As frequent visitors to this blog would know by now, one of my weaknesses is good music—and there have been, over the years, dozens of films that I’ve watched primarily because they had good scores. In some instances, just one song that I really liked. More often than not, my luck’s been pretty shoddy and I’ve ended up sitting through frightful films like Akashdeep, Saaranga, and Akeli Mat Jaiyo.
With Waaris, which I watched mostly because of Raahi matwaale, I had hopes [cautious, considering my track record, but hopes nevertheless]. It stars Suraiya and Talat Mahmood, both favourites of mine, and it was produced by Sohrab Modi, who even if (when acting) had a penchant for ‘declaiming to the skies’, did make some good films.
Waaris (‘heir’) begins by introducing us to part of the property and wealth the said person is heir to: the grand haveli of Rana Himmat Singh, in Himmatpur. Rana Himmat Singh (Jagdish Sethi) is chatting with his munim and checking that everything is ready for the upcoming 21st birthday celebrations of Himmat Singh’s son and heir, Kunwar (Talat Mahmood). The munim assures Rana Sahib that everything is ready. Also ready, he says, is the other stuff Rana Sahib had instructed him to attend to: the packing of a suitcase with bedding, clothes, etc.
We are now introduced to Kunwar himself, who is whiling away his time shooting the flames off a series of lit candles. Rana Sahib affectionately informs Kunwar that, after the birthday party is over, Kunwar must head off to Bombay for a year to prove himself. And the proving will be done without the crutch of the family name as a support. Rana Sahib has already arranged for a job for Kunwar at the Himmat Mills [no prizes for guessing who owns this—Himmat Singh loves putting his name to everything in sight].
Kunwar will be working as an apprentice at the factory, and is not to tell anyone who he is. He will be given a salary of Rs 150, and he’ll have to learn to live within that. Once he’s proved he is capable of doing that for a year—of fending for himself [never mind the job that’s been handed to him on a platter], Kunwar can come home to Himmatpur. [And, though it goes unsaid, presumably start extinguishing candles all over again].
So, once the birthday party (with a rather nice qawwali to accompany it) is over, Kunwar boards the train to Bombay. Third class, too.
In the middle of the night, a ticket collector (Gope) comes around, and catching a youth—who calls himself Kuldeep Singh—discovers that Kuldeep Singh is travelling without a ticket. Kuldeep Singh pleads that he’s received an urgent telegram that his father was very ill, and so had to travel, even though he didn’t have the money for it.
Kunwar, sitting nearby, takes pity on poor Kuldeep Singh and offers to pay up the seven odd rupees needed to buy a ticket. This is duly done, and the ticket collector goes off, thwarted.
Later in the night, when everybody in the compartment has fallen asleep, Kunwar wakes up and glances towards Kunwar, to see that the poor creature’s shivering in his sleep. So Kunwar, now Kuldeep’s self-appointed guardian angel, takes off his own coat and drapes it over Kuldeep.
In the process, he makes the startling discovery that ‘Kuldeep Singh’ is actually a woman (Suraiya).
She tells him that her name is Shobha, and shows him the telegram with the news of her father’s illness. She says that she’d been too scared to get into the women’s compartment [Why? I’m guessing it was empty and therefore a lone woman would be vulnerable, but Shobha doesn’t elaborate]. Kunwar reassures her, and tells her to go back to sleep.
…while he sits up and sings a song. [Not the best way to encourage someone to sleep, since it’s a pretty rollicking sort of tune, no lullaby. But if you’ve a voice like Talat’s, I suppose anything is forgiven]. At any rate, Shobha soon pokes her head out and joins in Kunwar’s song.
All is camaraderie. So much so that when the train finally arrives at Bombay, Kunwar alights on the platform along with Shobha—once again thinly disguised as a man—and passes her off as Kuldeep Singh, his servant.
At the platform, in response to a message from Rana Himmat Singh, the manager of Himmat Mills, Kailash (Yaqub) has arrived to meet Kunwar.
He has no idea who Kunwar is, and is surprised [not to mention affronted] that he’s been pulled away from his work to come and receive a spring chicken such as this. And a spring chicken with a lackey who’s a spring chicken too. Kailash says some very cutting and sarcastic things to Kunwar, who brushes them off.
Kailash, we are shown in a brief scene in between, isn’t merely nasty to Kunwar; he seems to be generally nasty to anybody whom he considers below his status. He glares pointedly, for instance, at an office clerk who is too hard at work to get up and greet Kailash when he arrives at his office in the morning.
And he’s having an affair with a little bit of flirtatious fluff, Ruhi, who waltzes in and out of his office and eggs Kailash on to make excuses to his gullible wife Kanta (Nadira). [Now that’s what I call an unusual bit of casting. I’d have expected at least a Nirupa Roy here, or someone more obviously put-upon].
In the meantime, Kunwar and Shobha [the latter now in her own clothes] have arrived at Shobha’s father’s little hovel, only to discover that the old man’s long dead. The neighbours are sweet, but Shobha is tormented by memories of her father and refuses to stay on there. She’d rather go wherever Kunwar will take her. [This is swiftly becoming more and more of an ‘ungli di toh pauncha pakad liya’ tale].
Anyhow, Kunwar, sweet man that he is, takes Shobha along with him to the little home that’s been arranged for him. His servant (Jeevan) and the man’s wife are understanding, and quickly make arrangements for Shobha to stay there too, and she settles in. By the time Kunwar comes home from work (after reporting to a surly Kailash), his little bachelor pad has been transformed into a haven of domestic bliss.
A duet follows, and soon Kunwar and Shobha are deeply in love. Kunwar, who has mentioned Shobha in his letters to his father, now announces that he wants to marry the girl. Back home in Himmatpur, Rana Himmat Singh throws a fit [he probably would have thrown something more substantial if Kunwar had been present]. Who is this girl? Who knows who her parents were? What her jaat-biradari is? No, Kunwar cannot marry her. Absolutely not.
To be fair, Rana Sahib’s disapproval isn’t totally unfounded. He had written to Kailash, instructing him to report back about Kunwar’s personal life. [Yes, very snoopy, but anyway]. And Kailash, having visited Kunwar’s home and been served tea by Shobha, has not just passed some snide comments about Kunwar living with a girl, but has also written to Rana Sahib telling all. Considering Kailash is hardly a paragon of virtue himself, this is a prime case of the pot calling the kettle black.
Things now move very quickly. Kunwar receives a letter from his father, forbidding the proposed wedding and telling Kunwar to throw Shobha out. This has the opposite effect; Kunwar decides to marry Shobha immediately.
While Kunwar and Shobha are getting hitched, Kailash’s domestic life—such as it is, with him lording it over Kanta—is falling apart.
On the same day as Kunwar’s wedding (of which, of course, she doesn’t know, though she has bumped into Kunwar at the office), Kanta hears from a servant about the existence of Ruhi. The servant also mumbles out Ruhi’s address, and a desperate Kanta rushes off there, only to overhear Ruhi singing a seductive song to Kailash. She politely gives Ruhi time to finish her song, then bangs at the door, ready to confront Kailash…
…who takes the wind out of her sails by telling Kanta that she, Kanta, isn’t his wife. Never was. Ruhi is his wife.
But I’m going to be the mother of your child, Kanta pleads. This has no effect, and Kanta goes away, distraught and in what seems to be a suicidal mood, since she next is seen at a chemist’s, trying to buy a medicine which, consumed in an incorrect dose, can be poisonous. [And, in what must be a first for Hindi cinema, the chemist actually refuses to sell it to her].
Kunwar, who’s also at the chemist’s, along with Shobha (for whom he’s buying a wedding present—a bottle of perfume, for 4 rupees and 12 annas), recognizes Kunwar and introduces the two women. Kanta is sweet enough to leave her own worries behind and wish both of them a very happy married life.
Which is dealt a sharp blow soon after by Kailash, who fires Kunwar on Rana Himmat Singh’s orders. Poor Kunwar now has no job, cannot go home to Himmatpur, and has a wife to look after too. What shall he do?
[Yes. If heartbreak can be a reason for joining up, why not unemployment?] So Kunwar enlists, and goes home long enough to say farewell to Shobha before he boards the troop ship that’ll take him and thousands of other Indian soldiers to the battlefields in Europe.
And disaster strikes. The ship is bombed, and the news, broadcast over the radio, is received by Himmat Singh, by Shobha, and by Shobha and Kunwar’s faithful servant. All, as can be expected, are devastated.
The news of Kunwar’s death finally brings Rana Sahib to his senses, and he realizes he’s been too cold-hearted and harsh. He sends for his daughter-in-law, therefore, only to be told by the servant at Kunwar’s house that bahurani, now that she is all alone, decided that she should leave Bombay. The man doesn’t know where she’s gone…
But we do, because Shobha, weeping but denying that Kunwar could really be dead, is singing a sad version of Raahi matwaale as she goes home all by herself in a train.
And guess whom she accidentally meets in the train? Kanta, fleeing from certain infamy. Kanta, who recognizes her, and who, while chatting with Shobha, looks at Shobha’s beautiful ring—an heirloom which Kunwar had gifted her when they married. Kanta, who admires the ring, and is examining it when the train crashes. [Ghoonghat, anyone? Kati Patang?]
What next? Plenty, really, including yet another (even sadder) version of Raahi matwaale, some more songs, and some fairly absorbing drama.
What I liked about this film:
Nadira as Kanta. When I began watching Waaris, I hadn’t really thought of Nadira as one of the main reasons I should watch this film. Nadira, after all, is usually fairly predictable as a character: the snooty princess, the shrewish wife, the nasty mother-in-law. Her role in Waaris is, I’m glad to say, refreshingly different.
In the first half of the film, Kanta is pretty much sidelined; the story centres around Kunwar and Shobha. In the second half of the film, however, the focus is Kanta. This is a character who battles her own conscience, yet realizes that it may not be an utter sin to take advantage of opportunity. A woman who is three-dimensional enough to be willing to do anything for her child, but cannot help but feel guilty nevertheless. A very believable character, and very well acted by Nadira.
And, yes: Anil Biswas’s music. My favourite song(s) from Waaris are the three versions of Raahi matwaale, but there are other good songs too, including Le lo balaiyaan (a qawwali that was new to me), Ghar tera apna ghar laage, and the lullaby, Taaron ki nagri se.
What I didn’t like:
Not much, now that I think of it. Yes, it does get a bit melodramatic towards the end, but not out of the ordinary.
And, since it’s a fairly interesting story (which seems to have inspired later Hindi films—or was this already an established plot element?), it’s definitely a film I’d recommend.
PS. I couldn’t resist adding this. The only photograph of Talat’s that I possess is a lobby card with a still from Waaris. It’s this one:
As you might be able to see, his face is marked with a faint grid, typically used to copy a smaller image to a larger canvas, for instance to make posters.
And, PPS.As you’ve probably noticed from the screen grabs, this is up on Youtube, on the Lehren Retro channel. The quality, as you’ve also probably noticed, is abysmal, but not enough to really interfere with watching the film. Especially if you happen to be as die-hard a fan of old Hindi cinema as I am.
Absolutely fabulous review!
I should be watching the film right away! But….
time-wime and the rona-dhona… :(
I can understand the ‘time-wime‘ thing, Harvey, but the rona-dhona is actually quite controlled in Waaris. Despite the story, the execution is relatively low on the weepiness. And Nadira is very good. :-)
I meant the rona-dhona on my part for not having time-wime. ;)
BTW am amazed to see that Lehren has turned the movie into a cinemascope! ;)
Ah, rona-dhona in that sense. Yes, that is true! I keep cribbing about the huge number of films I’ve yet to watch and the books I’ve yet to read, too… :-( WDIGTT?!
Lehren Retro zindabad! Most of the videos they post are truly frightful quality (and this, as you so rightly point out, has been stretched and made into Cinemascope too!). But at least one gets to see these films, even if the video isn’t good.
Madhu, I have seen Waaris and enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to, so may I just say that your asides have given me the first laugh of the day? :) Especially [he probably would have thrown something more substantial if Kunwar had been present].
I also love how easy it was in those days to join the army. :)
(ps: Talat was to-die-for-handsome!)
I agree with all you say, Anu! Talat was to die-for-handsome (and especially so in the last two films I’ve seen of his – this one, and Lala Rookh). I wish he’d been given a chance to work in many more films – he was so good to look at. :-)
And yes, Waaris was far better than I’d thought it would be. I’ve come to the conclusion that relatively obscure films tend to be obscure for a reason, so I’d guessed I shouldn’t hold out much hope for Waaris. But, a pleasant surprise…
Incidentally, not only does it seem to have been very easy to join the army back then, it also seems to have happened very rapidly. ;-) Kunwar goes out in the morning, job-hunting, and is back later in the day, not just in uniform, but also (apparently) trained and already posted out. Even considering WWII was in full force, that’s rather too far-fetched.
Very, very handsome! Especially without the moustache
I haven’t seen any of his films but I have watched Rahi Matwale many times: going by that he could act too
May I suggest Lala Rookh as a Talat film to watch? If you can get the complete version, not the Friends Video one, which is really badly butchered. It’s a very romantic film, the songs are fabulous, and Talat and Shyama make a great pair.
I have read what you liked and didn’t. :-)
The rest after I’ve watched the film.
Actually, I always first read your like and didn’t like if I have in mind to see it. If not then I give in to enjoying your interesting reviews. Sometimes it’s the way you’ve written that makes me watch a film. :-)
Thank you, pacifist! :-)
Do watch this one – as Anu mentions (and I agree) it’s far better than I’d expected it to be. The story’s interesting, and Nadira’s acting is particularly good.
Nice review! “Sometimes it’s the way you’ve written that makes me watch a film”
Totally agree with pacifist on that!
A must watch for Nadira’s performance without her typecast role….
Talat Mahmood and Suraiya are added bonus. Does Talat Mahmood turn up alive later? I must watch it soon! :)
“Does Talat Mahmood turn up alive later? ”
:-D What do you think? Watch it, it’s a fairly enjoyable film, even if Talat disappears about halfway through the film.
Suraiya caught my interest because she was the first love of dev anand
she was a rage as singing star in 40,s .Talat seems to be good looking as per the photograph and a very talented singer. I wonder why he did not make it top as an actor and also as singer.Thank you again for the nice review.
Oh, I think a lot of die-hard Talat fans will disagree about him not making it to the top as a singer, though I admit that when I think of ‘top singers’ I think of the more versatile Rafi. Talat, while he had a fabulous voice, tended to get slotted into fairly predictable song types: soulfully romantic, sad, or philosophical, though there are some exceptions.
But I do wonder why he never did better as an actor. I can think of a number of actors who seem to have succeeded – Bharat Bhushan and Pradeep Kumar among them – with much less than Talat, both in terms of looks and talent.
I think Bharat Bhushan’s roles of poet/musician/artist were solid footholds for climbing up, and princely/tribal chieftan(if not a king) roles for Pradeep Kumar.
I suspect Talat Mehmood began concentrating on a singing career.
You’ve very precisely pinpointed the types of roles Bharat Bhushan and Pradeep Kumar did. True – those seemed tailormade for these two, but I also think they ended up getting almost typecast in a particular type of role. (Coincidentally, it’s interesting to note that both Pradeep Kumar ad Bharat Bhushan acted in Ghoonghat).
I feel you’re right about Talat concentrating on his singing, even though he had been a singer first and an actor second. He must have realised that he was not going to get into the big league as an actor… though I must admit that I’ve enjoyed (with the exception of Dil-e-Naadaan, which was just too angst-riddled for me) all his films I’ve seen. Especially Lala Rookh – what an utter gem of a film that is.
I used to hear a lot about Waris from the elders around me. I was never too interested in watching the film, I was sure I would get bored, you see although I loved Talat Mehmood the man, a very, very affectionate gentleman, I was never a fan of his voice or for that matter his acting. As far as male singers go it was always Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar for me. But I do love Suraiya’s sweet voice. Now that I have read your review I am a bit intrigued, I can guess how the story will turn out but nevertheless as usual you evoked my interest with your review.—- Shilpi
You should try and see the film if you get the time, Shilpi. It’s quite interesting, though of course this particular storyline did get rehashed in some form or the other in later films like Kati Patang.
I started watching this film a while back and rather enjoyed it. I must go back and finish watching it.
I love that song – Goa Badhiyya. It is so unique. On one side it is a traditional arti song, on the other it is a beautiful qawwali. A very unique combination.
I love the way Talat looks. Good enough to eat. I still can’t get over the fact that Shilpi lived next door to him. Sigh!
” On one side it is a traditional arti song, on the other it is a beautiful qawwali.”
Yes! I loved the way it moves back and forth in music and picturisation. A lovely contrast in styles!
And yes, Talat does look good enough to eat in Waaris. He’s really so handsome. Lucky Shilpi! Imagine having someone like that as a neighbour (though I’m guessing little Shilpi was too small to appreciate her good fortune at the time! LOL).
HA!HA! Talat Uncle would have been real happy to see such a reaction to him and his films, sad, that I cannot join in for like I said I loved the man, but not him as an actor or singer, I found him too awkward as an actor and I did not like that vibrating quality of his voice. Like I said it was always Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar for me. Yes another thing Talat Mehmood was such a decent man that everybody in the industry would say that the harshest remark that he could ever make about anyone was that woh budtameez hai
“the harshest remark that he could ever make about anyone was that woh budtameez hai”
How sweet! He must have been such a wonderful man. I do agree that he wasn’t a fantastic actor (though I think adequate, especially when compared to some of his more successful contemporaries). And I didn’t particularly care for Talat’s singing when I was younger – though I’ve grown out of that over the past few years. Now I really love a lot of his songs. But even if it weren’t for that, I would like him just for being such a nice man. He sounds like such a gentle and sweet soul.
Oh yes, very absorbing. Both Nadira and Jeevan in entirely different roles. When Jeevan came on I thought now he’s going to cause trouble for them.
I’ve noticed that old films looked after giving reasons. The whole chain of information about Shobha having left for her village on Punjab Mail from jeevan to manager to to munimji to father makes it clear why he’s at the accident spot.
End was rather abrupt, or had scenes cut.
>when the train crashes. [Ghoonghat, anyone? Kati Patang?]
Ghunghat was based on Rabindranath Tagore’s Noukadubi or Naav Durghatna where instead of the train it was the boat. In fact this story is very much inspired by Noukadubi in the interchange of bahuranis.
I’ve added Talat Mehmood to the ..ummm … errrr….. list ;-)
Thanks for the recommendation DO. :-)
Yes, as soon as Jeevan came on, I thought too, “Oh, now what? Is he in cahoots with the nasty Kailash?”
By the way, one thing that stuck out for me when I watched Waaris was something that Sidharth Bhatia had mentioned in his book on Navketan: that Navketan’s heroines (and heroes, for that matter) are often people about whom we know very little – more often than not, the heroine’s family are not shown, perhaps not even mentioned. Waaris, in that sense, was a surprise too, because while we do hear about Suraiya’s character’s father having died, we are never told anything more – for instance, why she was living away from him, or where.
Oh, thank you for telling me aout the Tagore story. Didn’t know about that!
If you remember Madhu I always talk about a Tagore favourite ‘The Wreck’, it is the English translation of Naukadubi, Gora and The Wreck are my all time Tagore favourites.
Oh, okay. Yes, I remember you mentioning The Wreck. I will go searching for it before I forget.
“I’ve added Talat Mehmood to the ..ummm … errrr….. list ;-)”
How could we have forgotten?! :-D
That sounds deliciously salicious! *grin* C’mon, share!!
Heh. Pacifist is talking about a certain secret list a bunch of us on Facebook have built up. :-) Of our favourite men from the silverscreen. It’s a very eclectic lot – everybody from Guru Dutt to Shammi Kapoor to Dev Anand, Rock Hudson, Richard Armitage. And now, Talat. He certainly deserves to be on it!
Now I might as well put up a photo of him there!
I love the plot. Sounds like a really meaty film. And what with the cast and the music, I can imagine it would be worth watching despite the picture quality. I didn’t know about this channel, so thanks for the link.
You should check out Lehren Retro, Banno. They have a lot of relatively obscure films, or even films that retro-nuts like me would know of, but generally find difficult to get hold of. The quality isn’t always good, but not so bad that it’s unwatchable. And Waaris was, despite the poor video quality, worth a watch.
This certainly looks like a must-watch for me! Unfortunately, my mission to learn Hindi has somewhat fallen by the wayside recently, and I will have to do a lot of work even to reach the level that I was at 18 months to two years ago. So, the copy online will present the usual challenge of trying to watch a film without subtitles, but maybe this write-up will help me to follow the plot. Or maybe I will eventually find a subtitled version being sold somewhere or one put together by some our friends. :)
P.S. Here’s the very short episode on this film from the Bollywood Centenary series at Indiavideo.org:
Thank you for that link, Richard – it’s a neat little snapshot of the film, even though it tends to make much of the suspense in Waaris (which was, in my opinion, actually more drama than hard core suspense).
I looked around a bit, and Induna does have a DVD of the film available, though the product details don’t specify if English subs are included:
What a great site to get a glimpse at retro stuff : keep it going
Hi…………. Nice review. Well as someone rightly mentioned , Waris is indeed an adaptation Of Tagore’s Naukadubi, which was later adapted as Ghunghat By Ramanand Sagar. Many other films too later followed this plot Of Tagore’s.Interestingly Waris is not the first adaptation of Tagore’s Naukadubi, the first adaptation was the 1947 film Milan ( The bengali version was naukadubi released in same year). Milan starred Dilip Kumar in the lead. What’s even more interesting to know is the fact that like Waris, Milan too was Directed by Nitin Bose and had music by Anil Biswas! Lovely songs in Milan too especially Upar hai Badariya Kari.
The Tagore connection with Waris incidentally does not end with the storyline. The Beautiful song ‘Rahi matwale’ is a superb adaptation of the Tagore’s song ‘Ore Grihobasi, khol daar khol’. It’s sad that although Tagore has influenced Bollywood and it’s music in a big way,most people don’t know about it. Rabindranath ji has been never given his due outside his home state in india, though he has had a profound impact on Indian Culture.
Coming back to waris, Talat i have always maintained has the best voice ever among the indian singers of all time alongwith Hemant Kumar& Geeta dutt. Great singer Talat was and handsome man too, though the same cannot be said about his acting.
The only Milan I’d heard of was the melodramatic Sunil Dutt-Nutan one, so your mention of the 1947 one interests me – and I want to see it! Nitin Bose and Anil Biswas make it even more attractive. I must look out for it! Thanks, Raunak. :-)
I’d no idea Raahi matwaale is an adaptation of a Tagore song. I managed to find a rendition on Youtube of the original, and it is lovely. Biswas’s adaptation is pretty faithful to the original.
“Great singer Talat was and handsome man too, though the same cannot be said about his acting.”
Ah, well. You can’t have it all. ;-) And, come to think of it, several others floating around in Hindi cinema at the time – including people who were solely actors, not singers-turned-actors – weren’t great actors. Talat is at least passable, especially in films like Lala Rookh or Sone ki Chidiya.
Well said, but as far as i am concerned i would always prefer Talat the singer to Talat the actor anyday. Moreover i think success and longevity in Bollywood as an actor depends more on the kinds of roles one does and how much that role suits the person. For whatever reason, Talat could never find that genre of roles which he could completely make his own. Roles which completely suit an actor to the tee and such roles in which nobody can perform better than the concerned actor in fact decide whether an actor is successful or not. Of course this does not apply to truly versatile actors but then only few actors can be called versatile. In old Hindi cinema period from 1930-70, i think only true great versatile actors were Ashok Kumar, Motilal, Balraj Sahni, Pahadi Sanyal,Dilip Kumar & Sanjeev Kumar.
By the way, did you recognise me??
“Roles which completely suit an actor to the tee and such roles in which nobody can perform better than the concerned actor in fact decide whether an actor is successful or not.”
Very well said. And I agree with your list of the truly versatile actors – I don’t think I can think of any names to add to that. Talat made a good romantic hero of the ‘sweet-and-non-stalkerish’ kind, but then that sort of role could be played by just about anybody else, from Jawahar Kaul onwards. I, much as I like Talat the actor, will readily admit that Talat the singer far outshone him.
And of course I recognise you! Our resident SD Burman connection. ;-)
Oh my God, you have got a great memory!! speechless…. I was pretty sad due to Manna Dey’s death but you recognizing me has made me chaala happy!!!! Yohoooooo……………..
Not a great memory. ;-) Just the mere fact that not everybody who comments on this blog has a kakimaa who’s a relative of SDB’s. :-D
ye it makes me feel happy but also sad at the same time as both of them are no more with us today. sigh…
Yes, that is sad. :-(
Hmmm but anyways that’s life. Anyways i would like to be known more as somebody who is truly passionate about movies and music and has quite a good knowledge about indian cinema than to be known as somebody who is very distantly related to Burmanda!! but then such is the aura of that man that it gets difficult to come out of that….
Yes, but in order to be known for your knowledge and love for music and movies, you have to din the message in. Write about it, comment more frequently, stuff like that. Then it stays in people’s minds more than whom you’re related to. ;-)
And yes one more thing…. few more actors can be added to that list. Those names include Pran, Tarun Bose,Nasir Hussain, Manmohan Krishna,Abhi Bhattacharya,Nana Palsikar & Utpal Dutt. I think these names deserve to be included considering that we talking about actors here and not just lead heroes.
Except for Nasir Hussain (whom I’ve always seen as the somewhat benevolent but occasionally imperious patriarch), I’d agree with all the other names you’ve suggested. Pran and Tarun Bose in particular – they especially impress me a lot with the wide range of roles they’ve played successfully.
Absolutely i too just love Pran and Tarunda to bits. I mean both could pull off roles as diverse as Upkar or Victoria No. 203 (Pran), Anupama or Gumnaam (Tarunda) with ease and aplomb. Another name that i forgot unintentionally is that of Rehman-that guy is a great actor for sure.
I’d done a tribute to Pran on his death earlier this year, and my main focus of that was his versatility:
By the way, do you follow Shilpi Bose’s blog about her father? It’s a fascinating blog, and absolutely addictive, because she has so many interesting anecdotes to share of what happened behind the scenes in Tarun Bose’s films.
Yup i do follow her blog but i like Shilpidi’s foodie blog more since i am crazy about cooking and eat like an elephant!! And yup i got chaala sad when Pran saab passed away, so much so that i had actually planned to write about my fav roles of Pran saab but then it did not happen. Infact, thrice the idea of restarting my blog and share my passion and knowledge of cinema with others crossed my mind this year. The first two instances were the fact that this year Indian cinema celebrated it’s 100 years of existence and that this year was also Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore’ 150th birth anniversary. And then the passing away of Pran saab almost made me write. But Now with the passing away of Mannada. i have decided to finally write something. So this diwali, me going to write about the ‘Other side of Mannada’-those facets of Manna dey that many people who aren’t very much aware about Manna Dey’s innings outside that of bollywood, don’t know much about . And yes i read your really nice Pran tribute but at that i did not comment as i wasn’t in a very happy state of mind to do so.
“But Now with the passing away of Mannada. i have decided to finally write something.”
Fabulous! Do leave a comment on my blog giving the link to yours, so I can go and have a look.
Thank you very much for directing me here Mahu, I now know that I have a silent follower of my food blog. Needless to mention that I was happy to read Raunak’s comments about my food blog and of course my father and was also happy to know you find my blog addictive. Thank you Madhu and of course thanks Raunak.
We should be thanking you, Shilpi, not the other way round! Honestly, both your blogs are so much fun to read (and I agree with Raunak, even your food blog is fabulous). :-)
Thanks Madhu, you are a sweetheart.
O Maa … Shilpidi amake thanks bole aar lojja diyo na!! Ki erokom je lagche ki bhojabo. But Really your food blog is very good. sotti tomar blog podhe podhe koto je dish banaye chi aur Maa ke diye ranna koreye chi ki bolbo…. Ekhon toh ai abasta ki khe khe lau hoye geche!!
Hi Madu. I absolutely loved this film (which i saw after reading your blog!) ..recently discovered your blog which find to be a great source for sifting through these oldie goldies! thanks so much for your efforts! rgds aditya
Not a problem.
Thank you for the appreciation, and for taking the trouble to comment! I’m so glad you enjoy this. :-)
Phenomenal review Sir