the right effect before the camera! That was the perfectionist that Meena Kumari was.