The heroine and Hindi cinema

So strong was the impact of the action hero, that the heroine began fading into
oblivion. The humiliation of total subjugation hurt. She made tentative forays to regain her lost identity. But mainstream had closed its doors on her, at least for the time being. So she sought a backdoor entry. Shyam Benegal was responsible for her reincarnation

Often oppressed and treated as the sex-symbol, the heroine regained self-esteem from time to time and is determined to call the shots in the new millennium. Quite like the chameleon, she has changed her image and attitude to adjust to changing trends and milieu.

More than 60 years ago, Chandulal Shah’s Miss 1933 explored the woman’s right for freedom of choice. So did Imperial Films’ Indira Ma released in the same year, the message being that parents know what’s best for their children.

The following year Samaj Ki Bhool directed by Homi Master, advocated a widow’s right to remarry while Shaher Ka Jadoo was about a wayward father succumbing to urban vices and his daughter’s search for him in a man’s disguise.

Cut to 1935 and Homi Wadia’s Hunterwali showcasing a woman in a mask dedicated to protecting the poor and punishing the evildoer.

The next year saw the release of V Shantaram’s Amar Jyoti that profiled a woman denied legal custody of her infant son and her fight against society. RS Choudhury’s Hamari Betiyaan was another film that idolised Indian womanhood while Mehboob Khan’s Manmohan challenged feudal patriarchy. Homi Wadia’s Miss Frontier Mail on the lines of Hunterwali and later Diamond Queen, were also on avening angels.

1937 saw Hemchandra’s Ananth Ashram dwell on the subject of widow remarriage again, while Shantaram’s Duniya Na Mane revolved around a young girl trapped into marriage with an old widower and refusing to consummate the union.

Mehboob Khan’s came up with a love triangle in 1938. Hum Tum Aur Woh had the woman not just expressing but also indulging her desire without any feelings of guilt. Sohrab Modi’s Talaaq released the same year condemned the divorce laws that usually went against women.

Mehboob Khan was back the next year with Aurat that glorified motherhood. The film was remade as Mother India a couple of decades later. Debaki Bose’s Nartaki about a court dancer forbidden entry into a temple and her mission to avenge the insult, and AR Kardar’s sequel Pagal and Pooja were other films that made bold statements on the victimisation of women. Another interesting film that year was PC Barua’s Zindagi about unmarried couple living together and impersonating as charitable heads. With the donations they collect they purchase a flat and lived happily ever after

The prolific Mehboob Khan again addressed a sensitive issue regarding women in his 1941 film, Bahen. It was India’s first film on incest, about an obsessive brother who destroys his life and his sister’s too.

In the coming years, Kidar Sharma’s Chitralekha (‘42), V Shantaram’s Shakuntala (’43), Chandraprabha Cinetone’s Meera (’45) were all women-oriented films.

In the ‘50s too women continued to play ” woman of substance“ roles. Waheeda Rehman as the prostitute in Pyaasa (’57) and Nutan as the sensitive untouchable of Sujata (’59) were characters that sparked off social consciousness.

Bimal Roy’s Bandini in ’63 revealed that oppression can lead to dangerous consequences, in this case murder! Around this time, colour was creeping into cinema. Shammi Kapoor was being pitted against the trio of Raj-Dilip-Dev as the rebel star. Kapoor wanted to have fun and turned the ‘60s into an acrobatic decade. The era marked a leaning towards sexual harassment. The focus was shifting to the physical attributes of the heroine. Junglee (’61), Mere Mehboob (’63), Kashmir Ki Kali (’64), An Evening in Paris (’67) and Ek Phool Do Mali (’69) bear testimony to the heroine eventually turning into an object of sexual desire.
Then came the king of romance, superstar Rajesh Khanna, and the heroine had to re-emerge. However, as Khanna’s popularity escalated, the queen, dwarfed by his overwhelming screen presence began to feel uncomfortable about being pushed into the background. Of and on she began to surprise viewers with the odd unconventional portrayal, be it as the alcoholic chhoti bahu of Saheb Biwi Aur Ghulam, (‘62) or Rosy breaking marital chains to live with her lover in Guide (‘65). The audience were supportive of these pathbreaking characters.

In the coming years, the heroine evolved as a more intriguing persona. Be it as the haunting ghost of Woh Kaun Thi (’64), the wanton woman of Chetna (’70), the widow who dared to love in Andaz (’71) or the courtesan who dared to dream in Pakeezah (’71). If in Bobby (’73) she was the ultimate dream, in Satyam Shivam Sundaram (’78), by the same filmmaker, she was the ultimate fantasy.

After a while though the complexities became overbearing and the cinegoer started cravingfor simple, uncomplicated, real-life stories. Came Guddi in 71 and Jaya Bhaduri’s refreshing next-door-appeal epitomised the middle-class sensibility.

It’s ironical how the cycle of the Indian heroine, from armament to ornament coincided with the advent of the Amitabh Bachchan phenomena in Zanjeer (’73). When Bachchan usurpedKhanna’s crown, the queen had no definite place beside him. She sang and danced but she was there only to provide relief from revenge. And that too, only when the hero had the time to frolic. Her feelings were secondary. One didn’t realise when the rot set in but slowly, the costumes and the roles lost character. So strong was the impact of the action hero, that the heroine began fading into oblivion. The humiliation of total subjugation hurt.

She made tentative forays to regain her lost identity. But mainstream had closed its doors on her, at least for the time being. So she sought a backdoor entry. Shyam Benegal was responsible for her reincarnation. First a seedling, Ankur (’74), then Nishant (’75), Manthan (’76) and Bhumika (’77) were stories that touched the heart. And were about women who hit below the belt.

Inspired by the courage of this new-wave heroine, the mainstream heroine too began shedding her inhibitions. She now enticed the hero with unabashed body language -- Sridevi’s Kaate nahin kat ti....in Mr.India (’87), or the even more erotic, Dhak dhak... by Madhuri Dixit in Beta (’93). Moving with the times the ’90s heroine was emancipated, assertive and at times she even overstepped in a mutinous bid for liberation. She was brazen, upfront and for a change, having a little fun. Choli ke peeche kya hai... and Sexy sexy mujhe log bole... in Khuddar (’94), were attempts towards a crusade but didn’t upturn any applecarts. But interestingly, the heroines never gave up trying.

The equations were changing gradually. If the anxieties resurfaced, it was because of the conflicting signals from mainstream cinema. The heroine’s final victory came when she blended the old world with the new. That’s when it spelt collective magic. Sooraj Barjatya’s Maine Pyar Kiya (’90) was about defying conventions, yet respecting them. Hum Aapke Hain Koun (’94) was about juniors sacrificing for family honour and finally Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (’96) was about revering tradition. And perhaps, therein lies the answer.

Bhawana Somaaya