Wednesday, 9 March 2011

The Parda Hai girls

One of the interesting things about photography compared to film is you don't get random people in photography. If something is worth noticing, it gets noticed, however small the detail might be. Any randomness gets randomed out in the reviewing. This is not the case in film.

Continuing on the Manmohan Desai theme of the previous post, my favourite random film detail comes in the great man's unlikely-but-brilliant epic, Amar Akbar Anthony.

It's the two random girls who are sitting right behind Neetu Singh (as Rishi Kapoor/M.Rafi sings Parda Hai Parda) that fascinate me - their dress, their contrasting demeanour and their behaviour. They stay sitting throughout the song, even when almost everyone else is clapping, dancing and generally giving it some. One looks Goan, the other Bengali. Who are these people - daughters of the director or producer or someone else?  If you know, do tell me, if you don't just make it up.

Below are the lyrics. I love the fact that you have a hindu playing a muslim asking a hindu (playing a muslim) to remove her veil. Then best of all, the film was watched by hindus and muslims the world over, all made in Bollywood, by perhaps the most secular bunch of Indians that ever lived.

Here are the lyrics to Parda Hai.

Let me me pour some wine on this youth
And throw this rose towards a beauty
There is a veil
There is a veil
There is a veil, there is a veil, behind the veil there is a secret
And if this secret is not unveiled by me
Then my name is not Akbar

There is a veil

Wherever I look, people will look there as well

They want to see where my gaze stops at

Oh princess of my dreams, I am Akbar of Ilaahabad

I am a poet of the beautiful, I'm a lover of the shy

I will not leave your side, I will tear apart every curtain (seperating us))

Don't be afraid of this tyrant world, due to grace or pretense

Come, show your face, and make this occassion beautiful

Otherwise by taking your name, I will make some allegation

And if I not dishonor you in this gathering

Then Akbar is not my name

Give thanks to God, (her) face has been seen

But even so, the color of shame is still shining in her eyes

While someone is losing his life, someone else is feeling shy

Someone is shedding tears, and someone is smiling

My beloved frequently enjoys torturing me like this
This is her custom, the cruelty she is famous for

Do hide your face, being angered, but remember this, oh beautiful one

The fire that is your youth, My love is like cold water

And if do not cool your anger

Then Akbar is not my name..

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