PHIR KYA HUA? (What happened next?)

The place was Bhopal. The year was 1966. It was  a very pleasant evening and I had just come out of a picture hall after watching a movie in the afternoon show.

I was on a short visit to Bhopal. A  Bengali friend  had accompanied me to Bhopal and to this movie. Having spent all the time since birth inside Bengal,  he then knew very little of hindi but was in the process of picking up phrases .

"So! " I smiled at my bengali friend, raising my eyebrows, as we sat across in a restaurant for a cup of tea after coming out of the theatre.

" Phir kya hau? " he shot back, as he lowered the cup of tea from his lips and chuckled.

" But do you know the meaning of PHIR KYA HUA ?" I asked.

" Ofcourse I know! It means 'what happened next' ", he replied, "That  dancing girl was telling a story in the song and a funny looking villager had asked this question since the girl had paused while singing" he said.

That was exactly so. The film was "MERA SAYA", the song was "phir jhumka gira re Bareili ke bazaar me" and the dancer was the talented star of the sixties, film star Sadhana.

On twenty fifth december 2015 Sadhna Shivdasani went the way of all flesh, never to come back, leaving behind memories and so many wonderful films.

 It was a non-event for most of the national newspapers. She had been forgotten.

"Mera Saya" was a milestone in the history of bollywood. It became a superhit. The acting of Sadhna and, that most under-rated of vastly talented actors, Sunil Dutt, were incredibly perfect. It was the golden age of Cinema both in Bollywood. So many high quality films with great acting, great music directors, great singers and great lyricists. It was the best of times for Bollywood.

Unfortunately the last days of Sadhna make a painful statement about the reality of life and the consequences of not planning one's life properly. In the last years of her life sadhna was all alone, her husband having died of chest infections long time back. she had no children of her own. Bollywood had deserted her completely - except for a few friends like Helen, Nanda, Waheeda Rahman and Asha Parekh.And a most surprising thing was that Sadhna was without a house of her own even after a long money-minting career and was living in a portion of a bungalow owned by another film celebrity. During her last years she had been fighting a debilitating illness and a string of  court cases with the property owner and other tenants.

That recalls the advice Ashok Kumar had given to one of the character actors of his salad days. This character actor, inebrieted with success, was squandering money. "Don't squander the money that you are making now." Ashok kumar had reportedly said, "Your first priority should be to save for a house in Bombay as you don't know how long your film career would last". Golden advice! And the immensely successful Sadhna and her husband failed to take this basic step for future security. In this respect shyama, a successful star of 1950s, was very wise and practical and had invested money in property and other securities with the result that she had a very comfortable life beyond her acting years .

Nevertheless Sadhana left behind footprints in the sands of time. She was one of  the greatest natural actors and in the company of other great natural actors she gave us unforgettable films. One such film was  "PARAKH". There where so many more Too.

THE YEARS OF CONTRADICTION

THE YEARS OF CONTRADICTIONS

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom . . .  "

That was Charles Dickens of course, a long time back into history - the opening lines in the novel 'A tale of two cities'.

And yet that was so in early years after India's Independence too!!

Yes, those were the best of times! Those were the days, in the fifties, when pure ghee, cooking oils and butter did not require Agmark certificates of purity. . . When loaves of bread were well baked and had no preservatives or chemicals added to them . . . . when all crops were natural and Organic. . .  when there were no pesticides in food or drink or in river waters . . .when pure journalists like Durga Das, Chalpati Rao needed no certificates for their classic honest journalism . . . when the  politicians were not surrounded by gun-totting black cats nor were there any traffic holdups on account of movement of VIP politicians . . .  when the sounds of jackals' howling came from the nearby forests and not from the sirens of VIP cars rushing down the roads across red traffic signals . . . . when there were no such things as black money  Swiss bank accounts so far as India was concerned. . . . when there were no mass hysterical fan clubs for any sport persons or other celebrities . . .  when sportsmen were not disdainfully rolling in mountains of money . . . . when unassuming famous people like Gama Pahalwan and Dhyan Chand were  household names. . . when the likes of Vinoo Mankad and Polly Umriger were  simple down-to-earth lovable celebrities. . . . when the likes of Dilip Kumar were not minting money by  selling hair oil or junk food or soft drinks  . . . when the  motivated, TRP obsessed, media was altogether missing. . . . . when entertainment meant going for a picnic in open air or a visit to a circus or an exhibition. . .  when there were lots of open fields  and a circus or an 'exhibition' were an annual feature of  town life.

Yes we loved open air, sunshine, starry skies, long walks on neat and clean traffic less roads with an occasional vehicle slowly approaching, blaring horn.

The town where I spent my childhood was quite small in those days. There was no underground sewer line system and therefore no cokroaches. We did not know what a cohroach looked like !  We only read about them in enlish novels - they were supposed to be in cities like New York and we never saw one !

Yes, that was indeed  the best of times. . . . !

And yet those were the worst of times too . . ! With heavy import restrictions shaving blades had suddenly disappeared . . . safety razors too.. Unless you were prepared to spend a fortune on smuggled  foreign-make blades and safety razors, you had just one brand of blades- BHARAT blades - and no safety razors worth any use. And those Bharat blades were just slightly better than a new kitchen knife. They drew blood. Therefore two thing, now no longer seen, were in every man's shaving kit - a slab of alum ('phitkiri' in hindi) to rub on the numerous daily morning cuts . . and a translucent blade-sharpner made of pale green glass!

And so was with other things too. Imported tinned food such as Quaker oats and craft cheese had been substituted with substandard brands. Timepieces became too expensive. Since we had very few good Indian products  other than woollens, butter and shoes, suddenly there was scarcity of many items (we had world class shoes by FLEX, world class butter of POLSONS brand and world class LAL IMLI MILLS
-Legends in the field of worsted and woollen Products-
but they steadily languished). A sudden crisis of sorts was created due to import restrictions. Under the "socialistic pattern", there was initially little interest in import or manufacturing of  essential every day consumer products like safety razors, blades, pen nibs, pencils . . . . It was.a licence permit raj. Private sector was supposed to be anti-people.

It took twenty years for independent India to give us the first decent shaving blades. I still remember the day in 1967 when Erasmic silk edge blades hit the market. And what a rush there was to buy them !  About the same time came the first wrist watches - HMT brand public sector watches. They were few and we had to stand in long queues to buy one. And so with scooters and cars. You had to book one and then patiently wait for many years to get it.

Much later, the demise of Soviet Union was a game changer. Suddenly the world became unipolar. There were no takers for "socialistic pattern". And then came Narsimha Rao, the now forgotten Prime Minister of India. And, as they say, rest was history !!

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