When Dharmendra passed away some months back, it reminded me that while I have seen a good bit of his filmography from the 1960s—including little-known, forgettable films like Begaana, Main Bhi Ladki Hoon, Chandan ka Palna and Jab Yaad Kisiki Aati Hai—I haven’t reviewed too many of his films. Some, yes; but plenty, even much-loved films or well-known ones, have somehow slipped under the radar. Time to correct that, I decided.

And why not with this film, which I had last seen perhaps a little over 20 years ago, and which I remembered vaguely. Nirupa Roy, having (once again) misplaced a child. Aruna Irani on the verge of becoming an unwed mother if some good Samaritan doesn’t come to her rescue. Asha Parekh, lower lip quivering and eyes swimming with tears. Some very well-known songs.

The film begins in the home of a very drunk man (Uma Dutt), where widowed Maya (Nirupa Roy) works as a maid. In pouring out a drink for her employer, Maya’s saree slips off her shoulder, and the sight inflames the man so much that he pounces on her, intent on evil. There is a scuffle. A pistol emerges from somewhere, and Maya shoots the man dead.

The next minute, she realizes that her baby—in the next room—will now be known as the son of a murderess. She cannot have that, so Maya goes to a temple and leaves her baby there, in the hope that he will be brought up in a good home, away from her tainted influence.

… and which is what happens. The pandit finds the baby, and soon after, a wealthy Seth (Nazir Hussain) and his wife (Dulari), who are childless and have been praying for a baby, come by. The baby is a godsend to them, and they happily take him home. Maya, meanwhile, has been arrested and ends up spending many years in jail.

The baby is named Jai, and as the credits roll, we see him growing up happily in Sethji’s home, much loved and lavished with tons of affection. His parents (as he takes them to be; they do not tell him he’s adopted) eventually have a daughter too. Years pass, and Jai grows up (now Dharmendra), his sister Sita now Bindu, who is married to Rajesh (Ravindra Kapoor). Sethji’s wife has passed away in the meantime.

Over the next few scenes, we get a glimpse of all the main characters, and what’s happening in their lives.

First up, there’s Sita’s husband Rajesh, who is having an affair with a dancer named Rita (Laxmi Chhaya). He lavishes not just time but also a lot of money on Rita…

… unaware that to her, he is really just a source of money. Behind his back, Rita has a good laugh with a friend and helper (Keshav Rana), both of them triumphant about how Rita has managed to hoodwink this gullible fellow. Another man (Mac Mohan) hovers around Rita’s workplace, cackling wildly and passing vague remarks about how faithless she is.

Then, there’s Aarti (Asha Parekh), who lives with her widowed father (Shivraj), her younger sister Mala (Aruna Irani) and little brother Pappu (Master Shahid). Pitaji is always neglecting his own needs to make sure his children are well-fed, well-clothed, well-educated. Aarti and Mala are anxious about his health, and the affection between the members of this family is touching [or meant to be. I found it a little on the saccharine side of emotion].

At a show she’s organizing, Aarti is expecting a famous singer named Jai-something-or-the-other. Aarti’s colleague, Sadhuram Sood (Rajendranath) is hovering about outside the hall, and hears a passerby calling to Jai, who’s just alighted from his car; Jai has come to see the show. Sadhuram assumes this is their star singer, and a misunderstanding ensues. Jai, who is taken to meet Aarti, falls for her instantly (and she has that demure look on her face that implies she’s smitten as well), and so he keeps up the charade.

It doesn’t take long for the real Jai to turn up. Then, though Aarti is furious (at Dharmendra-Jai) and tries to shame him, he wins the audience over (and Aarti too) by singing what seems to count as a whopper of a song. The long and short of it is that Jai and Aarti have met because of one of those convoluted, coincidental and utterly improbable incidents old Hindi cinema was so fond of, and now they can get down to the job of romancing each other and singing songs in pretty locales.

There is a very tedious (and pointless) comic side plot involving Sadhuram, the woman he falls in love with (Naaz), and her father (Sunder), a doctor who has been treating Sadhuram for kleptomania. This, however, has absolutely zero bearing on the main plot, and after Sadhuram and his girl get married, the entire ensemble in that CSP disappears, thank goodness.

But there are other elements which do contribute to the story, and in a big way.

For one, there’s Maya (remember? Jai’s mother), who has now been released from jail. [I wonder at this sentence she was handed out. Did she make no attempt to explain that the gun was fired in self-defence? Did nobody listen to her? What?] Anyway, one day, a now broken and miserable Maya goes to the temple where, many years ago—to the day—she had left her baby.

In the courtyard of the temple, Jai (whose adoptive parents have always regarded the day they got him as his birthday) is distributing food to the poor, by way of thanking God. Jai is going upstairs into the temple, carrying a thali full of flowers, when he trips and some of the flowers fall at Maya’s feet. [Uff]. Maya stops him when he tries to pick up the flowers; fallen flowers cannot be offered to the gods. But Jai only smiles sweetly and says that elderly people are nothing short of gods.

When he asks her who she is and what she’s doing here, Maya explains that she lost her son here, many years ago.

Jai goes back to his work of distributing food to the poor people who’ve gathered there in the courtyard, and is in the process of handing out stuff when there’s suddenly a hue and cry: the old woman sitting on the temple steps has collapsed. Jai goes to help, and is so sorry for Maya that he, helped by Sita, takes her to their home. Maya will live with them.

Maya soon settles into Sethji’s home, all of them (including Maya) totally unaware of how they’re connected.

Things seem to be going well.

But in Aarti’s home, Mala harbours a secret that she isn’t telling anyone yet: she has acquired a boyfriend. Deepak (Jalal Agha) is a wealthy collegemate of Mala’s, and one day, she found him waiting for her in his car along the road she takes to walk to college. Deepak offered her a lift, and refused to take no for an answer. Mala (perhaps flattered by his attention?) finally agreed, and since then, they’ve gone from being collegemates to friends—to betrothed, all unknown to everybody else.

Then Aarti (who, it turns out now, was also in college; her exam results have just been announced) has sailed through, first division and all. Pitaji is ecstatic, and Aarti vows that she will get a job and help out. Pitaji will have enough money now to buy himself an umbrella (he gets soaked every time it rains), they will be able to afford this and that… a watch for Aarti, Pitaji insists.

A very excited Pitaji, returning home from work that day, stops at the shops and buys the watch. He is so entranced by it, he walks onto the road, holding the watch and admiring it. [Very like a lot of modern-day people who can’t seem to take their eyes off their phones]. And the inevitable happens: he is struck by a car and dies on the spot.

Guess who’s driving the car? None other than Jai.

Jai and Aarti have never met each other’s parents; thus Jai does not immediately realize who has died, crushed under his car. However, he discovers soon enough, and is horrified. More so when he goes to Aarti’s home to offer his condolences, and even before he can say anything, can admit to being the one in part responsible for her father’s death, Aarti starts sobbing and spewing hatred for the unseen murderer who killed her father.

Jai cannot bring himself to confess the truth to Aarti.

And soon Jai—the very picture of a ‘devta’, as someone in the film calls him—ends up harbouring several other sordid secrets, all of them combining to make him appear no less than a monster to Aarti, his adoptive father, his sister Sita, and pretty much everybody else.

Aaya Saawan Jhoomke is to me one of those quintessentially 1960s’ entertainers. Not a good film if you are looking for a meaningful story (Mamta may fit that, and Satyakam) or even one that’s not ‘serious’, but well-made fun (Aankhen, or Pyaar Kiye Jaa, Jewel Thief, Humraaz, Mera Saaya…). This one is let down by a bad script and high melodrama (which makes for some fairly hammy acting, especially by Dharmendra and Asha Parekh), but on the other hand, at least there’s never a dull moment, and there are some okay songs.

What I liked about this film:

The entertainment value of it. The story, for one, is fast-paced, and (as was pretty much standard for Hindi films of the 50s and 60s, as well as beyond) once the romance and the love songs have been completed, the real story begins. After Aarti’s father is killed, the story gets even more deliciously complicated. There is one twist after another, up to the point when you’d think the story is now complete. It’s never boring, even though some of it is a bit tedious.

There are nice-looking people here; the locales are lovely (several of the scenes, and most of Saathiya nahin jaana ke jee na lage, are set in Kerala, amidst the backwaters and against a backdrop of the Chinese fishing nets).

And, the music, by Laxmikant-Pyarelal (with lyrics by Anand Bakshi). Bura mat suno bura mat dekho, Saathiya nahin jaana, Rama duhaayi mere Rama duhaayi, and Yeh shama toh jali roshni ke liye are among the more popular songs of the film, though the ones I like best are Main ek haseena and Maanjhi chal o maanjhi chal.

What I didn’t like:

The melodrama is of course par for the course in a lot of films of this period and this style; so I will not dwell on that. But what gets my goat is the level of misunderstanding. That too is also pretty much standard, but it still annoys me no end. Why is that people who should know an individual very well—closest family, dearest love—should so readily believe the absolute worst of that person (even when said person is fervently denying the accusations so tearfully levelled against them)? And there should be a limit to how much misfortune, how many misunderstandings and false allegations, might fall to the lot of one person. Whew.

And yes, how come after spending so much needless time and effort on the chronicles of Sadhuram Sood, his girlfriend and her father, the trio simply drops out of the film completely, never to be seen again, and without any sort of closure to their story (a tame wedding doesn’t count, as far as I am concerned).

Anyway. Not a frightful film, and entertaining in its own way. But there are better films of this type and this period out there.