Making Of A Classic

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Mother India
By Gayatri Chatterjee
Penguin India
Price: Rs 250

If there8217;s a movie I truly, truly envy for its brilliance, it8217;s Mother India. The unabashed rawness, the breathtaking drama, and the vast, vast emotional wealth in its scope 8212; it8217;s a film one feels only strongly about. And that8217;s because as a film it feels only strongly about life 8212; there8217;s nothing uncertain about it, not a moment lukewarm in it; its passion never lets up, blood gushing in and out unstoppably. Which is why a book about this magnificent film must have the same ecstasy as well as the same agony.

Gayatri Chatterjee8217;s book has great respect for Mehboob Khan8217;s unforgettable film as well as admiration. But love? Well, love8217;s a messy thing and calls for deep intimacy and she maintains a respectful distance from the film. She pays tribute to it from afar. It8217;s nice reading 8212; don8217;t get me wrong. It8217;s got interesting historical facts, like how Mehboob Khan embarked upon this ambitious project after three consecutive flops, how since its release in 1957 Mother India was continuously shown in some theatre or the other all over the world for three decades.

It was good to know that Nargis received a payment higher than the men working in the film and it made me sad to learn that some wonderful scenes were illogically chopped out by the Censor Board. Any scene that had the slightest socialist tilt was removed as were shots of Birju Sunil Dutt holding out his mother8217;s kangans to her after she shoots him, to avoid any uncomfortable hints of incest. It was exciting to read that in the scenes following the flood Nargis kept rubbing mud all over her face and body like 8220;a woman possessed8221; for the days and days of shooting.

I wish the book had more pages devoted to such delicious research: unknown, juicy tales of the now-famous romance of Nargis and Sunil Dutt, stories of the moments of self-doubt that might have plagued Mehboob, and alternatively the moments of inspiration that may have propelled him forward. There8217;s a madness, a fever that constantly burns in the belly of Mother India, that8217;s missing in the book. Chatterjee8217;s account is more of a sequence-by-sequence analysis of the film, sequences which she deconstructs academically. This by no means is not useful knowledge, but to use a flirtatious comment Raj Kumar8217;s character makes 8212; to his wife Nargis in the film when he tells her she has so much salt in her that all she cooks becomes naturally salted 8212; this book could have done with a lot more salt!

It gets too involved in describing the screenplay of Mother India although this is what eventually makes it a fast-paced and easy read. The sheer narrative force of the film drives the reader forward as he relives the superb film in words. Even now, satellite channels often telecast Mehboob8217;s stunning film, and every time it8217;s on, it8217;s difficult not to stay glued. All the more reason for a book on it to be memorable. Chatterjee8217;s book is a very sincere and well-meaning effort but falls short of that.