The first time I watched Kaala Bazaar was perhaps in my early teens: the film was being shown on Doordarshan, and given that back then I was very fond of Dev Anand, I watched it. I have very vague recollections of that viewing. What I do recall, vividly, is that I didn’t like that my hero was a criminal.

… which, as I came to realize later, was actually not so very uncommon a style for the characters Dev Anand played. Unlike the other major romantic hero of the time, Shammi Kapoor, Dev Anand didn’t just play characters who got up to ‘mischief’, so to say; his characters—from Tony in Jaal to Raju in Guide, from Chhagan in Roop ki Rani Choron ka Raja to Babu in Bambai ka Babu, plus others—were outright criminals: thieves, conmen, smugglers, men definitely on the wrong side of the law.

Like Raghubir ‘Raghu’ in Kaala Bazaar. Raghu is a bus conductor when the story begins, and within the space of a couple of minutes, his life takes an about-turn. A belligerent passenger is standing in the bus (which is against the rules), and when Raghu asks him to get off the bus, the man refuses. Both he and Raghu lose their tempers. Fists fly, and the next thing we know, Raghu is without a job.

Raghu’s mother (Leela Chitnis) is ill, and he has a sister (Nanda) and a young brother (?) as well; he cannot afford to be without a job. Desperate, Raghu flounders about, trying to find work. If not work, money.

This he finds when he sees a lawyer (Chetan Anand) withdrawing Rs 5,000 from the bank. Raghu follows the man, assaults him in a building, and runs off with the money.

Not long after, Raghu goes to a cinema hall to watch a film, and in the queue at the ticket window, finds something fishy going on. Kaalu (Rashid Khan), wearing a disguise of fake moustaches, sun glasses, cap et al buys a few tickets, then circles around, and now (without the disguise) sets about buying more tickets. Basically, buying up the stock so that he can later sell them at a premium, when impatient cinema-goers, eager to watch the film but faced by a ‘House Full’ sign, are ready to pay Rs 2 for a Re 1.50 ticket. Or so on.

Raghu immediately cottons on to the idea. He has the capital to invest, after all. He walks across and has a chat with Kaalu, and from then on, there’s no looking back.

Within days, Raghu has become not just firmly entrenched in the world of the black market around film tickets, he is also the gang leader of a large band of crooks who do much of the work (among the actors here is Jagdish Raj, who—while he holds Hindi cinema’s record for most onscreen appearances as a policeman—ended up playing crooks in several of Navketan’s films). They commandeer film tickets across cinemas. They keep an eye on the hottest films being released, and make sure they’ve bought up tickets for those.

Especially film premieres, like that of Mother India, for which all the biggest names and faces in Hindi cinema show up, and for which fans are willing to shell out exorbitant sums for a ticket.

Raghu soon comes up against another major gang leader in this field, Ganesh (Madan Puri). Ganesh is an arrogant, belligerent sort who tries to push Raghu out of the business; but Raghu uses strategy to get the better of Ganesh. In a matter of a few hours, Ganesh is forced to kowtow, to agree to take orders from Raghu.

Things seem to be going well for Raghu.

And then, suddenly, his life takes a different turn: Raghu falls in love. This happens one day when he’s standing outside a cinema theatre, getting ready to sell tickets in black, when he eavesdrops on a group of college students. They’re waiting for a fellow student, Alka, who’s late; her boyfriend, Nand (Vijay Anand, who also directed Kaala Bazaar) comes in for some ribbing. When it seems that they’ll miss the show if they don’t get tickets soon, Nand is elected to buy tickets…

But Raghu’s gang has already bought up all the tickets, and Nand will have to buy them in black. There is some discussion among the students, and finally Nand pays up, with trepidation: he and his classmates know that Alka, with her high ideals, will not be pleased about this. Never mind; they won’t let her know.

Raghu is watching all of this, and watches, too, when Alka (Waheeda Rehman) arrives. One of the students, joking around, spills the beans about the tickets, and Alka is livid. She grabs the tickets from Nand, tears them up, and gives him a piece of her mind.

Raghu is intrigued: so intrigued, in fact, that he follows Alka around (very stalkerish). To her home, to college, to the garden where she goes with Nand, and where Raghu, lounging nearby, is able to hear their conversation. This scenario is repeated a second time, and Raghu is able to hear more of what’s happening with these two.

Nand is studying hard so he can go abroad for higher studies. When Alka protests about him leaving her and going off overseas, Nand says that it will be good for them to be apart from each other for a while: it will be a test of their love, to see whether this is indeed true love or just a youthful infatuation.

Raghu (who has, in the meantime, bought a fancy new home for his family) is also—inevitably—around when Nand catches his flight. Alka and her parents (MA Latif and Mumtaz Begum) have come to see him off, and once they’ve waved goodbye, Alka’s parents console her: she will be happier once they’re on holiday. Ooty will help her miss Nand a little less.

Of course, Raghu, who’s been listening to all of this, makes sure he is not just on the same train to Ooty as them, he’s also in the same compartment. He soon has them convinced he’s a good man, a God-fearing soul; and when Alka’s father suffers a bad backache, it’s Raghu who comes forward to massage his back. He manages to ingratiate himself with the family as a result, and both parents are delighted to discover that their new acquaintance is also going to Ooty.

Naturally, then, in Ooty, Raghu calls often on the family, and dogs Alka’s footsteps. He has soon made it clear to her that he’s in love with her, but Alka, while playful enough (and possibly, in her own way, attracted to him), makes it clear that her heart is Nand’s.

One day, however, matters take a turn: Raghu and Alka are sitting near a cliff and chatting, when they happen to look up and see a flower jutting out from the cliff. It’s impossibly high, and the branch on which it’s growing reaches out over a steep incline: but Raghu, gripped by daredevilry, decides he must get the flower for Alka. She tries to stop him, again and again, but he’s not listening.

The long and the short of it is that Raghu falls off the cliff, but manages to grab hold of a ledge just long enough for a terrified Alka—who’s tried calling, in vain, for help—to whip off her sari, tie it around a rock, and haul him to safety. The ordeal brings home to Alka the fact that she has, indeed, fallen in love with Raghu: but now what?

As she tearfully tells Raghu, she is already engaged. She cannot be unfaithful to Nand; she cannot reciprocate Raghu’s feelings.

So Raghu returns to Bombay, a more introspective, thoughtful man than he had left it. Some time earlier, he had met a rather erudite man (Krishan Dhawan), helping out the poor people of the footpaths. Raghu was so impressed by the man’s firm belief that education enlightens, and his selfless endeavours to help others, that Raghu brought him home. Since then, under his tutelage, Raghu has begun to educate himself, and to turn over a new leaf: that endeavour now gathers momentum.

But is it enough? Is there still time, and scope, for Raghu to change? Or is it too late?

Like most of Navketan Films’ productions, Kaala Bazaar examines themes of social friction, of disintegration, lawlessness, poverty—and tries to show how there might be redemption. A serious sort of subject, but the way it’s worked into a film, lightened by moments of humour, and by several excellent songs, makes for an entertaining, enjoyable film.

What I liked about this film:

The ‘modernism’ of the story, the level-headedness of many of the characters. There’s a progressiveness about it, and a (very refreshing) lack of the predictable melodrama that would have characterized most other Hindi films of the time. For instance, there’s Raghu’s reaction to Alka’s assertion that she’s engaged to Nand: on some level, he’s probably prepared for it (after all, he’s been eavesdropping on their conversations, and knows she loves Nand), but he does not argue or plead; he accepts her decision.

I like, also, the realistic way in which Alka is depicted: a woman who does not blame herself for having fallen in love with one man while betrothed to another. In fact, the Alka-Nand relationship is one of the sanest romantic (or friendship-mistaken-for romance?) relationships I have seen in a Hindi film from that period.

Then, the songs (music by SD Burman, lyrics by Shailendra). Kaala Bazaar has a stunning score, with some great songs: among my favourites are Na main dhan chaahoon, Khoya-khoya chaand and Apni toh har aah ek toofaan hai, though there are several others—Saanjh dhali dil ki lagi, Rimjhim ke taraane leke aayi barsaat, and Sach hue sapne tere among them—that are also very good.

And, the cinema! Kaala Bazaar is one of those films that are a paean to cinema, by virtue, of course, of its lead character’s dubious occupation. There is Raghu hovering about outside a cinema theatre showing Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest.

There is Raghu selling song booklets of Talaq, outside a theatre that’s showing the film.

Plus, in what is possibly the single most star-studded sequence in Hindi cinema, there is the real-life premiere of Mother India, which has one famous cinema personality after another coming to the show: Nargis, Nimmi, Kumkum, Mohammad Rafi, Baby Naaz, Lata Mangeshkar, Guru Dutt and Geeta Dutt, and so many others.

What I didn’t like:

Nothing, really, but I do wish there had been more about the peripheral characters, especially Raghu’s family. I wanted more about these people, more about how they felt, how their lives worked out (and the merely-hinted-at relationship between Raghu’s scholarly mentor and Raghu’s sister—the characters played by Nanda and Krishan Dhawan—in particular).

On the whole, though, an interesting, enjoyable film.