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Directed by: Amiya Chakraborty Music: Madan Mohan Lyrics: Rajinder Krishan Starring: Anoop Kumar, Daljeet, Jawahar Kaul, Ameeta, Anita Guha, Shubha Khote, Sundar, Shivraj, Praveen Paul |
Our story begins with three women, all newly-wed, excitedly poring over a newly-published story – their story. As one of them begins to read it aloud, the film cuts to a flashback.
At Janata Coffee House, a waiter (Sundar) is consoling a young man who’s morosely admitting to not being able to commit suicide because he cannot afford a rope.
He is Ranjeet (Daljeet), a struggling artist. Just then, another young man enters. Since the café is crowded and the only vacant chairs are at the table where Ranjeet is sitting, he asks permission to sit there. Soon, they are joined by yet another stranger who says this is his ‘regular’ table, so if the other two don’t mind, he will join them. They soon introduce themselves to each other.
The second man is Pradeep (Jawahar Kaul), a writer, who owns, edits and publishes a newspaper called Triveni. He publishes 2000 copies, he tells them, of which he sells 200 while the remaining 1800 is sold by the kilo to the local raddiwala. It is a sad time, he says, when ‘raddi’ is more profitable than publishing.
The third man, Mohan, is an aspiring singer. He can sing better than Mohammed Rafi, Manna Dey. Talat Mahmood and even Hemant Kumar, he says. If only they would give him a chance. Unfortunately, even his neighbours cannot bear his riyaaz. They have been threatening to evict him; he’s changed 60 houses in six years. Where can he go now?
All this while, Ranjeet has been sketching on a napkin. Pradeep, who notices the sketch, is impressed. Why, this is quite good! He would like to publish it in his newspaper.
Ranjeet is shocked – so far, no one has even looked at his sketches, let alone bought them. He has even better paintings at his flat, he tells Pradeep, who immediately asks to see them.
A little reluctantly, Ranjeet takes Pradeep to his flat, where the latter is puzzled when Ranjeet beckons him to enter through the back door. The surprise doesn’t end there. Ranjeet doesn’t put on the lights. The little flat is crowded with paintings, all of them as good as Ranjeet professes.
But Pradeep is even more bemused when Ranjeet will not allow him to put on the lights or open the windows. Pressed for the reason, he finally confesses that he hasn’t paid the rent for six months and the landlord has been getting quite irritated. If he knew that Ranjeet was living here, he would certainly expect the rent, or he would evict Ranjeet.
Overriding Ranjeet’s protests with a high hand, Pradeep opens the window, only to see a very pretty young woman in the window opposite.
This is Rekha (Anita Guha), the landlord’s daughter, who is pleased to have finally spotted their tenant. She rushes off to tell her father (Shivraj) that the artist is at home. Despite her defence of art and artists, her father wants the rent he’s owed, so he sends a servant to fetch Ranjeet.
Ranjeet is in despair. But Pradeep opens the front door, and mistaken for Ranjeet once again, goes to meet the landlord. There, he informs the landlord that he’s Ranjeet’s friend and that the latter will definitely pay his rent soon. He gives a long monologue about how people only pay lip service to art but do not support artists. He then places Rs2 and 12 aanas that he has in his pocket towards the rent.
But Rekha who had gone off to pretty herself – she even changes her sari – returns to hear his impassioned speech. greatly impressed, practically forces her father to not only forego the rent he’s owed but to allow the artist to stay there, rent-free, for as long as he pleases.
Rekha, by now, is completely besotted by the ‘artist’ and confesses shyly that she, too, is a painter. Could she come and see his paintings, please? Pradeep tries unsuccessfully to tell her the truth – he’s not the artist; he’s a writer. But she prattles on about how great an artist he is, and how much she admires him, etc., and before you can say ‘love’, Pradeep has fallen head over heels in love with her.
So pleased is Ranjeet when he hears the news that he rushes off to thank the professor and promise him that he will pay his entire rent. One day.
Mohan, however, is still in a fix. His neighbours have threatened to bodily evict him if he opens his mouth again. How will Mohan outshine Rafi, Talat, Hemant Kumar, et al, if he cannot practice? Ranjeet – now relieved of his worries – tells Mohan that Pradeep is a miracle worker. Surely he can help Mohan too?
So they go off to meet Pradeep at Triveni’s office. There, the peon says that Pradeep must be at the press. So Ranjeet, advising Mohan to stay put, goes off with the peon to fetch Pradeep. Left to his devices, Mohan distractedly walks around for a while before sitting down at Predeep’s desk. When in waltzes a young woman who begins quoting poetry at him. A flustered Mohan is about to set her right, when she tells him that she’s an aspiring writer who’s been sending in her articles and poems to Triveni for a long time. Not one of them has been published. And she wants to know why. Noticing his distraction, she probes a little and Mohan tells her he has a problem. She assumes he’s writing a new story that needs an ending.
Just as they are discussing a solution to the ‘story’, Ranjeet returns. Pradeep was not at the press, but he will resolve Mohan’s issue. He insists that Mohan come along right now! At the house, despite Mohan’s protests, Ranjeet insists that he begin singing. Sure enough, the neighbours erupt from their homes, determined to put an end to this nuisance once and for all. Fortunately for Mohan, he’s taken the precaution of locking the door. While Ranjeet is girding up to tell the neighbours off, a new saviour emerges – Geeta (Ameeta), and her mother (Praveen Paul) have been listening appreciatively to Mohan’s riyaaz ever since they moved into the flat above.
She reads the neighbours a riot act about the importance of music and succeeds in sending them away. She then knocks on Mohan’s door to let him know the neighbours will not bother him anymore. Upon hearing the knock, Mohan hides under his cot and refuses to come out. It’s Ranjeet who opens the door, ready to take the bull by its horns.
He’s disarmed when Geeta, assuming he is the singer, assures him that she’s come to encourage him to sing. Indeed, would he please sing for her? Somehow, Ranjeet persuades her to return home, after promising that he will sing in his room. A song that Geeta listens to, unaware that the man she met is not the man singing.
The three men are by now equally besotted. While no one says so aloud, they are all wondering how to meet the young ladies again. For, after all, Pradeep has no reason to be in Ranjeet’s flat, nor Ranjeet in Mohan’s. Mohan has no excuse to be in Pradeeps’ office either. But they soon sort it out without letting on that the main reason for switching places is to meet the girls they have fallen in love with.
But the realisation that the ladies are as much in love with the men’s supposed professions as they are with the men themselves strikes them a little too late. When they try – and fail – to persuade the girls to accept their real professions, they are at their wits’ end. How much longer can Ranjeet, Pradeep and Mohan – painter, writer and singer – keep up the pretence of being singer, painter and writer respectively?
Where Dekh Kabira Roya scores is in keeping the conflict light and the resolution simple. Director Amiya Chakrabarty keeps the plot moving crisply.
The acting is mostly superb – the girls were a hoot, especially Shubha Khote as Kalpana, the aspiring writer/poet. Given to quoting poetry at the drop of a hat (she even quotes from Thomas Gray’s Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard), Kalpana is the most outspoken among the three. Also the most humorous. When the waiter at Janata Coffee House faints because the girls have been playing musical chairs while waiting for their beloveds, Kalpana deadpans, “Main bahut khoobsurat hoon, na?” Shubha Khote also has a decent singing voice – she sings the mukhda of Humse aaya na gaya before Talat takes over. (Listen to her sing here.)
Anita Guha as Rekha is also in fine fettle – she’s chirpy, forceful and very good at managing her absent-minded father. Ameeta plays the delicate Geeta, who’s prone to fainting at every turn. She, strangely enough, has the smallest role of the three women, with only one song to her credit while Anita gets two solos and one duet (reprised twice) and Shubha, one solo and two duets. But all of them played their roles at perfect pitch. It’s all slightly over-the-top as befitting a farce, but not to the point of devolving into ham territory.
I also liked the celebration of female friendship in the film. For once, the sahelis were not falling in love with the same man and martyring themselves. The camaraderie between Kalpana and Rekha, for instance, is genuinely heart-warming to watch.
Compared to the young women, the men were rather lacklustre. Anoop Kumar, who has the longest role, is the best of the three and, as a singer, gets all the male solos and the only male-female duet. Jawahar Kaul is pleasant enough, but Daljeet hammed his way through the film. But the ensemble cast – especially Sundar as the waiter, Shivraj as Rekha’s absent-minded father, and Praveen Paul as Geeta’s bhajan-loving mother were all amusing.
Madan Mohan’s music – classical melodies, mostly – is in perfect sync with the situations created by the screenplay. Strangely enough, there’s not one single romantic duet in this romantic comedy. Even Hum bulaate hi rahe tum jalaate hi rahe, the only male-female duet in this score, is not exactly a romantic situation, though there is a spark of attraction between the two.
Dekh Kabira Roya is a delightful farce. If you’re ever in the mood for a light, entertaining film with great music, do give this a try. Tom has restored this film to its pristine glory here.
