Unimportant Insignificant Stuff

Ten 80s Rajesh Khanna Films that you may have missed

2015-02-27T23:12:00.001-05:00

I will never claim that I have seen all of Rajesh Khanna’s 80s films. But I have seen almost all of them Why? Things happen. I am NOT a Kaka fan, but life is weird. Naturally, there is a back-story to it, but let’s not pretend that anyone is interested in it.

This piece is about 10 very important Rajesh Khanna films from the 80s. What makes them important? I wish I had a clever answer, only I don’t. None of these films were big box office success. Let’s say they are films that deserve to be talked about, but for some reason we haven’t gotten around doing it.

1. Paapi Pet ka Sawal Hai: It’s one of my favorite films from the 80s. Kaka plays a vigilante called “Rotiwala” who feeds the poor, and steals from the rich. It is also a revenge story; where Kaka’s vigilantism is a part of a big plan to get back to Om Shivpuri, Roopesh Kumar, Pinchoo Kapoor and Bharat Kapoor; all four of whom were involved in raping and murdering his mother. However, Kaka's entire idea of revenge is rather convoluted. Kaka has a rather unusual approach to the entire revenge business. Absolutely nothing is straightforward. Kaka plays all kinds of mind-games that toys with the audience's limited mental abilities. For example, the murder of Roopesh Kumar. Kaka kills him my feeding him way too many sweets. Kaka forces him to keep eating sweets without water till he dies. This movie just goes to show revenge is best when best served with gulab jamun, pedha, rasgulla, kalakand, jalebis… The story doesn’t end here. These is also a surprise twist in the end, when Jaya Prada does something so regressive that it puts Poonam Dhillon from Red Rose to shame, which of course, is our next movie.

2. Red Rose: A lot has been written about this film; in fact, this is the second time I am writing about it. Obviously, there is a very valid reason for it. How often do you have a serial killer who singles out his victims based on the bra they wear? How often is someone raised to be a serial killer? Finally, which serial killer has a wife who wants him to get “well” so that they can live happily ever after? To know the answers watch this one. Forget reading reviews or googling the film. It's on YouTube. WATCH IT.

3. Nazrana: “Sridevi and series of unfortunate events”. This is the best way to describe this one. After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of beauty and intellect must fall in love with Rajesh Khanna. In this film, Sridevi plays a vigilante, whose disguise is “blackface”, because "when you are not light skinned, it’s only natural that no one looks at you, because you are so ugly". This is a translation of the dialogues from the movie and my translation is fairly accurate. Anyway, Kaka is a great music composer. He is happily married to Smita Patil, but he lands up having a one-night stand with his maid, Sridevi the vigilante, who gets soaked in rain and naturally loses her color. Smita finds out and leaves him. Rest of the film is about poor Sridevi doing everything in her power to unite the two, including shooting Priti Sapru dead because she is the bad girl who also loved Kaka. If not for anything else, watch this one for Kishore’s lovely song “Main tera sheher chhod jaaoonga”.

4. Dil E Nadaan: Like all other films, here too, every woman falls in love with Kaka. Kaka loves Jaya Prada. Smita loves Kaka. Shatrughan Sinha loves Jaya Prada. So what happens? Kaka gets both the women. How? Why? I can only answer with a four-letter word. Kaka. Amongst other things, this movie has the super hit song “Chandni raat mein ek baar tujhe dekha hai”. Also, based on my experience, I can generalize that Smita and Kaka’s relationship was never smooth in any movie. In Aakhir Kyon things happen way too late, Amrit is about friendzoning, and Anokha Rishta…that’s our next film.

5. Anokha Rishta: Basically it’s Daddy Long Legs. Kaka is Master Jervie, since newcomer Sabiha played Judy, the whole relation looked more like Judy and Jervie Kaka. But Judy is obsessed with Jervie Kaka, who is single; because he has friendzoned the woman he loves, played by Smita. Things end well when Judy finally goes with Karan Shah, and Kaka is free to be with Smita. However, this film is known because Sabiha accused Rajesh Khanna of sexually harassing her. If you didn’t know about it, here is a piece on the subject written by Tabu http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/Its-a-mans-world/articleshow/2923091.cms

6. Oonche Log: Continuing the tradition of classics this one is an adaptation of Wuthering Heights. Obviously, Rajesh Khanna is Heathcliff, Salma Agha plays Catherine, and Danny is Hindley. Why should you watch this when Dil Diya Dard Liya was so much better than this one? Two reasons. First, Salma Agha is so bad, that you have to see it to believe it. The more important reason, the brilliant climax scene where Kaka lectures to Danny about the nature of impermanence. He basically sums up Buddha’s four noble truths, and it’s a delight to watch that. Buddha shaming Hindley! How super bloody cool is that. This film is not Brij Sadanah’s best, but as such, he is one of my favorite directors.

7. Babu: Now that I have mentioned Buddha, it is necessary to talk about suffering. If you want to see a movie saturated with stark Bollywood style suffering, Babu will satisfy you. Kaka pulls rickshaw in Calcutta to take care of his “munh boli behen” Mala Sinha to ensure that her daughter grows up to become Rati, sing “Aye hawa mere sang sang chal”, and marry Deepak Parashar. The film also has Hema Malini who is Kaka’s love interest but gets raped and murdered by Roopesh Kumar. When I first saw this film, I never managed to figure out why a cat killing a parrot in a cage caused Hema Malini’s death. Bollywood of course, is the master of symbolism. Just a little note on the picture. Don't get deceived by what the silhouette shows you. There is no real cat, the cat represents Roopesh Kumar watching Hema undress.

8. Alag Alag: Where two elderly gentlemen love Tina Munim. Of course, this is me trying to be flippant, because Kaka is not old, but Sashi Kapoor plays an elderly rich doctor. Tina Munim, a simple village belle wants to go to Mumbai, to marry a rich man and live happily ever after. The movie is basically a vision about her future, but back then I was too thick to see through the brilliance of this film. Instead, I found it frightfully boring, banged my head against cushioned chairs begging for the film to end, I even yelled at the screen. But if you replace Tina Munim with Tina Ambani here the film will suddenly become very interesting. I am not suggesting that Anil Ambani was a rich elderly gentleman, that Tina was a gold digger. No never. Watch this film, you will exactly know what I mean. Sure, you have to sit through three hours of mind numbing boredom, but you will emerge enlightened. Plus Kaka is outstanding here as the struggling young singer who keeps referring to poor Sashi as that "respectable senior citizen".

9. Aaj ka MLA: If there is one film from the list that should be remade, then it’s this one. It’s an important film, and Kaka decided to lose his pride and looked like a typical corrupt politician throughout the movie. It’s a story of a barber, who by sheer accident, becomes the Chief Minister of the state. But unlike Anil Kapoor in Nayak, Kaka is corrupt. He has no morals whatsoever, and soon his conscientious wife, played by Shabana Azmi, and his best friend, played by Shotgun, start protesting against him. Of course, there is a twist in the end but this is a very interesting, well-made film. But let me do another generalization here; while Kaka’s relation with Smita was problematic, his relationship with Shabana was relatively healthy. In Thodi Si Bewafaai there is misunderstanding but things clear up eventually, in Avatar their marriage is successful, in Ashanti their relationship is secondary since it’s really about Amrish Puri, Nasihat is too Trishul like to think about their relation, Amardeep doesn’t count it’s 1979! My point is, while a third woman always affected Kaka’s relation with Smita, this was not the case for Shabana.

10. Hum Dono: Sajid Khan made it famous by featuring Kaka’s amazing disco dance in his show Kehne Mein Kya Harj Hai. The story is about two Rajesh Khannas, one is rich, and the other is a con. One is somewhat decent, the other likes to pinch bottoms. But this is not what makes the movie so wonderful. This film has some beautiful moments of product placement. Whenever Kaka enters his cloth shop the ad jingle of Jiyajee Suiting and Shirting plays, there are many more enchanting moments like that. Plus, there is something endearing about Kaka’s nonchalant attitude throughout the film.

While writing this piece I realized how badly I still miss Smita Patil. Well, no one said life is fair.

The Bollywood Doggerel (With pictures)

2014-12-18T23:09:00.000-05:00

Before you go any further, let me warn you, THIS IS SERIOUSLY SILLY, so silly that it might even make you cringe. Why did I do this? Well, I have a small collection of old film magazines, and I decided to do something fun with them. I agree, my idea of fun is appallingly juvenile, but forgive me, I grew up on The Three Stooges.

Let's Swing the Witch: An account of witch swinging from 1850.

2014-12-11T22:05:00.001-05:00

On November 11, 2014 an 80-year-old woman was stripped, black paint was smeared on her face, she was then mounted on a donkey and paraded throughout the village. The Khap Panchayat had found her guilty of witchcraft, and meted out the punishment that befitted her crime. Witch-hunting is pretty commonplace in India, even though it doesn’t get reported as often; we know that witchcraft accusations are prevalent in many states. In fact, it is the most favored weapon of robbing a woman of her property. Let’s say a woman has inherited some land, or she has earned some money by working in the city, whatever may be the case, she has money of her own. So what do you do? Step 1, accuse her of witchcraft. Step 2, find a suitable punishment for her, make sure it’s a combination of humiliation and torture. Step 3, take away everything she has if possible get her out of the village or make her life completely miserable. Finally, let this serve as a lesson to other women who want to be independent and own property. In this case too the victim claimed that the real reason for the accusation was to usurp her small piece of land. Of course, property is not the only reason; sometimes simply being a woman is a reason enough to be labeled a witch. Witchcraft is a part of a very long complicated debate, and not one-sided narrative of “educated” versus the ignorant who are trapped in superstitions. You will be surprised at how often “education” can be ineffective against faith. To quote facebook “It’s complicated”. But I am not here to talk about modern day witchcraft accusations, there is already Archana Mishra’s fantastic book called Casting the Evil Eye on this subject. I am not here either to start any debate; I am only here to tell a story.

Me, I dwell on the past. What happened more than 150 years ago fascinates me. The past is where I belong. So, let me start with a story. The story takes place in September, 1850 in a village called Chabra, in the State of Edar, where a young man called Koobla died from an illness that lasted for eleven days. Koobla’s brother Kooshal, who nursed him during his illness, was convinced that the person responsible for his brother’s death was an old woman called Eullal. It was this evil hag, who with the power of her eyes had bewitched his poor brother. She had watched him die a slow, painful death. Kooshal had to alert the authorities before Eullal could cause more harm. He went to the village Thakur who naturally believed him, and agreed to start the proceedings of “swinging the witch”.

Witch-swinging was a relatively common practice amongst the Bheels in “the hilly tracts of Meywar” until the British banned it sometimes around the 1850s. So, how do you go about swinging a witch? The witch is first gagged and bound by few chosen men. She is then brought under the tree where she will be swung. Since her eyes are her most powerful weapon, the eyes are tied with a poultice of red chili paste. She is then swung from the tree often upside down from daybreak to evening. After that she is untied, taken back to her home or kept in some temporary arrangement, only to be brought back the next day to repeat the procedure. The entire village witnessed the swinging. It was an important social event. Very often swinging went on for weeks. If the woman survived the ordeal, the outcome varied. Most often she was either forced to leave the village or get ostracized. In rare cases, she was freed from the accusation and got a reward like new sari or some sweetmeat.

Now, let me get back to Eullal’s story. You see, accusation by the deceased’s brother was not enough to convince the village that Eullal was a witch. As a matter of fact, no one could swing a witch without actual proof. This is when you had to contact the witch-finder also known as the Bhopa, who would verify your doubts. The Bhopa was a very powerful man; his approval was necessary before swinging the witch. In Eullal’s case too the Bhopa conducted his usual incantations, and concluded that Eullal was indeed a witch. Eullal, who was old and frail, and could hardly move, was dragged from her home. Kooshal made a red chili paste that was applied to her eyes. Then her eyes were tied with Koobla’s cummerbund, and she was swung from a banyan tree. The Thakur witnessed this smooth execution of justice and went away to his friend’s house for a meal and a good time. It was only during the evening that someone came and informed him that the swinging had killed Eullal. Perhaps relieved, he ordered a few villagers to bury her body.

Eullal’s story would be lost like several others, but someone reported the incident to Captain Brooke the Political Agent of the region, and Brooke decided to take action. He treated this as murder, and ordered Eullal’s body to be exhumed. He found traces of chili paste on her body, and a major wound on her chest. No one seemed to know anything about it. While Kooshal admitted to making the chili paste and applying it, he was clueless about the chest wound. Of course, Brooke failed to catch the Bhopa and the other men involved in swinging. All he could do was impose a fine on the entire village, and later requested his seniors to pardon their fine since the poor villagers could never pay it. The fine was only imposed to scare them from repeating such incidents. We know about Eullal because Captain Brooke told us her story. There are many more stories like this one, some end in miraculous escapes, some end peacefully, but most of them end in either death or misery.

I am aware that Captain Brooke’s account is biased. Of course, there were nuances that he did not comprehend. In fact, that is the problem with any archival document, you hear only one side of the story. The story of a witch is never a simple, straightforward narrative. But even if we were to believe fifty percent of it, what bothers me is how uncannily similar Eullal’s story is to what happened in 2014. More than 150 years have passed, the story is still the same. The crowd still witnesses the torture and humiliation of an elderly woman; laws are still powerless, we are still hunting the witch....But then, here in India, almost every minute we try and prove how deeply we hate women. We start by aborting female fetuses, if they live we violate their bodies, we mutilate them, shame them, and finally, when we are done with their bodies, we go after whatever little remains of their being. We always finish the job.

References:

Eullal’s case (Case 67, from the State of Edar) appears in the Mandi Report on Witch Swinging from 1850.

Twice-Told Tales

2014-10-31T00:36:00.000-04:00

Spoilers Ahead

“Where you see the high school today, it used to be Sanders’ sahib’s villa long back. I know you will not believe me but I was only 10 years old when I saw the ghost of Sanders sahib sitting on his verandah and reading a book. I knew it’s a ghost because he was all transparent. Ask any old person in the village, they have all seen him. He would just sit there reading, some say he is waiting for his khitmatgar to arrive with his tea, while others believe Sanders’ sahib did not even know that he was dead. His brother murdered him in his sleep over some property dispute or something like that. Now ask the teachers or the principal or even the students, they have all seen Sanders sahib sitting in the library and reading.” I have always loved a good ghost story. Err…no this is not a good ghost story, but it’s an oral narrative that has all the potential of becoming one. Ghost stories are addicting. I grew up on ghost stories. My father is a fantastic storyteller, and so are both my uncles. I was raised in a household where everyone loved to tell a good spooky story.

My fascination with horror stories started when I read the abridged version of Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto. My uncle had bought a copy, he had this habit of buying books in bulk, and he would happily let me read anything I wanted from the pile. In fact, that’s where my initiation to the world of horror begun, I was totally mesmerized. Strangely enough as a teenager the story that gave me the chills and several sleepless nights was M.R. James’ Mezzotint. Most people will not find it scary at all; I have often wondered what it was about this story that scared me so badly. There was no violence in the story, nothing absolutely terrible happens, so what was it that managed to spook me so badly. I still don’t have the answer, but almost all of M.R James’ stories have a rather humdrum and quiet beginning. The spooky elements crawl in rather slowly, and the fear never really goes away. I can totally understand when someone says they find M.R James frightfully boring. He doesn’t exactly deliver the “scares” or those shocking moments that we love in horror stories, there are no plot “twists” either. I agree, M.R. James is totally acquired taste.

Since I was hooked to ghost stories and horror I started acquiring Indian counterparts of Penny Dreadfuls (http://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/penny-dreadfuls) and Chapbooks (http://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/chapbooks). Most of my collections were Bengali books with titles like Bhuture Train (Ghost train), Machkheko Bhoot (Fish eating ghost), Bhayankar Bhooter Galpo (Dangerous Ghost Stories), Bhayabaho Deep (Ghostly/ Spooky Island), Anek Anek Bhoot (Many Many Ghosts) and so on. Now I will stop the blabbering and move straight to the point. I wanted to talk about some of my favorite ghost stories.

I will start with M.R James. I have already mentioned Mezzotint but another story that has always scared me is The Haunted Doll’s House. As the title suggests it’s the story of a cursed doll’s house that becomes alive every night and the “dolls” enact a murder scene. Again, this is a very slow story, the murder scene is not exactly graphic or violent but like every other M.R James’ story it leaves you unnerved. The story itself was never that scary, what James managed to do was convey that there is always something beyond the story, a lasting fear, something insidious that will never leave you, and that is precisely the feeling that will keep you awake at night.

Sheridan Le Fanu’s Green Tea is another story that I have always found intensely spooky. It’s the story of a man who keeps seeing a sinister black monkey, but it turns out it could be a side effect of drinking too much green tea. Before you start commenting on how “silly” the premise is, let me stress on the word “could be”. I find Green Tea to be a politically conscious story that comes out of the colonizer’s guilt. In essence it is similar to W.W Jacobs’ The Monkey’s Paw (this was written long after Green Tea but this is a much more popular story). Here the magical monkey’s paw can fulfill your wishes but it comes at a great cost. While Monkey's Paw cautions you against using alien “oriental” magic for your selfish desires, Green Tea is a warning against too much indulgence in colonial products. It can be destructive. But politics aside, they are both excellent horror stories.

W.W. Jacobs’ Three at Table might not seem like a horror story to most people, but it often appears in horror story anthologies, and, I too, see it as a horror story. It’s a tale of a legendary monster, that eventually turns out to be a disfigured young man whose face was badly burnt saving a group of children from fire. This is a story that will first scare you, and then bring a lump to your throat.

Sir Walter Scott’s The Tapestried Chamber revolves around the issue of inheritance but it’s gothic lover’s wet dream. It is located in a castle surrounded by woods and the tapestried chamber has a gloomy and melancholy air to it. Further, the tapestried chamber is haunted by a woman’s ghost who appears like someone who has “just left her grave”. This is a perfect story for a winter night over a mug of hot chocolate. This is gothic coolness at its peak.

Who doesn’t love Wilkie Collins? After all he wrote the basic plot of Who Kaun Thi (Who was She). Don't tell me you did not see the similarity between this Bollywood blockbuster and The Lady in White. But let’s not go there, instead let me talk about one of his underrated story called The Dream Woman. In this story the protagonist has a vision of the woman who would eventually murder him, yet this vision does not save him. He knows his fate, his mother warns him repeatedly, yet he falls in love with the dangerous murderess of his dreams, and allows her to do exactly what she wants. This is primarily a story on abusive relationships; we know how the cycle of abuse never stops, yet we keep travelling in that loop. In fact, it’s also a fantastic statement on marriage, or other relations that are often sustained through abuse.

“Oh, mother, let me in!” Mrs. Oliphant uses this line so powerfully in her story The Open Door that it’s bound to leave you unsettled. This is a poignant story about father/son relation where the father assumes that his son is suffering from delusions, but the boy is convinced that the voice he hears is that of a child’s spirit in distress. Later it turns out that the son was right about the spirit, and the spirit wants to go back to his mother. Like many good horror stories this is born out of irreplaceable loss and vacuum. The child’s voice repeating “Oh, mother, let me in” will simply break your heart.

Robert Aickman’s The Same Dog is a must for anyone who likes a good scare. The story starts out slowly when two young lovers discover a dilapidated house by the woods, and a phantom dog guards the house. The apparition of the dog makes the boy very sick, and the girl dies due to mysterious dog bites. This is the basic premise of the story. However, the beauty of the tale lies in what is not clearly stated, but only hinted at. The story alludes to pedophilia and nervous breakdown without actually talking about it. The power of the story lies in its subtlety, and yet the description of the house, the dog, and the events are surprisingly vivid. If all this is not enough, well, the shocking twist in the end will get you.

Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s The Shadow in the Corner is the story of a skeptic called Michael whose servant girl Maria is traumatized, because she lives in the room where his great-uncle had committed suicide. But this predictable ghost story suddenly becomes truly disturbing when Michael experiences a strange feeling in his Uncle’s room. It was the mind of his uncle that was haunting the room. “It was not the ghost of the man’s body that returned to the spot where he had suffered and perished, but the ghost of his mind.” Oh yes! It has the feel of Henry James’ Turn of the Screw but it was published before about 19 years before James’ novella. Braddon’s The Cold Embrace is another eerie story about unrequited love, where the man falls out of love, and the heartbroken girl kills herself. But soon he is haunted by her embrace, he can’t see anything at all, but he can distinctly feel her cold embrace clasping him.

Where would we be without Algernon Blackwood’s Willows. Every horror fan swears by this story, and they are not wrong. For me, the appeal of this story lies in the detailed description of everything, particularly the Danube. However, oddly enough the narrator’s friend is only described as the Swede here, and we never get to know his name. This is a story that will always stay with you, because Blackwood knew the art of anthropomorphizing nature.

I read Turn of the Screw after watching The Innocents. If I had to rate my most favorite horror film The Innocents would be on top along with the Hollywood version of The Ring. What surprised me, however, was that despite knowing the story, the book still managed to scare me. What I love about Henry James’ stories is the aftereffect they have on you. For example, The Jolly Corner as unsettling as The Turn of the Screw. It is also about gradual nervous breakdown. But this is how I see it, someone else might have a completely different take on both the stories. This is the charm of Henry James’ stories, you can never make up your mind, and you will forever debate on “Whatever happened to Baby Jane”. (I just using it since it sounds cool, I am not suggesting that he wrote it). But my favorite short story on madness is Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper. I remember reading it when I was an undergrad, and it had almost made me sick. I still can’t put my finger to it, but there is something so powerful in that story that it is bound to affect you in some way or the other.

Of course you have read Edith Wharton, but have you read her short story Mr. Jones. A woman inherits a 600-year-old mansion and thinks it’s “haunted” by the housekeeper Mr. Jones. You will soon figure out who Mr. Jones is, and totally relish this delicious gothic tale.

By Dickens I was going to mention The Signalman. This is a rather simple ghost story, but from the very beginning there is a sense of impending doom. You know that the unfortunate signalman’s life is bound to end badly. The story so poignantly conveys the sense of melancholy and doom. Finally, the ambiguous ending makes it even more powerful.

Elizabeth Gaskell’s The Old Nurse’s Story is a love story that doesn’t end well, it ends dismally, and unfulfilled love becomes insidious and sinister. Like The Cold Embrace here too the memory of unfulfilled love haunts the other characters. Some of the best ghost stories are born out of unrequited love. What is it about unrequited love that makes one sinister and tragic at the same time? I don’t have the answer, but they sure create great spooky tales.

There is no story like John Buchan’s Fullcircle. I read it just last month, and I was completely floored by it. The protagonist of the story is a house that changes its inhabitants in order to survive and grow. It’s a house that resists changes, so it changes the people who live in it. I am doing a terrible job of summarizing the story here, if you haven’t read it, read it today. It will totally stun you.

So, why did I leave out Poe, Lovecraft and Stephen King? Because the rest of you will talk about them. Don’t get me wrong, I love Poe and King, and my relationship with Lovecraft is ambivalent. But today I wanted to talk about other authors I love.

Also,there was something else that I wanted to address. I am a bit tired of people repeatedly telling me how watching Cannibal Holocaust & Serbian Film makes you a “true” horror fan. I disagree, in fact, I find pointless gore totally distasteful. Yes, I have the stomach for it, only, I simply find it appalling. Horror is nuanced, and no matter how much horror fans scream about surviving The Human Centipede 2, it is not a test of being a true horror connoisseur. It’s time we understand that horror fans are also as diverse as the genre. I am not against anyone defining horror, I am only against people straightjacketing it. Finally, there are people who find ghost stories “silly” or horror as “something stupid and laughable" . All I want to tell you is that you are dismissing a genre of literature that Shakespeare, Dickens, Kafka, Hawthorne, Tagore and many others took seriously. That’s all. I rest my case.

It's All Very Scientific

2014-08-17T02:04:00.000-04:00

Recently a friend asked me if there was a good Bollywood sci-fi that he could watch. I thought hard for a while and could not come up with any name besides Mr. India and Koi Mil Gaya. But his question made me wonder why we hardly make sci-fi in Bollywood. So, I began reading up, watching some films that were lying around for months, and I realized that the definition of sci-fi in Bollywood is very unique. There are two things you have to keep in mind about Bollywood sci-fi. First of all it’s tough to separate sci-fi from fantasy films, I will try and explain this idea later, second, our spy thrillers have plenty of sci-fi but we just don’t really treat it like that. So, let me start with sci-fi in spy thrillers.

Spy thrillers often involve scientists who are abducted because they have found a “formula” that will change the world. In fact, the word “formula” is very important in spy thrillers. A formula can is often defined like this…so, you see it is all very scientific.

But then there are spy thrillers that are clearly sci-fi since you can do stuff like launch rockets using tiny light bulbs, or do really fabulous body scans, or make fantastic masks, or do plastic surgery that could make Amjad Khan look like Hema Malini.

However, today I will talk more about films from late 50s, 60s, and 70s that have the touch of western sci-fi but are quintessentially fantasy films. Let me start with Professor Vaman M.Sc Like most 30s films this one too is lost. But the reviews of the film were positive, and it was a hit. None of the reviews give the story of the film but the poster and the title somehow indicate that this was probably the film that started the whole “formula” business.

Now let me jump straight to 1959 and go to a film called Chand ki Duniya. The story is about a prince who in order to escape his marriage flies away in his biplane with his buddy, and lands up in a place where moon fairies are doing what we today identify as “item number”.

He is smitten by one of the fairies and decides to make a rocket to go to the moon. He gets back to his palace makes a rocket and heads to the moon.

The moon folks welcome him but soon he violates their hospitality by getting jiggy with the princess, and the moon king (played by none other than B.M Vyas, and yours truly is a big fan) reprimands and imprisons him. But all is well in the end, and the moon folks and earthlings live happily ever after.

A much more complex film on a similar theme is Dara Singh’s Trip to Moon (1967). Dara Singh is an astronaut being sent to the moon, and Bhagwan Dada his best friend just wants to hang out with him in the rocket. Sadly, everything goes haywire when evil folks come and sabotage the rocket. But this is Dara Singh we are talking about, so he manages to go to the moon. But the people who live in the moon are lot like the Tea Party guys, they hate almost everyone who does not have “the shining” (fine I am making a dumb joke, so!). Amidst all this filthy politics the king of Mars played by Anwar Hussain wants to take over the moon. To add to the complications Bhagwan Dada has an evil Martian twin. But of course it all ends well. Now, both the films managed to blend the fantasy of the moon fairy into the sci-fi structure. This is what I was trying to get at, I don’t know where to place these films sci-fi or fantasy.

Another film that blends the idea of scientific “formula” with fantasy is Air Mail (1960). In fact, the hero of the film was Ranjan an actor who often did fantasy films. Air Mail is the story of a man who risks his life to protect his friend’s formula, and to help him do that a saint bestows him with the power of invincibility. He can fly, bullets don't hit him, you know the works. So, Ranjan basically becomes a superman and protects the formula. The plot contains a clear message. Scientific growth is essential, but you can’t have it without respecting and acknowledging traditional knowledge. How very interesting!

My favorite sci-fi film is Wahan ke Log. I have talked about this film before and with great passion, I am a die-hard N.A Ansari fan. Since I have written about it before, I will go ahead and cheat, and copy paste from my earlier post. There is a scientist called Prof. Chakravarthy (played by Ansari himself) who claims that he had made a machine through which he can communicate with the Martians. Chakravarthy’s son Anil (once again Ansari, YEAH) is an evil genius who has a machine by which he can control everyone who works for him. But Anil has only one threat a brilliant secret agent played by Pradeep Kumar (tell me about it!). But N.A. Ansari’s movies never have any predictable pattern. He was a genius. Whenever you think you comprehend the film, you are wrong. Initially you think it’s a science fiction, then you think this is probably a thriller but soon your entire perception thrill and mystery is shattered when you see Pradeep Kumar as a dashing secret agent. Again the plot changes, Martians are stealing diamonds, and you think Pradeep Kumar’s job is solving the Mars mystery, but the poor man has a spooky experience when he falls for a girl and he realizes is the 200 year old ghost of a princess. Meanwhile Anil kills his father, dresses up as his father and continuously humiliates Pradeep Kumar. Poor Pradeep Kumar even Johnny Walker makes fun of him but things turn out ok for him when he discovers that the girl (Tanuja) is not a ghost and she was testing his true love. Just as poor Pradeep Kumar wants to marry and settle down, Tanuja and her father are abducted by Martians. Pradeep Kumar then moves about like a headless chicken and Johnny Walker finally manages to fathom the mystery. You see, N.A Ansari had an island near Mumbai. From the island he controlled spaceships that went and stole diamonds from rich men in Mumbai. The Martians were robots designed by him, and he used them to kill his opponents with laser gun. Ansari’s brilliant project was being funded by an enemy country but only due to sheer misfortune he is caught. As he tries to escape to the enemy territory Pradeep Kumar manages to catch him and Ansari is shot in the process. While dying he sums up the entire movie in one line ‘Meri koi aakhiri khwaish nahi hai sirf shikayat hai. Faltu admi zinda rehte hai aur kabil, kabil mar jaate hai’ (I don’t have any last wish but just a complaint. Useless people live and capable ones just die).

Now I want to move to my next film Mr.X in Bombay. Even if you don’t know the film you definitely know Kishore’s super hit song from the film Mere mehboob qayamat hogi, aaj ruswa teri galiyon mein mohabbat hogi. The movie is about a poet who becomes the victim of a scientist’s experiment and becomes invisible. It’s Kishore Kumar’s film, I won’t tell you any more. Just watch it.

It’s now time to wind up but besides Mr. India we have another film on invisibility called Professor ki Padosan. Well this is a classic case of resourcefulness or jugaad as we call it in Hindi. The film starred Sanjeev Kumar who died before he could finish it, so they made his character invisible in the rest of the film and the audience could only hear his voice.

So, realize one thing it’s not that Bollywood can’t make sci-fi. It’s just that our sci-fi is ummmm.…nuanced.

I do not have copyright to the images used in the blog. Some of the images used here are from NFAI

Just Thrill Thrill

2014-08-01T02:32:00.000-04:00

I have always felt Bollywood has done relatively poorly as far as thrillers are concerned. There are not many truly satisfying ones. Of course, Raj Khosla made some fabulous mystery thrillers, I am a well-known N.A Ansari fan, and I am suspicious of people who do not adore Abbas Mastan (ok kidding…but come on!). Indian critics have never been particularly kind to stunt films and mystery thrillers. Numerous thrillers had huge box office successes but they never really became a major trendsetters. I could be wrong about this, but the way in which Sholay opened the doors for daaku films, or Hum Aapke Hai Kaun set the trend for family entertainers with really long weddings, mystery films never really impacted Bollywood that way until Abbas Mastan came along. But I don’t know if I can call their films as trendsetters or, they are just very successful filmmakers. Now, I am not here to analyze modern Bollywood, in fact, it is of very little interest to me. Don’t misunderstand me, I love Bollywood way too much, I could write a huge book on how much I love Abbas Mastan, but this is not a fan blog, so, let me get to the point. I hope to look back at early Bombay cinema and mystery thrillers. Perhaps the answers lie in looking at the history of mystery. I know what an unbelievably cheesy line!

But before I begin, I have to underline a few things. My resources are limited; most of the old films have not survived so, I have to bank on reviews and advertisements, and then, I have my shortcomings that are way too many, so I will leave it at that.

Let me start with the 30’s when stunt films were very big. It was around that time that mystery thrillers too started getting popular. Before I get to the mysteries let me very briefly mention the huge success of Insan ya Shaitan (1933) starring Jaddan Bai (Nargis’ mother) which was based on Marie Corelli’s novel The Sorrows of the Satan. No, I am not calling this a mystery story but some literary critics consider it horror and therefore, even though far fetched this could be India’s first “horror” film. I have a feeling this film too might have contributed to the growth of thrillers.

Spy Thrillers:

Let me start with Dynamite (1938) a film about a private detective whose seemingly simple case leads him to unearth a huge conspiracy against the country and discover a large spy network. Sounds familiar? Agreed, the plot is not exactly original but can’t you see this was the grandmother of spy thrillers we had later. Yes, why not call it grandma of films like Suraksha and Wardaat. Of course, I am terribly biased in naming just these two but you get my point. In fact, spy thrillers have a really long history. Perhaps I should take it up sometime, unless someone has already beaten me to it. The main difference between Dynamite and rest of the spy films is that in Dynamite the hero was not a government agent but just a private detective who gets tangled in a conspiracy case.

Before I move on to my next theme, I have to mention a great 60's classic B spy movie. It's N.A Ansari’s Zindagi aur Maut (1967) and I can only do justice to it by quoting the synopsis. “ “ZINDAGI AUR MAUT”- life & death two common phenomenon associate with all living beings. But when the calamity is national embracing the whole nation, it is not just the few individuals who die but thousands, lacs and even millions. It is to avoid such disasters hand-picked, super courageous, intelligent men work round-the-clock to uncover plots, treacheries, spys espionage….ESPIONAGE…..”(Zindagi Aur Maut synopsis card)

The 60’s were actually a great time for mysteries and thrillers. Some of our best mystery films belong to the 60’s.

The Whodunit:

Khooni Kon or Kantahar made in 1938 is the first whodunit film that I could say with certainty. There may have been others like this one before, but I have not been able to find them. The movie is about the theft of a precious necklace followed by a murder. This is a delicious, vintage mystery. The ones you savor on a rainy day over a cup of cream of earl grey.

My next movie is Dhamki made in 1945 and the review of this film speaks volumes about the critical reception of thrillers in general. “With the success of “Panna” the Navyug thriller, we should not be surprised to see more thrillers coming to the Indian screen. Our producers are clumsy enough to copy things crudely and we shall now be getting a crowd of detective pictures till we get fed up with our life and begin cursing every motion picture anywhere within 10 miles of us.” (FilmIndia, Jan 1946 pp 50). In an article published in Bombay Chronicle on 3rd June 1939 the editor of FilmIndia Baburao Patel had attacked what he called as "crime pictures." Baburao claimed these films encouraged youngsters to take up crime since villains and gangsters are made to look so attractive. While it's true that Baburao was biased and many disagreed with his views, but it's also important to remember that these films were never really critically acclaimed.

Now comes Mr. Dynamite (1947) (please do not confuse it with Dynamite) a mystery thriller revolving around a police detective and a mastermind criminal called Shankar Rao. But what caught my attention about this film was the character of Mr. Dynamite, who is a mysterious character and his description is a lot like Mr. Harley Quinn from Agatha Christie’s novels. For those of you who may not have read about Mr. Harley Quinn he is a mysterious character who appears from nowhere to Mr Sattherwaite and helps him solve a crime. Similarly, in this film Mr.Dynamite comes from nowhere and helps the police officer solve the crime. In fact, one big attraction promised in the advertisement of the film is finding out who the mysterious Mr.Dynamite is.

Again, whodunits got very big in the 60’s, and my all time favorite whodunit is Teesri Manzil. What a fabulous film! I don’t know if it’s fair to call Kantahar as the ancestor of Teesri Manzil…but hey evolution!

Other thrills:

I can’t really define this category, but I guess I want to talk about films like 36 Ghante or other cliffhangers like Baazigar, Victoria 203 (I totally agree this is not making sense), well, this is a broad eclectic group where a wide variety of films fit in. I will start with a film called Danger Signal. All I know about this film is that it was a box office success, the advertisement says the rest. Oh yes, you have guessed it right Miss Lalita is Lalita Pawar.

As I said this is a lose category so I will add one psychological thriller here before I leave. Now, my all time favorite psychological horror/thriller is Mahal (1949) but here is another forgotten one that I found rather interesting called Pahli Shadi (1952). It is the story of a woman who is tricked into marrying a crook, then declared insane by her in laws and eventually institutionalized. Later, her presumed dead uncle turns up rescues her, and she starts a new life. She meets a poet, falls in love with him and marries him. But her past catches up with her and she is forced to murder her ex husband. Of course, the movie is thriller, so it eventually turns out that she was not the killer.

The 50s saw the rise of social dramas, and thrillers faded out only to make a major comeback in the 60s. All right, I am done for now but before I go how about a N.A Ansari movie this weekend. May I recommend Tower House?

I do not have copyright to any of the images. Some images are from synopsis cards that I have purchased and others are from NFAI.

Continue Fighting Like a Woman

2014-07-20T04:37:00.000-04:00

This is the second part of my female action stars from the 30's and 40's. Don't read it if you haven't read the first part because this will sound like gibberish. It's like watching a sequel, so don't.

Stunt films almost disappear from Bombay cinema after independence, only to resurface in the 60’s with the coming of Dara Singh. Stunt films with female lead starts dwindling during the post-independence era, and never really makes a comeback. Films with powerful women characters who kicked ass did not disappear but there was a difference between the 30’s action films and the later ones. These 30's films were primarily action films about masked vigilantes, brave queens and princesses fighting bad guys. Action was THE narrative, and not a part of the narrative. Allow me to explain this, in late 40’s the social drama became way more important, but there was always some “action” woven into that narrative framework, very much like our masala films. As a matter of fact we had consciously started constructing a total “masala” package.

After independence the economy was rapidly changing and big studios like Filmistan, R.K Films, and Mehboob Productions “elaborated and crystalized the narrative conventions that came to constitute the feudal family romance” (Vitali, 125). Besides all these factors the film critics and influential film magazine editors had very low opinion of stunt films. They were always considered an embarrassment and totally lowbrow. Finally, sexism too played a major role in finishing the action queen genre. Now, let me take you through a short journey of female stunt films in its last days, and also look at some of the articles that discuss these films.

I will begin with this advertisement of Gangster made in 1939. You know things are going downhill when your leading lady is called Nirasha.

During the 40’s action films based on history played an important role. If you recall Mohan Pictures were already the foremost name in making female stunt films. They made some stunt films with a more modern historical backdrop, namely fighting the British, like Midnight Mail, which did fairly good business. In fact, the leading lady of the film called Indurani did few more stunt films (although I am not certain, they could well be thrillers.)

Other production houses too made similar “historical” action films. It was evident that the market was rapidly changing.

Let me now move to some articles that heavily critiqued stunt films. “Stunts have been nothing but sheer ludicrousness and absurdities….In order to make things more nauseating, some “humour” is thrown in, employing the services of haggard looking buffoons.” (Mirror, March 1939). The article then attacks Wadia’s film Hurricane Special calling it “best example for a meaningless name for a character and a film”. In fact, almost no one was kind to stunt films. Almost all stunt films were called unintelligent.

Another article by P.L Seth in Mirror (Dec, 1939) talks about how stunt films are disgustingly immoral, and they cater only to sex starved audience who just wants to look at bare legs. Seth critiques Nadia and adds that actresses should aspire to be like Durga Khote and Kamlesh, and stay away from stunt films.

This leads me to the issue of sexism. Women working in stunt films were considered “cheap and vulgar”. There is an article in Filmindia written in 1949 by Baburao Patel titled “Our Synthetic Glamour Girls and Their Art and Earnings”. Here he reiterates some of P.L Seth’s ideas, calls actresses like Devika Rani and Durga Khote as perfect but calls Ramola “a tiny woman with snub nose” and Yashodara Katju as “the funny looking midget who seems to have changed her mind about growing at the early age of 12.” Baburao is of course unbiased, because his diatribe includes stalwarts like Shobhna Samarth, Kanan Devi, Nurjehan and other prominent actresses. He only praises Sushila Rani, his secretary who was then pursuing a career in films which didn't work out for her, and later she became his wife. But the idea of continuously demeaning actresses who worked in stunt films had to have an effect on upcoming actresses. I agree that Baburao was a man of strong likes and dislikes. He wrote an article against any film depicting crime as a crime in the June edition of Bombay Chronicle in 1939. Of course, he was criticized for his extreme views but all these articles point out that stunt cinema and thrillers were soft targets. The change in the market was not the only reason they lost out, they also lost because the big studios had decided to shape the public taste and morals, and our action queens were left out in the process.

The real tragedy is that most of these films have not survived. But next time you watch an action film, think of Miss Gulab. When you watch Miss India think of Pramila, and whenever you watch Sunny Deol fight think of Fearless Nadia. These were some very unconventional women.

All the images are from NFAI. I do not own copyrights for any of the pictures.

References:

Hindi Action Cinema: Industries, Narratives, Bodies by Valentina Vitali.

I sincerely apologize for not following any specific citation style, it's my blog I wanted to keep it simple.

Fight Like a Woman

2014-07-11T03:47:00.000-04:00

The Mardaani trailer set me on this trail. I admit I loved it; I have always been in awe of action queens. I was 5 when I had tried to copy Hema Malini’s bike stunt from Naseeb. I was on a tricycle trying to jump over a parapet, it didn’t end too well. I had some serious injuries. Several injuries later, I realized I was not likely to succeed as an action star. So, I did what I do best. Live cathartically through films. However, this is not about how many times I have watched Phool Baney Angarey or films that most of you know about. I want to go back in time and talk about women in early action films. Female action stars you may not know or remember.

My story starts from 1930’s when women started appearing in action films and Sharda Films was the first company to produce stunt films. Now, none of their films have survived, but we know many of their films included Master Vithal who was known as Indian Douglas Fairbanks. Miss Zebunissa often costarred with Master Vithal, but in 1931 she appeared in a film called She with Jayraj where she was cast in an action role. (Vitali,61).

Perhaps more famous than Zebunissa was Miss Ermeline who was regularly cast in action roles during the 30’s. Ermeline was described as “a good horse rider. She does manly actions. She is a good sword woman. She is quick in her action. She needs perfection in her face.” (Bombay Chronicle, Aug 8, 1931 from Vitali, 63).

Let me now move on to Miss Padma who appeared in J.B.H Wadia’s Dilruba Daku (also called Amazon) where she played a masked vigilante. The film was very successful and Miss Padma did few more action films. Padma in fact was in many films with Nadia like Toofan Mail. It was the success of Amazon that finally led J.B.H Wadia to seriously think about action films with female lead, which eventually resulted in finding Fearless Nadia who became the most memorable action star.

For me Wadia Movietone is Fearless Nadia films. Nadia’s became a major box office success with films like Hunterwali (1935), Miss Frontier Mail, Hurricane Hansa, Diamond Queen, Toofan Mail, Jungle ka Jawahar and Punjab Mail. A review of Toofan Mail claimed that Fearless Nadia had made stunts look realistic (Majumdar,104). Also, Nadia was a big woman but still looked decidedly convincing in her action sequences. Of course, Nadia was a badass who seemed to have enjoyed her dessert too. She is my hero.

Before I begin talking about some more films and action stars. I have to mention Durga Khote and Lalita Pawar. Durga Khote started her career with a flop film called Farebi Jaal but Ayodhyacha Raja saved her career. But in films like Amar Jyoti and Maya Macchindra she was an action star. Now, Amar Jyoti is a very special film, Khote plays Saudamini a rebel who commands a pirate crew. Her crew captures the princess, and Saudamini explains to the princess why she has become a rebel.

“After my marriage I came to understand that woman is a slave to man. The law says it, religion supports it, and the state puts its stamp of authority on it. My heart broke when I realized this truth and in that instant, I vowed to eradicate our slavery…I have begun the task of tearing up this system and replacing it with equality between men and women in order to create a new image of freedom.” (Majumdar,82). Yes, this was 1936. I repeat One-Nine-Three-Six.

I now come to Miss Gulab who is first mentioned in the poster of Veer Keshri in 1928 along with Miss Ermeline (Vitali, 62). Gulab later appeared in Black Heart where she played a pistol-wielding princess, she also appears with a pistol in Hero No 1, only this time in a western outfit. Yes, Miss Gulab liked her guns.

She was the first Miss India, but before she became Miss India Pramila played in many films including Bijli (1939). In Bijli she is the daughter of a jagirdar called Malti who is also a trained pilot. When the jagirdar is murdered and his wife and daughter are forced into a life of misery she becomes Bijli a masked vigilante.

Come on! How could we let go Hunterwali so easily? Meet Chabukwali and Ramola. Of course, Ramola is best known as the leading lady in Khazanchi. In Chabukwali she plays Prabavati the princess and Chandravati the vigilante who is better known as Chabukwali.

Since I mentioned Chabukwali it is important to remember that Mohan Pictures was the company that seemed to have made plenty of action films with female lead. Like Sharda Films these ones are either lost or extremely difficult to find.

The sixties stunt film scenario was totally dominated by Dara Singh, which is why it is important to mention Cobra Girl. Cobra Girl (1963) is basically a fantasy film where an evil magician’s plan of becoming all powerful is thwarted by a queen (played by Ragini) who is forced to become a vigilante hiding in the woods. What is remarkable about this film is that the hero Mahipal’s presence is as powerful as Tamannah Bhatia’s presence in Humshakals. Ragini also deserves a special mention for her badass role in the thriller Adhi Raat ke Baad with none other than Dadamoni.

I will stop here. I didn’t even want to go beyond the 40’s really. Of course, there is so much more to talk about and we haven’t even started on Ramkali, and Seetapur ki Geeta. But let’s leave that for another day.

The picture of She, Agyat Abla, and Black Bandit are from Valentina Vitali's book Hindi Action Cinema. The rest of the pictures are from NFAI. I do not own copyrights for any of the pictures.

References:

Wanted Cultured Ladies Only: Female Stardom and Cinema in India 1930's -1950's by Neepa Majumdar.

Hindi Action Cinema: Industries, Narratives, Bodies by Valentina Vitali.

I sincerely apologize for not following any specific citation style, it's my blog I wanted to keep it simple. I am sure there is so much that I have missed.But it's a long process and I will continue working on it.

I see therefore I am: Some random observations on Aakhon Dekhi

2014-06-01T00:19:00.001-04:00

This is not a review and the post contains spoilers.

My fascination with Taoism started when I first read Zhuang Zi’s famous butterfly story. Zhuang Zi has a dream where he is a butterfly fleeting from one flower to another, he wakes up and wonders about it. Was he Zhuang Zi dreaming of a butterfly or was he a butterfly now dreaming that he is human? Of course there is no answer, it’s a beautiful, mind-boggling parable.

Aakhon Dekhi attempts to explore the nature of reality, reality that is verified through senses, it’s a quest for empirical reality and not reality based on hearsay, gossips, myths, and “facts”. The protagonist (Babuji) begins to question reality when his family beats up an innocent young man simply based on the rumors they had heard about him. Their act was purely a product of delusion that they mistook for reality. This incident sets Babuji on his mission, that leads to a philosophical journey on the nature of reality.

The moment we view our world through any philosophy it is bound to change, and change drastically. Babuji decides to believe only what he sees and experiences through his senses. The first thing he has to sacrifice is his job, he then picks up a fight with the local temple priest, soon his family life begins to suffer too. But Babuji is adamant in his quest is to define reality, and live in that reality. Let me explain why I feel Babuji’s quest is purely philosophical. Babuji fails to notice that his unemployment would inevitably create financial difficulties in his family. His wife who gets rightfully upset by his decision repeatedly points out their financial situation, he refuses to notice his younger brother’s growing discontent, Babuji becomes a rather interesting paradox. His pursuit of empirical reality makes his behavior irrational, even somewhat insane.

To me Aakhon Dekhi appeared like an interesting debate between Taoism, Buddhism, and Empiricism. I know, it’s getting a little over the top now, but bear with me a little and hear me out. Babuji claims he will only believe what he sees; he is indifferent to “facts” like “Who is the Prime Minister of India?” I found Babuji’s apathy to facts an interesting contradiction to the idea of reality. In any discussion or debate we often hear things like “Facts are facts, you can’t change it”. “Let’s look at the facts here.” We take facts for granted. But Aakhon Dekhi seems to challenge that. I started with Zhuang Zi’s tale because it questions the nature of facts. Buddhism will tell you reality is an illusion, what you see as fact is impermanence and it can never be real. Facts are, in fact, changeable and volatile. Babuji is a philosopher with his unique brand of philosophy and he goes through phases (like maintaining complete silence for a while, gambling, etc.) to arrive at his own idea of reality. Like most philosophers Babuji has followers who emulate him, but Babuji is not just a philosopher, he is also a father, a husband, and a brother. No matter what our quest is, we are also human, bound by very human realities, namely relationships. When Babuji’s younger brother moves out of their joint family, and finds a place of his own, Babuji is deeply pained. We may apply a philosophical lens to our life but we still need to recognize that pain, love, anger, and hate are very real emotions. The film basically tries to make sense of this dualism.

The movie is a beautiful journey of a philosopher with a truly poignant ending. In the end Babuji jumps from a cliff in order to experience flying. The film ends as Babuji’s voice tells us how it feels to fly. Personally, I did not see it as death but that’s definitely one way of looking at it. One can also say Babuji has attained salvation, he had lived a full life and he just moved on. But to me the ending appeared like a parable (not very dissimilar to the taoist one) where Babuji finally understands what reality is, we don’t, only Babuji understands it. The movie begins with Babuji talking about flying; it ends with Babuji jumping off a cliff. Not once Babuji says he is going to die, he is simply floating away. That is Babuji’s reality, he is flying now, he can fly. Babuji is experiencing the air around his face, his ears, he is swimming in air. This is direct empirical experience, Babuji is assuming that he is flying, but for rest of the world Babuji either killed himself, or he fell from the cliff by accident. Babuji is dying, but that’s not his reality; Babuji is simply flying.

Apology

I can’t write reviews, while I enjoy cinema I don’t understand it enough to review it. For a great review of the film see Filmigeek's review http://www.filmigeek.com/2014/05/ankhon-dekhi-2013.html. But Aakhon Dekhi was a film that I felt mattered, it opened up a space for some very important philosophical discussions. I had to write, even if my observations are far-fetched, I still had to speak.

Adamkhor: Anything but a review

2014-05-24T23:46:00.000-04:00

Let me tell you a story. It's a tale about fighting for justice, a tale of unusual valiance, it is also a tale of sacrifice, a tale of deep familial love, a tale of martyrdom, a poignant tale of sexual perversion, and a tale of Congress sycophancy that will make you squirm. Intrigued? Joginder’s Adamkhor (Man-eater) is a work of art, art that needs to be discussed in a public platform, art that also requires a serious academic discourse. But my job here is to simply create awareness, introduce you to the film, and I will stick to that. The beauty of Joginder’s film is its simplicity. It will deceive you to believe that you have understood the structure, you may even find his devotion to the Congress party and Indira Gandhi totally revolting, but these, my friend, are red herrings. Joginder's movie is anything but simple. Read on, I may be able to convince you.

There is an evil gang that wants to see India destabilized, so they hire mercenaries to carry out a wide gamut of violent acts, namely, assassinations, bombings, shootings, arson, rape, and kidnappings. Joginder himself plays a mercenary, a rather animal-like lustful brute who has superhuman strength. The mercenaries live in a semi-fortified area inside the woods. Joginder however, twists the idea of mercenaries. They display no army-like discipline, instead they are an assorted group of men with idiosyncrasies like rinsing the eyes with a bottle of rum early morning, humping trees, playing with dolls and talking dirty to them. Their daily activities include making bombs, creating effective equipment for mass killing (namely constructing a field of spikes where they could impale a whole bunch of people effectively without wasting time), building up a good stock of ammunition, flying and abducting women to keep them as sex slaves.

As this dismal scene gets us down Joginder instantly brings us hope. There is a group of women vigilantes who go around fighting small time crooks, and lecturing to women about proper feminine behavior. The notable faces in the vigilante group are Nazneen who later became famous as Kunti in B.R Chopra’s Mahabharat, and the Madhubala look alike Sona Mastan. The vigilante sisterhood’s lectures on women's conduct is very similar to some of our current prominent thinkers who believe women’s clothes and discos are responsible for rape. Besides preaching they also keep saluting every retired Indian army official they meet, and sing patriotic songs praising the Congress Party. To a naïve audience it may seem that the lines between good and evil have been clearly drawn. This of course is the dense smoke screen. These are Congressi vigilantes we are talking about, Congress under Indira Gandhi. Let me repeat, these are Indira Gandhi’s vigilantes. Now do you begin to see all the 50 shades of grey? Joginder is the master of such mind games.

Moving on with the story one of the vigilante sisters falls in love and gets married. Like every other couple they decide to go on a honeymoon. But when you have chosen such an unusual career your personal life too gets deeply affected. The rest of the sisters too decide to join the couple in their honeymoon. Before I proceed further with the story, I want to draw your attention to some of the images that Joginder has so far left us with. A bunch of honeymooners who worship Indira Gandhi, a flying mercenary who abducts women, and he introduces us to random victim who is used by everyone for target practicing. Do you begin to see the dystopia Joginder has started painting for for us? Who is this random victim who belongs nowhere in the plot but is repeatedly used by everyone for amusement. The mercenaries beat him, the vigilantes abuse him, he is tossed around and made fun of. I ask you seriously, who is he? Think.

Soon the inevitable happens the honeymooners are abducted by the mercenaries and are taken as prisoners. The mercenaries decide to use the only male member in the group as a source of free labor, and the women are locked up in a cell. For some reason the mercenaries decide to not use these women as sex slaves, instead Joginder abducts a minor and decides to rape her. But the married vigilante interferes, offers herself and asks Joginder to leave the minor alone. Joginder agrees and the minor is saved. Even after raping the married woman Joginder can’t get over his lust for the minor. Joginder is so blinded by his lust that he sexually attacks a middle aged man (who is not a mercenary but for some reason was sleeping next to Joginder) and gets upset by his facial hair. Joginder then forces him shave, put on make up, jewelry, and dance for him. This is perhaps the highest point in the movie, it brings out the truly brilliant mind of Joginder.

Do you realize how beautifully Joginder illustrates that sexuality is not either straight or gay, that there is so much more to us...what was it that Kinsey said? “Males do not represent two discrete populations, heterosexual and homosexual. The world is not to be divided into sheep and goats. Not all things are black nor all things white. It is a fundamental of taxonomy that nature rarely deals with discrete categories. Only the human mind invents categories and tries to force facts into separated pigeon-holes. The living world is a continuum in each and every one of its aspects. The sooner we learn this concerning human sexual behavior, the sooner we shall reach a sound understanding of the realities of sex.” See, how well Joginder understood Kinsey! The next day Joginder makes a fresh attempt to molest the poor minor. The minor jumps out of the window falls on a spike and dies. Upon her death Joginder becomes unhinged and keeps talking about how the body got wasted before he could use it. I doubt if any Bollywood filmmaker understood Kinsey so thoroughly.

Let’s not forget what I had mentioned before. The structure of the movie is a mere masquerade, so the vigilantes manage to kill a few mercenaries and establish contact with the army. As this is happening in the background, the news of Indira Gandhi’s assassination breaks in, and the movie is suddenly jolted in an altogether new trajectory. There is a live telecast of Indira Gandhi’s assassination and the world is in shock. The title song starts, and we find out that the movie title had nothing to do with the mercenaries, instead Mrs.Gandhi's assassins are being referred as Adamkhors. Before the audience can recover from the eulogy and figure out the sudden shift in the plot, they are swiftly pushed into a Kali temple with vicious flying snakes.The flying snakes attack Joginder and strangle him. The movie ends. Please do not ask me where the snakes came from I haven’t figured it out yet.

Of course, you want to know who the hell was financing these mercenaries. That question remains unanswered. There is a man in Burqa who turns up for a very brief moment during the climax and is called “the boss”, but again Joginder does this deliberately because he does not want to answer the question. He wants you to realize that this is not about good and evil at all. It’s not even the Taoist yin and yang idea of there is no good without evil. Joginder simply wants you to be aware that you exist in a dystopia. You are a mere pawn between faceless evil and political propaganda. In a nutshell, what appears like patriotism on acid is actually a poetic way of telling you, you are so damn fucked.

Thanks to Aseem Chandaver for giving me a copy of this masterpiece. I apologize for the quality of the screenshots, it was a rather poor VCD print.

On Dreams, Love Affairs and Negotiations: Bollywood and Me

2013-05-02T21:24:00.001-04:00

I told myself repeatedly, that I wouldn’t write about 100 years of Bollywood. But then, my relation with Bollywood is a brazen love affair. I have no other words to describe it. It’s a relation which has stirred every possible emotion in me; it has made me feel bliss, feel unimaginable pain, feel thoroughly violated, and abused, it has irritated me, it has made me laugh till I had serious cramps, it has made me afraid, given me strength; it’s the only relation that has defined me in numerous ways. You see, that’s why I had to write something. It will be dishonest to not say something since Bollywood seriously means a lot to me. However, there was the big question of what can I write. Should I talk about Sulochana (Ruby Myers), Fearless Nadia and the silent era? Or should I talk about horror films? Eventually, I realized I am simply not worthy of writing on any of these major issues. Recently, I had a major realization. I am not a Bollywood fan, in fact, I am not a fan of anything at all. Fandom takes a lot of serious work, and I am not really into that kind of perusal about anything in life. As a matter of fact, fans have taught me a lot, and my current work benefits a lot from interacting with fans, and what fans share online. I truly respect Bollywood fans, I am totally in awe of their knowledge.

So, I had to make it about Bollywood and me. Don’t worry, I will not talk about my childhood, or how I tried to unsuccessfully convince my father to give me a tattoo, just so he could recognize me, in case I got lost in a village fair. Strangely, this is about....well, LOVE. Since Bollywood is so much about love and relationships, that I felt it was all right to talk about it.

My most successful love relationships have been with people who do not know about my existence, and I have been able to sustain them because Bollywood taught me the true secret of happiness. I have had the most fulfilling relationships with Shah Rukh Khan, Marilyn Manson, George Clooney, Suneil Shetty, Trent Reznor, Jamie Foxx, and Stephen Fry. There have been some other casual ones, and those too have also worked out beautifully. Please don’t tell me it is easy to have successful relations that are not real; if you think you have control over fictional relationships, then you are delusional, and you are only perpetuating a myth. If someone says their imaginary friends are in their control, it’s a blatant lie. Our imagination is unfortunately often tainted by the real world. I am a victim of it too. Now wait, my rambling is primarily to make a point. It is about a strange spiritual awakening that I had sometime back, and the man behind this awakening is Mehmood.

The awakening happened while listening to a song from the film Gumnaam, where Mehmood in a dream sequence says ‘Khayalon mein, khayalon mein’ (In your mind/ thoughts/head). His hairstyle is like Moe from The Three Stooges, he has Hitler’s moustache, a striped T Shirt, and a lungi. In the song he is discussing his dark complexion, his poverty, his strange appearance, and he keeps insisting to the women (Helen in particular) to look beyond the physicality, since it is only the heart that matters. Mehmood’s song is about the insidious superficiality of human beings, particularly South Asians, who also have the added bias against darker skin color. At one level the song bothers me immensely, specifically the idea of justifying that someone with dark skin has a heart too. The whole concept makes me insane with anger, but there is also another side to it, it lies in the line Khayalon mein. Just two words, but it says everything. A man deeply disturbed by how the world perceives him manages to have a happy relationship in his head. True, he has to justify himself in his dreams, which is why I said earlier, that we are never really free, not even even in our head. This song forged a deep spiritual link between Mehmood and me.

First of all, I realized that even in fictional relationships I was justifying myself. I was trying to change the way I look. Few weeks back I even gave myself a liposuction to have a better relationship with Marilyn Manson. In my own world too, I was not free. It’s hard to be yourself; “just be yourself" is such a terrible, foolish fairytale. In my dream-world too I have to worry about make up, clothes, jeans that don’t fit anymore, hair loss, it’s stressful... let me make that clear. Despite all these problems the relationships are successful. Like Mehmood, I too keep negotiating, and everyone is forced to listen. This is not about following your dreams stuff, that’s poppycock. This is about a totally functional imaginary life, and having some control over it. It is about mastering the art of the Khayaloon mein business. This is about using your imagination to be fulfilled and happy. Don’t get me wrong, I am yet to achieve that kind of fulfillment, but I feel I am on the right path. Whenever I am upset about something happening in the world on which I have no control, or the real world as most people call it; all I need to do is switch to the other world filled with gorgeous men, to whom I keep insisting hum tere tere tere chahne walein hai. (I am the one who really loves you) and guess what, almost all the time this persistence works!

Call me shallow and you will be correct. I told you earlier that this was going to be a bit irritating, since I will talk about myself. But it is impossible to talk about Bollywood without getting so deeply personal. It had to be this way. In the end all I can say is ‘Happy 100 Bollywood’, this song goes out to you, and I mean every word of it.’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSWnBBm-dUE

P.S. While I have serious moral issues with humein kale hai toh, I find the recent song from Gangs of Wasseypur, Kaala Re as remarkably clever and beautiful.
Special thanks to Sayantan Mondal for being the most patient listener ever. If the post sucks, it's my fault, if it's all right then Sayantan deserves the credit.

Whatever Happened to Baby Julie

2012-06-15T05:59:00.000-04:00

A house like that is bound to have stories, one look at it and you will know strange things must have happened here. But a lot of what is said about it is pure balderdash but gossip is extremely powerful. All it needs is a mere suggestion. There was absolutely no truth about the spirit of Julie Banerjee haunting the house. The story went like this. Every night one could witness the horrible tragedy that had taken place on 13^th December 1952.

It was one of the coldest nights the town had seen. The fog was so thick that visibility was almost zero and everyone was indoors. Mr. Banerjee was drunk as usual and was following his daily routine of hurling abuses at his wife. 10 year old Julie was in her room with cotton stuffed in her ears, trying to draw a picture but the voices only increased. She did not remember a day that went without her father beating up Ma first and then her. Baby Julie; that was her screen name her real name was something else but that did not matter, she was the lovely Baby Julie so deeply adored in Bollywood. On screen her parents showered her with gifts, love even if she ran into problems she grew up or the bad ones were punished and everything was set right. Everyone in the movie loved her. In one movie a criminal mends his ways because he sees his dead daughter in her. All that was on screen her real life was a nightmare, a nightmare even the Bollywood writers could not imagine. While drawing the picture she realized her father’s tone was not usual.Julie was right. Mr. Banerjee had found out that his wife had started divorce proceedings against him. Julie had finished one drawing and had picked up another paper that's when she heard her mother’s scream again and again. She knew if she went to help her mother the beating would be more than usual and she hid under the bed. Suddenly everything was standstill. Julie still remained under the bed sobbing, she saw her father’s footsteps; in no time he found her dragged her out as she struggled and screamed but she was only a 10-year-old baby girl. Baby Julie like her mother too was strangled to death.

Even today some of our parents and grandparents remember the tragedy Mr.Banerjee died in jail after two years never repenting his actions. It was major national news the shocking death of Baby Julie and her mother both strangled by the man of the house. The man who was supposed to take care of them, nurture them had tortured them for years and when they wanted to escape, he had killed them.

In a year’s time the house was sold to the Mustafi family and that’s when the rumors started. It was Mrs. Mustafi who first saw Baby Julie in the kitchen staring at her, then she saw Mrs.Banejee in the garden and finally the entire family saw the events of the tragedy. They said they saw it all. Mr.Banerjee strangling his wife and then dragging the poor child out and killing her. Strangely, people believed them. Strange because the Mustafis had a reputation. Mrs. Mustafi had seen Krishna playing his flute in Kamla Park and the whole family had backed her up on the story. Rohan Mustafi had a temporary mark on his forehead because he was a victim of an urban legend. The legend was that if you rubbed the area between your eyebrows with a rough towel 555 times Lord Shiva appear before you. While the other victims denied the miracle and were teased about their foolishness the Mustafi family claimed they saw Ganesha and senior Mr.Mustafi had a mark too. The Mustafis claimed they had lived in New York before yet they knew almost nothing about the city. When Manik Guin’s uncle from U.S was visiting them the Mustafis had done everything to avoid him. However, in this case everyone believed the Mustafis. No one wondered why the ghosts waited for 5 years to show themselves to the Mustafis. Also, no one questioned why after such a terrible experience the Mustafis lived there for 1 more year before moving to Baroda. What the Mustafis had done was to give the house a reputation. They had turned gossip into something concrete. Now many people saw the spirit of Baby Julie playing in the garden. The town open air cinema had once screened Baby Julie's super hit film Pyari Beti; the following day there were several reports of Baby Julie spotting in different parts of the town.

The next occupants of the house was a young couple and their beautiful 7 yr old daughter Piu. Soon, the gossip started. Some said that the ghosts of the Banerjees had lured them here, some maintained it was pure fate and some said in no time a similar tragedy would happen. Then came the terrible shock even though their surname was Gupta the wife’s maiden name was Banerjee. There was absolutely no connection between her and Baby Julie’s but who cared the common surname was enough to add fuel to fire.

When the Gupta family turned out to be a normal happy family many were disappointed. Piu seemed very close to her father in fact the two seemed inseparable. Soon the people realized how the Gupta family was the exact opposite of Banerjee family. Mr. Gupta was a kind man, a good husband and a wonderful father. They knew about the tragedy that had taken place there and Mrs. Gupta had hesitated but little Piu had loved the house so much that they had decided to take it. 3 years passed, the Guptas saw no spooks and the rumor too had started fading out. Piu was now a lovely 10 year old and it was her birthday next week. The Guptas had arranged for a huge party around 150 people were invited. Such a big birthday party was unheard of so people were both excited and worried. Worried because they feared their children might make similar demands on them.

No one in the town had seen a birthday party like that. Even weddings were not that grand. At the end of the party Piu started handing out the return gifts. They were big boxes and the Guptas made just one request ‘Open them after you reach home’. They said it repeatedly in fact their insistence seemed really odd to some guests. Not everyone listened some opened it in their car, some opened it on their way home and many did as they were told.

The box contained a picture album, a picture album of the Banerjees. They recognized Baby Julie and the photographs were nightmarish to look at. The first picture had Baby Julie with bruises on her face, the next one was of her mother with a broken arm it got more and more horrifying till people could not bear to look at them and just as they shut the album they heard a cry, a cry that sounded like their own child asking for help. They clutched their child close to their heart and after three cries it stopped.

The Guptas had totally disappeared people tried but no one could find a trace it seemed they had never existed. The house looked dilapidated and broken as if the grand birthday was only an illusion.

The night after Piu’s birthday 8 yr old Bhanu had died in his sleep. Next week it was Neela. By the end of the month 17 children under 13 had died mysteriously in their sleep. They were all taken by the Nishi. The unsuspecting townspeople had released the Nishi that was trapped in the box. People may have forgotten Baby Julie but no one has forgotten the Nishi. Yes, even in 2012 every folk in the town still warn their children about the call of the Nishi. You will hear a voice in the middle of the night calling your name. The voice is exactly like someone you know and if you answer you are dead. But a Nishi never calls more than 3 times so wait for 3 calls and the Nishi never calls back again. On dark, cold nights when you are tucked under cozy warm quilt and you hear Mom calling from a distance stay quiet, stay very quiet if you answer Nishi will strangle you.

Baby Julie’s story is based on the tragic death of child star Judith Barsi and the folklore of Nishi is very well known in Bengal.

The Hungry Ghost

2012-04-24T03:29:00.001-04:00

‘Of course the potato blight was a fungus, but you know the fungus was a curse of the headless ghost that was seen in the village few months back. He walked around the fields of the potato crop putting the spell and needless to say the fungus came.’ It was funny how Grandma always put a ghost story in historical narratives. She was very popular with the students but fortunately not because of her ghost stories. They were only for her granddaughter Sumana. That evening she was telling Sumana about the Irish Potato Famine and after telling her all about it she added the spooky angle. It was always like that with Grandma, she would tell the story and then add her own fictional touch. Just few days back she told the story of how King Menelik II had a shaman who had also trained an army of ghosts to defeat the Italy at the Battle of Adwa. And when he did not need the ghosts he helped them to move on. Grandma never told predictable ghost stories like the Mummies or haunted pirate ships. She always put an interesting twist to stories were you never expected ghosts. Also, grandmother’s stories were never very scary, they were actually rather benign.

Sumana never understood why she had nightmares about the headless ghost who caused the potato blight. She was now in her late 20’s, married with 4 yr old son and yet the Blight Ghost haunted her. It was a very vivid, detailed dream and exactly the same every time. She saw a mud hut with no windows, an entire family huddled in one bed of straw she had seen poverty around her but this poverty was different. Everyone in the village was miserable. She then saw those poor people being thrown out of that wretched mud dwellings and children dying in cold. There were decayed plots of land and then in her dreams she felt crazy pangs of hunger, the hunger became more and more painful. She then saw the headless monk standing and watching the decay, his head held on his right hand and his left hand was stroking it. She could never see his face and yet she could sense his deep satisfaction at the misery. At this point she would wake up and the hunger pangs she felt in the dream would disappear. She would have this dream almost every month. She had talked about it to her husband Ketan who always insisted that the story had scared her deeply but she had never realized it.

Sumana had plenty of work that day. In two weeks time she would go to visit her Grandma in Dalhousie where her grandmother had retired and settled. Grandma always wanted to live in a quiet hill station so, she sold her property in Delhi and moved to Dalhousie and was living there with her maid Manasa who had been with her for 12 yrs. She was looking forward to the break badly. Also little Nishant was very fond of his grandmother. She told him stories and he drew pictures based on them. It was because of Grandma’s stories that she knew Nishant was a talented artist, for his age his drawings were very good indeed.

Dalhousie was beautiful as always, something about the refreshing crisp morning air. Sumana was in the kitchen helping Manasa make aloo parathas for breakfast and Grandma was in the living room telling Nishant a story about Hulagu Khan. Sumana remembered, it was the same story, Grandma’s special touch here was Hulagu’s pet monster who could tell him the future.That afternoon after lunch everyone was taking a nap and Nishant was painting as usual. Sumana again dreamt of the headless monk, it was brief this time she just saw him looking at the decay and smiling. She woke up and what she saw made her speechless with fear. Nishant had painted the headless monk of her dreams standing there and looking at the misery. It was not a child’s painting but a perfect painting made by an adult. There were bodies on the ground, dilapidated huts with no windows, a potato plant with white spots and the headless monk standing, his face was not visible.

Nishant kept insisting that he had painted it. Sumana had become almost incoherent with fear and anger, she begun blaming Grandma for her crazy stories. Grandma repeatedly told her that she had not told him the blight Ghost story and no child could ever paint something that mature. Ketan joined them 2 days before the original plan because Sumana was now paranoid. But Ketan too had no answer to the mystery and poor Nishant too was suffering. He did not understand what had happened to his mother. All he kept saying was this image came to his mind and he painted it. Once, it did cross Ketan’s mind that Nishant could have heard their talk about the headless ghost and drew it but this did not explain the quality of the drawing. Nishant had made two drawings after this and they were like his old ones, work of a child. Nishant even thought that Sumana could have painted it and forgotten about it but Sumana’s drawings were worse than Nishant’s. Poor Grandma she looked guilty but she maintained she had never told Nishant the story. Their vacation was ruined and despite Nishant’s protests they came back to Delhi early because Sumana now wanted to consult a psychiatrist, discuss her problem and talk about the mysterious drawing. But the night she came back from Dalhousie she saw the monk for the first time. She could not see his face but he was looking out from her balcony and all she felt was painful hunger that she couldn’t bear anymore, everything went black.

Derek’s only connection with Bengal was that he once took a course in Global Crisis and Development and studied about the Bengal famine of 1770 and 1943. As a matter of fact Derek hardly had any connection to India, his Indian connection was limited to getting a butter chicken and naan take out from ‘India Spice’ once a fortnight. He had never understood why the Bengal famine left an impact on him. A land he had never known, a land so completely different from his small town of Cornwall in Ontario, but still there was something about it that bothered him. It was not just the natural human reaction to such a tragedy but he somehow felt a strange connection. It was not until he turned 27 that one day he accidentally picked up and watched a stupid horror film about a headless monk, it was from that night the nightmare started.

He saw lush green paddy fields that first got replaced by opium poppy and then indigo plant. It was a beautiful, colorful dream. He first felt happy, overwhelmed. But soon it changed to visions of complete misery. There were dead children and what looked like a tiny wattle and daub structure. Their pots were empty, a woman sat by the hut too weak to get up and do something about the dead children, there were two men one looked stoned the other had was moving with a small basket trying to find anything to eat. He looked like someone who would even eat live insects and grass if he could, but the land was barren all barren. And then he saw the monk, the headless monk standing at a distance and watching them with pleasure. Yes, he could sense the monk’s pleasure. He couldn't see his face. The monk held his head on his right hand and stroked it with his left hand evidently relishing the sight of misery.

The dream would appear almost every week. Derek now dreaded going to bed. Unfortunately, his girlfriend Sara could not comprehend his problem, she blamed it on the horror film. He tried valerian, chamomile tea but no matter how deep he slept he could not escape the nightmare. It was Sara who noticed that Derek had started storing rice in small containers and hiding them in strange places. She found one small tin in the garage, one in the medicine cabinet and one in his closet. That evening she called Dr.Brock for an appointment next day and explained Derek’s situation briefly; little did she know that it was too late. When Derek returned home that evening he looked like death, totally ashen and almost insane with fear. His eyes were sunken and he could barely speak. All Sara remembered was that he said ‘I saw him, he is here. He knows where I have hidden the rice. He will take it all away, he will. My babies, my poor little babies…’, those were his last words after that he fell on the floor unconscious.

‘I know it’s Northern China, it’s under the Qing dynasty, I had read about it. But I have never been outside Europe but I know for sure I see China.’ Amaka told the therapist that she had not even visited her parent’s homeland, Eritrea. She had lived all her life in London, so the dream was totally inexplicable. She had read a book about the 1876 famine of Northern China under the Qing Dynasty and remembered being deeply affected by it but she had been through much worse in life, she had lost her father two years back and yet the only thing that was haunting her was this dream. ‘I am beginning to feel I am insane. I see people killing themselves. They are so hungry that they just can’t go on. Some are old and weak, too weak to even tie the rope to hang themselves. Also it’s very cold and they shiver so much, even dying is not easy. They try to die hang themselves but they are too cold and weak to even tie a noose. I know these are very disturbing visions but that's not what bothers me. I am so afraid of the headless monk. I can’t see his face he just stands and watches it and I know he enjoys what he sees.’

Only two days later Amaka fainted and slipped into a coma.

The story ends here. I know it’s not a satisfactory ending. Will it make you feel better if I told you that all three are dead, they became brain dead but their heart carried on. Or should I tell you that I know you have read about these famines in history books; now just don’t close your eyes and imagine the headless monk whose face you can’t see but he is very happy, he thrives on misery, he grows on fear and when you see him….you are next.

Note: The story is based on two key ideas: the Hungry Ghost in Buddhism (I have of course moved away from it’s traditional notion) and numerous folktales of headless spooks that appear in British folklore.

The Swamp Murders

2012-02-20T00:58:00.006-05:00

It was called ‘Aleya Jola’ (the Aleya swamp) for a reason. Two nights back the missing priest from Rajar Bagan turned up there. His body all bloated, his eyes were gorged out it was a gruesome sight. Lakkhi Babu the local jeweler was the unfortunate man to make the discovery. He was on his way to ‘Lakkhi Kanta Jewelers’ when he saw the body. When you take the short cut through Baul Maath (Maath is the Bengali word for moor) you pass the swamp. From a distance he thought it was a log but there was a stench and as he went near the object he saw the worst sight of his life. Poor Lakkhi Babu he was a weak man, he threw up his breakfast and was sick for many days. Lakkhi Babu anyway had a weak constitution he ate the simplest of foods and was a vegetarian. Only on special occasions did he eat mild fish curry but he had trouble digesting it. After this incident for days he could not even eat fruits. In a week Lakkhi Babu had become visibly thinner and older.

8 bodies had turned up in from the swamp in the last six moths. The villagers were all convinced it was the Aleya of the swamp. But how could Dinesh Halder the local cop put that in his report. What would he write? ‘The cause of the deaths is a supernatural force called Aleya that lives in the swamp. Aleya is a ghost light or an apparition that draws people and kills them. It is evident that these deaths are the handiwork of the Aleya because after Bishu the fisherman died here and his spirit has now become the Aleya. However, I am not certain if it’s Bishu it could well be Kunja Bihari for he was a mean spirited man.’ While Dinesh Halder was certain that this was the case but he could not put this in the report. They would mock him and even he might have mocked a report like this if he did not know the circumstances. He knew the villagers. No one was vicious here to kill random people. The last victim was not even from the village. He had come here on Ramani Babu’s invitation, something about feeding Brahmins. The fool instead of staying back decided to return home and even took the short cut through Baul Maath. What an idiot! Dinesh Halder decided to now put warning sings all over the place and stop people from using Baul Maath after dark. By now the villagers were very scared. They did not need any convincing that this was the handiwork of the Aleya. 8 deaths was no joke and even young boys who would go to the swamps as a dare stopped it altogether. The deaths too stopped.

Three years had passed peacefully. The Aleya killed no one, only Lakkhi Babu had died due to failing health. He never quite recovered from the trauma of discovering the body. He had no heirs and his wife Mollika Debi had no desire to run Lakkhi Kanta Jewelers. It closed down. Even though the deaths had stopped the fear of the Aleya was alive and it kept the villagers away from the swamps. It was six days before the minor incident of fire at the police station that Mollika Debi’s body was found in the swamps. There was no doubt that the Aleya had done it, the bloated body, the eyes gorged out but the mystery was why would someone like Mollika Debi go to the swamps. After Lakkhi Babu’s death Mollika Debi spent most of her time in the Madhusudan temple. She was always deeply religious but now religion was her only solace. She went to every kirtan, katha and every possible religious activity. She often returned home late but her servant Ramratan was always with her. Mollika Debi was not someone who would ever go to the swamps, she was very afraid of ghosts and she always took the main road and had a big flashlight with her all the time.

That night as Ramratan said she had gone to the temple but came back home by evening. She then had her meal and retired to her room to read the Gita before going to sleep. The only unusual thing was that she had requested the cook to make her rice pudding. It was odd because she never ate rice pudding on a Wednesday, it was her special Sunday treat. The cook did ask her if she expected company but Mollika Debi said she had a craving for rice pudding. Although totally uncharacteristic of her the cook had not paid much attention to it and made her a very rich pudding with cashews & raisins. The cook wept as she talked to Dinesh Halder ‘She was so fond of rice pudding, maybe she wanted to end her life and wanted that one last treat before dying. She gave me a rupee you know because she liked the pudding so much.’ Dinesh Halder was not convinced. Why would she go to the swamps at night to end her life. It made no sense. Also, he had faced enough humiliation from his department for his inability to do anything about the swamp deaths. But he was going to retire in two years and now those taunts did not bother him. How could he ever catch something supernatural. It was beyond his capacity. But it was all about to change soon.

The letter from his senior arrived in the afternoon post. Dinesh Halder wanted to cry when he read it. A journalist from a very well known English Daily was coming to do a report on the swamp murders and his full cooperation was required. He knew he would now be in the papers all over the country as the incompetent village policeman who did nothing to solve the murders. The city boy would patronize him even mock him if he mentioned the word Aleya. He could see the young upstart city boy and dreaded his arrival. The upstart would even live with him. O! The horror of it…the horror!

Despite his bias and dislike for Subhasis Roy, Dinesh Halder liked the journalist. He was a handsome, well mannered and respectful young man. As he sat with Subhasis in his living room sipping tea with arrowroot biscuits they started talking about the murders. ‘Eyes gorged out you say and bloated, surely everyone thinks it is the Aleya’ it was Subhasis who mentioned Aleya first. ‘I know you don’t believe all this but ..’ before Dinesh Halder could complete Subhasis replied ‘What makes you think I don’t believe. I only came here because I know it’s the Aleya. I have been chasing the Aleya ever since I was 7 yrs old.’

‘I was born in Calcutta but when I was 7 my parents took me to my father’s native village, Bokulgram. I remember it all very clearly our servant was the Aleya’s first victim. He was missing for two days and my grandmother blamed it on his love for moonshine. But his body floated up the swamp, bloated eyes gorged out and the stench. It’s not the stench of the dead but much worse than that. The stench can haunt you for days & make you hallucinate. It is the stench of the Aleya. The next victim was my friend Kanai. We used to play marbles together his body turned up the next day, same stench the eyes gorged out. That summer in the village the Aleya had claimed 8 victims. The ninth one was my grandmother but she died only 3 years later and I was with her the night she died. She was a deeply religious woman and she would never go near the swamp. The night she died she requested the cook to make her fried shrimps. It was her favorite dish, she told me a story that night and then in the morning I heard my grandfather’s voice asking everyone if they had seen her. She was found two days later. I was very close to my grandmother and I never quite forgot her gruesome death. Then after 3 years I went to my friend Nirmal’s village in the summer break. The moment I reached the village I recognized the stench of the Aleya. In two days the Aleya claimed it’s first victim the village priest, seven others followed and after 3 years another elderly woman died. She too was religious and requested her favorite dish before her death. I have been tracking the Aleya now for years; it’s the exact same pattern everywhere.’

‘What do you mean everywhere?’ Dinesh Halder was frightened now. ‘The record of first incidence of Aleya is there in Hickey’s Bengal Gazette of 1780. He mentions mysterious deaths in a swamp in a village called Mukundapur and it was this exact pattern. Only we don’t know who died three years later, it’s not mentioned in the gazette but 8 mysterious deaths are mentioned.’ Subhasis replied.

‘Is there any solution? You mean for hundreds of years this Aleya has been killing and no one can do anything.’ Dinesh Halder asked. ‘I wish I knew. I know priests have tried and failed. I even heard a in some village they sacrificed a buffalo and it stopped immediately, they were delighted but after 3 years the priest’s 80 year old mother was killed. To be honest even after spending all these years researching about the Aleya I know so little, like how did it start? Was there a swamp spirit always present or some event started it? We will never know. But I have a suggestion. Why don’t we investigate the swamp at night? I have never done this but maybe we can find something. We have nothing to lose.’

Dinesh Halder liked Subhasis’ idea. He never had the courage to venture into the swamps alone, none of his men would come they were all afraid and he too never insisted. But now in the company of this brave young man he too felt encouraged. They had dinner early and set out for the swamps. They took gigantic flashlights, insect repellent, few candles, matchbox and a flask of tea in Subahsis’ knapsack and set off. Subhasis had repeatedly told Dinesh Halder to stay close to him. ‘As far as I know Aleya never attacks people who have company, we will keep each other safe’, Subhasis had said again and again. Dinesh Halder had no desire to disobey him.

It was dark now, an eerie silence surrounded them. Suddenly, there was distinct but faint light on the swamps. ‘Did you see that Subhasis?’ ‘Yes. I did. His voice now sounded strange and distant. ‘Once upon a time long ago, I don’t really remember they killed a little boy. Kidnapped him from his home and sacrificed him. The boy had harmed no one, it was to make some goddess happy it seems. These were not kapaliks or aghoris as you may think. This was a family of eight with a sick child who wanted their son to get better by killing someone else’ child. The kidnapped boy begged, cried but no one in the family cared. Then the elderly grandmother who was sitting quietly in the corner and praying spoke to him kindly. She said she would let him go, she was so kind this lady told him some beautiful stories, soothed him, she even made him his favorite dish and once he had eaten she took him to the swamps. The whole family was waiting there and it was the kindly grandmother who killed him after torturing him with hope.’ ‘How do you know all this?’ Dinesh Halder realized how cold it had become. He was shivering. ‘Can’t you guess Dinesh Babu? The boy was me. I am the Aleya. I kill. I killed that family and that old woman, I like to torture them with hope. With each killing I grow, look how healthy and young I am. I come to them like I come to you now, I tempt them with wealth, torture them with hope, they all think they can escape the Aleya like you are thinking now. But they don’t. It’s your turn now Dinesh Halder. A whirlpool was forming in the swamp, it became a huge wave, there was light all around him and the wave was rapidly coming near him. He closed his eyes and waited to die….

After a few minutes he opened his eyes. The wave was gone it was calm and peaceful. There was no sign of anyone only his flashlight was near him. He ran home, for some reason the Aleya had spared him. He felt a strange sense of relief as he reached home. He was alive! And at that very moment he saw the wave coming, his home was a mirage that faded. The hope, the torture of hope.

Dev Anand

2011-12-04T04:08:00.002-05:00

I was in the third standard when I first watched CID. When the movie finished I told my father to play it all over again, I was mesmerized by the movie and I had also become a Dev Anand fan.

For me Dev Anand was the most handsome man in Bollywood. But it was not just his looks, his charm and his beautiful smile that made him so special I loved his films too. My all time favorite Hindi film is ‘The Guide’ but I will come to it later. Dev Anand’s films were often brave, something most people don’t realize. Here is my list of favorite Dev Anand films.

Let me start with Bambai ka Babu. It’s a story of a man who takes on another man’s identity and starts living his life. Unfortunately, he falls in love with the man’s sister. It’s a rare movie where you see discomfort and tension between the lead couple, hero’s actions predicted as incest when he tells his ‘sister’ that he wants her to love him like a man and finally the tragic ending. It’s a beautiful, poignant and brave film.

Next comes the lighthearted Teen Deviyan about one man’s relationship with three women. We are talking of a time when Bollywood actors were all like Romeos they were so sure of their choice that extremely attractive vamps and ‘other’ women systematically failed to seduce them. It is this very ‘Ram’ like one-woman man who was the ideal Bollywood hero. In Teen Deviyan we see a confused humane hero who is clearly flattered by the attention he gets from beautiful women. He can’t make up his mind, they are all so beautiful, accomplished and he loves them all. Tell me how many heroes have been this honest? Don’t tell me Sashi Kapoor because he usually landed up with two women either by chance or sheer foolishness and like Dev Saab he never admitted to loving them all.

I will now jump to Tere Mere Sapne where Dev Saab gave us our first anti-hero. It’s the story of a doctor totally committed to serving the poor but gets allured by the world of riches and glamour. Of course, he is not exactly the anti-hero as returns back to his roots once he realizes his mistake but it’s an excellent film that probes into grey zones. Before this not too many films showed the leading man openly abusing his domestic and social space simply because he is drawn to a world so unlike his own.

Another brilliant film that Dev Anand gave us was Hare Krishna Hare Ram . Again, a great depiction of dysfunctional families and the Hippie cult on the backdrop makes this movie an all time classic.

Then comes my all time favorite film The Guide. Where can I start? Today when we are so taken up with films that help us do ‘soul searching’ by taking a trip to Spain and hurling tomatoes at each other Dev Saab showed us how a man lost everything and found his soul. No movie understood the journey of self better than the Guide. It is only by chance that Raju Guide is mistaken for a mendicant and eventually this mistake becomes his identity. The last scene when Raju’s body is dying but his spirit feels happy and free is one of the most moving scenes in the history of cinema. As I said describing the Guide is difficult it is a movie one has to experience.

Then there are the usual favorites House No.44, Kalabazaar, Jaali Note, Solva Saal, Hum Dono, Johnny Mera Naam, Jewel Thief and Heera Panna.

We all know his recent films were not particularly great but the man loved to make films. People made fun of him all the time but Dev Saab was a good sport he loved his work and loved his life. One of my Professors told me that when Dev Anand shot in Deccan College people were surprised by the amount of hard work he did and his sheer energy. Also, he had absolutely no attitude of a star. He was a humble, down to earth man. Yes, Dev Saab was a true gentleman. I was deeply moved when I read his autobiography this summer. I followed him on Twitter and realized what a kind, gentle and good human being he was. This is one celebrity whose departure has left a vacuum in me. We know you are in a better place Dev Saab and we are thankful to you for all the cheer and happiness you gave us. We will miss you Mr. Funtoosh. Miss you a lot.

The Story of Halloween

2011-10-31T02:27:00.006-04:00

Here is a completely fictional folklore of how Halloween started. There is absolutely no truth in it, in fact feel free to call it a complete balderdash.

Calling the Rockwood house haunted would have been an understatement. First of all there was the headless monk walking around the house. He showed up just after the sunset roaming around the garden. He was of course searching for his head. Then those wailing Banshees by the lake, old man Simon had seen three of them. Voices came from the wall even during broad daylight. One room had a poltergeist that rearranged the furniture all day and threw stones at night. The living area was haunted by numerous spirits three children, an old man and two young men. The attic belonged to a young woman who wrote letters all day. Needless to say everyone left the house alone, so, the ghosts lived there undisturbed. And anyway how could they be disturbed? If you ever went near the house accidentally the Banshees would yell & the poltergeist would hurl gigantic stones at the visitor. At night there was light in the attic where the apparition of a lady kept writing her her letters. The poltergeist fiddled with the lights continuously, & the headless monk often used some strange ghostly light to search for his head.

How did Rockwood house become like this?

Once upon a time there was Mr. Rockwood, his wife, three children, the senior Mr. Rockwood and the hired help consisting of the scullery maid, the cook & the farmhand. The Rockwoods could not afford any more servants. It was their diminishing fortune that made them move to this house after selling their estate, clearing their debts this house was all that was left. They did manage to live comfortably because they still had a small income but this was not the kind of life they were used to. Mrs. Rockwood hated being tucked away in the country, old Mr. Rockwood missed his friends and bridge evenings but it was worst for Mr. Rockwood. He was the failure of the family. It was because of his irresponsible business decisions that they lost everything they had & now all that was there was this miserable country life. The children however, were not as unhappy as the rest. They played by the lake, walked in the woods and the old lady in the market taught them how to make dolls.

The old lady and her daughter owned a shop in the village, a unique shop of handmade dolls. These dolls were special, very special. Each doll had a name, a distinct face and came with their very own suitcase that contained their clothes and nightclothes. The old lady did not sell her dolls to anyone she would make sure that you treated her dolls well. The dolls were expensive so the children only had one. Her name was Anna, she had jet-black hair, her features were delicate, she had a gentle look in her brown eyes. She wore a beautiful white frock with red flowers in it. Her suitcase was black with three sets of clothing, hairbrush and her special pillow. Everyone in the house loved Anna, her soothing face made people forget their petty troubles and eased their mind. The old lady told them ‘Bring Anna as often as you can to the shop she will get lonely without her friends. So, once a week they took Anna to the shop and the old lady took her inside where her friends were while the kids then played with the other dolls. One day the old lady asked the children if they wanted to learn how to make the dolls. All three were very excited, she took them in her workshop asked them to sit and brought them cakes and tea. ‘Ok, let’s start from today then.’

Clara made her first doll. She was beautiful, actually the doll looked a lot like her but still it seemed incomplete. The doll had a beautiful blue frock very much like Clara’s favorite frock but something seemed amiss. Unlike the other dolls this doll lacked life. There was no definite expression on her face; she seemed commonplace, like ordinary dolls. She asked the old lady why her doll did not look like other dolls. ‘You need to give it a spirit my girl. Every doll here has a spirit. Like your Anna has the spirit of the kind-hearted schoolteacher Anna Lau. You have to trap a spirit in them, remember no bad spirits from anywhere but the spirit of a very good girl just like you or your little sister or even your brother.’

‘How do I put the spirit in?’ Clara had no idea what the old lady was saying. ‘You just have to visit the realm of the spirits & get one for your doll. They say it’s beautiful out there’, replied the old lady with a smile in her face. Clara looked at her blankly. ‘I don’t understand anything that you say. Spirits can come only from the dead, isn’t it? I mean we die & some of us become spirits. Right?’ The old lady looked displeased ‘That’s what they tell you but it’s far from the truth. You see, like we live in this world the spirits too live here, only we can’t see them & they can’t see us. But they are all here & their world is as colorful as ours. I will teach you a little incantation my girl, take the doll, press it against your heart & repeat it thrice. Tomorrow is a very special night, it’s that one night of the year when the realm of the spirits will open up & you will find a spirit for your doll.

That night right after midnight when everyone was asleep Clara quietly took out the doll from her bag. She tiptoed to the empty room where her father worked. She kissed the doll & held it close to her heart & slowly started chanting what the old lady had taught her.

Yes, that’s how it all started. Clara had forgotten a part of the incantation, the realm opened but the spooks could not go back. The spooks came out & never went back. So, even today the Rockwood house remains so badly haunted all the time. The Rockwoods had to leave the house. Who could put up with those endless numbers of spooks? Clara never told anyone what had actually happened but she knew she had started it all. What she did not know that the old lady had lied to her. It was Clara’s chant that opened the spirit realm and the two worlds that should have never met, met. It happened on October 31^st.

The old lady she still has the shop but no one knows what she does anymore. They tell me the shop closed down a year back. But remember now no matter what you do the spirit realm will open on 31^st October every year. The spooks will come out & walk in your world. You must confuse them, when they see that their world & our world is the same they go back. And yes sometimes the spooks don’t go back and that’s how some places become ‘haunted’.

Roma’s Story

2011-08-19T01:16:00.009-04:00

The attempt here is to write a typical old wives tale and not a regular scary story.

This is the story of Shukla family; it’s a very popular story in these parts. I don’t know if it’s true but people tell it to their kids all the time. It is about Roma Shukla the newly wed bride of the younger Shukla son. Within a week of her marriage Roma realized that she had married into a very strange family. Well, as such there was nothing wrong with them they went to work, came home ate dinner watched T.V, it was a pleasant enough family but every Sunday they sat with the Ouija board and called spirits to chit chat with. At least that’s how it seemed to an outsider and then they also carried out some strange rituals. From the very beginning Roma refused to be a part of this and was never forced to participate. So, every Sunday Roma would go to either her parent’s place or visit a friend and she came back home late night after their crazy rituals were over.

Soon she realized that not participating in the rituals had isolated her. The family seemed to share a very special bonding and she was not a part of it.

One Sunday she came home and found the family distraught. That evening their rituals had gone terribly wrong. It turned out that for the past few Sundays things had not been ‘normal’. Her sister in law even subtly indicated that ever since Roma arrived their rituals were not going the way they wanted. In fact, after Roma’s arrival their rituals were continuously interrupted but Roma did not react to the comment she knew they wanted her to feel guilty for staying away from their crazy rituals.

After a year of her marriage she realized she did not belong to the family at all. Everyone was distinctly cold to her. Her husband hardly talked to her or showed any warmth. She was gradually excluded from all the family conversations. They would stop laughing or talking when she entered. They went to a weekend picnic without her and gave her a lame reason like the place was spooky and she would not like it. The situation kept getting worse and soon no one in the family spoke to her. They would reply to her questions in monosyllables and even eat their dinners without her. Roma tried her best to go out of her way to do things for them but nothing was of any avail.

It was a full moon night and Roma Shukla had terrible nightmares. She dreamt that the china figurine of the young girl in their living room had a sinister expression as if she wanted to say something to her. Roma slept badly that night and at 4 she was wide-awake. She decided to go to the kitchen and make herself a cup of tea. As she was boiling water she saw a light in what she secretly called the hocus-pocus room. She decided to take a look. Inside she saw her mother in law sitting and chanting from a book. Her hair was disheveled, she had smeared her forehead with turmeric & vermillion and she rocked to and fro as she chanted the mantra. The china figurine that Roma had dreamt of was in front of her. Roma stood watching her for a sometime but her mother in law did not see her she was completely oblivious to the surroundings.
Roma drank her tea, made a jam sandwich and started reading a book. After an hour her mother in law came out and she was totally startled to see Roma. ‘You? What are you doing at this hour? You find it tough to even get up at 7.30. What’s wrong? Are you all right?’
‘What were you reading Maaji? I saw how absorbed you were I went in but you never realized.’ ‘It’s not your cup of tea Roma, we all know how you feel about our family traditions. I don’t think you will understand’, her mother in law replied sarcastically. ‘Try me because I want to know I had a nightmare of the china figurine you were worshipping which is why I got up. Is it some god?’ Roma asked. ‘Yes, the figurine is very special we bought it for a very special spell.’ Roma noticed a strange gleam in the old woman’s eyes. ‘Spell? What kind of spell?’ Roma now felt her stomach tightening. It couldn’t be what she was thinking. Were they black magicians? Was it a spell to kill her? ‘You will find out soon Roma’ her mother in law smiled. Soon all the family members came out of their rooms there was a strange sparkle in their eyes. They all started circling Roma and her Mother in law held the doll. Roma begun to cry ‘Please let me go I have done you no harm. Please I promise I will never come back I beg of you.’ She noticed the china figurine’s face had become her face. Roma fell at her mother in law’s feet and cried bitterly ‘Please, please let me go I have done you no harm. Spare my life’. ‘I married you because we needed a fresh body for our spells sorry darling.’ the answer came from her husband. They all began to chant, Roma tried to run but an invisible force held her tight and slowly her mother in law gingerly touched the figurine to her head and just as she was about to begin the ritual the statue exploded. Roma looked up and a horrible stench filled the room. Roma had turned into a horrible apparition it was the most ferocious face they had ever seen. The apparition grew and grew till it covered the entire house. Shukla's neighbor later said that he distinctly saw a a gigantic face swallowing the Bungalow.

The death of the Shuklas remain a mystery. They were found in a circle looking up at the sky and the fear in their eyes was indescribable. Only Roma Shukla was missing and she was never found again.

What happened after that? The story actually ends here. But do you know what they say? Be very careful while casting a dark spell because you may cast it on a very powerful witch and get back five times of what you cast. You may not know but there are very powerful witches who travel from place to place punishing the wicked and protecting the weak.

Some More Bollywood Movies You May Have Missed

2011-07-30T22:57:00.008-04:00

The post contains spoilers.
After watching N.A Ansari’s ‘Wahan ke Log’ I became a bit philosophical. I have only one life to live & the purpose of my life is to be happy. True happiness can never come by being selfish; happiness is in sharing and caring for others. So, here is one more post on Bollywood films you may have missed. I have tried not to stick to any particular genre but none of the films are love stories. There are thrillers, horror and science fiction to make this a rather eclectic post.

Mangal Sutra: There are several films of this name but I am talking of the one with Rekha and Anant Nag. For those of you who shamelessly & baselessly accused Vikram Bhatt of copying from ‘What Lies Beneath’, think twice. First of all Raaz was anything but a copy, the story was completely different and just because faintly similar incidents happen you yell out ‘Copy, copy’. This isn’t your fault, colonial mindset has made you like that. Have you ever thought that ‘What lies beneath’ could be a ‘Hollywoodized’ version of an Indian film?
Madan Puri and Om Shivpuri are childhood friends whose kids love each other. Madan Puri’s daughter is Rekha the gorgeous village belle and Anant Nag, Shivpuri’s son is the urbane educated rich boy. There is no hindrance to their marriage except that Om Shivpuri is way too greedy and he wants a fat dowry. And as the dowry matter was being pursued I was disappointed & I contemplated watching another film when this dowry bit was dropped like a hot potato and the two got married. As Rekha and Nag are about to consummate their marriage Nag gets possessed by a spirit. Initially doctors are called but Nag is so badly possessed that nothing can be done. Rekha now decides to confront the spirit and the spirit announces that she wants revenge. The spirit is Prema Narayan who claims that she was a college friend of Anant Nag who he had raped and had then promised to marry her. They even exchanged rings as a sign of commitment but he had jilted her & forced her to commit suicide. The spirit even shows the ring she had given him. But Nag has a different story to tell. It seems he was the college chick magnet and Prema Narayan was head over heels in love with him. One night she comes to his house and tries to seduce him but fails. She leaves in anger and says she would never leave him. Outside his house a truck smashes her but just before dying in the hospital she makes Anant Nag keep the ring saying that was her last wish. This of course shows totally planned and well executed haunting. While the audience is convinced that the ghost is telling the truth turns out Nag’s story is correct, he is chick magnet and all that. Finally, the power of Rekha’s Mangal Sutra drives the spirit off. I can understand if you say that Vikram Bhatt was perhaps inspired by this movie but Raaz had nothing to do with What Lies Beneath, always remember that.

Red Rose: In my last post on Bollywood movies I had urged you to watch Rajesh Khanna’s Red Rose. Please watch the movie, but if you don’t want to let me try and tempt you. Kaka is a rich man who for some reason lives in a really grotesquely decorated house. Red sofa, pink walls, bizarre wallpapers, red curtains, he has weird staff namely Om Shivpuri, the gardener who loves to grow red roses. One day Kaka spots Poonam Dhillon a salesgirl and rather candidly starts sexually harassing her. Since this is Kaka the girl is not at all appalled by the Middle Aged man’s advances and is extremely happy when he says he is in love with her. Kaka then clarifies his concept of love, he wants to do Poonam. Poonam agrees to it but only after Kaka marries her, brings her to his strange house and as he is showing her around the lady inquires about a locked room. Kaka tells Poonam the room has nothing of consequence some old documents, files etc. Just as Kaka is about to get what he wants finally a phone call comes and Kaka has to leave.
Meanwhile bored being alone in the house Poonam starts to explore and it gets way too interesting for her. It starts with Kaka’s black cat who likes to drink blood and then heavy rains show that there is a woman’s corpse buried in Kaka’s garden, as it rains a hand pops out. Poonam then enters the mystery room and Kaka had engraved his entire life story on the wall. When Kaka was a teenager (played by Mayur) his stepmother used to beat him regularly. He runs away from home and finds a job in another village where his chores amongst other things include washing the undergarments of his employer’s daughter. Now the sight of a teenager washing her bra makes the daughter of the household very horny. She tries to molest Kaka but as she is about to do it the parents return and she blames the situation on Kaka. Kaka once again homeless finds another house in the city where the lady of the house cheats on her husband. Upon finding out the husband kills the wife and young Kaka is delighted he yells ‘Aisi aurton ke saath aisa hi hona chahiye’. (This should happen to whores like these). The husband turned murderer (Satyen Kappu) decides to adopt Kaka and raises him to be a serial killer (if you don’t believe me watch it). So, Kaka becomes a successful businessman and a serial killer who only kills ‘loose women’. Poonam naturally freaks out and realizes she is next but Poonam is mistaken, Kaka is in love with her because she is not a ‘loose woman’ but it’s too late. Ponam becomes the whistle blower and Kaka is caught. In the end Kaka goes gaga. But the movie raises many very serious questions. For example, in the end Poonam Dhillon says Kaka may be an insane serial killer but she still wants to be his wife and pray for him to get well and so that they can live happily ever after…& she is not declared insane. Also, as a trophy Kaka keeps the bras of his victims. When we see the bras we can’t help but wonder whether Kaka was killing them for their character or their bra size. All his victims have the exact same bra. As I said questions, serious questions.

Trip to Moon: India is all set to go to the moon. Our best astronaut Dara Singh is ready but the night before the rocket is to be launched fairies from the moon start appearing. They seduce our scientists (starting with Moni Chaterjee) and take them to the moon. Why? Because they don’t want earthlings to soil their beautiful perfect world. So, Dara Singh and Bhawan Dada (Dara’s best friend) are kidnapped by the moon fairy Shimoga and taken to the moon. On their way to the moon Shimoga’s spaceship is attacked by the evil king of Mars (played by Anwar Hussain) who is in love with Shimoga and Dara saves Shimoga’s life. Shimoga is in love with Dara and as he reaches the moon plenty of moon fairies fall in love with him. Dara and Bhagwan are kept in captivity but Dara escapes and then there is a full-scale galactic warfare with the evil king of Mars. To add to the confusion Bhagwan has a twin alien brother who is the right hand of the evil Mars king. If you have watched Dara Singh’s movies you will know that Dara Singh is a very innocent man. He doesn’t know anything about love and sex. So like every other movie in this movie too the moon fairy Shimoga spends a lot of time explaining to Dara what love is. In the end of course the wicked Mars King is defeated, there is peace in the galaxy & aliens and humans live in perfect harmony.

Ek Anhonee: I feel the apt name for this movie should have been ‘Anek Anhonee’ but never mind let’s go on with the story. There is a genius financial planner who has it all… looks, money, glamour and a bungalow in Khandala. He plans a meeting with a client in Khandala and as he is driving there he bumps into a super sexy girl whose car has broken down. The girl is none other than Mauli Dave and it turns out she is the same client he is going to meet. They travel together and as expected by the time they reach it’s late and he asks her to stay in his house. She agrees but in no time discovers the house is horribly haunted. The spook wants Mauli to carry out an inquisition. The cool guy has way too many secters. It turns out that the spook is his wife who had died in a car accident. Ok, Mauli goes back to get some rest but no not enough the ghost haunts her again and asks her to investigate more. Ok, the wife was cheating on him because he had gotten too busy with his career one day she was driving with her lover and when a truck hit their car. Mauli tries to again catch some sleep but alas again, not enough spook now scares her with more intensity and throws a diary at her. Turns out the wife had decided to go away with her lover and this guy followed them and smashed them to a pulp under his truck. However, I told you before this movie is anek anhonee. When he was smashing his wife’s car there was another car coming from the opposite direction and he killed the passenger in that car as well. And Mauli Dave was the girl he had killed, ya she came back for revenge. Mauli is also a ghost…BOO.

Mallika: This is my personal favorite recent movie. This movie is a perfect tribute to the Ramsay Brothers. It even has a cameo by Anirudh Agrawal and he is called Samri. To escape the haunting in her house Sheena Nayyar goes to a fort in Rajasthan for a holiday. On the way she befriends Samir Dattani and the two fall in love. But alas, the fort is way more haunted than her house. Soon guests start dying mysteriously and a spirit of a woman urges Sheena to dig up old graves. Sheena obeys and uncovers the story of the owner of the fort. The owner of the fort was Mallika who and Sheena is Mallika’s humshakal (look alike). She was married to Mamik. Mamik had married Mallika for money, he tortures her and then kills her brutally. Spirit of Mallika now wants him here and wants revenge. But the spirit of Mallika is a bit odd while she totally confides in her look alike, she uses the body of Samir Dattani to complete her revenge. The film raises a lot of questions, ‘Why did Mallika kill people who had nothing to do with her death?’ ‘Why did Mallika use Sameer’s body when a look alike was available? Will Mallika be born again, if yes how will she look?’ But in the end the film announces that it can’t answer these questions because Kudrat (nature) is much greater than this film and riddles of nature can’t be solved.

Wahan ke Log: I did save the best for the last. When people raved so much about Rakesh Roshan’s ‘Koi Mil Gaya’ no one realized that N.A Ansari and T.P Sundaram (Trip to Moon) had beaten him eons back in this alien theme. Aliens (Wahan ke Log) come down from Mars in flying saucers and steal diamonds from rich men. If they try to act smart they are shot with laser guns. There is a scientist called Prof. Chakravarthy (played by Ansari himself) who claims that he had made a machine through which he can communicate with the aliens. Chakravarthy’s son Anil (once again Ansari, YEAH) is an evil genius who has a machine by which he can control everyone who works for him. You see if you work for Anil all he asks you is to wear a special locket of the ‘syndicate’. Once you wear the locket Anil can see everything you do sitting in his lab. Anil’s right hand is Margaret (and yes as you have guessed played by Nilofer) & together they seem to blow up cars and keep bragging as to how evil they are. But Anil has only one threat a brilliant secret agent played by Pradeep Kumar. Wait, I get it you are shell shocked. But let me once again explain to you the complex mind of N.A Ansari. Do you remember Big B’s famous line from Chupke Chupke ‘Kabhi kabhi do baatein na hue bhi ho jati hai, jo nahi hoti hai woh kabhi kabhi hoke bhi…’ (Sometimes few things don’t happen but the still happen and what doesn’t happen that can happen..) You see N.A Ansari’s films are a bit like this riddle. Whenever you think you comprehend, you don’t. Initially you think it’s a science fiction, then you think this is probably a thriller but soon your entire perception thrill and mystery is shattered when you see Pradeep Kumar as a dashing secret agent. The guy barely moves and is extremely somber also he seems utterly disoriented but that’s probably got to do with the fact that a beautiful woman (Tanuja) is haunting him. Yes, as people from Mars steal diamonds and you think Pradeep Kumar’s job is solving the Mars mystery the poor man has a spooky experience when he falls for a girl who he realizes is the 200 year old ghost of a princess. Meanwhile Anil kills his father, dresses up as his father and continuously humiliates Pradeep Kumar. Poor Pradeep Kumar even Johnny Walker makes fun of him but things turn out ok for him when he discovers that Tanuja is not a ghost and she was testing his true love. Just as poor Pradeep Kumar wants to marry and settle down Tanuja and her father are abducted by Martians. Pradeep Kumar then moves about like a headless chicken and Johnny Walker finally manages to fathom the mystery. You see N.A Ansari had an island near Mumbai. From the island he controlled spaceships that went and stole diamonds from rich men in Mumbai. The Martians were robots designed by him and he used to kill his opponents with laser gun. Ansari’s brilliant project was being funded by an enemy country but only due to sheer misfortune he is caught. As he tries to escape to the enemy territory Pradeep Kumar manages to catch him and Ansari is shot in the process. While dying he sums up the entire movie in one line ‘Meri koi aakhiri khwaish nahi hai sirf shikayat hai. Faltu admi zinda rehte hai aur kabil, kabil mar jaate hai’ (I don’t have any last wish but just a complaint. Useless people live and capable ones just die).

I apologize for my lousy translation of Big B’s line from Chupke Chupke but I hope the basic idea is understood.

Not Your Regular Bollywood Thrillers

2011-07-17T04:13:00.022-04:00

The post contains spoilers

All of you know the big Bollywood mysteries and thrillers. I could of course write on my favorites like Itefaq, Bees Saal Baad, Woh Kaun Thi, Parwana, Gupt, Kanoon, Jewel thief, Humraaz (old one) ok I can go on and on. These are immensely popular movies. But what about the unknown gems? So, here is a list of few movies that most of you may not have watched.

Kaala Admi: Don’t go by the name. This movie has nothing to do with racial prejudice. The name refers to a mysterious individual dressed in black. The purpose of this movie is to reiterate a well-established fact. Ashok Kumar is the chic magnet of Bollywood. Nutan drops handsome young Dharmendra to rush to ailing Dadamoni in Bandini, In Mahal Madhubala & Ranjana just pine and die for him, women can’t resist Dadamoni and this happens in Kaala Admi too. A beautiful young heiress played by Shyama has many suitors including Mehmood but she shuns them all. For her heart belongs to an artist played by Dadamoni who repeatedly tells her that he is way too old for her. But like every other woman she insists ‘Pooja bhi toh badhon ki jaati hai, main sirf tumhari hoon’. (You can only revere elders, I belong to you.) But mysterious baddies try to kill Ashok Kumar, they fail but the man loses his eyesight. Yet Shyama insists on marrying the blind old man, so strong is the magic of Dadamoni. But the main question the film raises is who is this Kaala Admi? Who blinded Dadamoni? Who Killed Rita (played by Nilofer) the only witness? Who is the figure who instructs only through gesture & never speaks. I loved the solution, the Kaala Admi is not a man it’s Shyama’s evil twin who dresses up like a man and wants to kill good Shyama and live her life. The movie ends abruptly when the evil twin is shot and Ashok Kumar gets back his eyesight in a jiffy. This movie makes to my list simply because of the title and how the Kaala Admi is none other than gorgeous Shyama.

Tower House: N.A Ansari is the only reason why this film made it on my list. If you don’t know who he is it’s time you did. He is responsible for murder mysteries like Lighthouse, Black Cat, Mr. Murder, Wahan ke Log & so on. He always played the negative role in his films but besides his own films he has acted in several others. The beauty of N.A Ansari film is that what you perceive to be a mystery is actually not a mystery. Let me try and explain. Tower House revolves round a haunted tower. The spirit of Shakila’s mother who had killed herself from there haunts the tower. You will think that the dad may have some hand in the death but the moment you see S.N Banerjee playing the father you know it’s not him. Then there are cops who suspect that something is wrong with the tower so you will assume the movie is about the mystery of the tower. No, it isn’t. It is about a mysterious stranger with an eye patch (played by N.A Ansari) who comes from Africa. This stranger is an old friend of the family and despite being the father’s friend makes lewd comments at Shakila who is engaged to Ajit. Now you will think it is about the mystery of the stranger. Wrong again, stranger dies, he is killed by a tiger when they go on a hunt. As you are trying to work out what the film is about all the mysteries end together. N.A Ansari is the bad guy who had trapped Shakila’s mother and used to throw dummies from the tower to scare people. Why? Ansari is not interested in answering these mundane questions instead he focuses on the big picture. Whenever you settle and think ok this is the mystery…he proves you wrong. Do watch his films, I find them extremely comforting and fresh. Ah! I forgot to add once again Nilofer plays the role of Miss Mary here. In most mystery movies Nilofer always played the Anglo-Indian girl either Rita, Mary or Lily.

C U at 9: Have you ever had the urge to bang your head against the wall and tear your hair? No! Then watch this movie, trust me it’s a magic. Once you have sat through this you may even have death wish. It’s the desi version of the Japanese thriller Audition. If you have watched ‘Audition’ you will know how disturbing the film is. Audition will make you sick, push your limits while you may not like the film you have to grudgingly admit it’s a very well made movie. C U at 9 is about a young man receiving mysterious calls from a girl who wants to see him at 9. Initially he refuses but later agrees to meet her in a shady joint. He falls in love with the girl who is the very symbol of innocence & as they are falling in love you want to get up and strangle both of them but you wait since it’s a murder mystery and someone will get killed. Killing happens only in the end when the crazy girl hacks her lover to pieces. I am adding this movie as only a warning. Don’t watch this one. I have never before urged anyone to not watch a movie but this one is pure suffering. The purpose of including the name of this film is purely altruistic, I want to save you.

Khoon Khoon: I am a huge Mahendra Sandhu fan. Smashing, dashing man Mahendra Sandhu! The cool hairstyle, the charm, the fantastic clothes he wore…pure enchantment. Khoon Khoon is a cat & mouse tale between a super cop & a serial killer played by Danny. The story starts with the horrible childhood of Danny where his parents torture him & Danny is all messed up. But there is an interesting angle to his serial killing. His victims are random and he shoots them in sniper style. He starts by killing Faryal (who plays the role of a dancer), then an old man and then a child. I have to admit Danny is the strangest serial killer I have ever seen. Danny then abducts a future victim (Padma Khanna) and keeps her with him to satiate his lust. All through the film you will think that at a point they will go back to Danny’s childhood since the film starts from that point and look for more answers to his behavior. But Danny is no Rajesh Khanna of Red Rose, so he is simply killed in the end by Sandhu. And if you haven’t watched Red Rose please do. Imagine Kaka as a serial killer…no you can’t imagine so just watch the movie.

Agent Vinod: I wish Saif’s Agent Vinod is a carbon copy of this one. It’s my favorite Mahendra Sandhu movie. Sandhu was born to play the role of a secret agent. An Indian scientist (played by Nasir Hussain) had made a machine that can deactivate extremely powerful bombs. He is kidnapped by Iftekar and company but he has hidden the formula. Agent Vinod with the help of his daughter (Asha Sachdev) saves the nation and restores peace. Sandhu is so good as Agent Vinod that in the movie Jagdeep is called 007, really the charm of Sandhu makes 007 look comical. But that’s not all in this film Asha Sachdev lives under the guise of a male taxi driver to hide from the baddies and search for her father. You heard me right Asha Sachdev as a man. I shall not explain why that is odd, think.

Swaha: This film is a tribute to N.A Ansari. This brilliant movie would have been a masterpiece had they recast the lead pair (Rikkee & Svetlana). They had a small part but even those few minutes were difficult to endure. As I said it’s a tribute to Ansari. It starts with Irshat Ali (our dear Lambu Atta) dressed very much like Guru Ravi Shankar and is surrounded by followers. The background narration convinces you that the film is a statement on superstition and godmen. But in no time it becomes the story of a haunted house. The Guru visits his disciples new Bungalow and witnesses terrible haunting. Then it becomes the story of a haunted house and people start dying. So, you think it’s a ghost story, you are further assured when Rajesh Vivek arrives to trap the evil spirit. But no, the spirits are not evil they are spirits of three girls who had killed themselves because they fear their father’s creditors will rape them. Hmmm…but then again you are confused when the hero starts beating up the father of the dead girls and blames him for all the evil. And amidst all the confusion the hero’s father is about to die. He is saved by ‘Mata Rani’s’ blessings and is free for superstitions forever. Meanwhile the Guru is also killed by a running truck. To admire this movie you need to focus on the big picture just like Ansari’s films. Don’t focus on minor details it is a broad canvas, a multi-thematic plot.

Elaan: Not Vikram Bhatt’s with Prabhuji as a villain, not Akki’s and Madhu’s action flick. This is Vinod Mehra’s Elaan where he plays an upright journalist turned into a CBI agent due to circumstances. You need to watch this movie with lot of concentration, it is full of fabulous moments. Let me tell you one of them. Jagirdar plays the role of Professor of Mesmerism, a man who can seduce any girl whenever he wants to but complains to Madan Puri that his students are so unattractive that he doesn’t want to use his skills. This movie is Ali Baba’s cave with endless treasures.

Chandi Sona: Treasure brings me to my next movie. It’s a straight forward treasure hunt adventure led by Sanjay Khan and Pran. There is enormous treasure hidden under the tomb of King Chandi Sona and legend has it that if anyone took the treasure the king's spirit will curse them. But Pran and Sanjay dig a tunnel with the help of Danny, Ranjeet, Asrani, Paintal, Mukri and Hercules. There are not too many Bollywood films on treasure hunt so this one is a fun watch. Mukri plays a gay guy attracted to Hercules, he even makes lewd comments at Pran. Coming to think of it the movie did have a fascination for male bodies, while Parveen Babi is clothed we continuously see Danny in bare minimum clothing and finally there is an item number by Raj Kapoor…

Parde Ke Peeche: : A haunted mansion where people die mysteriously. It belongs to rich man Raj Mehra who lives in the city. Work and bad reputation of the mansion brings him to the mansion accompanied by Vinod Mehra who is his son’s friend. At night Raj mehra witnesses terrible haunting and rushes back home but his son (surprisingly played by Suresh who is perhaps older than him), his nephew (Pran) and their friend (Jagdeep) want to fathom the mystery. So the four men come to find out if the mansion is really haunted or not. Meanwhile Vinod Mehra falls in love with the cook played by Yogeeta Bali (who btw makes her son’s acting look like Naseeruddin Shah’s performance) and there is also Bindu who comes to live in the mansion because goons attacked her and Suresh had rescued her. The haunting is primarily a beautiful girl singing and few things moving. But then one day Pran is murdered. Pran of course is a drunk debauch who tries to rape everyone and Vinod Mehra is arrested for his murder since Pran had attempted to molest Yogeeta. Now forget the details, Vinod and Bindu are CBI agents. So what’s the mystery? An escaped criminal had hidden in the house and he had built a lab in the basement. Through his lab he controlled the windows, moved furniture and even created the illusion of the dancing girl. He gained entry in the house by dressing as a priest. But he did not kill Pran, then who did? That’s exactly why this movie makes to my list. Jagdeep. Jagdeep had a sister who Pran raped and she killed herself so this revenge angle. This again is a movie that will leave behind a long trail of conundrums but Jagdeep as the murderer is cool. Another movie where the comedian was the murderer was Jeetendra and Rekha’s Jal Mahal.

Gehra Raaz:Anita Raj is traveling by train to Raigadh and her elderly companion asks her if she believes in ghosts. She laughs at the question and then the man disappears. Even then Anita Raj has an expression of complete indifference on her face. The only reason to see this film is Anita Raj, she makes Arjun Rampal look expressive, a tree is less wooden than her. I have never seen a performance so half hearted because as such Anita Raj is not a very bad actress. The thakur of Raigadh (Raj Babbar) has a son and Anita Raj is the new governess. However, there is one big problem. The spirit of the mother played by Salma Agha badly haunts the manor. How did she die? Well, the thakur was a musician he was obsessed with music and would practice his sitar with the court dancer (Jamuna) everyday. The wife hated his overnight music sessions with Jamuna & Sudhir Pandey (thakur’s manager) further instigated her. Finally, she kills Jamuna. Angry thakur throws her out of the house and she kills herself. But her spirit can’t forget the son so she keeps singing and haunting. Then one day Anita Raj sees the gardener (played by none other than BM Vyas) disappearing in the middle of the night. She follows him but finds that a snake has killed him. She looks at him as she would look at eggs for breakfast and returns home. Finally, after outstanding indifference and letting few more die Anita Raj cracks the mystery. She is a cop in disguise. Salma Agha is not dead and Sudhir Pandey is the bad guy. He wanted to marry Jamuna but she rejects him. In anger he breaks her leg and corners her into committing suicide. He traps Salma to think she is the killer and then makes her dress as a spook and haunt. Why B.M Vyas and others are killed we do not know. Anita Raj does not bother to tell us. And what I hold against her is she did not take any effort to save one of my favorite actors B.M Vyas.

Trivia: Shame on you if you don’t know BM Vyas. The best evil magician Bollywood ever had. He played the part of Makkar Jadugar Kamlaksh to perfection. Amrish Puri, Kader Khan and Shakti Kapoor were very good as well but the prototype of evil magician was BM Vyas. He is also my favorite asur & rakshah in mythological films. This picture in the post is from Homi Wadia’s ‘Ali Baba and 40 Thieves’ where he plays the daku sardar.

Tulsi Ramsay & the Meeting

2011-06-28T18:55:00.008-04:00

I met Mr.Tulsi Ramsay in his apartment cum office at Andheri. I am not going to talk about how excited I was or how I will treasure it for the rest of my life because that’s not the point of this post. This is about Mr. Tulsi Ramsay and my meeting with him.

How did the Ramsay Productions start?

The story starts with a film called Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi, produced by F.U Ramsay. The film was directed by Vishram Bedekar starring Prithvi Raj Kapoor, Shatrughan Sinha and Mumtaz. The film did not do well at the Box office and the producers lost great deal of money.

But two important developments emerged out of this film. First, the Ramsays decided to make their own team and the team of seven Ramsay brothers (later known as horror brothers) was formed. The idea behind this was economy. One of the reasons for Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi failing was also because the director could not stay within the budget. A home team would mean they would be able to stick to the budget. So, this is how Ramsay Productions started where everyone was self-taught/ trained. They took on different roles, Tulsi & Shyam Ramsay took to direction, Kumar Ramsay wrote the script, Gangu and the late Keshu Ramsay handled the cinematography unit, Arjun Ramsay became the editor & Kiran Ramsay was the sound recordist.

Why horror?

For this we again have to go back to Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi where Prithvi Raj Kapoor is a thakur whose jewel studded dagger has been seized by the government and kept as a museum exhibit. Thakur decides to steal the dagger that is rightfully his. He wears a mask, a bulletproof vest & breaks into the museum. He steals the dagger & sets off the alarm. Guards come in and see a huge figure walking away with the dagger. They shoot but he is unhurt and continues to move. They think he is a monster. Once on the street a cab driver sees him and he is so afraid of the gigantic monster that he meets with an accident. While the movie did not do well this scene became immensely popular. Mr. Tulsi Ramsay himself watched it with the audience at different theatres and saw that the monster scene had gained immense popularity. Those were not the days of ‘All India Release’ or ‘World Release’. Movies first released in Bombay (it was Bombay then) & then went to other cities. Anyway this popularity gave them an idea….the audience likes being scared why not scare them.

The story of Do Gaz Zameen ke Neeche:

In a way this movie symbolizes the Ramsay structure. It was a low budget horror film. The movie was shot in Mahabaleshwar and the cast and crew stayed at the Holiday Camps that cost only Rs 6 to 8 back then. They carried their ration and hired cooks. The movie was a huge success and the profits were even higher because the production cost was low. Since then the Ramsays have maintained this economic model. They never made extravagant productions and most of their movies earned well.

The rest of the story we know. If not just go back to my old posts.

Zee Horror Show:

The show that made pots of money for Zee TV & one of the major profit making ventures for the Ramsays. The show was later called ‘Anhonee’. Mr. Tulsi Ramsay mentioned that the first episode with Archana Puran Singh’s head on the plate had become very popular. But he does not need to tell us that, the show ran for 11-12 seasons. And even today when we think of horror the very first name that comes to our mind is the Ramsay Brothers.

Trivia: Mr. Tulsi Ramsay’s personal favorite Ramsay movie is Veerana. He loves Vikram Bhatt and has watched ‘Haunted’ twice already. Btw Haunted reminds me that the first 3D horror was Saamri 3D made by the Ramsay brothers. Also, it seems before me someone from Canada had visited Mr. Ramsay had 5 day session with him, they had taken photographs…I can’t wait for a monograph on the Ramsay Brothers. It’s time we acknowledge the pioneers now that Raagini MMS and Haunted have both done so well at the box office.

Finally, a word about my feelings. Bliss is an understatement. All these years of dedication was well worth it. I met Tulsi Ramsay.

Just Boring

2011-06-13T01:56:00.002-04:00

‘Remember boring is not always bad’, that’s what grandma had told him once. He forgot the context but somehow the statement had stayed on in his mind. True, boring was perhaps not bad but boring was still boring. Jay had stayed all his life in this sleepy village, married Annette who was much older than him (and that was the only ‘sensational’ thing Jay ever did), had two children and last year when he turned 60, Annette and he went for a vacation to Europe, a thoughtful birthday gift from Annette.

Jay was a happy man. His son had settled in Vancouver worked for a bank and his daughter taught at a school in Hamilton. He loved his wife, they had a home and he was healthy. Somehow there was comfort in being boring. But being boring consistently is not easy either. Boredom is bound to affect you. With the children gone Jay’s life was now really dull. ‘Why can’t we have some big adventure Annie? Like the movies, some aliens abduct us and then we go to another planet or something.’ Annette smiled, ‘You have a point. Aliens often choose sleepy villages. But if they have any sense they would abduct the Goldens, now that’s a couple one needs to study.’ Jay laughed, ‘You bet. But I find them terribly pretentious they overdo the New Age thing. I often think something is seriously wrong with them.’ But tell me seriously Annie don’t you long for some big adventure.’ ‘You are wrong Jay, the Goldens do have a gift but they are odd yes. I don’t long for adventures, especially not supernatural ones. I am happy this way. You know, I met a witch once my aunt died the next day, so no I don’t want to have any supernatural experience ever. Once is enough.’

Jay was totally taken aback, was Annette joking? Annette was superstitious yes, but this was just so sudden and she said it in such a matter of fact way. ‘Annie, you never told me anything about it. What happened.’ ‘It was before I met you Jay, long back but I don’t want to talk about it. Gosh! Why did I even mention it, it’s not a good omen.’ ‘Where did you see the witch?’ he asked her. She was clearly upset now, ‘Jay I made a mistake by mentioning it please don’t talk about it. It was by the swamps the short cut to Black Forest Inn, I used to work there then. But please don’t ask me anymore I just don’t want to talk about it. Talking about the witch will bring bad luck.’

Jay was now intrigued. He knew Annette would not tell him anything but unlike him she did have an extraordinary experience. At least Annette had something to write about if she wrote an autobiography. Was he the dullest man that ever lived? Really, there was no element of surprise in his life. Annette loved routine. He even knew what she would make for dinner, like every Thursday she roasted a chicken, she made Chinese on Wednesdays, tried Thai curries every alternate Fridays and Tuesday meant meatloaf. When did they ever have anything different for Thanksgiving? Every damn year it was the turkey from Sam’s farm, that stupid squash dish he hated…boring was not good or bad it was just boring, in life there is good, bad and boring…and while thinking about boredom he saw her.

She was not more than 20, perhaps less. He had never seen anyone more beautiful than her. Those lovely blonde locks caressing her face, her sea green eyes and then like magic her eyes met his and she smiled…

It was midnight, and once again he had lied to Annette about the poker at Henry’s. He had to go home now but the thought of home filled him with anger. Home, that disgusting dull place with the old wife reading some stupid murder mystery. Everything about Annette now annoyed him. He hated her meat pies, her stupid dowdy clothes, she made him sick. He had to go to her leaving Clara behind. Clara, the magic, the answer to his prayers. Clara had the body of a goddess and innocence of a child. Clara was all he cared for, Clara was his life.

Today was exactly 6 months since they met at the Black Forest Inn. Since then every single day of his life had been bliss. Initially, there was guilt, he was cheating on Annette for the first time but he was glad he did. Woman like that deserved nothing better. That old hag, that stupid old hag. She was so much older than him, why could she not die and free him from this punishment. Hadn’t he served her enough? Every night he prayed for her death but she seemed healthier than before. She happily did all the housework, went for long walks nothing ever happened to her. So many hit and runs, sometimes old women loose balance and fall off from cliffs….no Annette was not going to die soon. That old woman had always been the one to make decisions in the marriage, this selfish cruel woman had ruined his life. He would have never realized what true happiness was if he had not met Clara. Life without Clara was not worth living so finally he did what he had to do.

‘Will you give me a divorce Annie?’ And the most unexpected thing happened. ‘Yes, of course. I can move out today if you want. The earlier the better I guess.’

She went in her room and started packing. He had never been this shocked in his life. How could Annette let go so easily? Did she not care about him? Did she not love him? ‘Annie, aren’t you upset I asked for a divorce. I mean come on this can’t be normal’. Annette smiled ‘You want a divorce take it, don’t question me. You are asking me for something and I am giving it to you let’s just keep it at that.’

After that there was complete silence. He did not realize when she finished her packing and when she left. As if Annette had vanished into thin air. Annette was gone, the house was empty. How easily those 33 years of togetherness ended. He first felt anger, then remorse and for some strange reason the tears would not stop. The doorbell rang, thank god Annette was back. It was Clara. But Clara looked different now, her liveliness was replaced with a frown, her sea green eyes looked grayish and her pink lips now seemed brownish. She was beautiful yes, but there was something sinister about the beauty. It was a sort of beauty that you did not want to touch. There was something unfamiliar, uncomfortable about her.

‘You have all you wanted Jay. The wife is gone you will never see her again. What a relief the old hag has disappeared! You can now live the rest of your life with me. Just you and me. I will take care of you my darling, I will watch over you now that she is gone.’ She kissed him but it was not the soft familiar kiss but a kiss that choked him, she was sucking up his breath and all he could hear was a deafening wail. His eyes close, the wail grew louder…

The police never believed a word of what the Goldens said but they had to hear their testimony ‘It’s not a natural death. The Witch was after him ever since his wife died six months back. Poor Annette her spirit did everything to protect him but the fool he asked the spirit to go and sealed his fate.’

Constable Kent felt bad for the Goldens. Dull life in the village had made them so desperate for adventure that they now blamed heart attacks on witches. But everyone did say he had gone quite insane since his wife died. It seemed he never even understood that she was gone. Constable Kent smiled, as he was drove back from work. In this sleepy dull village almost everyone lives and dies in a predictable humdrum way. Life here is not good, not bad but boring, just boring.

Aunt Susie's Inn

2011-04-09T04:45:00.015-04:00

It was called ‘Aunt Susie’s Inn: Try our homemade soups today.’ Inside the eatery there was a beautiful rose-bordered board that read ‘ Our soups are made only with the freshest ingredients, this is not just a soup but an experience.’ Ron had discovered this when he had taken a wrong turn on the highway and was desperately hungry. He always had an inherent mistrust for places that were called ‘Mom’s’ or ‘Aunt Hilda’s’ but he was very hungry, he was almost weak with hunger so he decided to take a chance and enter the place. There was something about the place that he could not pin point. It was sickeningly feminine almost 'aunt-like'. Pink lace curtains, dainty vases with flowers kept on the windowsill, the tables had pale cream tablecloth with lavender colored roses. The cutlery too had flowers painted on them. Ron soon discovered he was the youngest person in the place the average age seemed to be around 70. There were plenty of elderly people eating their luncheon, but he did like the smell in the place there was something very appetizing about it.

The menu was brought in by someone who could be Aunt Susie and the menu card too had flowers. The flowers were now getting on Ron’s nerves. ‘Hello dear, how are you’, the waitress said, ‘Must be so hungry. Let me get you our special soup today. Lamb with vegetables, it is just the thing for a very hungry man.’ And she winked. Ron was in no mood to think and he decided to just eat whatever was offered. In no time the soup arrived in a huge bowl with rose border along with some bread and mash.

The soup was divine. It was beyond any description. He had never felt so energized yet calm and relaxed at the same time. The soup was magical. After finishing it he felt as if his whole life had changed. The bill surprised him, it was only $2. Ron gladly paid $10 and before leaving took a card of the place he was going to come there again. Even if it meant driving 2 hours from home. This place was worth it.

After the soup Ron’s life changed too. Ron got promoted in his job, he finally managed to ask Becky out and it turned out Becky was equally interested in him. And then one day Ron decided to take Becky to the magical Aunt Susie’s soup place. That day it was chicken soup with dumplings. Ron again had the feeling of sheer joy, but the soup made Becky almost euphoric and Becky even landed up having a long conversation with the waitress. However there was one thing that kept lingering in Ron’s mind. The customers he saw that day were exactly the same people. That of course he could explain, it was lunch time and the soup was so good that if he lived close by he would come there everyday too. But what he did not comprehend was why were they all wearing the exact same clothes. Perhaps he was mistaken and they had similar clothes... yet it did strike Ron as odd. He was of course happy because Becky was ecstatic. She could not stop talking about it all week.

Next week was Becky’s birthday and all she wanted was to go back to Aunt Susie. She did not want any expensive French dinner that Ron had saved up for. That day the soup was chunky potato and beef. They even got a cupcake for Becky because it was her birthday. But for the first time Ron could not be happy about Becky’s happiness. First of all this time he was sure that the customers were the exact same people with the exact same clothes. There was something not natural about Becky’s joy. To Ron it seemed as if someone had cast a spell on her. He did feel guilty for his inability to take pleasure in such a beautiful perfect moment. Yes, that was the problem it was just way too perfect. It was a perfect village with a perfect garden and a perfect eatery. Life simply could not be like that. It was either an illusion or he was insane. And as the doubts begun clouding his mind he started feeling complete distaste for the place. He felt claustrophobic, shades of pale pink and lavender now nauseated him. All he wanted was to just get out of this place. There was something definitely wrong with this place. He was only too happy when he left. He decided never to go back there again.

But it was impossible to reason with Becky. Also, he had no real reason to hate the place. In two week’s time he had to again succumb to Becky’s request. In fact, earlier he had even contemplated ending his relation with Becky just to avoid the place but Becky was really the most beautiful, warm and compassionate girl he had ever met. He deeply loved her, love was about making some adjustments. He was planning to propose marriage to Becky soon.

He dreaded going to ‘Aunt Susie’s’ now. This time he was afraid of even entering the place and the moment he entered the claustrophobia returned. He was feeling terribly sick now. By now he knew he would see the exact same people with the exact same clothes and he did. This time he did not even hear what soup it was but when it came the smell revolted him. He could not bring himself to eat it. But Becky like the rest seemed to love it. He took a spoonful and the taste disgusted him. It was bitter, oily he somehow swallowed it but could not eat anymore. Noticing his odd behavior Becky asked him why he was not eating and he told her he wasn’t feeling well. Upon hearing this the waitress came rushing ‘O my dear if you are not well then you must have our clear soup, you must. It will make you feel better instantly.’ Before he could protest she came with a bowl of soup. He did his best to resist but he realized the more he resisted the more frenzied everyone became. They all surrounded him and asked him to drink the soup Becky too joined them. He took a sip and then few more sips. Soon he felt sharp inexplicable pain and before he could react there was darkness all round.

He first saw his mother, then his father and gradually he could hear voices. He realized they were all happy because he had gained consciousness. After a while he discovered that he had tried to commit suicide by poisoning himself in his apartment. It was sheer luck his neighbor had felt alarmed by his behavior when he had met him at the corridor and this wise neighbor had informed 911.

‘I never tried to kill myself I was poisoned.’ Ron said angrily. ‘And where is Becky, she was with me. Those people at Aunt Susie’s poisoned me.’ But everyone else including Becky was telling a different story. Becky had never gone with him to the soup place. As a matter of fact she had decided to break up with him because he had disappeared on her birthday but later when he had bought her the lovely bracelet and she had forgiven him. She never understood Ron’s story when he had told her that he could buy the bracelet because her birthday lunch had practically cost him nothing. She thought he was perhaps too preoccupied with his new project and besides that one mistake he was a great boyfriend.

Ron soon realized everyone disbelieved him. Also there was no Aunt Susie’s anywhere. The place he drove them to turned out to be an empty plot of land. Ron’s boss felt he was overworked and needed a break so Ron was given leave for 2 weeks.

Ron now had time to inquire about Aunt Susie’s . He knew he was neither insane nor delusional. There had to be some explanation and he was rewarded pretty soon. In fact, 86 yr old Jennifer was a baby when all this happened but she remembered it all quite well. ‘Yes, Susie she had a little shop here, nothing fancy but she always told my Ma she wanted a nice Victorian shop. Susie had an insane daughter you know quite mad she was and very dangerous. Susie made wonderful soups but then the tragedy happened. One day, during the lunch hour her insane daughter put poison that she had stolen from the chemist and added it in the soup pot. Everyone died instantly even Susie and her daughter. It was the biggest sensation in this place that I can tell you. It was in the front page of the papers for days. Terrible tragedy.’ But this was not something that haunted Ron it was the picture of the insane daughter that he saw later in the newspaper. Becky…it was Becky’s picture.

The Angry Children

2011-03-20T05:06:00.018-04:00

When you live in a village where electricity is unreliable, there are swamps, bamboo forests and the old burnt down Shiva temple people will tell stories. You can’t help it, it’s human nature. The tales are silly, ordinary and they have the same damn theme with only mild variations. Like this totally hackneyed story of Mr. Biswas and the petni (witch). It goes like this…

The last train had just left the platform and it was dark and windy. Only Mr. Biswas got down. Despite the weather he was excited. He had bought the best hilsa fish from Calcutta. He was going to rush home and ask the wife to fry few pieces. He was hungry. Throughout the journey he had fantasized about the fried fish with dal and rice. He couldn’t wait to get home. Home was 15 mins walk but if he took the path through the bamboo forest it would be just 5 mins. The problem with the bamboo forest was that it was infested with spooks, especially the petnis who loved the taste of hilsa. But Mr.Biswas decided to take a chance and take the short cut, he was terribly hungry. The inevitable happened. If you go in the bamboo forests with a hilsa there is no way you can escape a petni. In fact, Biswas Babu was lucky when only one petni followed him home. The petni kept demanding a slice of fish and her shadow danced over his head. Finally, she was placated when Mrs. Biswas fried the fish and gave few slices to her.

Everyone in the village tells this story with slight variations. Like, Mr. Ghosh got rid of the petni by feeding her a fried fish loaded with super hot red pepper. She never came back again. Then Joba Boudi, the doctor’s wife had confronted the petni with hot oil and spatula. But people said Joba Boudi did not need anything, her presence was enough to scare any spook away.

So, you see, villages have stories. Too many stories. Like the headless ghost who walks near the railway line holding his head and asking people to fix it back. Or the ghost of the old schoolmaster who still walks in the school garden, well, he floats. These are harmless, benign ghosts. And their stories are as humdrum as they are.

But I will tell you a true story. Well, he says it’s all true and there is no reason to not believe him. I have not changed his words for he told it very well.

‘I was only 12 then. Mother would scold me if I went out to play in the afternoons. She used to force me to sleep after lunch. I had to always wait till she woke up to go out to play. But one day she was not too well. Work had made her tired, being sick she could not sleep at all at night so she was sleeping very heavily that day. I decided to go out and come back in an hour or so. I was always curious about the old temple so I went there. Then I noticed something that I had not seen before. There was a slightly forested patch it did not look dense. I thought of investigating it. As I reached there I was totally taken aback by what I saw. There was a barbed wire and beyond the wire was an endless red field with very few trees. It didn’t look like our village at all but I decided to take a walk and see. I was very curious. My mind kept telling me it was best to go back home but I simply couldn't resist it. I had to find out. So, I jumped the fence and started walking.

It’s very tough to describe what I felt but it was a feeling of animosity and hostility. There was something in the air that said I was not wanted there and I should get back home. But I kept walking. After a while I saw some hamlets and then some children. I had never seen children who looked so angry. What can I say? There was no innocence, no kindness and no joy in their eyes. It was difficult for me to even comprehend the fact that they were children. There was absolutely nothing childlike about them. It was a strange mixture. Their faces were young but there was nothing youthful and pleasant about them. I tried to talk to them. Asked them where I was but they refused to say anything and kept looking at me angrily.

At the same time I kept wondering how the topography had changed so much. Our village had no red soil. This was a barren dry place and our village was very green, filled with ponds, swamps. Was I dreaming?

But it was no dream I saw a few more hamlets and finally what looked like a temple. I decided to go inside the temple. To be honest I was very afraid. My instincts told me I was not safe and I could find refuge in the temple. The moment this thought came to me I saw groups of children coming out of the hamlets and they were walking angrily with their eyes fixed on me. I knew they wanted to kill me so I ran. And the moment I started running I heard the most terrible cries of pain and anguish. The children were yelling and running behind me. But it was not a cry of anger but a cry of desperate, deep pain. I ran and went in the temple. Just as I reached the temple the cries stopped.

There was silence but the silence was not peaceful. I felt no comfort or solace in the temple. It was dark and cold inside. In the silence of the temple there was something deeply disturbing, I think I sensed evil for the very first time. The temple was bigger than I had thought. Also, I realized that the children had not followed me inside the temple. As a matter of fact they had all disappeared. I then started looking around and first saw a statue of Ganesha, then Krishna. But something was definitely wrong with the statues. I could not identify what it was but something was definitely wrong. Suddenly, I realized what was wrong. Krishna was not holding a flute at all it was something else and as I focused I saw Krishna was eating what he was holding, then the face changed it was not Krishna at all but some monster chewing a baby alive. Yet I was sure when I first came in it did not look like that. The statue was getting transformed in front of me. The Ganesha statue too had changed and it did not look like Ganesha at all. And the moment I made the discovery the cries of pain came back. I could hear the voice of the child the monster was holding and eating. This was no temple; this was a dungeon where the monsters lived. The monsters had fooled me and now I was trapped. The cries grew more and more intense. I almost went deaf with the noise I was feeling so sick I could not stand. I crashed on the floor. Just as my eyes were about to close I saw the faces of angry children closing up on me.

I did not die but my life changed completely. The children wanted friends. So, I first got them squirrels, dogs, cats and then human friends. What could I do? The angry children had lost everything they loved and now they wanted others too to feel and share their fate. We all come in this world with a purpose and my purpose was to ensure the continuity of hate, anger, fear and evil. I just did what I had to.’

He had killed 15 children. Sacrificed them at the old burnt down Shiva temple. He told this story when the cops arrested and interrogated him. He was hanged. Told you, this was not going to be like the usual ghost stories. And you know what the villagers say? They can still see him sitting near the temple and sharpening his dagger. But that’s just another one of those typical commonplace stories that the villagers keep repeating.

The Strange Case of Marie Dubois

2011-02-21T02:44:00.011-05:00

(As the name suggests it's a spooky folklore. I write them simply because I miss the genre. Be warned it's a long post.)

I met Marie Dubois during my short stay in Quebec City. She rented the studio right next to mine. Marie spoke flawless English; she had taken a break for finishing her novel and was even more hard pressed for money than I was. Marie and I were destined to get along. We met at the corridor exchanged a few words and Marie invited me to dinner. We became friends over the delicious roast chicken, salad and good chardonnay.

Soon Marie and I spent all our evenings together. Though Marie was originally from Montreal she had no friends who came to visit her. Like everyone else her world too ran on phone calls and social network. It was initially our love for cooking that brought us together but Marie and I had plenty to talk about. Marie eventually started talking about her personal life. She had recently broken up with her boyfriend for 8 years and was now left alone with very little savings to sustain. It was really her desire to write a book that had affected their relation. Her boyfriend had initially told her he would support her endeavors but soon things turned sour and they fought over money. He became abusive and then begun attacking her book. Finally, he asked her to move out and informed her it was all over. Marie was not at all a bitter woman, yes, she did feel anger but that was when occasionally something reminded her of her stupidity and wrong choices. This is something that happens to all women and Marie was no exception.

Marie loved Quebec City. In fact it was her love for the city that had rubbed on me. She would keep talking about the magic of the city and the charm of the fortifications. ‘True, every city has it’s own life and character but the spirit of Quebec City is tactile and the more you know it the closer it comes to you.’

One day after dinner we were watching a game show on TV over a cup of mint tea. Suddenly Marie asked me, ‘Do you believe in ghosts, Aditi?’ ‘Of course I do. But why are you asking this Marie?’ ‘I guess I can share this with you I know you will not laugh at me. But something strange has been happening to me recently.’ I encouraged her to go on. ‘See, nothing at all is wrong I mean my health is all right, the house is certainly not haunted. I don’t hear voices or there are no creatures talking from the sink or hiding in the closet. But I have this weird feeling of another body living inside me. No, I am not possessed by a spirit like the movies but I feel the presence of another body. It’s just a body with no thoughts, no complications.’ I was very intrigued. ‘But what makes you think that?’ 'When I breathe I can hear the breathing of another person simultaneously. When I eat I feel someone is eating with me, inside me.’ ‘Wait, are you pregnant Marie?’ I asked. I realized it was stupid question but it was too late. ‘O God! Of course not. I simply can’t explain this. But certainly something is wrong with me. I feel another body inside mine. But I am neither insane nor do I hear any voices.’

That night I kept thinking about what Marie had said and suddenly my stomach growled. I knew I had the answer to Marie’s problem. I waited till next evening. And then over our evening cocktails I told her my brilliant observation about her problem. ‘Marie, you have never been lonely. From what you tell me your life with Robert was pretty hectic. You worked, came home, cooked and then after doing all the housework you just had no energy left. You have been a very busy woman all your life. And now suddenly this loneliness. It is possible that for the first time you are becoming aware of your own body. You know when you don’t get sleep easily you can become conscious of your breathing. You are just more aware of your body. Loneliness can affect you in many ways you know.’ Marie thought for a while. ‘Maybe there is some truth in what you are saying. I have never been alone before. Let me go visit my sister in Montreal for few days and see if the feeling persists.’

Marie and I both left the next day. I had some work in Toronto and she went to Montreal. I was back in a week and saw that Marie had returned. When I went to her place in the evening I instantly sensed something was terribly wrong with Marie. She looked pale and old. I could not believe how one week had changed her. ‘O My God Marie, are you all right?’ She burst into tears and broke down completely.

It seems Marie met a psychic in Montreal. She was not a regular psychic but someone who claimed she had powers. To be honest Marie’s psychic sounded too phony. Some woman with Middle Eastern roots who saw Marie and immediately said she was in some trouble. She had succeeded in making Marie miserable. The psychic said someone had cast an evil eye on Marie. That was the reason Robert had dumped her and the evil eye would now not let her finish her novel. She had to fight the evil spirit that was now following her all the time.

I was angry. Being an Indian I have heard numerous stories like this. Frauds who survive on people’s insecurities and anxieties. Poor Marie, she was vulnerable and someone had made it worse for her. I tried to reason with her but all in vain. Now Marie was convinced some evil spirit was living in her.

Soon I realized the only way to help her was to support her in her crazy search for the evil spirit. Marie who had no money to start with now spent whatever was left on all sorts of crazy objects to keep evil spirits away. ‘Marie there is no point in feeling afraid. Why don’t you sit and make a list of people who would wish you ill? Maybe you need to look for answers.’ Fortunately, Marie fell for this and got busy compiling a list of her enemies. Though I kept seeing her every evening the old Marie was gone. She was always talking about people who hated her, she had stopped writing her book and now studied books on occult, Wicca, Voodoo, Witchcraft all day long. She kept insisting that she now felt the presence of the body in her more and more; she even wasted money on consulting psychics online.

Soon my work in Quebec was over and it was time for me to go back. I felt terrible. First of all I loved Quebec City and Marie had become a good friend. I knew she could do with a friend but my finances had exhausted completely. There was no way I could continue living in Quebec, I had to get back to work. It was not easy to say goodbye to Marie. She kept repeating how lonely she would become once again. We promised to call each other and maintain contact through facebook. In a nutshell I was not at all happy about leaving Quebec but I had too. When I came back I was swarmed with work. I totally forgot to call Marie for a week. But she had not called me either. I assumed she was upset with me since I had told her I would call her back in a day or two. I called her thrice, left two messages but there was no response. I kept calling her for a week and then got worried. I also saw there was no activity on her facebook page. I then called the residence of the woman I had rented the studio from. The owner of the house had sold the property and had moved to a village where they had their old house. The new owner had no clue about previous tenants. I did not know her sister’s name so there was no way I could find her. I gave up my search but kept hoping I would hear from her again.

Eight months later I was chatting with a colleague who had given me the contact of the lady from whom I had rented the studio in Quebec. I was thanking her for the reasonable rates and excellent location. We got chatting about Quebec and how fascinating the city was. ‘Quebec City is one place where you want to go back again and again. And there are so many crazy folktales and spooky legends that makes the city even more attractive’. She added.

This discussion made me remember a strange story that I had heard from an old lady who I used to sometimes chat with in the coffee shop. ‘Quebec is the only fortified city in North America, you know that. Right? Within this boundary of Quebec there is a closely guarded secret. You know sometimes those walls open and people from 1700 just come and go. You can't see them but they say you can hear them breathe, you can feel them in your guts. And these walls they too take people away. People who just vanish, people who are now stuck in 1700. If you love this city, the city too has a strange way of expressing it’s love.’

Of course it’s just a story but Marie Dubois is still missing.

The House of Thirteen Ghosts

2011-02-13T04:57:00.006-05:00

(Another typical rainy night ghost story, old world, old school stuff).

I have often wondered if every village has a haunted house and an area that every villager avoids. Anyway the village I am talking about had a haunted house and everyone avoided the house and its vicinity like plague. The house was called ‘Tero Bhuter Badi’ ( the house of thirteen ghosts) and it was actually away from the main village. A two stored mansion broken and dilapidated with time. The garden that surrounded it had now become a forest. No one would go there after sunset but every villager knew that the house became alive at night.

Yes, that’s what I mean the house would come alive. The doors would move, windows would change places, there would be light inside the house and the gate would swing. The little broken statue in the yard would come alive and the whole house would be full of shadows moving about busily. But this was like no other haunted house. Other houses were haunted by spirits. This house itself was a spirit and attracted ghosts to come in and live.

But why was it called ‘Tero Bhuter Badi?’ Grandma knew it all she was only a little girl when this house was made, in fact the house was made before her birth but the first death happened when she was 4. It started with the schoolmaster, he had built the house but it was his wife who transformed the house, she put the curse in it and made it bloodthirsty. She was a very powerful witch. Which is why even the great exorcist ‘Borali Baba’ could do nothing. He said there is no spirit that you can fight this is a great witch’s curse and a humble exorcist like him could do nothing.

So many died mysteriously in the house. The Dutta family with all their modern ‘scientific’ ideas, Mr Dutta kept insisting ‘Jatto sab geon lok aaje baaje bhooter gappo kore. Bhoot bole kichu ache naki chata!’ (All these idiotic villagers talking balderdash about spooks. As if there is something called ghosts!’) And look what happened to the Dutta family. All dead. Son falls from the big tree and dies, daughter drowns and the wife just hangs herself. Then Mr. Dutta just disappears. Same with the Mukherjee family. Two dead three missing. The house had claimed them all. So many families refusing to believe and dying there but finally it had stopped. Now for at least 15 years no one went near the house let alone live there.

‘Tero Bhuter Badi’ had a Mango tree. No one touched the mangoes there. Once little Chameli who was the bravest girl in the village had taken one and even ate it. It was just an ordinary mango, nothing ever happened to Chameli. The house attracted her. She would go near it often. Once someone saw Chameli go towards the direction of the house instead of following her he went straight and told Chamel’s mother. Since then Chameli’s mother kept an eagle’s eye on her. Chameli could not even go near the pond that was a bit away from the house. People did use the pond during the day but Chameli was not allowed near it.

Soon Chameli’s father went away to the city and Chameli went away too. Chameli’s grandparents remained in the village. Chameli became a city girl and would now hardly come to the village. Chameli forgot all about the house. She grew up and went to college to study microbiology. It was during a vacation that Chameli came to the village with her friend Dola. The two girls loved the village. Grandma and Grandpa were both excited. Grandma sent their servant Jibon to get the biggest rohu fish from the market. Grandpa went to the butcher to get tender meat. Grandma knew how much Chameli loved to eat her vegetable medley and sat to cut veggies. It was then Chameli and Dola decided to take a walk in the village. They would take a long walk, work up their appetite and come home for lunch. It was during this walk that Chameli saw the house and remembered everything. She told Dola all about it and Dola too was excited. Surely there could be no ghosts but there certainly was something about the house. The two girls decided they would come there at night when everyone was asleep.

They went home ate the best lunch of their lives and fell asleep. They woke after a long siesta and never before had they felt so fresh. Evening came and then night fell soon. In villages nightfall was always abrupt and too soon. By 10.30 the entire village was in deep sleep. The girls still waited. They started when it was 12.

Quietly they took their flashlights, spayed insecticides on their hands and feet, wore their most comfortable shoes and slowly walked out of the house. No one had any clue they had left. The night did make them a little scared. Also, it was pretty cold. The wind often cut through their jackets but the girls were determined to see the mysterious house at night. They could hear the foxes, yes, they were scared but not of spooks just the darkness and the unknown that darkness held.

They reached the house, just as they had heard there were lights inside the house and the gate was wide open. Dola immediately whispered to Chameli ‘Someone lives here. The ghost story is a hoax, let’s go in’. They walked through the gates and went in. The unkempt yard had vanished and the garden had reappeared. The door automatically opened and from outside they saw a perfectly furnished house. Chairs, table all arranged beautifully. There were lanterns all over the place and sounds came from the kitchen too. Chameli was afraid. She wanted to now go back but Dola insisted ‘Can’t you see there are no ghosts. Some people are living in here and fooling the villagers. Just come in silly.’

Just as they went in the door closed and the house plunged in darkness. Dola shrieked and tried to reach for Chameli’s hand but there was no trace of Chameli. Dola put on the flashlight and yelled like a maniac ‘CHAMELI, CHAMELI’. The flashlight showed a dusty cobweb filled house with broken furniture spilled all over. Dola ran to the door but never found the door. The door had disappeared. Dola yelled and yelled. But no one heard her cry. Soon Dola felt choked, she could not breathe anymore. Someone was stifling her. After a while there was no life left in Dola, she was dead. The house again came back to life. The door moved back to its place, the sounds again came from the kitchen. It was all normal.

Next morning Dola could be found nowhere. Chameli told her grandparents that she had gone off to bed and had found Dola asleep beside her. They waited till 10 and then a very distraught Chameli informed the police. By 4 in the afternoon they found Dola’s body. She had hung herself in the infamous ‘Tero Bhuter Badi’.

It was a mystery that could never be solved. It did turn out that Dola was pregnant and her boyfriend had refused to take responsibility. But Dola just did not seem like a girl who would kill herself, she had seemed so full of life the day before. But there was something else that was haunting Grandma. Something that Chameli had said while weeping helplessly over Dola’s body. ‘Now it is ‘Tero Bhuter Badi’, three Duttas, two Mukherjees, two Ghoshs, four Roychowdhurys and my stupid husband. It was always twelve, I had to make it thirteen. Thirteen you see is my lucky number.’ And Grandma had seen Chameli smile, a broad captivating smile. Just like the schoolmasters’ wife who had smiled when they found her husband’s body in the swamp.