Hatim Tai (1956)

RIP, Shakila.

Yes, this post is a little late as a tribute to one of Hindi cinema’s loveliest actresses—Shakila passed away, aged 82, on September 21—but that was because I was travelling. I heard the news, was saddened and upset, and vowed that as soon as I got back, I’d post something about Shakila. Not a songs list, because I’d already done that. A review of one of her more popular films, then, I decided.

Shakila (born on New Year’s Day, in 1935) was one of several actresses who did the one-off role in a big film (in her case, CID and China Town, though she also had a memorable if not top-billed role in Aar Paar), but was otherwise low-key. She acted with some of the biggest stars of the time, including Dev Anand, Shammi Kapoor and Raj Kapoor, yet much of her career was spent working in smaller films, especially fantasies (including the somewhat unusual ‘Muslim devotional-mythological’, Al Hilal), historicals and thrillers. They may not have had been big hits, but a lot of those films did have fairly well-known stars—Sunil Dutt, Pradeep Kumar, Ajit, Manoj Kumar, Premnath, etc—and good music.

And they had Shakila, who, besides being beautiful, brought a certain pep and zing to the proceedings. In Ali Baba Chaalees Chor, for instance, Shakila’s Marjeena is a refreshingly independent female character, who is often the equivalent of the US Cavalry—she always manages to come to the rescue of her beloved, and with aplomb.

Shakila could prance around energetically in a song like Chaaku waala chhuri waala or Main hoon Papa Khan. She could sizzle in Babuji dheere chalna. She could be gloriously fragile and porcelain-pretty in Zulfon ki ghata lekar. On top of all of that, she was a good actress, who could be a believable vamp—drunk, angst-riddled, but keeping her chin up in Hoon abhi main jawaan—as convincingly as she could portray the lonely, orphaned young woman of Tower House or the ambitious and supercilious businesswoman of Shriman Satyawadi.

So, in tribute: a review of what is considered one of Shakila’s top films from the fantasy genre. Hatim Tai. Although several versions, both film as well as television, have been made of this story, the Shakila-P Jairaj starrer is probably the most popular, the definitive Hatim Tai.

The film begins by introducing us to Hatim Tai (P Jairaj), the prince of Yemen, as he goes about distributing largesse to the poor and deprived. One man, however, throws back the asharfis Hatim Tai offers him, saying that they are of no use to him. Can this wealth bring happiness? Hatim Tai is intrigued as well as sympathetic, and asks the man what’s wrong.

The man tells Hatim Tai a sob story. He, it turns out, is a prince named Munir Shami; one day, out riding, he met and immediately fell in love with a princess, Husn Bano, who reciprocated his love. However, just as Munir Shami was proposing to his lady love, she burst into tears and ran away, telling him that their love could never be.

Munir Shami made his way to the court of Husn Bano’s father, who also gave him the same response: no, Husn Bano can never be his. Ever since, Munir Shami has been wandering about, dejected and miserable. Hatim Tai, good man that he is and ever-eager to help others, offers to help by finding out what the matter is. Together, Hatim Tai, Munir Shami, and Hatim Tai’s sidekick Nazru Dhobi (? Looks a little like Maruti) go off to meet Husn Bano’s father…

… who tells all. It emerges that some time back, Daddy was sitting at night in his room, reading a book, when he fell asleep. Even as he slept, a beautiful parizaad—a fairy named Gulnar (Shakila) came flitting into his room. Gulnar went whirling prettily about the the room.

When she accidentally knocked over a pitcher, the sound woke up Daddy, who caught one glimpse of Gulnar, and was immediately smitten. So smitten, in fact, that he went rushing and grabbed Gulnar—an unforgivable act, as it turned out. Because Gulnar turned to stone: a process that happened slowly enough to allow her time to chastise Husn Bano’s father for daring to touch a pari, and also enough time for her to curse him: his daughter, Husn Bano, would be also turned to stone when she got married and was touched by her husband.

This is why Husn Bano can never marry. Her father, desperate to change Gulnar back from stone to fairy, managed to bring together some of the wisest men of the kingdom, and between them, they devised a set of seven questions, each in the form of a riddle, a maxim, or a sentence with a hidden meaning. If a man should be able to answer all seven of these questions, Gulnar will be a fairy once more, and will be able to lift the curse off Husn Bano [I think Husn Bano’s father is being unduly optimistic and taking Gulnar’s benevolence for granted here, but never mind].

Hatim Tai offers to go on this quest to find the answers to the seven questions. Should the spell(s) be broken, he asks that Munir Shami be allowed to marry Husn Bano, and this wish is granted. Hatim Tai and his loyal Nazru set off.

Soon enough, they run into a bunch of jalparis (water nymphs), who carry Hatim Tai and Nazru off underwater, into their realm [some unspecified magic allows these men to go on breathing and being perfectly normal here]. The queen of the jalparis falls in love with Hatim Tai very quickly, and is busy trying to woo him…

… when Hatim Tai, feeling oddly tired, begins to feel an odd magnetic force-like attraction to a throne standing by itself.

Before the Queen Jalpari can dissuade him, Hatim Tai goes and sits down on the throne, leaving the Queen wailing and upset: that throne is reserved for those men of whom she has tired, and whom she wants to discard. Now, before her weeping eyes, Hatim Tai (and Nazru, whose fate seems to be tied with that of his friend and master) float up and onto dry land.

Even as they pick themselves up, Hatim Tai and Nazru see a bedraggled, dishevelled man going past, cursing the Queen Jalpari: he bemoans the fact that he was not satisfied with the time he got to spend with her, and his desire for more has been the ruin of him. Suddenly, Hatim Tai sees the light: that’s the answer to the first question, Ek baar dekha hai, baar-baar dekhne ki hawas hai (“Having seen it once, there’s the urge to see it again and again”). Hawas—lust—he says, can never be satisfied. If one attempts to satisfy lust, it only grows.

Even as Hatim Tai utters this, far away, in the palace of Husn Bano’s father, the first of the seven questions, written in glittering (magical?) letters on a wall vanishes, as if wiped away. Simultaneously, Gulnar’s head turns from stone to flesh and blood. She is much relieved, and everybody else—Husn Bano, her father, Munir Shami—is exultant. It’s working!

Hatim Tai is very relieved too. He and Nazru now move on. When they stop to rest in a grove of trees, however, they suddenly find themselves attacked by some djinn which have taken on the form of trees, Tolkein-like. The two men do their best to defend themselves, but seem to be having a hard time of it—when someone comes to their rescue. It’s Gulnar!

… but no. While this beautiful (and very helpful) fairy looks exactly like Gulnar, she is in fact Gulnar’s twin sister, Husna Pari. Husna and Hatim Tai fall in love in a jiffy, but he tells her that he cannot marry her just yet; he must complete this quest, find the answers to those seven questions, and release Gulnar (and, consequently, Husn Bano) from the curses that bind them.

Husna is not just willing to be patient, she also promises to help in whatever way she can [Gulnar, after all, is her sister]. For a start, she gives them (at Nazru’s request) a huge feast, followed by plenty of weapons and armour to defend themselves, should the need arise.

So Hatim Tai and Nazru set off on their quest once again—and what an adventure it becomes. At breakneck speed, the two friends find themselves going from one dangerous situation to another. Now Hatim Tai finds himself taken captive by a mysterious (and initially hostile) woman with a veiled face:

And he and Nazru come to the aid of a dervish who turns out to have an unexpected past.

Then they find themselves up against a gigantic genie called Nida, who lives inside a huge cave and terrorizes a village next door, from which he demands an unfortunate inhabitant every now and then—unfortunate because Nida eats up everybody he summons.

And then there is Husna Pari’s father, the Shahenshah-e-Parizaad, who is furious when he learns of his daughter’s love for this mere mortal. So furious is the King of the Fairies that he shrinks his daughter and imprisons her in a jar, while also taking captive Hatim Tai and Nazru.

What are the answers to the seven questions? What further adventures await Hatim Tai and Nazru?

Hatim Bai is based on a work entitled ‘Qissa-e-Hatim Tai’ (The Adventures of Hatim Tai) in which, rather like Aladdin, Sindbad, or Amir Hamza and his loyal Amar Ayyar, the hero is a brave, generous, handsome and powerful man who goes on a quest whereby he vanquishes enemies, rescues the impoverished, the imprisoned, the oppressed and those who—perhaps because of their own fault—have fallen on evil days. He has women fall in love with him, he experiences ‘tilism’ (magic, enchantment) and comes out glorious at the end.

Incidentally, Hatim Tai was a real man who lived in pre-Islamic Arabia. Famed for his generosity, he became a part of folklore, with stories about him and his virtues appearing in everything from The Arabian Nights to Sa’adi’s Bostaan—plus, of course, the Qissa-e-Hatim Tai.

I’ll admit I watched Hatim Tai mainly because of Shakila. As it happened, while she was pretty and sweet, I enjoyed the film a good deal more than I’d expected to.

What I liked about this film:

The story, which is a delightful fantasy. It’s chockfull of all the elements that pepper all the Middle Eastern folklore-mythological fantasies I’ve mentioned above: there are magicians and fairies, djinn and jalparis. There is an evil sorcerer whose life resides in a magical parrot. There are horrible ogres preying on hapless villagers, there are all manner of beasts and half-beasts, some good and some bad. There is good triumphing over evil, love conquering all. Best of all, it’s in an entertaining format which (most of the time) is coherent, fast-paced, and much fun. Director and producer Homi Wadia, whose Fearless Nadia films I’ve never really liked for their stories (which tend to be pretty ho-hum) does an excellent job here of keeping the plot entertaining.

What I also find laudable is that while there is a strong comic element (Nazru provides the humour through the film), it’s woven into the narrative very well. There is no separate comic side plot, and Nazru’s nuttiness is generally restrained enough to be funny rather than irritating. (That said, while he makes for a truly ugly man-in-drag, his song Ooi amma main kaahe ko bazaar gayi thhi made me laugh).

Shakila, of course, who is utterly cute and pretty as Husna. She doesn’t have much to do except flit around (rather unconvincingly, since her wings don’t move), but she does get, now and then, to wield her wand and pull off some stunt that saves Hatim Tai’s hide.

And, the music, by SN Tripathi. There are several good songs here, but my favourite is Parvardigaar-e-aalam, one of those rare instances of a Muslim devotional song, and beautifully sung by Rafi.

What I didn’t like:

The special effects and props, which (unsurprisingly) are rather unsophisticated—though, again to my surprise—not as terrible as I’d expected them to be.

Unfortunately, while this film is in colour (Gevacolor), it’s suffered the ravages of time: the colours have all gone haywire, what with greens turning to orange, and reds turning to a greyish purple. I do wish someone would take up the task of restoring the colours in this film: it’s worth it.


23 thoughts on “Hatim Tai (1956)

  1. I was wondering if you would put up a tribute to Shakila! I was debating doing a post on her songs myself, but couldn’t summon up the energy to write them up. :( Shakila is one of those actresses whom I never minded seeing on screen – not a great favourite, but pleasant enough.

    Coming to this film, oh, why haven’t I watched this until now! Have to find some time to watch this pronto – thanks, Madhu.


    • You must watch this one, Anu. Okay, it doesn’t have as great music as the other famous fantasy Parasmani, but at least the story is entertaining and the SFX a wee bit better than Parasmani‘s.

      (which reminds me… I should probably review Parasmani sometime; if I can summon up the courage to rewatch it). ;-)


      • Parasmani? Good god, woman, you don’t have death wish, do you? Not even for the scrumpilicious review that I know will follow would I wish that on you! :)

        But yes, I’ll look out for this one. It sounds like fun. :)


        • Hehe. :-D Yes, it was pretty awful, wasn’t it? Those electric giant mushrooms and all. I am not the type to think of anything as being ‘so bad it’s good’, but I agree that Parasmani is so bad, it would probably make for a good review. ;-)

          Do watch this one, Anu. It’s quite a bit of fun.


  2. Sorry to suggest something that doesn’t pertain to this post, but try to watch the film ‘Secret of Santa Vittoria and post a review. It is a delightful film starring Anthony Quinn and features the tune ‘Zorba the Greek’.


    • Actually these were two separate movies. Secret of Santa Vittoria (1969) he played the hilarous Bombolini and in Zorba the Greek (1964), he played Zorba.


    • Do you mean that Zorba’s Dance (which is, if I remember correctly, known in Greek as Sirtaki) also features in Secret of Santa Vittoria? I do remember watching Zorba the Greek – I was perhaps too young to appreciate it back then – but I did like that dance and the music.

      Thanks for the recommendation, will make a note of it.


  3. Hi madhuji
    A nice review. I should watch this.
    She is not a favoeite but i like her.
    She looks very lively and beautiful.
    The naughty expressions on her face in the song’ Aankhon hi aankhon mein’ from CID, is something that I cant forget.
    I also came across the songs of chalis din, which I liked very much. I think i shared some of them ib one of ur posts.
    Hatim tai was my favorite Arabian night story in childhood and at least for that and for the songs( i also like jhoomati hai nazar) and for Shakila ,I will watch it for sure.
    Thanks for posting this.


    • Thanks, Anup! Glad you liked the review. :-) You were lucky, that you knew the story of Hatim Tai in your childhood. I have been hearing about it only through the name of this movie, and it’s only now that I’ve gone and actually discovered what it’s all about. I enjoyed it so much that I’ve even managed to find an online copy of an English translation, which i intend to read sometime soon.

      Yes, Jhoomti hai nazar is another good song.


  4. Shakila had a lot more talent than she got credit for in my opinion. I always wanted to see movies with her in the lead role so Hatim Tai seems like one of those few. I may have seen this on DD a long time ago but I can’t remember clearly. There are some of these usual suspects, who, for me, make for a fun experience. My list includes the likes of Shakila, Johny Walker, Rafi and Geeta Dutt..

    You may already know this trivia – Shakila’s sister Noor was the wife of Johny Walker..


  5. I agree, Ashish. I do think Shakila was underrated: she was far more talented than most film makers seemed to have realized. That said, if you do want to watch a good film with Shakila in a solid role, I would recommend Ali Baba Chaalees Chor. She has a good, juicy role in it, more the role of the quintessential hero than the heroine. One of the most resourceful heroines I’ve ever seen in Hindi cinema – and Shakila looks as if she’s really enjoying herself.

    “Shakila’s sister Noor was the wife of Johny Walker.

    Yes. In fact, Noor and Johnny Walker’s daughter, Tasneem, has written several guest posts for this blog, both about her parents (especially her father) and about her aunt. If you’re interested, you can scroll through the Guest Posts category and find them here:



    • Wow. That’s very interesting. Didn’t know about that guest post! I read the sweet article Tasneem wrote about Noor and absolutely loved it. There are so many unsung heroes and I am somehow drawn to them. I didn’t know chhota sa ghar hoga song from naukari was on her. Thank you for linking the old posts. I will also check out other posts on JW as well.


  6. hello,
    i just now remembered about, akhtar romani, who was the lyricist for the wonderful song “parwar digare alam” from hatim tai. He wrote only this song for this movie
    he has very few hits to his credit, though he appears to have written for many b-grade or low budget films.
    one more incident, I always remember about this song.
    Hyderabad nizam was once watching this movie,(it was a specially arranged show for him of course!) he liked this song’ parwar digar e alam’ so much that he expressed his wish to watch it again and saw it several times, before moving forward with the main film.
    I don’t know about truth.
    But it certainly is a interesting thing!


    • That’s a very interesting anecdote! Thanks for sharing. :-) I do found Parwardigaar-e-aalam to be a very unusual sort of song for Hindi cinema (at least as much as I’ve seen). The music and Rafi’s rendition are of course great, but Romani’s lyrics are so interesting, too, because they’re so distinctly Muslim (and for a Christian like me, Old Testament) related. Very specific to a religion, rather than a generic devotional song. There are loads of Hindu bhajans, but relatively fewer Muslim ones – and of those, I think ones which have so many references to specific people from the scriptures are even rarer.


      • yes.The lyrics are really so wonderful.
        Akhtar romani has also worked as script and dialogue writer for various popular films.
        He got trapped into stunt and costume dramas, after this film.
        He worked with Usha khanna, iqbal qureshi and likes for those films.
        Then he got opportunity to work with Kalyanji anadji and those songs became popular, the prominent ones being ‘bekhudi mein sanam’ and ‘chale the saath milkae’ from Haseena Maan Jayegi.
        he has also written ‘Sochata hoon’ from raaz by rafi & krishna kalle.
        his other films were not so popular i think.
        He lastly wrote qurbani song for Kalyanji Anandji.
        nothing much is known about him!


  7. How come none of you remembered the 1990 monstrosity of the same name. Jeetendra and Sangeeta Bijlani played the leads . If it is consolation to you, Madhu, the “special ” effects were quite very tacky. Jeetu as usual was his constipated self and Sangeeta was wonderful as the role matched her capabilities. Looking wooden was her forte so she was wonderful as a stone!
    I did sense that the seven riddle storyline would make an exciting film but that was definitely not it. After a time the solutions to the riddles seemed to come thick and fast without excitement or even coherence .So should I take the plunge and watch this one, I dither.


  8. Hi Madhulika….. Thank you for your tribute to my gorgeous Shakila Aunty.
    I was in Bombay when she passed away….. I will always remember her as a beautiful, loving & generous person. Till the end ,Shakila Aunty lived like a Queen, in her lifestyle & graciousness 💞😍🌹……warm regards, Tasneem


    • Now that is what I call a lovely tribute to a lovely lady! You’re welcome, Tasneem. The passing of your aunt was a real blow to me – she was so lovely, one of my favourite actresses. Condolences to you and your family.


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