#pakeezah (1972)

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Pakeezah (1972) | dir. Kamal Amrohi

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[popsixsquishcicerolipschitz]

Mausam Hai Aashiqana | Pakeezah (1971) | Meena Kumari | Raaj Kumar | Lata Mangeshkar

Song: Chalte Chalte Yun Hi Koi Movie: Pakeezah (1972) Actor(s): Meena Kumari, Kamal Kapoor Singer(s): Lata Mangeshkar, Mohd Rafi Music: Ghulam Mohammed Lyricist: Kaifi Azmi

About

Some voices are immortal because they are just heavenly and magical. However, if there is one voice which has reshaped not only Hindi film music but also India’s popular culture and enriched our lives, it is none other than the great Lata Mangeshkar. Famously known as ‘The Nightingale of India’, Lata ji always mesmerised us with her magical & melodious voice for more than seven decades. Her singing for the beautiful & talented heroines down the years has added much charisma to their silver screen personalities and success of the movies as well. Her career actually spanned the arc of Hindi cinema, right from India’s independence. In 1989 the ‘Dadasaheb Phalke Award’ was bestowed on her by the Government of India and in 2001 she was honoured with the ‘Bharat Ratna’. She may have left us for her heavenly abode but she will live in our hearts forever. We celebrate her immense contribution with this special channel dedicated to ‘Lata Mangeshkar: The Nightingale of India’.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

yeh chirag bhuj rahe hai, mere saath jalte jalte these flames are dying, as they burn alongside me

[Image ID: four gifs of Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz from 911 2.01, "Under Pressure." The gifs black and white and are positioned on one side of the image, and the other side is a black gradient. In the center of the gradient is pink English translation. On the top and bottom in smaller, white text, are the original Urdu lyrics. The lyrics are from Chalte Chalte, from Pakeezah (1972):

GIF 1: Buck shifting on his heels, irritably asking Bobby, "who the hell is that." The original lyric reads, "yun hi koi mil gaya tha." and the English translation reads, "i met someone by chance."

GIF 2: Eddie tugging his shirt over his torso. The original lyric reads, "sar-e-raah chalte chalte." and the English translation reads, "walking along the path."

GIF 3: Buck ducking his head after Eddie calls him a badass under pressure, saying "really?". The original lyric reads, "wahin thamke reh gayi hai" and the English translation reads, "right there stood still."

GIF 4: Eddie's smile widening as he moves to shake Buck's hand as they agree to have each other's backs. The original lyric reads, "meri raat dhalte dhalte" and the English translation reads, "This night of mine, fading."

/end ID]

[wildcheries]

pakeezah (1972)

[themoonismelting]

Pakeezah (1972), India

[pearlgisa]

qala and the style over substance argument

so, i watched qala (dir. by anvita dutt) immediately when it came out - a story that exposed the music industry and the position of women in it, especially focusing on the toxic nature of indian classical music? it was like they made the film for me (someone who's spent a good chunk of their life trained in hindustani classical music). however, i was sorely disappointed.

in essence, qala, along with other films that did commercially well that came out in bollywood last year, solidified my understanding that the audience of today's generation of movie-watchers genuinely puts style over substance and in fact, uses it as a way to defend their favourite movies from criticism. the recent resurgence of praise for om shanti om of all films, only strengthened this opinion.

my criticisms for qala are in plenty, yet i will choose to expand on the ones that strike out the most to me, all of which range from the lightest to the harshest criticism:

the choice of music

the acting

the direction + writing

the handling of the serious issues that are the main theme of the film

before you read ahead, please know that there are spoilers.

in indian classical music, there are two distinct forms: hindustani (or, north indian) and carnatic (or south indian) music. each have their differences and similarities and even someone who hasn't trained can tell them apart upon listening. within hindustani music - which is the genre of music that qala learns from her mother - you have many different styles of singing, ranging from shastriya sangeet (classical form of singing) to laghu sangeet (semi-classical and sometimes, light music). of course, this categorization also has its roots in religion and caste. shastriya sangeet has forms of singing like dhrupad (the oldest form and a strictly devotional medium), khyal (the most common one, telling tales or speaking of human emotions), bhajan (also a devotional medium), etc.

laghu sangeet has forms of classical music like the thumri, a form of singing popularized and invented by courtesans. the lyrics were sensual, romantic and more explicit. of course, owing to these, they were looked down upon. even the british had a huge role in diminishing the status of indian women performers. the "other woman" concept was specifically one that they propagated and the rise of the "perfect housewife" phenomena began since the seventeenth century. the extreme effect of that? the courtesans lost out on their patrons and were forced into prostitution.

hence, that was the primary history behind qala's mother, urmila, shaming her into never being a performer, i.e, in a more derogatory term, a "singing girl". a courtesan, essentially. which is accurate, considering the film is set in the 1940s. if a girl was too "out there in the world", i.e, her achievements being publicised in newspapers or her getting recognition for her academics, her future marital prospects were ruined. and the "shame" that befell the family if she was learning music or dance was worse. a significant number of the prominent female musicians that emerged from this era of pre-independence to post-independence were unmarried. or they had many patrons and salacious rumours regarding their love life were in plenty. the film pakeezah (1972) explores such themes quite well. and the many renditions and retellings of devdas also serve as a good example of the stature of performing women.

however, it's the music itself where it goes wrong for me. the choice of songs as well as qala's singing (of course, all of qala's songs are sung by the amazing sireesha bhagavatula), is in a style all too similar to laghu singing. the years of egregious training, no matter how much her mother dismissed her, would've developed a voice which would've sounded a lot more like what a lot of classical singers would sound like, unless they were singing a lighter form of singing. and it isn't a matter of pitch or using falsetto. qala's mom is referred to as a master of qawallis, which is a sufi form of devotional singing (and comes well under hindustani music too). even the lyrics of qala's songs, while full of very obvious foreshadowing, do not match the overall orthodox classical upbringing that the film portrays.

while bhagavatula has an amazing voice well versed in classical music (especially since she sings bhajans so often), considering the time that qala was set in, you would've expected a sound similar to something along the lines of noor jehan or even roshan ara begum. instead, it sounds a lot like a mix of semi-classical instrumental with a more pop-based voice. which is easier for our generation to digest and consume, however, it comes at the cost of a sound which is very typical of the 50s-70s era of bollywood.

one that qala does right are the costumes. they do their job well. not the sets as much, which i will get into later. at some points, they are well in line with the rest of the era of the film, other times it just sticks out like a sore thumb. here's where the "symbolism" comes in.

one of the most jarring examples is the song qala sings at the first performance, a very light classical song just by the sound of the vocals. even the song jagan sings is very contemporary at its core. despite the characters having an allegedly strict, traditional schooling of music (jagan's voice is devoid of the typical heavy accent or dialects that those who are from underprivileged backgrounds tends to have), the songs at hand present a very modern take on qawallis, despite bollywood being a flourishing ground for many iconic qawallis. therefore, the compositions sometimes falter at some points specifically because of the vocal choices. choosing to do away with alaaps, especially in qala's part, less aakar and more bariki, are all signficant details that feel jarring to someone who's lived in the world of classical music as long as qala. otherwise, there are some signature sounds retained from the era that the film is set in.

and while still on the topic of singing, a very important issue that i find least addressed is the acting of it. despite there being little vocal variations in the compositions, the actors don't show that they are singing. and in the film specifically revolving around music, that's an extremely important detail that i find amiss. hardly opening the mouth, the movement of the lips, the posture as well as the hand gestures (yes, a very important detail!), are all obvious flaws. a recent film that does that does those details well is the disciple (2020). the first scene of urmila teaching qala singing displays urmila wearing an elaborate piece of nose jewellery that covers half of her mouth, and that's when they're doing rehyaas (practice), not a performance. it's huge details like these that don't sell the film to me.

the acting is quite underwhelming and here is where disagreements with my opinions might enter. i find trupti dimri's rendition of qala extremely, for lack of politer words, exasperating. she tends to show the same expressions for all of her problems, i.e., there is no great difference between her feeling anger or feeling despair or feeling depressed or feeling cheated or just plain exhaustion. qala's character is a complex one and difficult to act, which is a concession i will give, however, the hype around her is a little unnerving when the audience is given such an unremarkable delivery of dialogues and emotion. it comes off as school-play acting at times. swastika mukherjee, who plays urmila, is quite two-note with her acting, which sometimes suits her character and sometimes just feels very low-effort. babil khan has his moments, yet there is such less versatility. you'd think the babil of qala's hallucinations and the one who existed in real life would have some distinct characteristics (which they do), but they never come off as that. it feels so half-hearted at times.

the whole point of symbolism is that it's subtle at heart and not on the face. qala has on-the-face symbolism, which is an irony in itself. the black swan scene, the frosty room in the beginning, the ghostly jagan, etc. almost made me bump my nose into a wall. it comes off as pretentious at best, as if the viewer is stupid. it is also very off-putting in some scenes. for example, the black swan scene - there is very little buildup and it feels very predictable in the sense that "it all goes downhill from here". however, there is one scene which i like, which is the gargoyle one (a very traumatic scene, for those who recall, it is the one right before ghodey pe sawaar gets recorded for the final time). i think that is the most effective filmmaking in the entire film. the best thing about symbolism is always the subtlety. it makes the viewer keep coming back to pick up on something they might have missed in the first watch, it helps them pick up the pieces along the way instead of being able to tell the twists thirty minutes before they are revealed.

and one of the most egregious crimes of the entire film is the direction. here is where we get a little more technical (but just briefly, do not worry). the way it cuts from one scene to the next is like watching a poorly edited reel put out by the team of an out-of-touch marketing firm. the editing could have been better at many places. the writing falls flat specifically when it comes to the characters. i'm pretty sure on paper, the script must've been a delight to read. the story has so much potential - considering that it's based on two books, where there might've been even more depth given to the characters - it isn't new in any way but it offers a different, feminist perspective of the indian music industry. yet, the characters are paper thin on screen - in their ambitions, psychology and sociology. hence, urmila suddenly turning a new leaf in the last ten minutes of the film is something that feels wrong, because all along, she has been portrayed as a heartless mother. qala's actions make sense because her character has nearly always been rooted in self pity and rage. jagan is nothing without music. there is very little dimension to them apart from me summarizing their characters in one sentence with less than thirty words each.

that is why, the film feels even more half-hearted when it speaks of the issues that it centers around. all of these elements add up and make for a tiring watch. i gave qala a second chance, to be fair and omitted some of my pettier criticisms, yet the more serious ones remain. to a certain extent, it does aestheticize depression, which i have a huge issue with. however, baby steps as always with bollywood. it's no dear zindagi considering it is set in a different period with a different ending. however, the writing of the characters could've been so much better. a little more exploration of urmila's intentions would've given her so much depth. a few more interactions between qala and jagan might've given qala the chance to befriend him and not just see him a rival, thus intensifying the decision she took. the characters do not feel human, they are strictly white or black and qala being the anti-hero feels very off since it requires better writing and a stronger plot. and of course, much better acting.

however, qala re-opened up discussion of a nearly-always forgotten discourse - that of the position of women in music. and for achieving that bare minimum, i give it full credit. however, when there have been films with much better writing, characterization and cinematography in bollywood itself, with a similar theme, qala needs to be seen for what it contains than what it displays. just because it glitters, doesn't mean it's gold.

[neilperrysme]

yunhi koi mil gaya tha yunhi koi mil gaya tha

यूँ ही कोई मिल गया था यूँ ही कोई मिल गया था

i met someone by chance

sare-raah chalte chalte sare-raah chalte chalte

सर ए राह चलते चलते सर ए राह चलते चलते

while walking,walking around the path

wahin tham ke reh gayi hai wahin tham ke reh gayi hai

वहीं थम के रह गई है वहीं थम के रह गई है

right there it stood still

meri raat dhalte dhalte meri raat dhalte dhalte

मेरी रात ढलते ढलते मेरी रात ढलते ढलते

this night of mine,which was about to fade away

- pakeezah,1972

Lata Mangeshkar | Ghulam | Mohammad | Kaifi Azmi

[masalafilmsrevival]

Pakeezah (1972)

[shadesofbrown]

"Teer-E-Nazar"

Meena Kumari in Pakeezah (1972)

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Pakeezah (1972) | dir. Kamal Amrohi

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Pakeezah (1972) by Kamal Amrohi

[bollywoodirect]

Remembering #KamalAmrohi on his 31st death anniversary (11/02/93).

As a director, he developed a style that combined a stylised direction with minimalist performances. This style was different from the one with expressive acting that was common in the Indian cinema of his period.

Kamal Amrohi was born in Amroha, which was part of British India and is now in Uttar Pradesh, India. He changed his name to Kamal Amrohi later. He was related to two Pakistani writers, Jaun Elia and Rais Amrohvi, as their first cousin. In 1938, Kamal left his hometown to study in Lahore, which is now in Pakistan. There, a singer named K. L. Saigal found him and brought him to Mumbai to work in films. He started his film career at Sohrab Modi's film company, Minerva Movietone, and worked on movies like "Jailor," "Pukar," and "Bharosa."

Kamal Amrohi became a film director in 1949 with his first movie "Mahal," which had famous actors Madhubala and Ashok Kumar. This movie was known for its music. He directed only four movies in total, including "Daaera" with Meena Kumari and Nasir Khan, and "Pakeezah," which took a long time to make and was released in 1972. "Pakeezah" is considered a special movie in India, even though it had some flaws. Meena Kumari, who was a famous actress and Kamal's wife, praised "Pakeezah" as Kamal's tribute to her. His last movie was "Razia Sultan" in 1983. He also started making a film called "Majnoon" but it was never finished.

Kamal Amrohi also wrote scripts for other directors and was one of the writers for the famous movie "Mughal-e-Azam" in 1960, which won him an award. His style of directing was known for being different and unique, focusing more on the visual style and less on dramatic acting.

In 1958, he opened a studio named Kamaal Studios, but it closed after three years. He had planned to make another movie called "Aakhri Mughal" but it was never made. Film maker J P Dutta wanted to make this movie in the late 1990s and again in 2007, but it didn't happen. Kamal Amrohi died on February 11, 1993, in Mumbai, 21 years after his wife, Meena Kumari, passed away. He was buried next to her in Mumbai.

Six days after he died, a newspaper in the UK called The Independent wrote about him, saying he was a big figure in the Hindi film industry for over 50 years.

[wildcheries]

the sets of pakeezah (1972)

[themoonismelting]

Pakeezah (1972), India

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Meena Kumari in “Chalte chalte yunhi koi” (“Pakeezah”, 1972)

Meena Kumari (1933-1972), one of the greatest Indian actresses of the last century, in an iconic scene and song from the classic Indian movie Pakeezah (The Pure One-1972, written, directed, and produced by Kamal Amrohi). 

Meena Kumari plays in this movie Sahibjaan, a tawaif. The tawaifs were courtesans who catered to the nobility of the Indian Subcontinent in the Mughal and post-Mughal eras and were trained in music, danse, theater, and Urdu literature. An orphan, Sahibjaan lives since her childhood in a kotha (brothel), but she wants to escape from her fate.

According to the website of the University of Iowa ( https://indiancinema.sites.uiowa.edu/pakeezah ):

““I’ve seen your feet; they’re very lovely. Don’t set them down on the earth—they’ll get soiled.” This metaphorical warning-note, penned by a romantic stranger and left between the toes of a sleeping woman in a railway compartment, forms a much-underscored motif in this classic courtesan film—the final collaboration between the great actress and dancer Meena Kumari and her former husband, actor and director Kamal Amrohi. Like MOTHER INDIA, this film coexists with its own legend involving the offscreen lives of the director and star, who planned it together in the late 1950s but whose marriage broke up around the time that filming began in 1964. Kumari (who was also a talented Urdu poet under the pen name Naaz) then purportedly became an alcoholic, but eventually came back to complete the film shortly before her premature death in 1972; aficionados may try their luck at identifying—from Kumari’s pained and sometimes mask-like face—which scenes were shot when. The central theme of the film is the struggle for respectability of a tawai’if, an Indo-Islamic courtesan trained in poetry, music, and dance—a glamorous “public woman” whose career was to be an elegant companion (and potential lover) to affluent men, but for whom a “respectable” marriage and home was out of the question. Her beautiful feet—apart from being an erotic fetish—represent her mastery of the art of North Indian classical dance or Kathak, which tawai’if’s preserved and nurtured for several centuries. The “earth” that such feet must perforce touch, however, is ruled by patriarchal society with its crippling double-standards, which decreed that respectable women (who lived in parda or seclusion) could seldom be interesting to men, and that interesting women were seldom respectable. All courtesan fiction struggles with this divide, which forms a principal theme of one of the earliest and most famous Urdu novels, Mirza Mohammed Hadi Ruswa’s UMRAO JAN ADA (1905; itself later filmed several times; see notes on UMRAO JAAN). PAKEEZAH offers another variation on the theme.”

See also about Pakeezah the paper of Richard Allen and Ira Brashkar Pakeezah: Dreamscape of Desire, on https://www.academia.edu/36264030/Pakeezah_Dreamscape_of_Desire

In the iconic scene of this video Sahibjaan/Meena Kumari sings and dances for the “villain” of the movie, an aristocrat (Nawab) named Zafar Ali Khan (played by Kamal Kapoor), who wishes to own her. The ambiguities and dynamics of the situation and of the relationship between the two are depicted in excellent way in this scene, which takes place at the Gulabi Mahal (Pink Palace) of Luchnow. According to the paper of Allen and Brashkar:

“The Gulabi Mahal (the Pink Palace) at Lucknow evokes a more rarified atmosphere. In Amrohi’s imagination, the space of the kotha is here fused with the idea of a Greek temple where the central colonnaded performance space doubles as a space of worship to the divine feminine, and discrete spaces are orchestrated in a theatrical hierarchy from the outer court with its fountains at the entrance to the inner sanctum sanctorum, which houses the bedroom of the courtesan, essentially off limits to all but the chosen client, and separated from the main performance space by a lighted causeway between reflecting pools of water.The Pink Palace is a sublime temple of femininity, whose fountains, atriums, reflecting pools form a microcosm of artifice that rivals that of the natural world. Indeed, even the moon appears artful in this landscape and the saturated deep blue sky, a studied backcloth to the whole.”

But, as the same article continues a bit further, the Pink Palace is also a prison for Sahibjaan:

“Meanwhile, for Sahibjaan whose desire for self-fulfillment has been awakened, the Pink Palace becomes a prison. In a metaphor that recurs in the film, and echoes throughout the genre, she is likened to a bird in a gilded cage from which she yearns to escape...

...The quality and texture of her performances for him [the Nawab] are now markedly different from her earlier ones. Gone is the vivacity and vibrancy of an Inhin logon ne or a Thade rahiyo as she mournfully sings the haunting Chalte Chalte, which articulates her desire for freedom and happiness.Yet it also returns us to the pathos of her entrapment in a manner that evokes the equation of the courtesan and the flickering flame that opens the film. At the conclusion of the performance, as she sings Yeh chiraag bujh rahein hain / Mere saath jalte jalte (These lamps are fading / As they burn with me), she hears the screech of a train whistle. It is impossible initially to discern whether it is somewhere physically off-screen or within her mind.The camera cranes upward from the floor to the red chandelier, recalling the red aalta of her feet.The lights darken as the escalating screech of the train whistle resounds through the performance space, taking over the song and abruptly bringing the dance to an end. When the camera cranes down again, the dancers have disappeared from the floor.The camera then tracks forward towards the fountains that abruptly stop playing as the whistling ends. It is as if the space in which she dwells, her erstwhile tomb, is now cut to the measure of her desire. She rushes to the balcony to see the train she has seen before, but this time it is motionless, silhouetted against the sky, almost as if waiting for her to come to her balcony before it can leave.Though real, the train appears as if in a vision, so detached is the spectacle from the space she inhabits.What is finally required for Sahibjaan to escape her sealed world is a transformation of environment and character of a magnitude that challenges the tone in which the film has hitherto been cast.”

The lyrics of Chalte chalte yuhni koi were written by the Urdu poet Kaifi Azmi (1919-2002) and its music was composed years before the release of Pakeezah by Ghulam Mohammed (1903-1968). Although Meena Kumari was also a singer, the voice in the song is of the great Indian singer Lata Mangeshkar (1929-2022).

Unfortunately I couldn’t do anything with the advertisements at the end of the video.

I have found on the net the following transliteration and translation of the lyrics of Chalte chalte yuhni koi:

Chalte chalte, chalte chalte    While walking, while walking

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha    I met someone by chance

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha  I met someone by chance

Sare raah chalte chalte   Walking around the path

Sare raah chalte chalte    Walking around the path

Wahin thamke reh gayi hai  Right there it stood still

Wahin thamke reh gayi hai   Right there it stood still

Meri raat dhalte dhalte    This night of mine, which is fading away

Meri raat dhalte dhalte     This night of mine, which is fading away

Joh kahi gayi na mujhse      What I was unable to say

Joh kahi gayi na mujhse     What I was unable to say

Woh zamaana keh raha hai      The world is saying that

Woh zamaana keh raha hai    The world is saying that

Ke fasana                                A story

Ke fasana ban gayi hai     A story has been created

Ke fasana ban gayi hai      A story has been created

Meri baat chalte chalte      From those words of mine

Meri baat chalte chalte   From those words of mine

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha    I met someone by chance

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha    I met someone by chance

Sare raah chalte chalte      Walking around the path

Sare raah chalte chalte      Walking around the path

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha    I met someone by chance

Sare raah                               Around the path

Chalte chalte, chalte chalte     While walking, while walking

Sare raah                                Around the path

Chalte chalte, chalte chalte       While walking, while walking

Chalte chalte, chalte chalte          While walking, while walking

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha            I met someone by chance

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha            I met someone by chance

Shab-e-intezaar aakhir             The night of waiting

Shab-e-intezaar aakhir              The night of waiting

Kabhi hogi mukhtasar bhi            Will after all shorten soon

Kabhi hogi mukhtasar bhi           Will after all shorten soon

Yeh chirag                                    These lamps

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai              These lamps are dying

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai               These lamps are dying

Mere saath jalte jalte                 As they burn alongside me

Mere saath jalte jalte                 As they burn alongside me

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai              These lamps are dying

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai                These lamps are dying

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai               These lamps are dying

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai                These lamps are dying

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai                 These lamps are dying

Yeh chirag bujh rahe hai               These lamps are dying

Mere saath jalte jalte                   As they burn alongside me

Mere saath jalte jalte                  As they burn alongside me

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha                   I met someone by chance

Yun hi koi mil gaya tha                I met someone by chance

Sare raah chalte chalte                Walking around the path