A tribute to desi film’s Gothic phase
The Way We Were Despite how heavily they borrowed from the West, the early spooky movies remain some of our best in the genre With Love
ast night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” That oft-quoted first sentence from Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca is emblematic of the novel’s massive success. Rebecca has never been out of print since it was first published in 1938, and it has been turned into films and TV series umpteen times. Filmmakers clearly can’t get enough of it — a new retelling starring Armie Hammer and Lily James is out on Netflix this October.
Maybe it’s the irresistible pull of the Gothic novel, an intoxicating cocktail of romance, suspense and danger, sometimes seductively garnished with supernatural elements. Rebecca had an illustrious ancestor — Charlotte Bronte’s Gothic classic, Jane Eyre, published in 1847, and also the subject of many films and TV series.
The Hindi film industry was quick to pick up this Western genre and adapt it, most notably in RC Talwar’s Sangdil (1952), a remake of Jane Eyre, and Biren Nag’s version of Rebecca, titled Kohraa (1964).
Sangdil crackles with Dilip Kumar and Madhubala’s chemistry. Kohraa is deeply atmospheric, with rich black-and-white frames capturing the grand interiors of the mansion in which the new bride Waheeda Rehman finds herself trapped and alone.
Think of strong Gothic influences and you think also of Kamal Amrohi’s Mahal (1949), Biren Nag’s Bees Saal Baad (1962, loosely based on The Hound of the Baskervilles), and to an extent Bimal Roy’s Madhumati (1958). I recently re-watched all of them and was struck by how beautifully they portrayed the classic Gothic tropes: grand mansions lit by spluttering candles and eerily swaying chandeliers, wide curving staircases leading up to shadowed rooms, windows with billowing curtains overlooking rivers and swamps, booming clocks, swirling mists and violent thunderstorms.
But I was also struck by how seamlessly the films Indianised the genre. Even movies that were remakes, like Sangdil and Kohraa, have instantly recognisable Hindi film elements. Jane Eyre first meets the brooding Mr Rochester when she takes the position of governess in his house, but Sangdil turns the boy and girl into childhood sweethearts (a familiar desi trope — think Devdas, Deedar, Awara).
Mrs Danvers, the housekeeper in Rebecca, is creepy, unpleasant and unhealthily obsessed with her former mistress. But in Kohraa, the character (played by Lalita Pawar), makes up for her nastiness by an act of supreme sacrifice, elevating her to the status of a revered family elder in the eyes of the young bride. Sacrifice and redemption is a classic Hindi movie motif.
Unlike most Gothic tales from the West, where the central character is always an innocent young girl who arrives at an old mansion and faces deadly dangers, in the Indian films it was often the hapless hero caught in a web of strange, inexplicable events. The theme of punar janam (reincarnation) also became a template on which
She was five inches taller than him. They were the most magnetic couple on the dance floor. Yet my friend, the host of the party, called them ‘most mismatched yet romantic’. My friend’s social conditioning was that a man had to be taller than his wife. She later admitted that they seemed genuinely happy,especially for a couple that had been married 15 years.
Sadly, this is how most people view potential partners—first comes a checklist that can only be random (age, height, earning capacity; because what else can you assess at first glance). Then comes all the stuff that really matters. By which time you’ve ruled out so many people based on that initial checklist, that you could very well just be wasting your time.
Everyone who has an initial list seems to have the same one. It usually looks something like this actual list sent to me by a matchmaker who wanted to partner with me in her latest search. A man was needed, she said, who was 1) 28-30 years old; 2) 5’6” – 5’9” in height; 3) very fit; 4) based in Mumbai, Singapore, London or the US; 5) open to global travel; 6) from a business family; 7) ambitious; 8) a non-smoker; 9) with a great sense of humour; 10) and family-oriented.
I felt like an Amazon vendor (who’d been asked to source a unicorn). Can you imagine trying to find a human being to match those exact specifications?
And what really is the point of that list? Is it likely that 15 years down the line, the woman will turn to the husband that was found for her (in their home in Mumbai, Singapore, London or the US), smile to herself and think — yes, 5’6” to 5’9” was absolutely the right way to go?
Better questions to ask are, how does he makes you feel? Are you comfortable around him? Do you feel heard, seen, safe?
Gothic elements were skilfully overlaid.
In Mahal, when the hero Hari Shankar (Ashok Kumar) steps into the gloomy haveli, he sees a painting of its old, now-dead master — and the painting looks just like him. In Madhumati, Anand (Dilip Kumar) takes shelter in a haveli on a stormy night and realises that he knows the place. The rest of the film is a flashback of his past life.
In Madhumati and Bees Saal Baad, the haveli is at the heart of the mystery. It is a symbol of the cruel zamindar, who thinks that raping a village girl is his right. The rape — or attempted rape — has tragic consequences that reverberate across generations. There is a reason why stories of exploitative zamindars were a staple of Hindi films; they were the reality of Indian villages.
But for me, the most pronounced Indian touch in these Gothic films is The Song. The hero is haunted by a song sung by a woman: Aayega Aanewala (Mahal), Aaja Re Pardesi (Madhumati). In Mahal, Ashok Kumar sees Kamini (played by Madhubala) flitting through the haveli like an elusive, enchanting ghost, singing her signature song. He becomes obsessed with her, and it is a madness that can only result in his death.
In Madhumati, even after the love of Dilip Kumar’s life, played by Vyjayanthimala, dies, he keeps hearing her voice, singing. In the end, the besotted lover has no option but to jump from the parapet of the haveli, as his beloved did.
Gothic elements continued to show up in Hindi movies, but the later attempts never quite matched up to the early black-andwhite films. Perhaps because Gothic as a genre largely went out of vogue. But the genre can be re-imagined — as has been done by a young Canadian-mexican writer, Silvia Moreno-garcia, in her latest novel, Mexican Gothic. And yes, it’s being made into a TV series, by Hulu.
Then you can go back to your list and ask yourself, does it still matter where he lives or what his family does (all that can turn on a dime anyway)? Is it really a deal-breaker if he doesn’t jog or go to the gym? Because anyway, how many of us have made all our life choices by age 28-30? Isn’t it around that time that you start to realise you might like to travel, or take up quizzing, collect teas from around the world, or Scotch?
In the Floh Single in the City Survey 2020, 73% of respondents said they were single because they had not yet met the right person. Most go looking with a checklist similar to the one above. They’re shopping for a partner rather than seeking a relationship.
As part of my own professional research, I spoke to over 300 newlyweds and they all said their partner did not meet some, many or indeed all the criteria in terms of what they had thought they wanted in a spouse.
In our own lives, we frequently hear from friends, ‘Oh, I started to travel only after I met him’; ‘I gave up smoking because she hates it’. What you need is not someone who checks all the boxes, so much as someone who is willing to hear you out, maybe meet you halfway — someone with the good nature to learn to laugh at knock-knock jokes because you like them; the sense of adventure to go cycling in the rain (if that’s what you like); someone who will stub out that cigarette once and for all because you hate it, or s/he has learnt it’s not a wise choice.
They don’t need to be right when you first meet them, like some ready-made gift hamper. They need to love you, have values that are aligned with yours, be able to talk to you, and listen. All the rest is just windowdressing.