BollywoodFAQ_galley

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Acknowledgments
eventually become a passionate interest subject as my doctorate’s research
quest—the exploration of ancient aesthetic theories to source new theoretical
frameworks for a fairer appreciation of melodrama on film.
Bollywood, to me, is Gulzar’s Ijaazat, Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Devdas,
Anurag Basu’s Barfi, Mehboob Khan’s Mother India, Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa; all the
characters and their familiar lines in Sholay and Bahubali; the vocal intensity
and the sheer screen presence of that veritable textbook on acting, Dilip Kumar;
auteur Raj Kapoor’s timeless, humanist comedies; the haunting innocence in
the eyes of Jugal Hansraj in Masoom; the mayhem in the Mahabharat moment
of Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro; the rebellious climax of Mirch Masala; the introduction
scene of Hindi cinema’s most-loved villain character, Gabbar Singh; Amitabh
Bachchan in Silsila, Black, and Nishabd; and Sanjeev Kumar’s every appearance
on celluloid—always!
It is in the beholding of every song moment in Naushad and K. Asif’s
Mughal-e-Azam; the joyful ecstasy, grace, and beauty in the classical dance
competition ushering in the drama of the costume-epic Amrapali; the
Vyjayanthimala-Shammi Kapoor-Helen–performed East-West fusion song
competition Muqabla humse na karo (“Don’t challenge us”) in Prince; Waheeda
Rehman’s enactment of onscreen freedom in Aaj phir jeene ki (“I want to live
again”) in Guide; music composer R. D. Burman’s uncommon experiments at
creating new sounds from unexpected instruments; an aging Naseeruddin
Shah’s youthful awakening to love through the Dil to baccha hai ji (“The heart is
but a kid!”) song in Ishqiya; a broken-hearted Shabana Azmi holding back tears
to heartbreaking impact in the Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho (“What tears your
smiles hide”) moment in Mahesh Bhatt’s Arth; V. K. Krishnamurthy’s visual
ode to loneliness under a ray of revealing light in Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam
(“Oh, what a beautiful tragedy time has wrought”) in Guru Dutt’s Kaagaz Ke
Phool; A. R. Rehman’s Piya Haji Ali (Fiza) qawwali, or the simply divine Kun
fayaa kun (Rockstar) rendition; the essence of Mera Naam Joker’s Jeena yahan
marna yahan (“Living here, dying here”) song; or the choreography of Pehla
nasha pehla khumar (“First love, first infatuation”) from Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar.
Bollywood, to me, is the lively beauty and uplifting presence of Madhubala
that added color to the black-and-white films; the mere recall of that halo-constructing
introduction shot, languorously panning upwards to reveal a poignantly
gorgeous Meena Kumari, as Choti bahu, in Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam; and
studying before a life-sized poster on my study room’s wall to one of those qaatil
adaas (heart-stopping gestures) from Umrao Jaan featuring Rekha, a diva whose
life is Bollywood’s echoes Norma Desmond’s statement from Sunset Boulevard:
“I’m still big. It’s the pictures that got small.”
The memories and inspirations, the joys and triggers, leading to the
Bollywood FAQ book are many, but they might not have come together as a
writing project if not for the proverbial “offer I couldn’t refuse” by my agent,