The Meaning of Zuby Zuby Jalembu

Sharmila Tagore HOT An Evening in Paris

Sharmila Tagore burns up the screen in a quasi-French number from “An Evening in Paris” (1967).

I have breaking news. It’s a glimmer of light upon one of Bollywood’s great mysteries. The scene? Middle of the film An Evening in Paris. The year is 1967, and Shammi Kapoor is hot on the trail of a mystery. It’s one of those twin storylines–good twin is being held against her will by the bad guys (who look a whole lot like Pran in a blue pinstripe suit), and bad twin is a nightclub dancer who moonlights as a hit woman. By a stroke of brilliant luck, both twins are Sharmila Tagore.

So, anxious and slightly disheveled, Shammi Kapoor strolls into the Parisien nightclub, and his sense of Indian purity and uprighteousness takes a hit when the lights dim and a half-naked Sharmila Tagore struts onto the stage in a feathery swimsuit. Suddenly, she bursts into song:

Zuby zuby jalembu! Zuby zuby jalembu! Aa gaye. Shukriya. Ho mere meherabaan.”

I mean, what the heck? What do those cryptic words mean? For most of the general Indian population of the 60s watching this bizarre film, I’m guessing they

  1. Assumed it was something French and exotic (“is she really saying Suzy Suzy allez-vous?”)
  2. Didn’t care because the meaning of these Asha cabaret songs are rarely profound anyway
  3. Were too distracted by Sharmila’s dance moves and (lack of) costume to pay attention to the lyrics

Well, folks, I’m here to tell you it’s a mixture of choice 1 and 2! It’s actually slightly more meaningful than you probably thought (caveat: slightly). The tagline of the song has a legitimate basis in French music. Indian record companies probably got the spelling wrong–what we typically see as “Zuby Zuby Jalembu” should have been “Zou Bisou Bisou Bisou.” Asha’s awkward pronunciation, of course, did not help anyone.

Released as hit single in 1960 by Gillian Hills, “Zou Bisou Bisou” was a famous go-go style French song of seduction that was later redone by everyone from Sophia Loren to Megan Draper in Mad Men. Cover versions of it hit the French billboards in the 60s and, although its slow sensuality is a far cry from the high-pitched ecstatic Asha Bhonsle version, both certainly share something in common. “Bisou” (French slang for “kiss”) must have been heard somehow, somewhere by Shailendra who used it for authentic inspiration in writing this classy number that made it all the way back to Bombay.

So you see? It’s not entirely nonsense, nor is it entirely logical–the rest of the song’s lyrics don’t add up to anything profound in Hindi, but at least the effect is at very least “exotic.” And that’s all Indian audiences of the 60s could hope for in these kinds of tourist films, right? Sharmila Tagore had a special relationship with France, so much so that in 1999, the country awarded her the highest honor for artists: Insignes de Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres I. Sure, it was probably more in honor of her earlier work with Satyajit Ray, but her tribute to French go-go music must’ve helped.

Look, it’s the Eiffel Tower in the background! WOW EXOTIC!

And there it is. One mystery closed. You can thank me later. This request was submitted by one of our favorite readers, Reena! Have an obscure Bollywood mystery you want solved? Send us a request and we’d love to investigate!

-Mrs. 55

P.S. OK, so I get it. The most interesting part of this post was the mention of Sharmila wearing a bikini on stage. The irony? After igniting a wave of change in film censorship and standards with her bold moves, when Sharmila herself joined the Central Board of Film Certification, she expressed concern with the idea of too many bikinis on screen. For more on cabaret songs in Bollywood, see our post on Lata gone wild!

Kisi Patthar Ki Murat Se Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Sunil Dutt serenades Vimmi at an evening soiree in Hamraaz (1967)

The soundtrack of B.R. Chopra’s Hamraaz (1967) is remembered today for its showcasing of Mahendra Kapoor’s voice. Music director Ravi composed some unforgettable tunes for Mahendra Kapoor in this film, including “niile gagan ke tale,” “tum agar saath dene kaa vaadaa karo,” “na muu.nh chhupaake jiiyo,” and the gem that I’ve chosen to translate today: “kisii patthar kii muurat se.

This song is found toward the beginning of Hamraaz, an entertaining murder mystery starring Sunil Dutt and newcomer Vimmi among a supporting cast of well-known names like Balraj Sahni, Helen, Mumtaz, Madan Puri, and Raaj Kumar. In the film, Sunil Dutt plays the role of a popular stage actor who falls in love with Vimmi, the daughter of a wealthy contractor, during a trip to Darjeeling. With this particular song, he serenades Vimmi around the piano at an evening soiree.

Sahir Ludhianvi was right on point when he described the film’s heroine Vimmi as a “patthar kii muurat” (a statue of stone) in this song. In an otherwise entertaining and well-produced film, Vimmi sticks out as a sore thumb for her tepid and expressionless acting. While Vimmi certainly had the beauty to make it in films, it is clear from her debut performance here that she was not cut out to become an actress. Introduced to B.R. Chopra by music director Ravi after meeting at a dinner party in Calcutta, Vimmi struggled immensely during the production of Hamraaz. Next to some of the stalwarts involved with film, Vimmi appeared to be a novice as she struggled to deliver her lines and required take after take to complete the simplest scenes. Interestingly, in spite of Vimmi’s lackluster performance, Hamraaz was a big hit when it was released. Unfortunately, Vimmi could not capitalize on the success of her debut and she failed to make a successful career for herself in the industry. Like many individuals associated with Bollywood, Vimmi’s life ended in tragedy: her family disowned her after she signed Hamraaz, her marriage fell apart a few years later, and it is said that she even turned to prostitution to finance an addiction to alcohol before her death. Quite sad, indeed. You can learn more about her tragic life by reading a surprisingly detailed Wikipedia biography here.

In any case, this song is a pure delight to listen to because of Sahir’s exquisite use of Urdu poetry combined with Mahendra Kapoor’s silky vocals. For a seemingly simple song, some of the Urdu here is quite advanced–do you know what the words parastish, taqalluf, and baghaavat mean? If not, find out by reading the glossary and translation that we’ve provided below! To learn more about another classic song produced by the Mahendra Kapoor-Sahir-Ravi combo, see our previous post on “chalo ek baar phir sehere.

-Mr. 55

Songs picturized around the piano are so classy.

Kisi Patthar Ki Murat Se Lyrics and Translation

kisii patthar kii muurat se muhabbat kaa iraadaa hai
I have intentions of loving a statue of stone.
parastish kii tamanna hai, ibaadat kaa iraadaa hai
I desire to worship it; I intend to pray to it.

jo dil kii dhaDakane.n samajhe, na aa.nkho.n kii zubaa.n samajhe
She understands neither the beating of my heart nor the language of my eyes.
nazar kii guftaguu samajhe, na jazabo.n kaa bayaa.n samajhe
She understands neither the dialogue of my glances nor the expression of my emotions.

usii ke saamane uskii shikaayat kaa iraadaa hai
I intend to air my grievances about this woman in her presence.

sunaa hai har javaan patthar ke dil me.n aag hotii hai
I have heard that a flame resides in the hearts of these young stones.

magar jab tak na chheDo, sharm ke parde me.n sotii hai
Yet, until you inflame it further, it remains asleep behind a veil of modesty.
yeh sochaa hai ki dil kii baat uske ruubaruu kah de.n
I have resolved to express my heart’s feelings to her face-to-face.

natiija kuch bhii nikale aaj apanii aarazuu kah de.n
Regardless of the outcome, I will reveal my desires to her. 

har ek bejaan taqalluf se baghaavat kaa iraadaa hai
I intend to rebel against every spiritless formality today.

muhabbat berukhii se aur bhaDakegii voh kyaa jaane
Little does she know that her indifference will further arouse my love,
tabiiyat is adaa pe aur phaDakegii voh kyaa jaane
Little does she know that my disposition will be further agitated by her charm,
voh kyaa jaane ki apnaa kis qayaamat kaa iraadaa hai
And little does she know of my disastrous intentions. 

kisii patthar kii muurat se muhabbat kaa iraadaa hai
I have intentions of loving a statue of stone.

Glossary

muurat: statue; iraadaa: intention; parastish: worship; tamanna: desire; ibaadat: worship; zubaa.n: language; guftaguu: dialogue, conversation; jazbaa: emotion; bayaa.n: expression; shikaayat: complaint; chheDnaa: to tease, inflame; ruubaru: face-to-face; natiija: outcome; aarazuu: desire; bejaan: spiritless; taqalluf: formality; baghaavat: rebelion; berukhii: indifference; bhaDakanaa: to arouse, flare up; tabiiyat: disposition; adaa: charm; phaDakanaa: to quiver, agitate; qayaamat: disaster.

Despite her looks, Vimmi falls very flat in her debut role as Meena in Hamraaz (1967)

Ab Kya Misal Doon Lyrics and Translation: Let’s Learn Urdu-Hindi

Pradeep Kumar Aarti 1962

Pradeep Kumar sings an Urdu love poem to Meena Kumari in Aarti (1962)

The next English translation in our series is of the poetic lyrics to “Ab Kya Misal Doon” from Aarti (1962). This timeless song is one of Bollywood’s most beloved romantic odes by Mohammed Rafi. Pradeep Kumar, Meena Kumari, and Ashok Kumar star in Aarti, a family drama of love, debts, and vengeance. Ashok Kumar plays a wealthy surgeon and the villain of the film, vowing revenge when his betrothed, Meena Kumari, marries another man, Pradeep Kumar. An exacting dilemma of the film comes when ironically Ashok Kumar must decide whether or not to push aside his emotional battles and perform surgery on his own rival Pradeep Kumar to save his life. Of course, Meena Kumari throws in some more drama into the bargain–and her quiet beauty steals the show yet again. Aarti has a number of great songs written by Majrooh Sultanpuri, but unarguably the greatest is the sweet Mohammed Rafi ballad “Ab Kya Misal Doon.”

Pradeep Kumar plays “the other man” in the film–a good-hearted, but unemployed poetic dreamer who croons softly to Meena Kumari in this number. It would put any girl in a tough position: the poetry of the song is exquisite, without overwhelming anyone with an Urdu vocabulary exam. It has just the right blend of tenderness, lyricism, and adoration made magical by the unequivocal talent of Mohammed Rafi. Follow along on youtube here and enjoy our English translation of this poetic masterpiece!

Meena Kumari in Aarti 1962

Meena Kumari blushes as she hears Pradeep Kumar singing her praises in Aarti (1962)

Ab Kya Misal Doon: Lyrics and Translation

Ab kyaa misaal doon mei.N tumhaare shabaab ki
What can I now compare to your lustre?
Insaan ban gayee hai kiran mahtaab kii
You are a ray of the moon in human form

Chehre mei.N ghul gayaa hai haseen chaandni ka noor
The beautiful light of the moon has melted upon your face
Aankho.N mei.N hai chaman ki jawaan raat ka suroor
In your eyes is the garden of the early night’s joy
Gardan hai ek jhuki hui daali gulab kii
Your neck is like a lowered branch of a rose flower
Ab kyaa misaal doon…
What can I compare now…

Gesu khule to shaam ke dil se dhuan uThe
When your hair was let open, then the smokiness of night emerged from my heart
Chhule qadam to jhuk ke na phir aasmaan uThe
When your feet hit the ground, the sky bowed down would not raise itself again
Sau baar jhilmilaaye shamaa aftaab kii
The light of this sun sparkled a hundred times
Ab kyaa misaal doon…
What can I compare now…

Deewar-o-dar kaa rang, yeh aanchal, yeh pairhan
The end of your saarii and your robes are the colours of my refuge
Ghar kaa mere chiraagh hai boota sa yeh badan
The lamp of my house is this slender plant-like body
Tasveer ho tumhii mere jannat ke khwaab kii
You are the image of the paradise of my dreams
Ab kyaa misaal doon…
What can I compare now…

Glossary:

misaal: example, comparison; shabaab: glory, lustre; insaan: human; kiran: ray, mahtaab: moon; chehra: face; noor: light; chaman: garden; suruur: joy, exhilaration; gardan: neck; daalii: branch; gulaab: rose flower; gesuu: hair; dhuaan: smoke; qadam: footsteps; aasmaan: sky; sau baar: a hundred times; jhilmilaanaa: to sparkle, to shine; aftaab: sun; deewar-o-dar: walls and doors, refuge; rang: colour; aanchal: the end draping of a saarii; pairhan: robe; ghar: house; chiraagh: light; boota: small plant; badan: body; tasveer: image, picture; jannat: paradise; khwaab: dream

Meena Kumari filmfare awards 1962

Meena Kumari poses with Ashok Kumar and actress Shashikala at the 1962 Filmfare Awards.

Did you know in 1962, Meena Kumari was the only nominee at the Filmfare Awards for Best Actress? She was nominated for Aarti, Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, Main Chhup Rahuungi. Talk about a walk-over. She took it home for Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962).

-Mrs. 55

The Glorification of Alcohol in Hindi Cinema

A study released in April of this year claimed that Indian adolescents aged 12-16 exposed to alcohol consumption in films were nearly three times more likely to drink than their peers who did not watch Bollywood movies. While this study most likely pertains to the movies released in the industry today, I would venture to say that the origins of this trend can be traced back to films from the Golden Era of Bollywood cinema. Indeed, the consumption of alcohol has been glorified on India’s silver screen for decades, especially through portrayal of sharaab (alcohol) songs in films. Here, I’ve compiled a list of my five favorite male and female sharaab numbers from the Golden Era–let’s take a closer look at these examples to examine how the consumption of alcohol has been portrayed cinematically and its implications on Indian culture.

“Girls Just Want To Have Fun”

In Bollywood’s earliest days, drinking alcohol in films was portrayed as a strictly masculine activity, à la Devdas and other Bollywood heroes who have famously drowned their sorrows in liquor. In contrast, the idealized image of the traditional Indian woman did not permit the depiction of female alcohol consumption in the media.  This trend began to change in the 60s when films depicted heroines and female actresses playing roles in which they partook in the consumption of the Devil’s nectar, just like their male counterparts. As you can see below, the contexts in which female characters drink vary from film to film: alcohol has been used by the women of Bollywood as a coping mechanism, a means of revenge, or just a way to have a good time.

na jaao saiyaa.n (Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, 1962): In this film based on a Bengali novel by Bimal Mitra, Meena Kumari gives one of her career’s best performances as Chhoti Bahu. Chhoti Bahu is married to young zamii.ndar (played by Rehman), who neglects his wife at home in order to take part in debauchery at local brothels on a nightly basis. In desperate need of her unfaithful husband’s companionship, she decides to take up drinking in order to keep him away from those pesky courtesans at night. In this heartbreaking song sung by Geeta Dutt, Chhoti Bahu drunkenly entreats her husband to stay at home and spend the night with her. In a truly unfortunate example of art mimicing real life, both Geeta and Meena would succumb to alcoholism as a way to cope with their unhappy marriages in the coming years. For those of you who enjoy this song, be sure to check out Hemant Kumar’s Bengali version of the same tune: “olir katha shune.

Meena Kumari, as Chhoti Bahu, tragically turns to alcoholism in Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam (1962).

piike hum tum jo chale aaye hai.n (Gumnaam, 1965): This film (reviewed by us here) is a suspense thriller loosely based on the Agatha Christie novel And Then There Were None. The story revolves around seven vacationers who find themselves on a remote island in the middle of nowhere after a plane crash. One by one, they are murdered off and the big question is, of course: whodunnit? In the midst of all this tension, two of the vacationers, Miss Kitty (played by Helen) and Asha (played by Nanda), decide to loosen up and have some fun with a few drinks. In this comical duet sung by Asha Bhonsle and Usha Mangeshkar, the two actresses appear to be having the time of their lives in a drunken stupor on screen. I mean, who wouldn’t be having a good time if they were getting drunk with Helen?

Helen and Nanda get sloppy together in Gumnaam (1965). If you excuse the stumbling, Helen actually looks quite sophisticated in this scene because she’s not wearing one of her characteristically outrageous wigs/outfits.

aao huzuur tum ko (Kismat, 1968): This Asha-OP Nayyar collaboration is an all-time classic from the soundtrack of Kismat (along with “kajraa muhabbatvaalaa“). The film’s narrative is so outrageous that it’s not even worth summarizing here, but this song is picturized on the actress Babita, who is the mother of Karisma and Kareena Kapoor. Babita never managed to gain much success as a heroine, and that’s not surprising given that it’s unclear whether she is drunk or undergoing eplipetic fits in this particular scene. She certainly does make a statement though and manages to embarass the hero Biswajeet with her public intoxication at this party. Regardless of the picturization, Asha Bhonsle adds all the right expressions here to make this an unforgettable sharaab number on the basis of the song alone. Her vocal control in the extended introduction (“ham se raushan hai chaa.nd aur taare...”) before the song’s first stanza is especially commendable. 

Babita has probably had one too many in this scene from Kismat (1968)

kaise rahuu.n chup (Inteqaam, 1969): Inteqaam is an entertaining (but occaisionally illogical) thriller that stars Sadhana as a woman who seeks revenge against her former boss because he framed her for a theft that she did not commit. As part of her elaborate plan for revenge, she intends to marry her boss’s son (played by Sanjay Khan) and bring shame to his entire family by revealing that the new bahu is, in fact, a convicted criminal! In this song, Sadhana further embarasses her boss’s family by  acting extremely intoxicated under the influence of alcohol at a public gathering. (Technically, this might not be considered a genuine sharaab song because Sadhana is putting on a facade of being drunk without actually consuming, but I liked this song too much to pass up putting it on the list.) This soundtrack composed by Laxmikant-Pyarelal is particularly memorable today because it casts a different light on Lata Mangeshkar, who was considered to be staunchly conservative and traditional in her playback output.  Lata surprises us all by agreeing to sing two sizzling cabaret numbers in addition to this drinking song for the film–listen to her nail those hiccups during the interludes!

Helen serves Sadhana another glass in Inteqaam (1969)

piyaa tuu ab to aajaa (Caravan, 1971): Asha Bhonsle and R.D. Burman come together to produce one of their biggest musical hits together with this classic item number from Caravan. Asha’s performance here solidified her status as the queen of cabaret singing in Hindi cinema. Furthermore, Helen’s portrayal of a nightclub dancer on screen during this song is considered the quintessential Bollywood cabaret performance. Helen’s dance moves are completely outrageous here but she makes it work somehow (see Mrs. 55’s step-by-step breakdown here). Given the ridiculousness of the situation here, you can’t really blame Helen for the heavy drinking…it certainly doesn’t stop her from completely owning the stage during her performance!

Helen gives one of the best cabaret performances of her career in Caravan (1971)

“Alcohol May Be Man’s Worst Enemy…”

Unlike their female counterparts, the men of Bollywood cinema have been imbibing alcohol since the industry’s earliest days. The most popular context for male drinking in Hindi films occurs when the hero resigns himself to heavy drinking in order to drown his sorrows, usually caused by woman-related heartbreak. While female characters are often stigmatized for their drinking and public intoxication, it is more acceptable for men of the silver screen to use alcohol consumption to deal with their grief.  Other contexts where actors are depicted consuming alcohol include scenes of male-male bonding (bromances, anyone?) and seduction of heroines and courtesans. Though Bollywood has glamorized the consumption of alcohol for both genders, the effect is far more pronounced for males, as evident in the examples I’ve selected below.

mujhe duniyaavaalo sharaabii na samjho (Leader, 1964): Even though its soundtrack is full of gems like “tere husn kii kyaa tariif karuu.n” and “ek shahanshah ne banvaa ke ek hasii.n taaj mahal,” Leader is one mess of a film starring Dilip Kumar and Vijayantimala. Dilip Kumar stars as a law graduate and aspiring political revolutionary who falls in love with a princess (played by Vijyantimala). The script has so many holes that it’s difficult to discern the overall message of this film, but there are some scenes of comic relief between Vijayantimala and Dilip Kumar that are worth remembering. By far, however, the main attraction here is the soundtrack composed by Naushad. In this particular number, an intoxicated Dilip Kumar claims that he has been forced to take up drinking to grapple with society’s evils.

Vijayntimala tries to stop a drunk Dilip Kumar from embarassing himself too much at this party in Leader (1964).

din Dhal jaaye (Guide, 1965): Where do I even begin with the praise for Vijay Anand’s Guide? Mrs. 55 and I both love everything about this film: the unique story written by R.K. Narayan, the stellar performances by Dev Anand and Waheeda Rehman, and of course, the unforgettable soundtrack composed by S.D. Burman. Each and every song from this film is an absolute gem. In this particular Rafi solo picturized on Dev Anand, the hero drowns his sorrows about lost love in alcohol. The melancholic expression that pervades throughout this scene is enhanced by the beautifully crafted lyrics and tune.

Dev Anand turns to the bottle when love goes sour in Guide (1965).

chuu lene do naazuk ho.nTho.n ko (Kaajal, 1965): With this Rafi number penned by Sahir Ludhianvi and composed by Ravi, Raaj Kumar tries to get Meena Kumari, his on-screen shaadi-shudhaa (virtuous) wife, to come to the dark side by having a drink. Alcohol glorification occurs is at its finest in these lyrics: it is referred to as “mubarak cheez,” or a blessed thing.  Meena Kumari excels, as usual, at looking incredibly uncomfortable and disturbed by Raaj Kumar’s advances in this scene.

A drunk Raaj Kumar tries to get Meena Kumari on his team in Kaajal (1965).

jo unkii tamanna hai barbad ho jaa (Inteqaam, 1969): This film certainly features a lot of alcohol consumption on screen. In addition to the drunk Lata number discussed above, this Rafi solo from Inteqaam is picturized on Sanjay Khan as he laments being a mere object in Sadhana’s plans for revenge. Rajinder Krishan’s lyrics are exquisite in their ability to capture the essence of being deceived in love.

Handsome Sanjay Khan turns to alcohol to get over Sadhana’s deception in Inteqaam (1969)

yeh jo muhabbat hai (Kati Patang, 1970): Directed by Shakti Samanta, this film features an evergreen soundtrack composed by R.D. Burman. This particular number sung by Kishore Kumar is one of Bollywood’s most treasured drinking songs, and it features a handsome and bitter Rajesh Khanna drinking the night away because he was stood up at the altar by his wife-to-be.  Asha Parekh watches from a distance, not yet aware of the fact that she is the woman responsible for his heartache.

Rajesh Khanna drinks another glass of liquid courage before singing about the pain of disloyal love in Kati Patang (1970).

What are some of your favorite sharaab/daaru songs from Bollywood films? Let us know in the comments! We’ll understand if your typing is a little bit off…
Mr. 55

The Tragedy and Triumphs of Do Bigha Zameen

Do Bigha Zameen 2

Balraj Sahni embraces his son in despair after a violent misunderstanding in the urban nightmare of Do Bigha Zameen (1954).

In the 1954, the year of the first Indian Filmfare awards, the film that took home the glory of both best picture and best director was about to become more than just a national treasure. Do Bigha Zameen, the latest directorial offering of a relatively minor Bengali newcomer, told a story that was not familiar in the tinsel-lined halls of Bombay filmdom. Without a glamorous period backdrop, without elaborate dream sequences, and without clearly enunciated moral take-home points, Do Bigha Zameen cannot be readily categorized with contemporary village epics such Mother India (1957) nor socially-conscience critiques like Shree 420 (1955) and Pyaasa (1957). With such a new vision of Indian cinema, stylistically and socially, Do Bigha Zameen hit a broader audience, becoming the first Indian film to win the Prix Internationale at the 1954 Cannes Film Festival.

But what is all this hype about? What makes Do Bigha Zameen so radical and why does everyone always bring it up in discussions of must-see Bollywood films? The film is directed by Bimal Roy, a prominent member of the post-colonialist Bengali intelligentsia, who was directly influenced by another radical film movement sweeping Europe: Italian Neorealism. Like other great Bengali directors of his day, ie. Rhitwik Ghatak and Satyajit Ray, Bimal Roy was fascinated by the work of Italian pioneer Vittorio de Sica and his masterpiece Ladri Di Biciclette (1948). The film is the defining work of Italian neorealism, marked by a deliberate attention to the “everyday,” the feeling of an invisible, unhurried camera whose shots and mis-en-scene are carefully constructed, but have the naturalness of a documentary. The Italian neorealist movement glorified without ornamentation the lives and suffering of “ordinary” citizens. It gave importance to the unimportant and evoked sympathy without the crutches of melodrama.

Do Bigha Zameen 1Balraj Sahnia Nirupa Roy

Nirupa Roy and Balraj Sahni flirt with each other beneath a shady tree in Do Bigha Zameen (1954).

Now I’ll argue that among the Indian film influenced by the neorealist movement, Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy is perhaps the truest to the legacy set by Ladri di Biciclette. To fully appreciate that unique style of film-making, you must see Ray’s Aparajito. Do Bigha Zameen blends the line between neorealism and commercial–similar perhaps to the films of Guru Dutt, but without the poetic grandeur. Starring the classiest of men, Balraj Sahni and Nirupa Roy (yes! she did play the heroine before becoming a stock mother-figure actress in the 70s!), Do Bigha Zameen, tells of the hard work, misfortune, and desperate measures taken by a family who is cheated of their land by a greedy mill owner. The film follows the father and son’s trip to Calcutta from their idyllic village to earn enough money to pay their debts–only to discover the harsh realities of urban poverty instead.

Like Ladri di Biciclette, the film also explores the evolving relationship between a father and son, of how the dynamic changes when a child grows up quickly and a mutual level of forgiveness that comes with a more mature relationship. With scenarios by Hrishikesh Mukherjee (who also did the screenplay for gems like Anand!), it’s clear that “realism” is given a healthy splash of Bollywood exaggeration. When the going gets rough for this family, it just spirals into greater and greater tragedy–the loss of property, becoming victims of robbery, illness, and a car crash. A heavy-handed background score encourages the audience to evoke sympathy and fear, as well as a handful of painful histrionics rendered by the cutesy child actor. But all in all, the real triumph of this film is in the conclusion.

The impoverished family watches the destruction of their ancestral land behind a closed gate in Do Bigha Zameen (1954).

At the end of Do Bigha Zameen, there is no real outcome. Like with Satyajit Ray’s Aparajito, it ends with a single shot of the family, moving on into the distance. The journey we as an audience have witnessed is but a chapter in their lives that we know will be marked in the future with similarly unresolved troubles. But it also carries a kind of hope with it, not that all will be right in the world, but a hope that men and women like these are survivors and will find a way to persevere, even if that does not mean coming out on top. It is what sets this film apart from the Raj Kapoors of the world. And that is, I think, the message that hit home with millions of Indian viewers in the dissatisfied liberated world.

The film takes its name from a Rabindranath Tagore poem “Dui Bigha Jomi.” In the original poem, a poor farmer begs his landlord to not make him sell his ancestral plot of land. But the cruel landlord insists, while the farmer famously begs (as in the film adaptation) that the land is like his mother–and how could anyone sell their own mother? Do Bigha Zameen, however small, carries the price of a man’s honor, and for the poor farmer, this cannot be bought by mere money.

Meena Kumari plays a doting mother in a special appearance for the Lata Mangeshkar song, “Aaja Re Nindiya Tu Aa” in Do Bigha Zameen (1954).

Also of note, a young Meena Kumari plays a minor role as a benevolent landlady who agrees to to help the family with their debts (before further disaster strikes, rendering her offer useless). She had been on set of Roy’s earlier film, Parineeta (1953), when she heard of the production and loved it so much, she begged to participate. Of particular and slightly disturbing note is the facial hair on her upper lip that the costume and make up department didn’t do something more about. You think it blends in because you can’t really see it in person, but it shows up on black-and-white film stock like a dark shadowy menace. Gets ‘em every time.

– Mrs. 55