Bobby Remains Fascinating @ Fifty

Half a century’s hindsight affords an advantage, though unfair, to view an event with warts and all. The film ‘Bobby’ (1973), opens itself to a critical view, without impacting its popularity, the near-cult status it enjoys and the nostalgia of generations.

So, one begins with a little regret and stating without being judgmental, going only by published records and not gossip and rumours that the film world generates. It may or may not have been the first, but its success set the trend for many things that have become the norm today.

It came when socially and even politically relevant Hindi films, Garm Hawa for one, were being made and would experience release and experience issues, besides production costs. With massive publicity, Bobby’s puppy love story came dressed up as “sublime love.”

Politically, India was in rich-versus-poor ferment. Bobby projected no class struggle. It had two well-off families fighting for their respective pride. But socially, it bridged the religious divide by showing a romance between a Hindu boy and a Roman Catholic girl. Both these phenomena have witnessed massive churning and change in the last 50 years.

But as cinema, after what Bobby did to “Romeo and Juliet”, not officially claimed but touted, the country had to wait decades to witness Vishal Bharadwaj’s Indian adaptations of three tragedies by William Shakespeare: Maqbool (2003) from Macbeth, Omkara (2006) from Othello, and Haider (2014) from Hamlet. No reflection on the filmgoers of those times and these. To each generation its own.

As film writer Bhawana Somaaya records: “When the Sixties ended, Hindi films became increasingly entertainment-oriented and so full of mindless masala, that the Seventies saw a whole movement coming up in rebellion—what is now remembered as the Parallel or Art Cinema movement. This was the time when cinema was clearly divided into Art and Commerce and Middle-of-the-the-Road, and each had its followers.”

Bobby’s success set the trend for debut launches, especially of children of established stars. This is a never-ending debate. Although not the first, Raj Kapoor’s success with Rishi Kapoor was followed by Sunil Dutt (Sanjay), Dharmendra (the Deol brothers) and many more. The Kapoor family itself has four generations. The accusation is that they block ‘outsiders’. But let it be said that only the better ones of both types – and lucky ones, given the uncertainties of filmmaking, film marketing and the audience’s reception – have survived. Given India’s traditional father/mother often transfers legacy to son/daughter, neither the star launches nor the debate for and against them is likely to end.

Certainly not the first or the last, Bobby encouraged the purchasing of film awards. Here, one is going by Rishi Kapoor’s memoir, aptly titled “Khullam khulla”. He confessed to having ‘bought’ an award and was ‘ashamed’ about it. That left Amitabh Bachchan sulking because he was hoping to get it for ‘Zanjeer,’ Rishi said.

“I am sure he felt the award was rightfully his for Zanjeer, which was released the same year. I am ashamed to say it, but I actually ‘bought’ that award. I was so naïve. There was this PRO, Taraknath Gandhi, who said to me, ‘Sir, tees hazaar de do, toh aap ko main award dila doonga.’ I am not the manipulative sort but I admit that I gave him the money without thinking,” Rishi Kapoor writes in his memoir.

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Rishi writes of how his ‘serious’ friendship with a girl ended when Stardust magazine wrote of his ‘romance’ with Bobby’s co-star Dimple Kapadia, although she was married to Rajesh Khanna and was even pregnant before Bobby was released.

Since then, the film paparazzi, like those in politics, business and all other spheres of public activity, have successfully emulated the global trend of digging for information, right or otherwise, at times in connivance with those looking for publicity or to settle scores. The social media has pushed that many times over.

Bobby came when India was socially conservative. People who then experienced their adolescence pangs and pleasures have, at its 50th anniversary (September 28), confessed to enjoying the Rishi-Dimple romance on the screen, keeping it a secret from their scandalised elders.  This is universal and timeless – again, to each generation its own. The trend has only been bucked by the fast-spreading culture spawned by not only films but much that is available, at home without going to a cinema theatre, on the OTT (over-the-top) platforms. Significantly, this has bloomed despite the political conservatism currently sweeping India.

Bobby came when Urdu/Hindustani dialogue and lyrics were still the norm in cinema that later evolved as ‘Bollywood’. Not the pioneer again, it set the trend for urbanised Hindi, even the one laced with Konkani spoken by Prem Nath who played a Bombay fisherman. It pushed away the flowery language in which the hero serenaded the heroine.

Bobby’s songs, all of them chart-busters, had a variety ranging from Konkani folk (“Ghey ghey re saheba”), to Punjabi-philosophical folk (“Beshak mandir masjid todo”) to the north Indian (“Jhooth Boley Kauwa Katey”). Incidentally, Raj Kapoor ended his 25-year musical collaboration with Shankar-Jaikishan, switching to another duo, Laxmikant Pyarelal. But while he broke away from Mukesh to have Shailendra Singh sing for Rishi, he had to mend professional fences with Lata Mangeshkar to sing for Dimple.

If the name ‘Bobby’ itself gained wider currency in India, unwittingly, the film was also the forerunner of the present era of brands and branding. A motorbike produced by a family firm related to the Kapoors hugely succeeded when marketed as ‘Bobby’ bike riding on which Raj and Bobby escape their angry parents from Bombay to Goa. Everything from soap to hair clips also sold better with the Bobby tag.  

Bobby’s success brought the RK Studios back to life. It launched Rishi’s romantic-hero career and a second one on retirement bringing out the best in him. And Dimple, although marriage and family kept her away from cinema, staged a comeback that is still thriving.

Rishi confirms that Raj Kapoor, already in huge debt after Mera Naam Joker had flopped, needed a life-saver. He did not have the money for Rajesh Khanna, Sharmila Tagore and Mumtaz who were keen to work with him. This proved a blessing. He found an actor from within the family. What the film would have been with the reigning stars of that era, even if successful, would have been run-of-the-mill. We would not have been introduced to teenage love. That makes the film a landmark, no less, in Indian Cinema.

The writer can be contacted at mahendraved07@gmail.com

Awaara – Of Tramp And His Times

Exploring Awaara, found a clip of a Turkish film made in 1946. It has a song identical to ‘Awaara hoon…’ with the capped hero walking the street, happily singing to strangers, including pretty women. Words sound similar, the musical score is identical. Only, it could be Ankara or Istanbul, not Bombay. When a song you grew up humming turns out to be a ‘copy’, it hurts a bit, even if momentarily.

Film analyst Gautam Kaul says this was probably the first case of plagiarism by Shankar Jaikishan, the composer duo. Like Raj Kapoor, the film’s producer-director-actor, they badly needed to establish themselves. The film itself was a gamble after two Kapoor flops. To get a ‘star’ like Nargis, Kapoor had to stage a hunger strike outside her home and melt her mother Jaddan Bai’s heart.

The rest is history: the film was a universal hit. The title song has had presidents and prime ministers foot-tapping, if not singing it.

The world has changed a lot since Awaara was released 70 years ago. Whether it is for better or for worse depends upon one’s values, circumstances and the nostalgia quotient. To compare the world with a film may look simplistic, but Awaara is a good landmark and a benchmark.

Although billed as a crime-and-romance film, it was the story of a newly independent, aspiring India with Jawaharlal Nehru guiding the nation’s destiny. Whether he left the glass half-full or half-empty is currently being vehemently debated. Constantly demonized, he is being struck off history books on modern India.

The most striking change is about the message of socialism that the film carries. Khwaja Ahmed Abbas, the left-leaning journalist and filmmaker who co-wrote the sorry with V P Sathe, also wrote the dialogues. He sharpened his message in Shree 420 (1955), in a similar tale with a wider span.

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Few Indians talk of socialism, declared as a failed ideology. Much of the world is currently dominated by right-wing demagogues, all ‘nationalists’ (or ultra-nationalists) with narrow vision. Judge Raghunath, played by Prithviraj Kapoor who nursed a wrong ‘usool’ about a criminal begetting only a criminal, would be uncomfortable today. He shows the humility of accepting his ready-to-reform son. Not so today’s little men wielding big power, backed by money, muscle, media and blind supporters.

Raghunath may be forgiven for his single prejudiced judgment that altered his life, when one sees some present-day judges – taking some recent instances – justify marital rape, acquit molesters of minors, condone state-sponsored violence, help the executive suppress public dissent and much else.

Judges no longer live in palatial mansions like Raghunath. Not, at least, in Mumbai. Abbas sharpened his pen and vision of the city in Shree 420 and his own Shehar Aur Sapna, to make this Urb Prima in Indis, independent India’s first global city. It never sleeps. People flock there to fulfil their dreams, also to the dream factory called Bollywood.

Awaara’s romance blended the western with traditional India. Not much change here. By and large, men are weak and confused (when not stalking their hapless ‘prey’), but women are bold and caring. Patriachy persists, but from president to peon, women, given half-a-chance, have been pushing their way.

The gender-bender in this film is Rita, played by Nargis. In a well-etched role, reflecting a strong character, she carries the film on her shoulders. She dares to love her childhood friend despite the huge gulf in education and lifestyle. She weans bim away from the world of crime. But when told that law doesn’t listen to matters of heart, she says with quiet defiance: my heart, too, doesn’t listen to law.

In an evocative sequence at the beach, Raj goes close to where Rita is changing. A gentleman would never do this, she chides him. He admits he is not one. She calls him junglee (savage) thrice. He chases and slaps her thrice and twists her arm, even tries to strangulate her. But she surrenders, falls at his feet, willing to be slapped more. He caresses her and the two embrace passionately. ‘Libbers’ today would revolt against her ‘surrender’ to a ‘junglee’. Yet she would be a torch-bearer in any campaign to support inter-caste and inter-faith marriages, being opposed by ‘khaps’ or in the name of “love jihad”, by bigots.

Awaara’s theme appealed to the universal sentiment of social upliftment and justice. Its advocacy of the reformative theory of punishment puts some of the onus on the society for creating a criminal. This makes it a landmark film.

It’s a film about relationship. Raj fights to win legitimacy. He explodes when the society ill-treats him. He takes his insecurities out on Rita, and that makes their romance uncomfortably bruised and traumatic. Beautifully portrayed, it shows that real human relationships are messy, unpleasant – even painful. The message is: everyone, from a wealthy judge in his mansion or a tramp on the street, needs a bit of love.

Raj Kapoor emulated Charles Chaplin as he introduced him to Hindi cinema, perfected it in Shree 420 and continued till Mera Naam Joker (1970). Chaplin must have had more avatars in India than anywhere else because Indians have, long before Chaplin, digested Hollywood. That enterprise continues well into this century, even as Indians offer Hollywood some run for the money around half he world.

Certainly not the first since Indian cinema had caught attention outside even before independence, Awaara was a rage in many countries across the world. It was called The Vagavond, The Tramp, Tavarish Brodigya in Russia, and many other names. It crashed the Iron Curtain, gently pushing the de-Salinisation process in the erstwhile Soviet Union. Those were early days of Hindi-Rusi Bhai Bhai. It shaped India’s cultural outreach under Nehru, making cinema integral to India’s ‘soft’ diplomacy today, something few countries possess.

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The egalitarian ideals Awaara championed resonated in the newly-independent nations and those emerging from miseries of the World War II. Unsurprisingly, it was wildly popular in Russia, China and across the Eastern Europe, but also in Turkey and the Arab world, more familiar than the West with India’s song-and-dance.

It became a family movie in many countries. Dr Amar Kumar Sinha hosted me to the Hungarian version, Csavargo, way back in 1973. At the interval, we Indians were surrounded and asked about the film and those behind it. Sinha says the movie doesn’t run in European theatres any more. But “Awaara Hoon” can be heard on YouTube in multiple versions in Russian, in Uzbekistan, China, Japan – you name it. That takes away some of the plagiarism sting.

Well-written and well-composed songs quicken the momentum in this slow-paced movie. Ten songs were the standard input those days. Some are forgettable, but others, mainly those penned by Shailendra, make for rich experience.

Awaara gave Indian cinema its first dream sequence, uniquely, with three songs, performed amidst a sea of twirling clouds or mist. Choreographed by Zohra Segal, the songs depicted heaven-to-hell-and back episodes. It ends on an optimistic note, a metaphor of life.

Awaara, his third film as a director, established Kapoor. He was only 27 then, but at 22, Nargis was his ‘senior’. Rita’s character went well with her modern-girl image. She dons a one-piece swim suit, considered daring seven decades ago. It also underscored the success of a fine team job by some of the brilliant minds and hands, including cameraman Radhu Karmakar and art director M R Achrekar.

Dina Iordanova, professor at the University of St Andrews, and other experts cite several texts and anecdotal evidence to state in a special issue of the journal ‘South Asian Popular Cinema’ that Awaara may be a candidate for the title of the “most popular film of all times”.

The writer can be reached at mahendraved07@gmail.com