If you are an aficionado of old Hindi film music, you can probably guess why I wanted to watch this film: it has some really good songs, courtesy Majrooh Sultanpuri and Chitragupta (who should probably head the list of seriously underrated music directors). There was, in my case, another reason, a slice of family history. During World War II, when the Japanese invaded Burma and thousands of Indians had to flee the country, my uncle Col KC Datta (my father’s sister’s husband) was one of the Indian Army officers tasked with helping refugees cross those many miles of jungle into India. It was a hair-raising experience; my uncle caught kala azar on the way, but managed to complete the task.

What might Burmah Road be about? I did not really expect that it would be about that epic trek my uncle was part of; but perhaps something about the Burma campaign? Or about the INA in Burma, à la Pehla Aadmi? If none of that, at least something like Aadhi Raat ke Baad or Howrah Bridge, set partly in Burma?

Nope. Nothing like that. Burmah Road in this film is the name of a principality, and it’s not very clear exactly where it is. It is ruled by a king (Chaman Puri), whom everybody refers to as His Highness Burmah Road. This king has a young son, and is very worried about the future of this child, as well as of Burmah Road.

He confides in the Mahamantri (Murad): his (the king’s) brother, Renu Sudama [Rajan Haksar, saddled with too brief a role as well as a seriously weird name] is ambitious as well as ruthless, a deadly combination. He will stop at nothing to get onto the throne. The king, the prince, Burmah Road: all are in danger.

The Mahamantri, along with the sipahsalar/commander, Colonel Shamsher Jang (Sheikh Mukhtar) reassures the king.

All will be well, the colonel has made excellent plans to safeguard Burmah Road. These plans are carefully hidden in a safe. This, of course, is said nice and loud, in the hearing of a shifty-looking officer (Prem Sagar).

… and said officer is next seen reporting to Renu Sudama, telling him about the safe and the plans in it. Renu Sudama, as it transpires, is not the main villain in this story: he hands over that title to a shades-sporting goon with the [also weird] name of Taaga Chaaki [which I initially misheard as Taaza Chaaki], played by Uma Dutt. Taaga Chaaki is given the job of having that safe broken into and the plans retrieved, so that Renu Sudama can break through any defences Colonel Shamsher Singh puts up.

This isn’t really Taaga Chaaki’s area of expertise, so he is a little huffy about being assigned the task. One of his minions, though, is a girl named Shen (or Chen, I can’t tell which; Vijaya Choudhary). She tells the boss about a very skilled safe-cracker named Ashok who is about to come out of jail, and who would be the right man for this. Taaga Chaaki therefore gives Shen the task of getting Ashok.

Shen manages this (she basically kidnaps Ashok shortly after he emerges from jail), but when Taaga Chaaki tells Ashok what he’s needed for, Ashok baulks. He is not a traitor, he will not help Taaga Chaaki in this foul endeavour to destroy Burmah Road’s sovereignty.

This [did you see this coming? I did] opens Shen’s eyes, and she immediately falls in love with Ashok and switches sides. Ashok shoots and punches his way out of Taaga Chaaki’s den, and Shen goes with him.

Meanwhile, another romance is brewing. Colonel Shamsher Jang has a daughter named Deepa (Kumkum), who is a lieutenant in his army [but sadly ends up behaving like the classic damsel in distress through a good bit of the film, needing rescue]. One of her colleagues is Lt. Sunil (Moti Sagar), with whom Deepa has been happily singing songs etc, but whom she’s been rebuffing every time he’s tried to encourage her to actually show him some affection.

It’s not mentioned at this point, but we later learn that Sunil is Ashok’s younger brother. Small world.

Now Renu Sudama/Taaga Chaaki [who seem to have access to some pretty impressive weaponry] attack Burmah Road, shelling it for all they’re worth. Deepa and Sunil happen to be together at the time and are forced to take shelter in a store. Falling bombs block the doorway, so that even after the attack has ceased, these two are trapped inside.

Not to worry. Sunil discovers that there is a bathroom in the place, and it has a shower, and he’s gotten pretty dirty because of the soot and whatnot… so he has a shower. Deepa agrees that this is a good idea and she too goes in for a shower—but the water (falling from a cistern just beside and outside the bathroom) ends, leaving her soapy and bawling.

So Sunil tries to help. He notices bottles of liquor lying in a carton nearby, and systematically empties each one of these and pours them into the cistern. With the result that Deepa, her mouth open while she’s showering [and wondering, aloud, why the water tastes odd], gets seriously tipsy. And [clad in a flimsy outfit that seems to have magically appeared out of nowhere] sings a song and basically admits that she reciprocates Sunil’s feelings.

Yes. Yes, this is what this film is like. What on earth were Om Dogra and Brij Katyal thinking of when they wrote this film? What was Tara Harish, director, doing? Did nobody stop to wonder if this film made any sense? I won’t even go into how idiotic it is that those plans, for which Taaga Chaaki had Ashok kidnapped, are then completely forgotten. Or that the Mahamantri forces Colonel Shamsher Jang to infiltrate Taaga Chaaki’s gang so that he can do—well, whatever. I’m not sure the colonel himself knows, since it’s not as if he indulges in any sabotage, or does any sort of double espionage stuff.

Complicated, yes; but also pretty nonsensical. And there is nothing here that recalls Burma, except for some yellowface (including Shen) and Ratan Gaurang as the stereotypical enemy soldier who is also somewhat of a buffoon. The plans in the safe turn out to be a MacGuffin that is never really followed up on, and it eventually all devolves into mindless racing about, shrieking, and bombardments.

My advice? Don’t watch. Don’t watch, don’t watch, don’t even think of watching.

But yes, listen to the songs, or watch them. Burmah Road has some wonderful songs, including Looto maze bahaar ke, Baanke piya kaho haan daghaabaaz ho and Mausam yeh pukaare masti mein. They are actually the one reason this mess of a film need even be mentioned.