‘Pukar’ to ‘Fitoor’: The Evolution of Muslim Socials in Bollywood

Wondering where the ‘Muslim social’ Bollywood film went?

There was a time when the opening credits of every Hindi film appeared in three languages - namely English, Hindi and Urdu.

There was a time, when most big banners started with a couplet that went something like ‘Muddiin lakh burra chahe toh kya hota hai? Wohi hota hai jo manzoore khuda hota hai!’

As children we did not understand the meaning of the heavy words, but we liked the sound of actor Murad’s booming voice and it was an indicator to us to fasten the seat belts and get ready for an engaging narrative.

Over the decades, slowly and steadily, we lost the voice-over, then we lost the three language credit titles and finally, we lost the fragrance and flavour of the extremely sophisticated Urdu language.

In present times our films include a lot of English and because of new writers from all over the country, they project a variety of dialects from all over India which includes Hariyanvi and Hyderabadi among other languages.

While on one level our cinema celebrates diversity in entertainment, the traditional audience misses the Muslim love stories, a significant part of our nostalgia.

There are many reasons for this.

The Muslim socials created a world with their iconic images of purdahs and colourful ghararas, the men wore achkans and the women never left home without burqas. There was delicacy in their conversation, they greeted with adaab and parted with khuda hafiz, and romance always blossomed on a full moon night combined with a ghazal. The characters and the milieu were not real representations of Aligarh or Lucknow and historians dismissed these films as kotha culture but the audience loved the lavish productions and the fantasies.

The dream began in 1939 when Sohrab Modi presented a dramatic Pukar on the life of Mughal emperor Jehangir who was famous for his justice. The film was widely appreciated but I doubt if Modi made any money - which explains why it took him four years to make another large scale film Najma (1943) followed by Humayun (1945), Shahjahan (1946), Elaan (1947), Anarkali, Chandni Chowk (1953) and a super duper hit Mirza Ghalib starring Suraiya and Bharat Bhushan in (1954).

The 60s was the decade of colour cinema, elaborate sets and lavish costumes. As a result filmmakers were drawn to ambitious productions of which a prime example is Mughal- E-Azam (1960) - the love story of Salim and Anarkali. There were smaller projects too in the same genre like Chotte Nawab and the moderate yet unforgettable Mere Mehboob starring the beautiful Sadhana. Mere Mehboob was a story of love and sacrifice, a story of friendship and dignity. Then there was Mumtaz played by Bina Rai walking down the stars from the heaven singing Jo vada kiya wo nibhana padega… to husband Shah Jehan (Pradeep Kumar) in Taj Mahal (1963) - a film to remember.

Between the years 1964 to 1968 Mala Sinha, not in the least fluent in Urdu, featured as Jehan Ara and also as the woman torn between two lovers in Mere Huzoor, while Meena Kumari featured in Benazir, Gazal and the highly successful Bahu Begum that commented on the crumbling kothis and a dying nawab culture. Poignantly written by Jaan Nissar Akhtar, it was superbly portrayed by Ashok Kumar.

The 70s was a defining decade in Hindi cinema and portrayed Urdu and Muslim milieu in four path-breaking stories. Rajender Singh Bedi’s Dastak (1970) was about a householder inhabiting a home previously occupied by a prostitute, while Kamal Amrohi’s lyrical Pakeezah told the story of a desolate and lonely courtesan betrayed by her own people. MS Sathyu’s Garam Hawa (1973) written by Kaifi Azmi and Shama Zaidi is easily the best film on partition. And the legendary romance of Laila Majnu (1976) redefined Rishi Kapoor and launched Film Institute graduate Ranjeeta Kaur as a major player.

Only one film - Mehboob Ki Mehandi proved disappointing and it explains why superstar Rajesh Khanna delayed the release even though it had extraordinary music.

Contrary to the general perception, Muslim socials never went out of circulation. The number of films certainly decreased and the style and content altered, depending on the sensibility of the maker. Director Muzaffar Ali told the story of a betrayed courtesan in Umrao Jaan (1981) starring the beautiful Rekha singing in Asha Bhosle’s voice, a fitting sequel to Amrohi’s Pakeeza. Then Sagar Sarhadi depicted the plight of young Hyderabad girls married to older Sheikhs for money in the heart-wrenching Bazaar (1982), followed by BR Chopra’s mega musical hit Nikaah (1982) - a strong statement on marriage and divorce in Islam and Tawaif (1985) about the other woman in the hero’s life.

There was one more film around this time and fortunately not about a nawab and a courtesan, but a community expressing its concerns. Saeed Mirza’s Salim Langde Pe Mat Ro (1989) was the beginning of a change to come.

The biggest hit of 1991 was the Salman Khan-starrer Sanam Bewafa, based on a Pakistani film. In the following years, Shyam Benegal directed Mammo (1994), a tale of two sisters separated by partition and Sardari (1996), loosely based on the life of maestro Sardari Begum.

Saeed Mirza addressed communal riots in Naseem starring poet Kaifi Azmi as the protagonist laid up on a bed talking to his grand-daughter, Mayuri Kango. These were small budget films and did average business. When these films failed at the box-office, it was assumed that the audience was not keen on similar subjects but every time the filmmaker had something new to say, there was a new audience willing to give him an opportunity.

Film scribes and critics explored the complexities of the minority community post riots in Fiza in 2000 and post partition in Zubeidaa in 2001. Vishal Bhardwaj set Shakespear’s Macbeth as Maqbool (2004) in UP and Hamlet as Haider  (2014) in Kashmir. They were not socials in the old world context but both were stories of a certain period in India. The audience loved the small town stories and relished the refreshing dialect, be it Ishqiya (2010), Dedh Ishqiya or the Kashmir-set Fitoor in 2016. The films did not always work - some were hits, some were losses - but it was interesting to watch our stars become different characters draped in different costumes and sporting different accents.

When Sohrab Modi made Pukar in (1930), it was unimaginable that Urdu speaking characters would travel such a long journey in mainstream movies of independent India. Time and again filmmakers are drawn to dramatic subjects; often the subjects fail to touch the audience but the music lives on forever like Alka Yagnik’s ghazals in JP Dutta’s Umrao Jaan.

The truth is we are more attached to our songs, our lyrics, our music, our romance, our poetry and our expression and all this carries more of Urdu than Hindustani. This is why words like barkhurdar and bahral are in daily parlance and in our films. This also explains why courtroom scenes in all our films are peppered with Urdu references like qatil, mujrim or baa izaat barri kiya jaata hai.

So what happens to the age old romance between the nawab and a tawaif? Well, they will continue as long as the audience is interested in the burqas and the purdahs, the achkans and the ghararas. Directors will continue to search for a muse in history or fantasy, like Ashutosh Gowariker’s Jodhaa Akbar or Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Bajirao Mastani. Are we surprised? Not at all, because stories or socials are like fashion trends - they keep coming back.

(Bhawana Somaaya has been writing on cinema for 30 years and is the author of 12 books. Her Twitter handle is @bhawanasomaaya)