Remembering Nargis

Nargis was born on the first of June in the first half of the previous century – year 1929 to be precise – a clear five decades ahead of me. Those were different times and my understanding of it is largely academic or what has been passed down to me by the connecting generation of my father. Normally, I should not have the temerity to comment on Nargis and her contribution. Yet my fascination for the black-and-white cinema has indeed given me some insight into the cine times of fifties and sixties.

While much of the cinema of those years was essentially a period portrayal with little or no relevance to our times, there still were masters who created cinema of eternal value, and there were players, though only a few, with timeless persona and impact.

Nargis was the first star of the celebrated quartet – the others being Meena Kumari, Vyajantimala and Nutan. Madhubala could lay claim to the same pedestal but, to my mind, she fell short of the quartet by a step or two despite her impish sensuousness and bewitching though askew half smile. Madhubala existed in a lighter vein. That was her forte. Her seriousness was contrived and her performance in Mughal-e-Azam was no exception.

Nargis was a heady cocktail of natural grace and histrionics. Her ‘un-Indian’ looks set her apart and held a stand-alone magnetism for those who craved for a change from over-covered, love-from-a-distance heroines of those times. I guess, her love scenes in Awara must have created a sensation, for those were so ahead of the times. In fact, they look so well connected to and so much in sync to our own times.

However, it was Mehboob Khan, and not Raj Kapoor, who discerned that Nargis was a much greater actress than her popular love-bird image suggested. I wonder, if it was in any one’s ken that a deglamorized Nargis could be the central character of a masterpiece namely Mother India – which perhaps was the strongest message through a popular medium – and it still is – that a woman’s dignity is to be protected irrespective of its consequences – no matter that a son is to be sacrificed. Its present contextuality and relevance should not be lost to us. However, what was amazing was that Mehboob Khan picked Nargis for a role which was so very antithesis of her popular image thitherto. And one will have to marvel at the courage of Nargis to accept this metamorphosis which could have disillusioned millions of her fans. But not only did Nargis came out stronger, she also created a benchmark for excellence which every budding actress swears by.

Earlier, in the year 1949, Mehboob Khan had created another classic – Andaz. It had a love-triangle for its theme – perhaps dealt with for the first time in Hindi cinema. The film was remarkable for its finesse. It was on a theme that is as relevant even now – that flippant ambiguity in man-woman relationship is fraught with dangers. Pitted against two giants of Hindi cinema – Duleep and Raj – Nargis yet held the centre-stage in a stand-out performance. A must-see movie alongwith Mother India for gauging the peerless range of Nargis in a larger backdrop.

Nargis died young – at the age of 52. But she survives in her work epitomized by a beautiful duet of Shri 420 :

Pyar hua ekraar hua
Pyar se dil kyon darta hai dil
……………………………….
………………………………..
……………………………
Main Na Rahoongi Tum Na Rahoge
Phir Bhi Rahengi Nishaaniyaan.

Remembering Nutan

                                                                                    

June 4^th happened to be the birth anniversary of Nutan, and I remembered her with some emotions for her beauty which was almost ethereal, for her enriching contribution to Hindi cinema.

To my mind, Mother India, Sujata, Sahib Bibi aur Gulam and Bandini were four movies that gave stature to Hindi cinema.  More importantly, they supplied the cinema its missing facet – the movies with women at the centre stage.  Nutan appeared in two of these – Sujata and Bandini.  Mother India centred around Nargis and Meena Kumari was the essence of Sahib Bibi and Gulam.

But Nutan is my favourite.  Her persona had a quiet dignity and a natural poise. Her face had a vulnerable innocence and possessed speaking eyes that gave her an irresistible cine presence. Her dusky aura seemed well merging with the black and white cinema.

What set Nutan apart as an actress was her ability to convey the character with minimal histrionics and bodily expressions.  She had an uncanny gift of speaking through her eyes and had a silence that was eloquent.

No wonder Bimal Roy, arguably the best Hindi film director ever and one who understood the power of the unsaid better than anyone else ( a contrast to and in bold relief from the incessant chatter of RK films ) , relied upon Nutan to deliver two of his master-pieces – Sujata and Bandini.

In Sujata, there is a love scene of about four minute’s duration, which has a Bhatiyali ( a boatman’s song ) for its articulation -  sun mere bandhu  re……….The night, the diffused glimmering lights, the rains, a river in flow, all swept by a strong breeze – should have been enough to turn a passion of love into an overwhelming embrace. But Sujata ( Nutan ) in her expression becomes one with the elements in ecstasy.  There was no trace or suggestion of carnal in it. It was a sublime fusion of creative geniuses of Nutan and Bimal Roy.

The ‘poison’ scene and the denouement of Bandini are permanent imprints in the sands of Hindi cinema. The ‘poison’ scene : With no words uttered, Kalyani ( Nutan ) becomes the physical form of pain, poignance and wretchedness that must characterize mutation of innocence into a consuming murderous intent. The ascending sound and spark of a welding process in the background symbolized the precipitating tumult within her. The scene is yet to find a parallel in its genre.  This scene culminating into a murder immortalized Nutan.

The final scene of Bandini is a class act.  The chance in life throws Kalyani in an existential predicament – to chose between her first love and the one who has pledged a whole new world to her.  Her desperation, her restlessness, her helplessness linked to her inability to decide grows by the moment, to reach a crescendo with the final-call siren from the look-sick steamer, when it snaps in an overcoming emotion to streak and to be at the feet of an ebbing, disease-stricken old flame.  For sheer visual impact and intensity, Paro ( in Devdas of Bimal Roy ) will come the nearest, when she runs for Devdas realizing that he is dead.  The scene in Bandini gets reinforced in its emotional contents with a lilting musical narrative of the predicament in the peerless voice of Burman.  Without a doubt, Nutan’s performance  set a new and higher threshold of acting standards. 

Nutan won awards for these two films, as also for Seema, Milan and Mein Tulsi Tere Angan Ki.  She was superb in romantic pairing with Devanand  in Paying Guest, Tere Ghar Ke Samne and with Rajkapoor in Kanaihya and Anari. Her singing talent, though evident in Chabili……..  O mere ham safar ……. remained largely unexplored. 

She died young at the age of 55, to be in the top league of Madhubala, Meena Kumari, Nargis and Smita Patil, who all died young.