Today happened to be the birth anniversary of Suchitra Sen (as an FB post reliably informed me) so it gave me a good reason to dig out an old favourite and watch it again. Also, with election campaigns in full swing all over the place, ‘Aandhi’ seemed like an appropriate choice.
The story is simple: Aarti Devi (Suchitra Sen) is up for re-election. She ends up in a hotel where her estranged husband (Sanjeev Kumar) is the manager. They meet, old feelings return to the fore and also pose a threat to her reputation and her chances of winning the elections. Her political opponents scent an easy victory but she stymies them all and wins the elections and the support of her husband.
There are certain aspects about this film that strike me every time I watch it. Here they are, in a completely random order:
1. Suchitra Sen is the epitome of dignity and grace. Her large, expressive eyes speak volumes; maybe that’s why her dialogues are minimal. (or was it also because of her strongly accented Hindi?) As a young woman, wife and mother, she’s simply dressed, but as a political leader, she exudes confidence and an unmistakable aura. Her graying hair, loosely coiled into a bun, covered by the designer ‘pallus’ of her classy. silk handloom saris, the quiet authority of her bearing, she is someone I would vote for; no questions asked.
2. In the year 1975, here was a father who actually opposed the idea of his daughter getting married, because he felt that she could do better things with her life. He accused her of wasting her education and learning, to settle for a husband and children, which was something that even the woman who washed dishes in their house could do. He wanted his daughter to be ambitious and focused on a career in politics instead. How many such scenes do we get to see in films of that era?
3. Om Prakash in the role of a wily old, cynical campaign manager, Lallu Lal. He’s unscrupulous, takes swigs of what he calls ‘medicine for the liver’ that he keeps concealed in his pocket, and patronizingly addresses everyone (except Aarti Devi) as ‘Bhaiyyee’.When she gets injured during a clash between supporters of opposing parties, he first calls the press, then the doctor. He doesn’t really care about her personal life except how it could lose them votes. But you can’t help liking the guy.
4. The political canvas of that time, as shown in the film seemed less convoluted than what it is today. The ‘netas’ hit the campaign trail in open jeeps, the rallies and meetings were less bombastic, it looked like a simpler world. Of course, there was wheeling and dealing going on behind the scenes, attempts to manipulate the vote share, but it seemed quite scaled down in comparison to what we see now. Some things haven’t changed much though, as the satirical lyrics of the song ‘Salaam kijiye, aali janaab aaye hain’ prove:
हमारे वोट खरीदेंगे
हमको अन्न दे कर
ये नंगे जिस्म छुपा देते हैं
क़फ़न दे कर
Yup, not that much has changed.
5. The music. OH, THE MUSIC!!! Gulzar, RD Burman and Kishore Kumar is a combo that is unmatched. Ok, I’m biased, but still…
‘Tere bina zindagi se shikwa toh nahin’ ranks 1 to 10 in my list of all-time favourites. Its picturization is so evocative, those ancient ruins, the longing in her eyes, the loneliness in his, the sad acceptance of what they have lost:
जी में आता है, तेरे दामन में, सर छुपा के हम
रोते रहें, रोते रहें
जी में आता है, तेरे दामन में, सर छुपा के हम
रोते रहें, रोते रहें
तेरी भी आँखों में आंसूओं की नमी तो नहीं
I could go on AND ON.
6. The feminist theme underlying the story. For a married woman, there are only two choices- family or career. Heaven help her if she wants both. Aarti Devi chooses a career and walks out of her marriage. Nine years later when she decides to re-unite with her husband, it is he who urges her to follow her ambition and reach for the sky. The final scene is of him walking away after seeing her off in a helicopter, following her electoral victory.
As the song goes:
ये सोचके बैठी हूँ
इक राह तो वो होगी
तुम तक जो पहुंचती है
इस मोड़ से जाते हैं
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