Given my penchant for history, it’s hardly surprising that I would, sooner or later, end up watching this film. It’s been on my radar for a while, though it was only last month that I was reminded of Jhansi ki Rani, because it showed up in my list of YouTube’s suggested videos. Oddly enough, what YouTube suggested wasn’t exactly this film but its English-language counterpart, The Tiger and the Flame, which was released in 1956. Sohrab Modi, who produced and directed (besides acting in) both versions of the film, went all out on creating a spectacular production, bringing in technicians and other crew from Hollywood, including Oscar-winning cinematographer Ernest Haller, who was responsible for the cinematography of Gone with the Wind.
This film was not just made in two languages, but with other differences between them too. The Tiger and the Flame is in Technicolor (the first India-made film in Technicolor) while Jhansi ki Rani is in black and white. Jhansi ki Rani has songs (composed by Vasant Desai with lyrics by Pandit Radheshyam), The Tiger and the Flame is minus the songs. Other than that, though, the films were much the same: the same cast, the same script.
Jhansi ki Rani begins in the state of Jhansi, where its ruler, Gangadhar Rao (Mubarak) is in a meeting with the local representative of the East India Company. Gangadhar Rao has no offspring to inherit his throne, so (as is obvious, though of course it’s not stated outright) the British are trying to get a foothold in his realm. According to this treaty, a contingent of British troops will be stationed in Jhansi, for the security and safety of Jhansi. Gangadhar Rao will pay for these troops.
Gangadhar Rao agrees happily to these terms, and his nephew Sadashiv Rao (Ram Singh)—who is in cahoots with the British, hoping to use them to be declared heir to the throne of Jhansi—is jubilant.
Their joy is cut short by the arrival of the Rajguru, the royal tutor (Sohrab Modi). The Rajguru sees this treaty for what it is, and does not mince words when ticking off Gangadhar for kowtowing to the British. He is so angry and so disappointed with Gangadhar Rao, he has decided to leave Jhansi. Gangadhar Rao (who seems like a nice, if rather spineless, character) tries to stop the Rajguru, but to no avail.
The Rajguru leaves Jhansi and wanders about, rootless and bootless, until he finally washes up in Bithoor.
In Bithoor lives a little girl named Manikarnika ‘Manu’ (Baby Shikha). Manu’s father Moropant Tambe (Kamlakant) is a courtier at the court of the Peshwa (?), and her playmates include Nana Sahib (who is especially protective of Manu) and his brother Rao (who is rather more inclined to let Manu be). Also a good friend of Manu is a little English boy named Henry Dowker (?): it’s never explained how he happens to be here, and such a dear friend of Manu’s.
Anyhow, Manu is a strong-willed little girl, never deterred, never cowed. When Nana and Rao, astride their elephant, try to leave her behind instead of letting her ride with them (Nana is willing, Rao is not), Manu tries to clamber up the elephant’s trunk and get on top. When she’s shaken off, she scrambles up and stands in the path of the elephant, defiant.
It is at this point that the Rajguru happens to pass by, and he’s very impressed by the fearlessness of little Manu. So impressed, indeed, that he goes to Moropant Tambe and begs for Manu’s hand in marriage with Gangadhar Rao. Manu, with her courage and her daring, will be the perfect foil for the Jhansi ruler’s spinelessness and lackadaisical attitude.
Moropant Tamble is hesitant: Manu is only nine years old, and Gangadhar Rao is in his fifties. Will it not be a match frowned upon? But the Rajguru reasons that this is for a good cause; Jhansi’s future depends upon it. Eventually, Moropant Tambe agrees, and his liege lord, the Peshwa, gives his blessing as well.
Manu, now to be the queen of Jhansi, is bid a fond farewell by her family and friends. Henry gives her a pistol, to remember him by.
And thus, little Manu journeys to Jhansi, where, amidst much pomp, she is married to Gangadhar Rao. All Jhansi rejoices, and when their new queen comes into court on her first day as queen, she is duly renamed by her new husband: Gangadhar Rao, claiming that the goddess of wealth and good fortune has smiled on him, names his new wife Lakshmi.
Just as it is a tradition for the king to give his bride a new name, so, the new bride gets to ask for three wishes, that the king will grant. Lakshmi Bai is confident and sure: she asks, first, that her friend and maid who’s accompanied her from Bithoor will continue to serve her in Jhansi. Then, she asks that an elephant be sent to Nana Sahib as a gift. For her third wish, the little queen asks that her father, Moropant Tambe (who is in court, attending to all of this) be granted whatever he asks for.
Moropant Tambe asks only one thing: that the Rajguru, having got Manu installed here as the Rani of Jhansi, should now teach her in the way she should go. How to live like a queen. And, adds the Rajguru, accepting the honour, how to die like a queen.
Thus, Manu/Lakshmi Bai is trained: educated by the Rajguru, who also watches on as she is trained in martial arts. She grows up (now Mehtab), much loved and admired by the populace, and looked on with something approaching admiration even from Gangadhar Rao. She rides, she wields a sword, she trains a troop of young women to be warriors just as she is.
Lakshmi Bai, in fact, soon shows that she, at any rate, is not willing to pander to the whims and fancies of the British. This comes through in one telling incident. One day, when all the troops have been mustered to turn out in front of the king, the British commander at Jhansi appears, to inform Gangadhar that it is impossible for them to do so: today is Sunday and the British soldiery do not bear arms on Sunday.
Gangadhar Rao is too wishy-washy to say anything to that. But Lakshmi Bai, fearless, outspoken (and aware) counters the man. She mentions all the battles, all the campaigns, the British have fought in on Indian soil—on Sundays. Exact dates, exact places, irrefutable examples. The commander has nothing to say, and retreats with his tail between his legs. Gangadhar Rao looks at his wife with not just admiration, but outright respect: this queen, it’s obvious, is just what Jhansi needed.
The British troops do turn out that day, and march before Lakshmi Bai, as she stands with Gangadhar Rao watching the muster. All of Jhansi looks on, and all rejoice, except Gangadhar’s ambitious nephew Sadashiv.
Jhansi is even more jubilant when Lakshmi Bai gives birth: a son is born, a prince. Gangadhar Rao is relieved: here is the heir to the throne, Jhansi saved from the grasping hands of the British.
Shortly after, who should arrive in Jhansi, posted there as part of the British contingent, but a familiar face: Lakshmi Bai’s childhood friend Henry Dowker, now Lieutenant Henry Dowker (Anil Kishore). He and Lakshmi Bai are glad to meet again after so many years. Henry has been away in England, but has returned now to the land he grew up in, and where he’s most comfortable. With him has come his bride, whom he wishes to bring to meet Lakshmi Bai and her baby.
Gangadhar, to whom Henry is introduced, is gracious, and invites Henry Dowker to a grand ball that is being held at the palace soon after. Henry comes, along with his wife (Gloria Gasper). There is dancing and conversation, but Lakshmi Bai is nowhere to be seen.
Her little son is seriously ill, and Lakshmi Bai is praying for his life.
Even as the invited guests swirl about the dance floor, the baby breathes his last. Jhansi’s hopes die with him.
I did not watch The Tiger and the Flame—just a few frames glimpsed here and there, in sequence—but just enough to assure myself that it was pretty much the same film.
What struck me the most emphatically about this film was the relatively accurate historicity of it. Hindi cinema has a deplorable track record when it comes to historical films: more often than not, history is ripped to shreds in an attempt to spice up a narrative, and romance ends up being the cornerstone of everything. Invaders from Halaku to Nadir Shah to Changez Khan are all spurred on by the beauty of the women they love (or lust after); famous rulers and noblemen give up thrones and fortunes for love. Myth and folklore govern much of the narrative.
Not so in Jhansi ki Rani/The Tiger and the Flame. True, there is some deviation from truth, some dramatization: Henry Dowker, from all I’ve been able to gather, is a fictitious character, as is the Rajguru; Manikarnika Tambe ‘Manu’ got married to Gangadhar Rao when she was fourteen, not a mere nine. And of course the War of Independence, and the dilemmas which Lakshmi Bai must grapple with even before she leads her army into battle, have their moments of melodrama.
On the whole, though, there is a tendency to be historically accurate. The facts are there, the tragedies Lakshmi Bai went through, the bravery she showed, the way she wore male attire and rode away with her adopted son Damodar tied to her back. Even the words that the victorious British general, Hugh Rose (played here by DK Sapru) wrote, are all there.
What I liked about this film:
The generally historically accurate tone of it, and that this is reinforced by the production values of the film. The settings, the costumes, the props: all of these look very genuine. In a refreshing change from the often relatively clunky costumes etc of foreigners in period Hindi films, the British in Jhansi ki Rani looked fairly authentic to me: General Hugh Rose’s facial hair, even, was accurate for the mid- and late-1800s.
Also, I was impressed by the battle scenes. Various contingents of the Indian Army have been thanked in the credits, for having appeared and acted in the battle scenes. Besides the men, there are horses and even camels, and all come together to create a fairly realistic depiction of war.
Last but not least: the ‘the tiger and the flame’ dance. This is a dance (no song, though there’s music) that appears in the film before the halfway mark. Gangadhar Rao is still alive, and the kingdom is still his. A trio—two men and a woman—perform a dance (which is, in its way, a prediction of how Lakshmi Bai will end up coming to the rescue of her Jhansi, saving it from the British). I haven’t been able to identify the dancers, but the choreography and the dancing are excellent.
What I didn’t like:
Mehtab, to some extent. She does have a dignity that I liked, but there’s a somewhat stiff nature to her diction, that just didn’t sit right with me. I kept thinking another actress (say, Geeta Bali? Or even Nargis?) might have made a more impactful Lakshmi Bai.
Several years ago, when another biopic of Lakshmi Bai—the Kangana Ranaut starrer Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi (2019) —was released, a blog reader suggested I do a comparison of these two films. Having watched Jhansi ki Rani, I did make an attempt to watch Manikarnika too, but gave up after 15 minutes. It’s too CGI (there’s a tiger at the beginning…) and Kangana Ranaut’s Manu is a cocky, over-confident brat whom I developed an aversion to very quickly in the proceedings. So, no: no further comparisons, because I couldn’t bring myself to watch the entire film.
As for this, yes: if you like period films, Sohrab Modi’s film is worth a watch. It may not be perfect, but it’s fairly accurate, and it looks the thing.
Dustedoff 
Sohrab Modi had a predilection for accuracy, Madhu. And with some (very few) poetic liberties, his films are usually more ‘historical’ than most of the ‘ahistoricals’ we have been accustomed to. I haven’t yet watched this film though it’s been on my watchlist for far too long. Your excellent review – and your opinion of it – has made me want to watch it sooner than later. Thank you.
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his films are usually more ‘historical’ than most of the ‘ahistoricals’ we have been accustomed to.
Yes, indeed, Anu. I know!
Do watch this. I was impressed, even if the film itself had flopped.
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Madhu, it’s good that you finally reviewed this film (and you did a nice write-up, too, of course). I remembered how you kept saying you would watch and review it one day, when we talked about it a couple of times on my blog. :) … When I first reviewed it (two months short of ten years ago), I called the version that I was reviewing Jhansi Ki Rani, based on the fact that Tom Daniel aka Tommydan – whose video of it I had watched – also called it that, although this was the English-language version, heavily edited and in color. (BTW, Tom also called his clip the “1953 version” and said in notes that they were made at the same time. But you say the English-language version was released in 1956(?).) Tom did acknowledge that the English-language name was The Tiger and the Flame, but merely said that Jhansi Ki Rani was sometimes called that. So, my impression was that either version could be called either title if one wished, since they were considered the same film. I guess I am left a little confused about a few things now, although these are all fine distinctions, so no big deal. :)
Speaking of Tom’s version, he posted two dances from The Tiger and the Flame, and if you go to Dance 2, you can see the dancer identified as Kala Chandra. I am not completely sure, though, if the same dancer was featured in the first dance (the one you linked to). (With all the makeup and the masks on and off and the different lighting, etc., it’s difficult to see if the faces are exactly the same.) I do know that some twelve years ago, Cassidy “Minai” of the blog Cinema Nritya repeated a rumor she had heard that the dancer in at least one or both of these dances was Roshan Kumari. I went with that idea for a long time, myself, and even included it (though with a note of some uncertainty) in a series of dances that I posted for Roshan Kumari’s birthday at the end of 2021. But I discovered in the next few months that it definitely was not her (and I edited the post accordingly).
Incidentally, you had interesting comments about Mehtab’s performance, along with speculation that someone else might have done this better… I understand that there was some criticism about her playing this role back in the day, and some attributed the problem to the idea that she was too old. The actresses who you said might have done better were in their early to mid 20s at the time of this film, close to the age of Lakshmibai, herself. Mehtab was more than ten years older…
It would have been fun to see you do a comparison review of this vs. Manikarnika. I did compare them to some extent. And, yes, the 1953 film was much better. But there was one nice thing about Manikarnika, as I recall, in that it devoted some scenes to Jhalkaribai (played really well by Ankita Lokhande), the Dalit heroine who acted as a decoy for Lakshmibai at a crucial moment, allowing the queen to escape for a while. I also kind of reviewed a good related novel, Rebel Queen, by Michelle Moran. (The novel also spends some time on Jhalkaribai, who is the best friend of the novel’s narrator, a member of Lakshmibai’s personal guard named Sita.) Anyway, I wrote about all of that in this post about Lakshmibai Mania:
https://roughinhere.wordpress.com/2019/10/31/its-lakshmibai-mania/
In this post, I also mentioned a new film that I had not seen yet, the 2019 British film called The Warrior Queen of Jhansi. I did see that film a little later, but if I did a writeup of it anywhere, I can’t find it now. Anyway, it wasn’t that bad, but not too memorable. Actually, I don’t even remember the criticisms that I had of it. I remember Jhansi Ki Rani/The Tiger and the Flame much more than either of the other films (for good reason, I think).
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Thank you for taking the time to write such an interesting and insightful comment, Richard! Your question mark about The Tiger and the Flame being released in 1956 prompted me to try and verify that (I had seen it mentioned in several places), but what I stumbled upon also was this, a very interesting article about the film. It’s more from the point of view of Technicolor, but there’s plenty there about the film in general. This article, though, puts the release date of the English-language version at 1955. I guess we can’t be certain!
https://www.technicolorcreative.com/news/revisiting-jhansi-ki-rani-indias-first-technicolor-film%EF%BF%BC/
I did notice that the dancer in the second dance (which was also very good, by the way…) was credited as Kala Chandra. I can’t claim any sort of credibility when it comes to dancers, so I shall take your word for it that it wasn’t Roshan Kumari either! I need to go and read your blog post again, thank you for reminding me of it, I’d forgotten you’d reviewed it.
Mehtab – yes, a little too old. That’s why I thought a younger actress might have been a better fit. Come to think of it, both Shyama and Meena Kumari were hit actresses by the time this film was made, and both were not just far younger, but also very good actresses. And versatile. Perhaps Sohrab Modi was letting his love for his wife override his business sense.
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Many thanks, Madhu, for the nice comments about my comment – I was a little concerned that I had gone on for too long. :)
Thanks, also, for the link to that article. It certainly did take a lot of work and money to turn this into a Technicolor film. (Unfortunately, I understand that it was also a big financial flop when it came out.)
Who knows what the release date for the color, English-language version really was? At least everyone can agree that it was somewhere within that space of three years, so, as I was saying, these differences on the matter are not a big deal (in the scheme of things).
I actually did not have complaints about Mehtab, myself. I even praised her performances in my write-ups. And I do agree with your positive point about her, that she had a kind of dignity.
Though maybe you are right that Sohrab Modi would have shown better sense business-wise if he’d asked one of the other actresses that you mentioned to take the role, instead of insisting that his beloved wife star in the film. Interestingly, I also read somewhere that he had married her after she’d starred in one of his earlier films. But it’s not as though she had to star in all of his films – he was not V. Shantaram. :)
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Yes, Shantaram tended to be overly loyal to his wives, didn’t he! :-) I think I’ve only seen one film with Jayshree (Dr Kotnis ki Amar Kahaani), but several with Sandhya. She’s one actress I find very irritating. Superb dancer, but I think the emotiveness required of an Indian classical dancer gets overdone in her case when she’s just acting, not dancing. She’s just too over the top for my liking.
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Madhu, I checked into your archives and saw that it had been exactly thirteen years (plus one day now) since you reviewed Dahej. :) So that’s at least two Jayashree films that you’ve seen. In addition to those two, I also saw Parchhain, in which Jayashree and Sandhya both had significant roles (though I guess Jayashree was the heroine of this film – the last V. Shantaram film in which she was, I think, before Sandhya completely took over – in more ways than one).
Opinions about Sandhya seem to vary widely. :) Some people seem to think her dancing was over the top, too. But I do like her; I’m even kind of a fan.
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I haven’t watched Parchhain, Richard – I must put that on my list and see it sometime. Thank you for reminding me of Dahej – I’d forgotten that one! I realize I’ve seen far more Sandhya films than Jayshree ones. I do know you like Sandhya. :-) I think we’ve had one of these conversations around her, a long time back…
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Mehta was surely too old for the role. She was more than 40! Modi’s love for his wife overcame all other logical inconsistencies. And above all, Mehtab’s acting was too theatrical!
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Yes, indeed: Mehtab was too old for the role. I thought her acting wasn’t especially theatrical (I have seen far worse!), but yes, a more accomplished actress – a Nargis, perhaps, or a Geeta Bali, even Meena Kumari – might have been a far better choice. I do wonder what the fate of the film might have been if a better actress, and one closer to Lakshmibai’s real age, had starred in it.
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I haven’t seen this film or any film based on Jhansi Ki Rani. I had watched a television serial though. Zee TV 2009. The girl who played young Manu (Ulka Gupta) was fantastic. Even Krithika Sengar (the grown up version) was good.
Accuracy when you are making or writing historical fiction is really important or else just make a fictional version.
I’m not very knowledgeable about historical facts but I think most of the Indian rulers had very tragic lives. It’s so sad.
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Actually, a lot of Indian rulers didn’t have very tragic lives. ;-) Many of them lived in great luxury, and were able to indulge in all sorts of whims and fancies. However, I agree that for a lot of their womenfolk, life was probably far more difficult: like Lakshmibai, they got tossed around a fair bit, and had to live surrounded by stifling restrictions.
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Bankim Chandra Chatterji’s novel Devi Choudhrani, Suchitra Sen glorious film.
real history Bawani Pathak
with English sub titles.
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Thank you. This is from 1974, so well beyond the period I focus on. But will make a note of it in case I am able to find the time to watch.
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you are right. I was thinking of the historical period 1750 to 1850 only. The film is worth viewing as its a unique film by Suchitra Sen. The english sub titles are a bonus.
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Nice and objective review from you as always. I had watched it decades back on Doordarshan and liked it.
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Thank you, Jitendraji, for your kind words.
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excellent review I saw the film on DD . Except for Mahtaab film was good
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Thank you. And yes, I agree the film was good, Mehtab was the weak link here.
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bit of personal history here:
My parents come from the arid plateau of bundelkhand, central india, even I was born in Orai, a town near Jhansi, so the Rajwafas of 19th century are much talked of there, rani Lakshmi Bai is more talked of there, in 2019, just after a day of release, we went to watch that kangama ranaut film as the queen is a symbol of regional pride in our community.
that was delightful, as I saw it just as an inspiration rather a thing to be reviewed and examined
I heard of 1953 film as a gk question, so yes watched it half, songs are too shrill and noisy, rafi is screaming in one of those. Mehtab is miserable, not suited for a young role. wiki says it’s one of the reasons the film failedAlso , can you please mention films of mehtab that are available on yt? Or have you reviewed any others?
the new one had a decent score with gripping drama, but at the end its lot of gore and violence, an d glishman’s head is shown being chopped into half by anagressive Lakshmi Bai
but yes, it was good overall
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I have to admit I find Kangana Ranaut very irritating, so that might have been a factor in my not being able to sit through the film! But I suppose if you have grown up with the aura of Lakshmibai and her persona so surrounds you, a film about her would be worth seeing either way.
I agree, Mehtab is too old to play Lakshmibai. She was apparently in the 1930s a well-known action star (the ‘action’ bit might have made Sohrab Modi even more eager to cast her in this film?). I can only find one film of hers on YouTube, a 1943 comedy named Sanjog. I will watch and review it one of these days.
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