The news that the Union Ministry of Sports intends to recommend
conferment of Bharat Ratna on Dhyan Chand is finally recognizing a colossal,
giving him his due. However, Bharat
Ratna to Dhyan Chand acquired a context only after there were loud suggestions last
year that Sachin Tendulkar be decorated with this highest award. And much as we may be enamoured with cricket,
it is yet saddening that we are generally not as animated about achievements other
than those of cricketers. The excitement
of an occasional medal performance at the Olympics is just ephemeral.
Dhyan Chand’s contribution to hockey in the sub continent
was in no way less than Bradman’s to the Australian cricket. The latter, while watching a hockey match in
1935 at Adelaide, paid high tribute to Dhyan Chand as he remarked : He
scores goals like runs in Cricket. Europe,
however, paid him the highest tribute.
In Holland, the authorities broke his hockey stick to check if there was
a magnet inside. Adolf Hitler offered
him the German citizenship and the rank of a Colonel. Residents of Vienna honoured him by setting
up a statue of him with four hands and four sticks, symbolizing his control and
mastery over the ball. Dhyan Chand
symbolized a rare native assertion in colonial India, without being adversarial
to the English. A tube station was been
named after him in London, in the run up to the Summer Olympics.
After the gold at 1980 Olympics at Moscow, which was
boycotted by some of the major hockey playing nations, India has not made to
semis either at the Olympics or at the World Cup. In fact, we are consistently a
second rung team, thrashed by Australia, Germany and Holland routinely. Foreign
coaches have not been able to resurrect the team. Truth is that our hockey glory is a matter of
history with Dhyan Chand being the greatest exponent of that history. A Bharat Ratna will be honouring the both –
the history and its hero.
One often needs an
adversary, more than a friend, for a purpose, for a challenge in life. For the
mainstream Hindi cinema of the fifties and the large part of sixties, Pran
became an institutionalized adversary, a man for every ‘adversarial’ role,
unraveling in the process an uncanny ability and exceptional talent at adaption,
innovation and customization. Pran indeed was the other name for villainy in
Hindi cinema.
Pran is no more. But his
legend will ever inspire the budding villains.
To begin with, Pran was cast
in lead roles. His good looks, facial intensity and innate goodness
pre-eminently qualified him for that.
But why and how he drifted to become a baddie should be better
understood as his destiny in sync with the larger destiny of the Hindi cinema.
For over 15 years, he was the most formidable despised half of the good-versus-bad
cinema – the other half could be any one from Duleep Kumar to Raj Kapoor to Devanand
or the other lesser stars. Pran’s
presence heightened the bar for the man in the lead role. No wonder therefore that Pran found himself
opposite Duleep Kumar in a number of films - notably Azad, Madhumati, Dil Diya Dard Liya, Ram Aur Shyam. He was Raj Kapoor’s adversary in Chaliya, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai and Dil
Hi to Hai to mention some. He was Devanand’s
bête noire in blockbusters namely Jab
Pyar Kisi Se Hota Hai and Johnny
Mera Naam.
Raj Kapoor’s Jis Desh Mein
Ganga Behti Hai is, however, a different film, as it deals with the higher
question of morality - what is intrinsically good or bad - through the
unforgettable characters of Raju (Raj Kapoor) and Raka (Pran). In the film, the good-versus-bad is not a
matter of personal vendetta but a stand-off between a way of life that is
compassionate and inclusive and the other that is violent and repressive. Raka
epitomizes the latter. Pran gave the soul and substance to this character with
a performance that was arguably his best till Manoj Kumar’s Upkar discovered
the other dimension of his versatility.
Shot on a vast tract of
undulating sands, the climax of Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai builds a grand
convergence of several sub-streams within – a clutch of transformed dacoits
making way through a difficult terrain for its surrender to law, a police
oblivious to this intended surrender lays trap and zeroes on, and a distraught
love-stricken Kammo (Padmini) desperately looking for Raju. The climax will easily pass into the top ten
scenes of Hindi cinema for its impact. It is a fusion of brilliant photography,
a reverberating music, an inspiring song that beacons return to goodness, and a
human caravan on the move lock, stock and barrel with Raju at its van and Raka
at its rear. Even in this vast
action-scape, where the players often appear not more than dots, Pran (via Raka)
though seen distinctly only for moments leaves behind a permanent imprint on
the viewing public. Half-converted, he treks behind the party, almost alone and
in isolation, with hesitant steps and hugely suspicious. His dilemma, his uncertainty – the dichotomy
within – is brilliantly conveyed by the body language which is still rebellious
even if imperceptibly. This is Pran at his best. A must-see episode.
Pran’s transition to a good
Samaritan was sudden through Upkar, courtesy Manoj Kumar. Yet the transition was from baddie to toughie
in most of the films, though he no longer was a character stricken with a
congenital maliciousness. The other basic shift was that he complemented the
hero than being his adversary.
He thus forged a long
partnership with Amitabh - of helpful toughie. An interesting fact is that this
forging of friendship is quite dramatic in some of the films, almost as a final
outcome of duels which should have normally resulted in the killing of one – Zanjeer,
Don and Majboor. But my take is the
scene from Johnny Mera Naam, where
Johnny (Dev) and Moti(Pran) while trading punches discover that they are
brothers separated in childhood while running away from an assassin.
Sharabi however was an
exception. Pran, acting a father, had a
soft, sophisticated exterior but with an intransigent view of life. This intransigence is central to the film as
Amitabh, the son, behaves and conducts himself on rebound and thus builds the
story. In this, the film has something
in common with Parichay which also hinges on father’s inflexibility (acted by Pran). And incidentally, the two films have similar
ending. In the first, the father seeks a
bride for his son. In the other, he
seeks a groom for his grand-daughter.
The two films are important
for Pran in contra-distinction – as the sophisticated and suave character called
for a much greater visible subtlety and finesse than that expected of a
toughie. Pran came up with sterling and memorable performances in both,
confirming the sweep of his talent.
Perhaps, the only facet he
needed to prove was whether he could still act even though dead. The dead Pran entangled in the rear seat of a
taxi (Sadhu aur Shaitan) appears so alive and kicking !
Pran had hardly ever tried
his talent to sustain a comedy. Victoria No. 203 was an exception where he was
one of the hilarious duo, the other being Ashok Kumar.
Pran is no more but has left
a rich legacy behind which could be incorporated in the curricula for film
related degrees.
The following will aptly sum up Pran though in a lighter
vein. On reaching his abode after death,
Yamaraj enquired : आप की तारीफ़ ?लगता है इस इलाके में नये आये हो साहिब !
