Zindagi (1964)

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The main reason I watched this film was because of the songs, which include some very good ones. And Vyjyanthimala, whom I invariably enjoy watching. The two male leads, Rajendra Kumar and Raj Kumar, are not favourites of mine, but they aren’t absolutely unbearable either. And there was a star cast of several other people I like, such as Prithviraj Kapoor and Helen. Ramanand Sagar, who wrote and directed Zindagi, also has to his credit one film I really like (Aankhen) and some (Aarzoo, Ghoonghat, Charas) that I don’t mind too much. I figured there might be enough here for me to enjoy.

The story begins with Beena (Vyjyanthimala) coming home to her mother (Leela Chitnis) with the news that she has found a job, finally. Ma is happy, until Beena tells her what the job is: Beena is now a theatre actress. Ma is very upset and goes into a long harangue of how it’s better to be poor than to be in the theatre; their name will be mud, blah blah.

Beena, however, has some persuasive arguments (basically, that they are too poor to choose, and that the people at the theatre seem to be decent, nice folk). Finally, Ma gives in.

At the theatre, the director, who is also a poet, Gopal (Raj Kumar) is helping Beena and the troupe rehearse when Ratan Lal (Hira Lal) drops by. Gopal introduces them: Ratan Lal is the owner of the theatre. Beena is awkward around Ratan Lal: his lecherous gaze makes her very uncomfortable.

And, it seems, with reason. That evening, Ratan Lal sends his henchman Baanke (Jeevan), along with a couple of other goons, to the theatre. They are outside when Beena emerges, and before she quite knows what is happening, they bundle her into a car and take off with her. Beena struggles and starts screaming…

… and is heard by Rajendra ‘Rajan’ (Rajendra Kumar), who is out boating with his dog Honey. Rajan comes to the rescue, and is able to not just stop the car but also knock out all of Beena’s attackers and take her home.

In the process, Beena and Rajan fall in love. They are very happy, and Beena introduces him to Gopal, shyly sharing the happiness with her boss. What she doesn’t realize is that Gopal has all along been in love with her. Now, knowing that she loves Rajan, Gopal holds his tongue and congratulates Beena. All his confessions of love are restricted to when he’s alone in his room with Beena’s portrait.

Rajan does not think of telling Beena who he really is: the son of the very wealthy Rai Bahadur (Prithviraj Kapoor), who has the wherewithal to feed hundreds on Rajan’s birthday, and give away bagsful of coins to poor servitors on the occasion.

Rajan’s birthday is also an occasion for the film to introduce some secondary characters: the Rai Bahadur’s childhood friend Sher Khan (Jayant) is one.

There is a panditji (Kanhaiyalal) from the neighbourhood.

And household servants Jaggu (Mehmood) and his mother (Mumtaz Begum) are among the others. Jaggu’s girlfriend Chameli (Helen) is also part of the story, along with her overly religious (and two-faced, greedy, miserly) father (Dhumal).

A somewhat flimsy plotline for a comic side plot ensues, in which Jaggu manages to fool Chameli’s father into thinking he (Jaggu) has suddenly inherited a vast sum of money, which encourages him to say yes to the Chameli-Jaggu match, unaware that he’s being had all the while.

Anyway, Beena and Rajan’s romance progresses until Rajan tells his father about Beena. On discovering that Beena is an actress, dancing in front of crowds of strangers, Rai Bahadur throws a fit. It takes a lot of persuasion from Rajan for him to agree to at least meet her.

But, on the sly, Rai Bahadur goes to have a look for himself before formally meeting Beena: in disguise, he attends one of her shows and then surreptitiously follows her offstage. There, he sees Beena go into Gopal’s office. That’s enough for Rai Bahadur to jump to all sorts of unsavoury conclusions.

Much angst, pleading, self-sacrifice and more follows. Rai Bahadur, when he talks to Beena in his home, offers her untold wealth to get out of Rajan’s life, but Beena (of course, Hindi film heroine that she is) simply turns and goes away. Which, naturally, takes the wind out of Rai Bahadur’s sails.

Furthermore, when Rajan comes to know what has happened, he is furious. There’s a long conversation, the long and the short of which is that Rai Bahadur agrees to their wedding. But he has a condition: Beena must promise not to ever meet Gopal again. This she does, when Gopal comes to the wedding, bearing a gift. Gopal is taken aback and somewhat hurt, but he acquiesces.

A few months later, Beena, now pregnant, is blissfully happy with Rajan. But Ratan Lal and Baanke have not forgotten her. Ratan Lal, in fact, has had an altercation with Gopal re: his (Ratan Lal’s) lecherousness. Gopal blew his top at Ratan Lal and threatened to kill the man. Ever since, Ratan Lal and his men have been looking for a chance to get even with Gopal, and to kidnap Beena.

Now, Beena and Rajan go out one evening in their car, unaware that Baanke has just punctured one of the tires. The car goes phut after a while, and Rajan gets out, telling Beena that he’ll go find help.

Rajan goes off, and two of Baanke’s men arrive. Meanwhile, too, a large mob has collected, shouting slogans and increasingly getting more and more agitated about whatever they’re yelling about. Baanke’s men tell Beena that the situation looks dangerous; there might be rioting anytime now. She should get out of the car and take shelter. Beena, undecided and worried (where on earth has Rajan gone off to?), dithers for a while but finally gets out.

Baanke’s men hector her. The crowd has become violent in the meantime, and Beena, trying to escape them, flees down a lane, pursued now by Baanke’s men. Baanke’s men have by now made it apparent that they are after Beena, and she, frantic for shelter, runs into the nearest house that has its front door open.

And guess whose home this is? None other than Gopal’s. Gopal has been drowning his sorrows in drink, but he has his wits about him enough to recognize Beena. They are both awkward about this coincidence, but before anything can be done about it, the police come through the streets, dispersing the crowds, and clamping curfew.

Beena is adamant; she must get back home. Gopal’s cautioning her (the streets are dangerous, and the cops won’t let her go) has no effect; she tries to leave, and is immediately stopped by the cops. They can’t let anybody out on the roads during the curfew. There is no option but for Beena to accept Gopal’s invitation to stay the night in his home. In that room, there: she can go in, lock the room on the inside, and be safe.

Which is what Beena does. Once inside, she takes off all her heavy jewellery, in the process dropping one earring on the floor without noticing it.

The next morning, the curfew now over, Beena goes back home. Rajan and his father, who have been very distressed about where she’s gotten to, are relieved to have Beena back. Because Beena remembers her promise to her father-in-law about not meeting Gopal, when they ask her where she sheltered during the curfew, Beena simply says that “a good man” gave her refuge.

Of course, given that this is Hindi cinema, the truth cannot hope to be hidden for long. The dawn of the new day brings the police to Gopal’s house. Ratan Lal has been murdered, and since various people had overheard Gopal threatening him a few days back, Gopal is the prime suspect. The police come into Gopal’s home and search the place. One of the cops finds Beena’s earring.

Gopal ends up arrested and put on trial for the murder of Ratan Lal. A very shoddy trial, I must say, given that no mention is made of any evidence that links Gopal to Ratan Lal’s murder (weapon, fingerprints, witnesses? Hah! All they seem to have to go on is the fact that Gopal had threatened the man). As it happens, Rai Bahadur is the foreman of the jury. He knows that evidence was found that a woman had been in Gopal’s house the night of the murder, and so he asks Gopal: who was the woman?

Gopal knows, of course, who Rai Bahadur is. He knows that if he says who the woman was—even though it will help exonerate him—it will be the end of Beena’s reputation. So he keeps mum, and the jury unanimously finds him guilty.

What next?

A lot, actually, and all of it hyper melodramatic.

I should really give up watching films simply because they have good music.

What I liked about this film:

The songs. Written by Shailendra and Hasrat Jaipuri, and composed by Shankar-Jaikishan, the songs of Zindagi are the one reason you should watch this film. There are some gems here, including Hum dil ka kanwal denge jisko, Ghungarwa mora chhamm-chhamm baaje, Hum pyaar ka sauda karte hain ek baar, Pehle mile the sapnon mein aur aaj saamne aaye, and Humne jafa na seekhi, unko wafa na aayi.

Vyjyanthimala, whom I usually like a lot, is lovely here and gets to show off her dancing, so that was a plus point.

… and, sadly, that’s about it.

What I didn’t like about it:

The irritatingly melodramatic, over-the-top self-sacrificing (on the part of Beena) tone of the second half of the film. Yes, this is nothing unusual about films of that era: in fact, I would call a film unusual if it had a female who wasn’t being self-sacrificing. This one goes the whole hog, with Beena being too wishy-washy, too “It’s all my fault” when it’s the fault of her stupid, suspicious husband, who really should know better. If he loves her so much, surely he can trust her a bit more? But no, first he doesn’t give her a chance to defend herself (not that she puts up much of a fight), and having thrown her out, he then commences to sing songs of just how unfaithful she is.

And she, on the other hand, has his photo quietly hidden away inside a small pooja ghar which she opens every now and then to pray to.

Ugh.

Avoid. Watch the songs on YouTube, but give the film a miss.

33 thoughts on “Zindagi (1964)”

  2. Madhu,
    I have seen some “Bollywood” recently. This is one more of the same. So I would take your advice and skip it.

    I recently saw Dilip Kumar’s “Dastan” (1972) and its predecessor “Afsana” (1951). I found the older better, and the reason I could think was Ashok Kumar’s natural acting vis-a-vis Dilip Kumar’s Method. Though both had the same drawback – pat ending and very unrealistic remorse by the betrayers of trust. Rarely one finds such frame by frame copy. If you have not reviewed these, nice pair for a tandem review.

    AK

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    • I watched Afsana (rewatched, actually, since I’d first seen it perhaps about 25 years ago) some time back, and really liked Ashok Kumar’s acting. I hadn’t known then that it was remade as Daastaan, though I think someone mentioned it when I listed Ashok Kumar’s double role in my post on favourite double roles.

      Maybe someday, if I’m feeling like I want to watch Afsana again, I will take your suggestion and combine it with a viewing of Daastaan.

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    • Thank you, Lalitha! I have mentioned the dog – Honey, who is around when Rajan first rescues Beena – but yes, given that Honey played a vital role in the film, maybe I should have said more about him (her?). :-)

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  5. I haven’t seen this film and it’s kind of good (for me) that it’s an annoying movie because I can’t stand Rajkumar (not that Rajendra Kumar is a favourite).

    Vaijayantimala looks so beautiful in all the frames you’ve shared. Strangely, I don’t recognize any of these songs.

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    • Yes, both Raj Kumar and Rajendra Kumar are not my cup of tea at all! I think I have seen dozens of films with them, but can name only a couple of films where either of them has been tolerable (I cannot say “where I have liked them”).

      Vyjyanthimala was really lovely in this one.

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  6. Loved the review…especially the last line…cracked me up!
    I can stand neither of the RK’s in this movie. And as someone else also mentioned, none of the songs seems familiar to me.

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  7. I discovered “hum pyar ka sauda karte hai” on instagram while scrolling (gen Z things, you know) and loved it .
    well this is a mediocre movie with vyajanthimala as the lead ( so bit of interest develops), also have you reviewed any south cinema films of her?

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    • No, I haven’t reviewed (or seen) any of her South films – mostly because it’s so difficult to get hold of old Southern films that are subtitled. :-( I do have Penn bookmarked, though, so I’m hoping to watch that sometime soon. If you have recommendations, I would really welcome them!

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      • So yes vyajayanthimala had to her credit 11 Tamil films, couple of telugu talkies and one bengali and kannada each.
        A brief eye on the plots of these films(Tamil ones) revealed that they are no different from panchatantra stories, with human characters 😀.
        Sounds strange? Yes it is, these are just social films with very obvious lessons on morality( of those days, more horrifying?) and ethics. So keep your hands off them you’ll find nothing special. I am regretting asking you now. Haha.
        But yes, PENN is an exception, comedy film, good one, you can go for that.
        And yes, another subs problem mentioned, but I think Penn is available on yt with subs, thanks to the Hawaiian man(?), Tom.

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  8. Hi madhu ji !! I got remember of vjyantimala ji when I read she celebrated her 90th birthday.

    I only like songs in this movie . My favourite is hum pyaar ka sauda kartey hai ek baar.

    Vjyantimala ji major part of career was in black and white. I feel she had variety of dances in these flims and also had good roles.

    I liked her in New Delhi with kishore ji, ishara with joy ji. college girl with shammi ji n Dr. Vidya with very young Manoj ji.

    I feel she had nice dances like face off dance with Helen in Dr. Vidya n very nice dance on bewafa tere liye kya kya na Kiya.

    In ishara, chori ho guyi raat nain ki nindiya a lovely duet with joy ji in which she dances.

    In college girl, hum bhi kartey hai pyaar samajh main aaya a fast dance with shammi ji.

    In phoolo ki sej, aa bhi ja rasiya and in new delhi tum sang preet lagaai rasiya.

    If she made great pairs. I feel no. Many times I feel she naturally overpowered opposite heroes.

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  9. Hi Madhu, Your post on “Zindagi ” was spot on. However I decided not to comment on it because my comments always get gobbled up by Gravatar, so why bother. But you’ve managed to retrieve all of them and many thanks for it. If this one disappears too I’ll send you an SOS. I saw “Zindagi” on the 1st of January 2023, because of a quirk of mine…. Since some years I’ve been starting every New Year with a book that has the word “live” or “life” in its title , because I feel this may keep me and all my near and dear ones alive and well ! Ridiculous , but there it is. So in the last few years I started each New Year with various books like, “The Life of Pi”, “Nine Lives”, by William Dalrymple, “The Race of my Life” by Milkha Singh, “Romancing with Life ” by Dev Anand, and so on. ( However I didn’t choose titles which would give the opposite meaning, like James Hadley Chase’s “But a Short Time to Live ” and “Want to Stay Alive ?” !! ) This year I decided to start the New Year with a movie also that has the word “life” in it so I picked on “Zindagi “. But as you mentioned in your review it has nothing special in it. … Except for the dog, “Honey” ( funny name for a male dog) . Since I am a dog lover I enjoyed the scenes with Honey in them. I was dismayed to see that no one in the film pets the poor dog except Vyjayanthimala , who is always shown to be affectionate to it. My heart warmed up to her, although she’s not one of my favourite actresses. About the songs , there’s one song which puzzled me over so many decades , it’s “Pehle miley thhey sapnon mey”. It has two contradictory stanzas. In the first one lyricist Hasrat Jaipuri says, “Ae saanwali haseena”, and in the last one he says “Gorey badan pe kaala aanchal” . I wondered how could a lady be dark and fair at the same time. This seemed nitpicking , but it was actually revealed in a You Tube video that Hasrat Jaipuri had never seen Vyjayanthimala and assuming that all South Indians are dark, he wrote the first line. Later due to some reason he amended this by writing the last verse differently. Funny isn’t it ?

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    • What a delightful anecdote that is! Thank you for pointing it out – I had never noticed it. Though, frankly, I think Hasrat Jaipuri was being somewhat racist as well as labouring under a stereotype. :-( Actually, given that there were quite a few South Indian actresses in Hindi cinema – even back then, before Hema Malini and Rekha – I find it odd that he should have presumed that all South Indian actresses are dark. Far from it.

      Honey – yes, such an odd name for a male dog, no? I thought so too. I wondered why.

      I totally agree with that idea of beginning the year with a film that affirms life in its title. I should take a leaf out of your book, and perhaps begin next year with one like that. Let’s see. (Incidentally, just the other day, on another blog – Rekha’s Sousaphone, which you’ll find listed in my blog roll – I read a very good review of Zindagi Zindagi. It’s been too long since I watched that film, so I remember next to nothing of it, but the review was very positive).

      Zindagi Zindagi (1972)

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  11. Thanks again. I think i’ll give “Zindagi Zindagi” a go in 2024. Yes, Hasrat Jaipuri was a victim of stereotypical thinking. I’m myself half a South Indian. My father was from Andhra Pradesh while my mother was from Himachal Pradesh. They got married in a lovely church in Abbottabad , in pre-partition India. Incidentally my mother’s younger sister , Mrs. Nina Williams is the founder/principal of Mount Carmel School, New Delhi.
    As far as skin colour goes, celebrities like film stars, socialites, and even top politicians of India are now getting skin whitening treatments like intravenous Glutathione plus Vitamic C injections, chemical peeling etc. Actresses who were once dark now look very fair ! So it’s very difficult nowadays to decide what a person’s true skin colour is !

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    • I remember, when I was in school, a friend – Tamilian, but very fair – used to tell me that she was constantly being mistaken for Punjabi. North Indians were (I think still are!) so used to thinking of South Indians as uniformly dark that nobody believed she was from the south.

      I love to hear of people from different parts of the country getting married. :-) Kudos to your parents! My father is from UP and my mother part Bengali, though because my nani was from Lucknow, there’s more of a UP tilt even on my mother’s side of the family.

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  13. I also watched the film for beautiful songs especially Pehle mile the sapno mein and Humne jafa na seekhi but the plot of the film is too much boring . I liked gharana and sasural of rajendra kumar. And Maya and asli naqli of Dev Anand being my favourite actor.

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  14. Madhuji, the review is great and the movie moves on predictable lines. Sometimes you watch a movie knowing fully well that it would be the adarsh naari being portrayed. The name of this film however somehow does not reveal its mediocrity. Another weepy movie I recently saw only for its songs and Meena Kumari was Main Chup Rahungi. As the name suggests, the heroine promises her father-in-law to remain on an important issue and the whole plot is based on this silence. Main Chup Rahungi also has wonderful music.

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  15. Man, talk about “following good songs into bad movies” (I forget who coined this phrase first)! This was such a weep fest, even if Vyjayanthimala did a wonderful job of it. Thank you for sitting through it to give us this review. :) I watched it many moons ago when I had nothing else to do and ended up being more depressed than I was before I began watching. Why I didn’t just stop watching beats me!

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    • Hehe! That phrase fits this film perfectly. :-) And I would be rolling in wealth if I were paid for every good song I followed into a bad movie.

      I hear you, Anu, about wondering why I didn’t stop watching a bad movie when I realized it was going downhill. I do wonder why – perhaps I keep hoping that it will take a turn for the better and show some spirit, some progressiveness.

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