WOH SUBAH KABHI TOH AAYEGI To think of it, pause for a few moments and give a thought or two to the ordinary worker, the laborer, the farmer and other kinds of men and women who sweat it out and then think of all the big steps and strides, leaps and bounds we in India have taken during the last sixty -seven years after we earned our independence and even before that, in every field of life, science, space, technology, industry, even the film industry, airways, railways, roadways, any way that leads to upward mobility, progress, growth and prosperity. True, there are all the big men, the scientists, the engineers, the technocrats and all the other kinds, of bosses who are the quality brains behind all the progress but tell me what would all these bosses and their ambitions be without all those small ordinary men and women who stand at the base, who rough it out with all the nitty gritties, who fix up the crucial little nails, pins, nuts and bolts and push all those trolleys and know things which the bosses will never ever be aware of. It is these little people I am talking about as I struggle to pay my tribute to the Indian film industry on its completing hundred years, I have missed out on some big names, but I am not guilty because I have not considered myself a historian, I would have loved to write about everyone who has contributed to Indian cinema, but it is just not possible to do it in what is only my tribute to Indian cinema… So, tell me who has cared for them all these years and who care for them still? They still live in the most deplorable, unhygienic and inhuman conditions and are branded as the downtrodden who have become full time occupations and obsessions for politicians, social workers and NGOs. They have to struggle to make two ends meet; they have to provide their families with their basic requirements of roti kapda aur makaan. It is an irony of life that some of the most magnificent machines, all the creations of men in which these workers too played an innocent hand are being rendered unemployed and frustrated just because of these machines. And farmers who were praised as the heartbeats of the country are starving to death with their families or are committing suicide. And there is no one to raise a full-throated voice for them and the few that are trying are faint and feeble and some are voices which have their own selfish motives mingled with their voices. There are no voices which are genuinely interested in fighting for the causes of these workers, who are passing through unfortunate times. They just dont have the kind of voices that were raised for them before Independence and for quite some time after Independence. Those were the voices of powerful and sensitive poets, writers and artists who were aware about the plight of the working classes. Their voices had the power to force the mighty British Empire to bend and listen to them and end their rule and leave India. Their voices later had the power to make the new rulers and powers of India and all those who felt India and Indians were their private property which they could use anyway they wanted. They fought against all that was wrong and against all those who worked against all that was right. They were sent to jail, punished in all kinds of ways to break them both in body and in spirit but they never stopped raising their voices against the causes they were fighting for. They raised their voices through the private pamphlets they circulated amongst people, from public platforms defying the law, in letters written from jail, in plays performed in the streets and little theatres and finally in Hindi films. They couldnt be gagged or stopped. I had the privilege of knowing and even working with some of them which is a treasure I will cherish all my life. Khwaja Ahmad Abbas was one of the leaders of these voices in turmoil. He was a fighter for Independence and then a fighter for freedom from Indians who had become the enemies of India and Indians. He wrote freely frankly and fearlessly. He wrote against prime ministers, ministers, politicians, capitalists, industrialists, black marketers and the corrupt in every field of life who were fleecing the ordinary uneducated workers, stripping them of their rights, neglecting their ordinary needs. Abbas stirred the conscience of the nation through his writings in English and Urdu which were translated into almost all the Indian languages. He finally took to writing for and making films to spread his message because he believed films reached a wider audience. Abbas also wrote Awaara and Shri 420 for Raj Kapoor who was the embodiment of the common man of emergent India. It was these two films that gave Kapoor more popularity than all his other films put together. Abbas was a crusader whose voice created chaos and even crisis in the corridors of power and corruption. He continued his crusade till his last breath. Unfortunately, this great man is now only remembered as the man who helped Raj Kapoor in building his empire and the man who discovered an actor called Amitabh Bachchan. There were other writers with a social conscience like Krishan Chander, Rajinder Singh Bedi, Saadat Hasan Manto and a woman writer, Ismat Chughtai who entered the miserable lives of the workers, lived with them, and realized how they struggled to stay alive in a socialist Utopia which the first prime minister of India Jawaharlal Nehru dreamt of. They opened up the sores and called out for attention in their writings. There was a whole group of inspired Urdu poets whose souls screamed out the screams of the suffering and exploited workers laborers and farmers. Kaifi Azmi, the father of Shabana Azmi lived among the lowest of the low workers and shared their lives and feelings and wrote about them, lashing out at all those who were responsible for the state they were reduced to. He always believed that the mazdoor was the raja of the country and relentlessly and angrily asked why the same mazdoor was being crushed by the forces of corruption which were let loose by politicians and so called labour leaders who claimed to fight for their rights and only added to their own comforts. His booming voice drew thousands to the mushairas and meetings where he spoke and inspired people to rise and ran down the people in power on high and they had to listen to him and take action. Shailendra was an ordinary worker in the Central Railway who wrote poems about the woes of the working class. His poems reflected his inner-most feelings even when he became the most famous song writer, especially in the films of Raj Kapoor. The only film he produced, “Teesri Kasam” was also the story of an ordinary laborer played by his favorite actor and discoverer, Raj Kapoor. The film unfortunately proved to be his undoing. He died a heartbroken man during the making of the film. Majrooh Sultanpuri was another major poet who fought his way through the struggle for Independence and then kept fighting for the cause of the worker. He could be at his leftist hard-hitting best when fighting for a cause and at his mundane best when he wrote the typical Hindi film songs which he openly confessed he wrote to make a living because good poetry never guaranteed that. Just like his contemporary, Sahir Ludhianvi who could rise to great heights when he wrote his collection of poems, “Parchaiyyan”, and the songs from at least two films, “Phir Subah Hogi” and “Pyaasa”. He wrote about the darker side of life and despaired but he also saw hope, a great bright hope of that great and bright new morning to dawn. We dont have all those powerful voices today, except for some voices in turmoil lost in the wilderness who are not being heard by the powers that have gone deaf and even blind to the sufferings of the common man. There may be many others whose voices are being stifled by some unknown forces in some dark corner somewhere which is a very bad sign for our times. And, seriously things have changed but nothing has really changed for the worker, the laborer and the farmer. He is still being exploited. He is still not sure where the next meal for the family will come from. He is still living on promises and polluted air. It is one more Workers Day and there will be many more and they will still keep standing outside their ramshackle doors and asking “woh subah kabhi aayegi” and when will they find their answer in mera Bharat mahaan?
Posted on: Sat, 06 Dec 2014 08:11:23 +0000
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