दिल जो न कह सका, वही राज़-ऐ-दिल कहने की रात आई!

Dil jo na keh saka vohee raz-e dil kehne ki raat aayi

This is the night to lay bare the secrets of my heart!

These defiant words are uttered by Pradeep Kumar at Meena Kumari's wedding in the movie Bheegee Raat (1965). She squirms in anguish as her ex belts out this ballad reminding her of their shared past. I call this genre of Bollywood songs: "Wow! I can't believe you didn't marry me, b**ch!" It's fairly common, and this is the basic set-up. The hero and the heroine fall in love early in the movie. The heroine at this point sings a sexy, sensual song for the lusty hero. But there are trials and tribulations and the heroine ends up marrying another man (usually due to circumstances beyond her control). The wronged hero then decides to show up at his erstwhile girlfriend's wedding and torments her with his own self-pitying version of that same sexy song she'd sung for him. The heroine recognizes the song, is reminded of her crimes of passion and her past desires, and is in equal measure terrified and heart-broken at her circumstances. The man who is actually marrying the heroine usually either looks on in triumph at the hero's helplessness, or suddenly begins to connect the dots. This is a fantastic genre of songs for the simple reason that it packs so much drama into those five minutes of plaintive singing.
Meena Kumari seems to be the queen of this genre. Here's another classic example from the film Gazal (1964). In the first version of the song Naaz Ara Begum (played by Meena Kumari) renders an incredibly sensual ghazal: Naghma-o-sher ki saughat kise pesh karoon? Yeh chalakte ue jazbaat kise pesh karoon? (To whom shall I present this gift of song and verse? To whom shall I present these overflowing passions?). Later in the film, her beau Ejaz Ahmed Ejaz (played by Sunil Dutt) renders a heart-wrenching spin on the same ghazal: rang aur noor ki baaraat kise pesh karoon? Yeh muraadon ki haseen raat kise pesh karoon? (To whom shall I present this procession of light and colour? To whom shall I present this beautiful night of desires?)। The sturm und drang is palpable.
Interestingly, the tables are turned in another Meena Kumari movie, Dil Apna aur Preet Parai (1960). Here Karuna (Meena Kumari's character) sings this sweet, seemingly innocent song which leaves the just-married hero (played by Raj Kumar) decidedly uncomfortable.

Tadka Dal
Don't invite your ex-lover to your wedding. Don't have overly-needy possesive ex-lovers. And preferably, don't have ex-lovers at all.

Source

Bollywood, like Disney, believes in love at first sight that results in happily-ever-afters. And any opportunity to mess this equation up is an opportunity for protracted twists in a plot and therefore great drama. Disney gives us poisoned spindles and evil step-mothers; Bollywood gives us tormented jilted lovers with a natural talent for angst.

परदेसियों से न अँखिया मिलाना

Pardesiyon se na ankhiya milaana

Don't go falling in love with outsiders!


This is the title of a famous song from the film Jab Jab Phool Khile (1965) and showcases a much repeated piece of Bollywood advice: Don't go falling in love with foreigners. In this film, Raja (Shashi Kapoor) is a poor, humble and innocent boatman in Kashmir who falls in love with the smart, city-slicker Rita (Nanda). Predictably, the city-girl is not about to move into some Kashmiri village and be a wife to the boatman, and so Raja's hopes are dashed. In an odd case of reel-time pre-emption, Raja sings this song "Pardesiyon se na akhiyaan milaana; Pardesiyon ko hai ik din jaana" (Don't go falling in love with outsiders, for they have to leave some day) and then promptly disregards his own words of wisdom.

This is, however, a true Bollywood film. And so no broken-hearted heroes allowed. While providing the viewer (and the protagonist) with a reasonable bit of advice, this movie of course perpetuates this legendary urban-rural pairing. So Rita eventually comes around and recognizes the innocent beauty of Raja's heart. Other complications follow, but in the end, the lovers are united. One can only surmise that the loving couple may have had quite a tough time getting used to each other's ways...but hey, it's the movies!

Tadka Dal

Don't mess with people who won't be able to spend forever and after with you (or be prepared to move to alien locales yourself).

The Source

Bollywood is rife with tales of city boys whisking off their tribal lady loves from hill-sides and waterfalls, or uptown girls turning into rural belles to be with their bucolic beaux. This modern myth is quite prevalent in some quarters of Indian society. The ancient tale of Shakuntala and Dushyanta is probably the earliest examples of a city-slicker paired with a woman of the woods.This romance is found in the Mahabharata, but is most famous as the plot of Kalidaasa's ancient Sanskrit play Abhijnaanashakuntalam. In this tale, the beautiful Shakuntala (daughter of sage Vishvamitra and the demigoddess Menaka) falls in love with King Dushyanta. Shakuntala, who lives an idyllic life in a forest with her girlfriends and some friendly deer, hooks up with King Dushyanta who is lost during a hunting trip. The King promises to make her his queen. Trials and tribulations ensue, but the story ends with a somewhat-happy turn of events.

मेरे पास...माँ है।

Mere paas…maa hai!

I have…Mom!

This classic line from the film Deewaar (1975) exemplifies the deep bond between mother and son that is the core of Bollywood cinema. The scene unfolds in a dark alleyway in the city of Bombay. Estranged brothers--Ravi Verma, a righteous cop with unquestionable integrity (Shashi Kapoor), and Vijay Verma, a down and dirty gangster (Amitabh Bachchan)--confront each other. The choices these brothers have made have taken their lives in two different directions: Ravi’s life of righteous penury spent caring for his feeble mother; and Vijay’s life of riches built on violence and dishonesty.
Vijay prods Ravi on the value of his moral rectitude. “What’s it ever got you?” he asks. “Look at me! I have a mansion, a car, servants at my beck and call! And you? What do you have?” Ravi, his unwavering gaze piercing his brother’s bravado, his quivering lips belying his emotional vulnerability, says, “I have…Mom!”

And that’s all it takes to bust Vijay’s bubble. For all his machismo and arrogance, it’s his mother’s disappointment in him that is the chink in this gangster’s armour. And so it is for many a Bollywood protagonist, be he a villain or a hero. The Bollywood villain may be capable of flaying his hapless victims alive, but one word from his mum is all it takes to turn the tough-guy into a softie. The Bollywood hero will go to any lengths, even forsake the love of his life, to ensure that no harm comes to his mother. Entire movie plots are based on heroes avenging past affronts to mommy-dearest.
This child-parent relationship does not hold true for mothers and daughters, fathers and daughters or fathers and sons in Bollywood cinema.

The basic message here is that a brown man would do anything for his mom. Oedipus, eat your heart out. [Watch "Deewaar" at http://moovieshoovie.com ]

Tadka Dal:

Maternal love can transform mild-mannered poets into justice-hungry vigilantes, and hard-hearted scoundrels into repentant wretches.

The Source:

Mother-son bonds are a strong theme in ancient Indian myth. In the Mahabharata, the epic tale of the battle between the Pandava and Kaurava cousins, one of the main reasons for the Pandavas prevailing over the Kauravas is the sway Kunti (the matriarch of the Pandava clan) has over Karna (her son separated from her at birth and, due to bizarre circumstances, fighting for the rival Kaurava clan). It’s a complicated story, to understate things to an extreme. But the gist is that Karna betrays the side he’s fighting for in order to keep a promise he made to his mommy. Nasty stuff.

Photo from http://www.imdb.com