(Deeksha, 24, watched Mughal-E-Azam (1960) for the first time this year. Read her review.)
"Okay, so let’s do this!”
This is pretty much what I told myself as I took upon the mighty task of watching Mughal-E-Azam, which I sort of avoided for 24 years of my life, despite being brought up in a family that absolutely loves ancient Bollywood movies. I mean the movie is from the time when my parents weren’t even on the face of the earth but they claim they have seen it multiple times on the big screen through those houseful re-runs in the 70s and 80s.
Don’t ask me how I managed it, but my folks had a great laugh as I paused every five minutes to ask, “Sorry, what did he/she just say?”
If I leave aside my terrible understanding of Urdu, Mughal-E-Azam was the same done-to-death love story, bundled with some (err... actually a lot of) drama. Spoilt brat sees girl, they fall in love, family opposes, the vamp adds fuel to the fire... and one of them dies.
The things I really liked and admired throughout were the beautiful sets and the camera work which was FANTABULOUS for a movie made in the 60s. The iconic song Pyaar kiya toh darna kya in the Sheesh Mahal is definitely a benchmark. Looking at recent songs like deewani mastaani in Bajirao Mastani, I think they are all probably inspired from Mughal-e-Azam.
Akbar & Sheikhuuu!
Don’t hate or judge me but Mughal-E-Azam is the only Prithviraj Kapoor movie I have seen. Every time Akbar (Prithviraj Kapoor) said ‘Sheikhu’, I couldn’t help but laugh because of all those comedy shows I have grown up watching.
Talking about the acting, I would like to applaud all of these actors for memorising such intense lines and saying it all with so much emotion, but still an hour into the film, I felt dizzy!
The father-son relationship in the movie is something I instantly got because in some ways we Indians love the idea of a spoilt brat. Akbar trekked the deserts to have a child, little did he know that his son would turn out the way he did.
Always intoxicated, chilling with the court’s dancing ladies and taking zero responsibility. But hey, wasn’t it Akbar’s fault too that he couldn’t raise his son well? And then, his way around to make Salim a better son was to send him to the ‘boarding school.’
Salim comes back post the rigorous training and Akbar just never learns, man! He is yet again showered with the same tender love and care that spoiled him in the first place.
I mean who welcomes someone with pearls being thrown in the way? Duh!
Dilip Kumar does a good job as the mayoos aashiq who fights the shehensha. I was shocked to know that he slapped Madhubala for real in the movie.
Anarkali, Why So Sad Woman?
Madhubala looks gorgeous throughout the movie and her dance moves are sure to give the Deepikas and Katrinas a run for their money even today. However, Madhubala looked utterly sad and depressed even before Akbar’s atrocities started. And then there were the scenes where she faints because of fear, not once but twice, on seeing Zill-e-Illahi!
WHAT?
Really woman, on one hand you have the guts to let your song express all your heart’s feelings in front of a huge gathering of people including Sheikhu’s dad and on the other hand you just faint. Tch tch.
I mean if you ask me, Anarkali would have been SO different in today’s time. She would have given Akbar a reality check instead of talking so respectfully to him just because he had an issue with the class difference!
Anarkali is so beautiful, she should have just gone and found someone better who at least had his priorities straight in life.
The Candlelight Conversation
Meri aankhon se mere khwaab na chheeniye shehzaade, mai mar jaungi!
This iconic scene and dialogue is indeed very classy. I suppose this is how lovers met and talked in those times. It is extremely well shot and the lines are recited with apt emotion (just clarifying, the only place with lesser drama, yo). I absolutely loved how Salim asks Anarkali to forget that she’s a menial, and in their first meeting, promises to make her the Mallika-e-Hindustan!
The Disturbing Usage of the Word ‘Laundi’
As the end drew closer, I couldn’t help but notice the use of loose language.
‘Iss bebaaq laundi ko le jao aur kaidkhaane ke andheron mein garakt kar do!’
‘Mahabali ka Samna, ek laundi ke liye?’
“Humara Hindustan koi tumhara dil nahin hai, jo laundi jispar hukumat kare."
These are just three of the many instances where this word was used. It just seemed so inappropriate and unnecessary in the entire movie. From Akbar to Salim to Jodha, everyone used the word laundi, for Anarkali.
Notice how Akbar naming the beautiful woman after his favourite flower was rendered futile and she was reduced to a mere laundi in the end. Perhaps it was okay for that time when laundi, launda was acceptable. But now that isn’t the case and I was thinking how can such language be used in a ruler’s court.
Final Verdict?
All these years I ran away (literally) from watching Mughal-E-Azam because I thought it would be a heavy, melodramatic and overtly stretched movie.
And my God it was! But hey, from getting Lata Mangeshkar to record a song in the washroom, to Prithviraj Kapoor’s impressive dialogue delivery and finally shooting for a really long fourteen years with those impeccable sets till it finally released in the August of 1960, Mughal-E-Azam indeed is a ‘piece of art’ and a benchmark for Bollywood!
(At The Quint, we are answerable only to our audience. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member. Because the truth is worth it.)