Teesri Kasam urf Maare Gaye Gulfaam
Maare Gaye Gulfaam
Maare
Gaye Gulfaam - a
musical play dramatized, designed, and directed by Raghuvir Yadav, a veteran actor-singer-performer
from Madhya Pradesh - was recently staged at Rabindra Bhavan, Bhopal. The play
was based on Phanishwar Nath Renu’s eponymous story on which Shailendra, the
renowned Poet-Lyricist had produced the award-winning film Teesri Kasam (1966)
with Raj Kapoor and Waheeda Rehman in the lead roles.
Who is
Gulfaam, and why or how did he get killed, I had no idea. Why did Renu choose this
as the title for his story? I looked up.
Gulfaam is a
Persian word literally meaning rose/flower-faced (gul-rose/flower, faam- complexion/colour),
a gender-neutral word for a man or woman with a pretty face. In Teesri Kasam,
the song Maare Gaye Gulfaam has been filmed on Hira Bai, the heroine,
thus making Hiraman the gulfaam who was slaughtered in ‘love.’ But that’s only
half the story, for Hira Bai was herself gulfaam, too, and equally a victim of love and loss.
Hiraman had seen
only her feet when Hira Bai got into the canopied, covered-cart. Much later, when
he chanced to see the sleeping beauty with moonlight on her face - her diamond
nose-stud twinkling like a star, and her ruby ear-pendants red as drops of
blood - he exclaimed : “Arre Baap, e toh Pari hai!”
MGG is a
tragic love-story with a difference; not of the epic scale of Heer Ranjha
or Laila Majnu, but understated, implied, and suggested. A potential but
unrealisable love-story between a rustic bullock-cart driver (gadiwan) and a nautanki-girl
which was nipped in the bud before it could even blossom. Maybe, that’s why
when Shailendra heard Mohan Rakesh read MGG over radio, his eyes teared up, he
decided to make a film on the story, and contacted Renu who readily consented
to the proposal.
The Story
Set in rural
north-east Bihar around Forbesganj near Nepal border, timeline of 1940s, maybe;
it tells the story of Hiraman, the gadiwan, and Hira Bai, the Company zenana (woman).
It all begins when Hira Bai takes a thirty-hour ride on Hiraman’s bullock-cart.
Hiraman has
sworn not to transport smuggled goods (Pehli Kasam), or to carry a load of
bamboos (Doosree Kasam) which once had caused an unfortunate accident. Teesri
Kasam, the third vow, would come at the very end of the story. Why reveal it
now?
When Hira
Bai’s manager puts the lady in the cart, the once-bitten-twice-shy Hiraman asks,
‘kyun bhaiya, koi chori chamari ka maal-wal toh nahin?’
During the
long journey, Hiraman and Hira Bai engage in gupshup sharing their respective
life-story in brief; Hiraman’s betrothed wife died before marriage, he’s
unwilling to give up gadiwani – his passion – for the staid domestication of
married life; Hira Bai is an independent woman, loves theatre, and is bold
enough to quit her old Company for a new one for better prospects. She is aware
of the challenges she faces as a nautanki-girl. People with money and power
presume that she is available for their carnal pleasure for the right price.
Nautanki-goers call her paturia, the vernacular for a prostitute (randi).
As a performer, she is obliged and condemned to play her role as per the script.
If Laila Majnu has a tragic end, how can I possibly change it? She asks.
I must perform my role. But, with my heart in theatre it’d be preposterous for
me to ‘play’ the role of a house-wife, a sati Savitri, she says, almost in a
soliloquy.
I’ll call you Mita since we share the same name, says Hira Bai; but they are as different from each other as chalk is from cheese, or a bullock-cart from a train. Hiraman’s final dialogue, addressing his pair of bullocks, illustrates the unbridgeable chasm between their different worlds: “Why are you stupid guys looking back longingly at the departing train? Maare gaye gulfaam.” Much before that, Hiraman had reconciled to his fate: Company ki aurat Company mein gayee!
Phanishwar Nath Renu
Renu is regarded
as one of the greatest Hindi short-story writers. His work is celebrated for
its deep rural realism, emotional nuance, and linguistic authenticity. He pioneered
anchalik upanyas (regional novels), blending local dialects, idioms, folk-lore
and songs and oral storytelling (Mahua ghatwarin’s tragic tale) into literary
form. His novel Maila Aanchal is considered a masterpiece.
He was
awarded Padmashri in 1970, but returned the award in 1976 protesting the
Emergency.
Shailendra (1923-66)
Shailendra (Shankardas
Kesarilal) moved from Rawalpindi to Bombay, and worked in the railways before
getting a break as a lyricist for Bollywood films. He is revered as one of the
greatest lyricists of Bollywood.
He won Filmfare
Award (Best Lyricist) in 1959 for Sab Kuch Seekha Humne (Anari),
and in 1969 (posthumously) for Jeena Yahan Marna Yahan (Mera Naam
Joker). Many of his songs — “Awara Hoon,” “Mera Joota Hai Japani,” “Pyar Hua
Ikrar Hua,” “Sajan Re Jhoot Mat Bolo,” and “Jeena Yahan Marna Yahan”
— are consistently listed among India’s top film songs in retrospectives by
Filmfare, Screen, and BBC Hindi.
Teesri
Kasam was shot in
less than a year at a cost of about two lakh rupees with Raj Kapoor charging
just a rupee as his fees. Sadly, upon release in 1966 the film was not a
box-office hit, and Shailendra died in December 1966 - not from disappointment
or financial loss, asserts his son.
Shailendra
was the only Poet-Lyricist who ventured into producing a film. Later, Gulzar
and Javed Akhtar would also be associated in film production, but not as
Producer – the investor who undertakes the huge financial risk of the
unpredictable fate of a film.
Raghuvir’s Musical Play
The musical
play was based upon Renu’s story, but with significant omissions, additions,
and improvisations.
Raghuvir plays ‘chacha’ - a new character he added to the story - and performs a cute, impromptu nautanki for his little audience of fellow villagers.
The humanised bullocks
The talented
Director even got Hiraman’s bullocks to speak - in the tradition of
Panchatantra stories; and their performance was loved and applauded by the
audience.
In Renu’s
story, the pair of bullocks were not mere beasts of burden, but humanised
through deft turns of phrase: Hiraman frequently chats with them for they were dear
members of his family; when he whispers to them during the police raid, the
intelligent animals get the message, run through the dark, dense forest giving
the police the slip; when lesser bullocks took fright, they were bold enough to
transport the caged tiger to earn a handsome wage for Hiraman. At the end of
the story, they empathised with their master’s loss and heart-break. They were
not ordinary draught animals; that’s why Hira Bai bids them a tender farewell:
Bhaiyan, chalte hain.
Raghuvir: Lyricist & Singer
Raghuvir is
a lyricist and a good singer, too. His song in Peepli Live (Saiiyan
toh khub kamat hai, mehengai dayan kha jaat hai) became a hit.
In MGG,
Raghuvir wrote the lyrics, and sang most of them. Good, but no where near Teesri
Kasam’s amazing lyrics by Shailendra so endearingly rendered by the star
singers of the era – Lata Mangeshkar, Asha Mangeshkar, Suman Kalyanpur, Mukesh,
and Manna Dey. Renu’s story contained snatches of many Maithili and Bhojpuri
folk-songs – sajan re jhooth mat bolo, sajanwa bairi ho gaye hamar, laali laali
doliya mein, maare gaye gulfaam – which Shailendra crafted into the hit songs
of the film.
Raghuvir and
troupe had travelled 800 kms from Mumbai to Bhopal by a bus (Volvo, of course).
Why by a bus, asked the event organiser? We got time to rehearse on the way,
said Raghuvir.
Raghuvir had
trained at the National School of Drama under the theatre doyen Ebrahim Alkazi -
a stern disciplinarian. Once when Raghuvir sought sick-leave, he thundered, ‘If
you’re to die, better die in my presence.’
Raghuvir: Actor
Raghuvir made his mark with Massey Sahib (1985) in which Arundhati Roy played his tribal, nearly-speechless wife. After recently reading Roy's Mother Mary Comes to Me, I watched Massey Sahib once again. Raghuvir has acted in more than ninety films including Lagan (2001), Peepli Live (2010), Satya, Piku, and Newton. His TV serial Mungerilal ke haseen sapne is still adored. He is long past his prime, but refuses to fade out. During the current OTT era, he has a distinguished performance as Pradhan Ji in Panchayat which is shot in MP.
Gulab Bai: Queen of Nautanki
Nautanki is
not an art form to look down upon. It is part of a rich tradition of folk
theatre offering composite entertainment with minimal resources, most likely evolved
from Ras Leela, Ram Leela, and similar dialogue-song-dance performances known
under different names across the country - Bengal’s Jatra, Odisha’s Opera, Maharashtra’s
Tamasha, etc.
In the rural
fairs in UP and Bihar, even today the itinerant troupes stage performances by voluptuous
girls gyrating to raunchy, bawdy numbers – Arrah hile Baliya hile, Bidi jalai
le, Choli ke piche kya hai. But a good nautanki offers much more than a bawdy
dance number; it has a dramatic plot and script enacted by professional actors though
liberally spiced with folk songs, farce, crude jokes, and dances.
Kanpur,
Lucknow, and Hathras were major centres of the nautanki tradition. Gulab Bai of
Kanpur emerged as the first nautanki star, and was awarded Padmashri in 1990.
Gulab Bai
was Renu’s contemporary, she had broken away from her mentor to form her own
Company – The Great Gulab Theatre Company – which staged Laila Majnu, Sultana
Daku, etc. Renu might have seen her performance.
Hira Bai is
also from Kanpur and she also switched from her parent Company to a new one.
Maybe, Hira
Bai’s character is inspired by Gulab Bai.
Enduring Appeal
Phanishwar
Nath Renu (1921-77) could hardly have imagined that his 1954 story set in rural
north-eastern Bihar bordering Nepal and East Bengal of the-then Pakistan; narrating
the tentative, doomed-to-fail love-affair between Hiraman - a rustic gadiwan
(bullock-cart driver) and Hira Bai - a nautanki girl from paschim (Kanpur); would
be performed at Bhopal in 2025 to a houseful, applauding audience in a ticketed
show by Raghuvir Yadav’s theatre group which travelled 800 kms from Mumbai by bus.
Why did the audience enjoy and applaud the play even though most of them had
not heard of Renu, read his story, watched Teesri Kasam, or had ever
seen a bullock-cart used as a mode of transport?
The musical
stage play was a veritable nautanki – a medley of suang, songs, dance, farce,
slapstick humour, and much more; the only difference being the air-conditioned
auditorium and use of modern sound and light technologies. Hiraman and his
friends had watched Hira Bai’s performance seated on the mud-floor with pual (paddy
straw) keeping their bottoms warm against the night-chill of Kartik.
Immortality
is realised not merely through passing down the genes; it manifests in myriad, magical, mysterious ways. A great story stays
alive long after the story-teller is gone; a great film is never dated; and nautanki – the rustic folk-theatre - transcends the rural-urban divide and time-travels to mesmerize a modern city-audience.
Resources & References
· Ek Thi Gulab – Indira Gandhi National Centre
for the Arts: https://youtu.be/E2ay_UBwXvU?si=54mvRg_vnCpD6GRG
· Vijoy Prakash, Former Divisional Commissioner,
Purnia and a dear friend
· C.P. Singh, a batchmate and dear friend.
· Wikipedia, ChatGPT, CoPilot, IMDb
Loved the nuance in this piece. You have highlighted so many little -known connections
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