THE classic comedy Padosan is widely regarded as one of Bollywood’s funniest and most entertaining films.
This timeless tale of love, rivalry and musical battles revolves around a simpleton in love with his beautiful neighbour. It also features a music teacher vying for her affections, a spirited singing guru, and a host of colourful characters.
Directed by Jyoti Swaroop and starring Saira Banu, Sunil Dutt, Kishore Kumar and Mehmood, the film was a resounding hit when it was released to great acclaim on November 29, 1968.
Eastern Eye celebrates the film’s 56th anniversary this week by highlighting why the laughter-filled film remains iconic.
Elevation: Padosan was a Bollywood adaptation of the Bengali-language film Pasher Bari (1952), itself based on a short story of the same name. The Hindi comedy was one of the rare remakes that elevated the original material, taking it to even greater heights. Writer Rajinder Krishan and director Jyoti Swaroop infused new elements into the story, enhancing its characters, jokes, and music, which made it uniquely their own.
Storyline: The clever story of buffoons hopelessly in love with a woman out of their league predated Hollywood’s There’s Something About Mary (1998) by decades. Its hilarious tale of misunderstandings, music, and rivalry between two suitors was an epic battle of wits, enriched with superb songs, memorable moments, and vibrant characters. The timeless premise has continued to entertain audiences over the decades.
Music: This full-fledged comedy also boasted a magnificent musical score by the legendary RD Burman. The soundtrack included iconic songs like Mere Samnewali Khidki Mein and Main Chali Main Chali, which remain popular to this day. The standout number Ek Chatur Naar Karke Sringar, featuring Kishore Kumar and Manna Dey, is often cited as Bollywood’s greatest comedic musical duel.
Characterisation: The film’s unique characterisation was one of its biggest strengths. Sunil Dutt set aside the traditional heroic image to play the simpleton Bhola, while Mehmood presented the first memorable south Indian-inspired character in Hindi cinema with his portrayal of Master Pillai. Kishore Kumar, as the energetic Guru, lit up the screen with his fiery performance. The supporting cast also delivered unforgettable portrayals that left a lasting impression.
Direction: Jyoti Swaroop masterfully blended slapstick comedy, situational humour, great music, and memorable characters to deliver the finest film of his career. The well-paced screenplay kept audiences engaged from start to finish, while the director elicited stellar performances from his cast. For many actors, their work in Padosan remains among their finest.
Kishore Kumar: The standout performance in Padosan came from the singing sensation, who showcased his versatility as the eccentric Guru. His high-energy portrayal, complete with improvisation, expressive facial movements, comic timing, and singing, brought the role to life. Legend has it that his performance was so strong that some scenes were edited out to avoid overshadowing the lead protagonists.
Hilarity: At its core, the aim of Padosan was to make audiences laugh, and it delivered in spades. The film was packed with witty dialogues, slapstick comedy, situational humour, and larger-than-life characters. Memorable moments included Bhola (Sunil Dutt) lip-syncing to a song while Kishore Kumar’s character, Guru, sings from behind a curtain, blending comedy and music seamlessly. The film’s humour also relied on clever wordplay, facial expressions, and unexpected moments that came together to create a laugh riot.
Styling: The quirky characters that formed the soul of Padosan were reflected in their unique styling. Saira Banu’s glamorous outfits became iconic fashion statements, while Sunil Dutt’s simpleton look underscored his character’s innocence. Mehmood’s transformation into a south Indian music teacher was both striking and effective. The attention to visual details added richness to the film and made it stand out among its contemporaries.
Culturally rooted: Padosan was firmly grounded in Indian culture at a time when Bollywood films were increasingly incorporating Western influences. From the traditional outfits worn by the cast to the music and characterisations, every element of the film celebrated Indian diversity. Mehmood’s portrayal of a south Indian character brought regional representation to the forefront, while the story also tackled familiar cultural quirks such as language barriers and regional differences, resonating deeply with audiences. Outfits worn by Saira Banu also became empowering style statements.
Legacy: By breaking the established rules of commercial Hindi cinema, Padosan inspired countless comedy films in subsequent decades. Its structure, characterisation, and style of humour became a blueprint for many future projects. Bhola’s naive and innocent persona inspired similar characters in later films, and Satish Kaushik even admitted that his award-winning role in Saajan Chale Sasural (1996) was based on Mehmood’s Master Pillai. The animated series Guru Aur Bhole drew inspiration from Kishore Kumar’s and Sunil Dutt’s characters in the film. Unsurprisingly, Padosan has been featured on numerous lists of the greatest Indian movies ever made, and there has been consistent talk of a remake for decades.
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
Aamir Khan’s dedication to authentic character portrayals getty images
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