POWERFUL courtesan drama Pakeezah marks its 50th anniversary on February 4.
One of the greatest Bollywood films in history has become iconic since it released in 1972 and gave a career-defining performance to lead star Meena Kumari, who is widely regarded as the most technically gifted leading lady in Hindi cinema history.
While the film about a tragic courtesan not finding the happiness she desperately desires and her daughter seemingly following the same path had a gripping storyline, what was perhaps even more interesting is the journey it took to getting made. And how the real-life suffering of Meena Kumari also mirrored the double role she portrayed. That is why it is important to start at the very beginning.
Also Read | Meena Kumari: Top 12 films of a legendary Bollywood actress
Pakeezah movie
Kamal Amrohi wanted to work in the film industry and got his lucky break after singing superstar KL Saigal recommended him to Minerva Movietone film company. The 20-year-old started working as a writer on the movie Jailor (1938) and encountered a precocious five-year old named Baby Mahjabeen, but didn’t select her for the small role he was trying to cast. He would slowly work his way up through the Bollywood ranks and eventually make a winning directorial debut with smash-hit film Mahal (1949).
Meanwhile, Baby Mahjabeen would become a successful child star and transition effortlessly to become the leading lady known as Meena Kumari. The in-demand teenager was immediately cast opposite the biggest leading men, including Mahal lead star Ashok Kumar in Tamasha (1952). In the 1940s, big thinking filmmaker K Asif had set out to make his dream project Mughal-e-Azam (1960) and had roped in gifted writer Kamal Amrohi for the dialogues but was facing incredible challenges. Amrohi had the idea of making the movie Anarkali on the same subject and was recommended Meena Kumari by Ashok Kumar. A series of events, including getting threatened by K Asif, financial issues and Meena Kumari having an accident, led to the project being shelved. But by now the two of them fell in love and on February 14, 1952, 19-year-old Meena Kumari secretly wed with the already married, and much older, Kamal Amrohi. In 1953, he wrote and directed the film Daaera with his young wife playing the lead role.
with Kamal Amrohi on set
Meena Kumari became a sensation, winning the first two Best Actress trophies at the newly launched Filmfare Awards and starring in unforgettable classics. At the same time, everyone was talking about K Asif’s epic Mughal-e-Azam and Amrohi was desperate to make a landmark movie of his own, with his superstar wife Meena Kumari playing the lead role, which led him towards conceiving the idea for Pakeezah in 1954 as a black and white venture.
While her career continued to soar, the film, which initially began production in 1956, was beset by problems, which stalled his career as a writer-director. The actress had left a controlling family, who would take her earnings, and thought she had found her happy ever after with Amrohi. But not long after her marriage there were multiple stories of abuse. Amrohi became controlling of his superstar wife, with whispers that he was physically and mentally abusive. There were even stories that he would get his assistant to badly beat her in front of him when she didn’t obey his strict orders.
Driven on by the record-breaking success of Mughal-e-Azam, Amrohi put everything into his dream project, including starting all over again when cinemascope and technicolour were introduced into India. The project kept stalling and finally ground to a halt when she finally walked out on the abusive marriage in 1964.
Meena Kumari
By now he had invested heavily in a studio and new technology, which led to the film’s budget going way over. Meanwhile, Kumari had become increasingly dependent on alcohol and affairs with high-profile celebrities to cope with past traumas, heartbreak, and pressures of stardom. Her health started to decline and with none of her high-profile suitors willing to give her the security that she desired, her mental wellbeing suffered. Everyone seemingly continued to take advantage of her.
Amrohi was so desperate to complete the film that in 1968 he wrote an open letter to his estranged wife saying that Pakeezah was like a sinking ship and could only reach shore with her help. He showed completed reels of the film to legendary Bollywood couple Sunil Dutt and Nargis, both of whom thought the magnificent looking film needed to be completed and played peacemaker. In early 1969, she wrote an open letter agreeing to complete the dream project for one gold coin.
By now the film’s original composer Ghulam Mohammed had passed away and his mentor Naushad was brought into do the background score. Out of the original 20 songs recorded, only around half were used and later an LP of the unused songs was released.
Meena Kumari & Raaj Kumar
In 1967, the film’s legendary cinematographer Josef Wirsching had also passed away and so a replacement, who could match the style, had to be brought in. Dharmendra was originally cast in a lead role but was replaced by Raaj Kumar after his close relationship with Meena Kumari had come to the attention of Amrohi. In fact, what many are not aware of is that the baraat sequence was already shot with him, but his face is covered and when the groom lifts the sehra (headdress), it’s Raaj Kumar.
The biggest problem was that Meena Kumari’s health was deteriorating at a rapid rate and her body shape had changed. So, actress and dancer Padma Khanna was used as her body double in many places, including for an entire song where her face is not seen. Many legendary stories from behind the scenes emerged in subsequent years, including the fleet of production cars being stranded in the desert one night and armed men who had come to rob them having a change of heart when they discovered their favourite star Meena Kumari was an occupant, and instead protected them.
Bollywood Legend Meena Kumari
After incredible challenges, the film was finally complete. Months before the premiere, Meena Kumari had felt she was going to die soon and was bursting to see the completed dream project. The desperately unwell actress mustered up all the strength she had for the premiere at the legendary Maratha Mandir cinema on February 4, 1972, and wore an elegant white outfit.
A month later, she was admitted to hospital and Amrohi visited to say a final farewell to his muse. On March 31, 1972, Bollywood’s technically most gifted A-list leading lady passed away and this triggered a wave of emotion that led to the film becoming a huge hit. That wasn’t the end of Pakeezah’s remarkable story.
Filmfare gave Shanker Jaikishen the Best Music award for their forgettable Beimaan (1972) songs. Even though Pran played a lead role in Beimaan, the outraged actor turned down his Best Supporting Actor award because he felt Ghulam Mohammad deserved the win for Pakeezah. As the years passed, the film became iconic and influenced everything, from the legendary Umrao Jaan (1981) to Devdas (2002) to Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s hotly anticipated new web series Heeramandi, which revolves around the lives of courtesans of Lahore. None have matched the iconic status of Pakeezah, which marks 50 years this month.
The actor’s evolving style from youth to maturity getty images
Aamir Khan embracing vintage looks with classic charmgetty images
Bold and dramatic changes defining Aamir Khan’s careergetty images
From rugged to refined Aamir Khan’s versatile appearancesgetty images
Memorable film moments showcasing Aamir Khan’s unique stylegetty images
Aamir Khan’s blend of classic and contemporary fashiongetty images
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Cinematic milestones reflected in Aamir Khan’s on-screen imagegetty images
A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5