Mainz Raat, 1964. The first Kashmiri Film

The film starts with a man welcoming a recently orphaned young son of his sister into his family. The man’s young daughter takes a special liking for the orphan boy. The plot is set for a childhood romance that will blossom in youth. The local bad boy of the village with perhaps a linking for the girl grows an instant dislike for the boy. How the world conspires against them and how their love survives, that in a nutshell is the premise of the film

On the surface of it, there isn’t anything new to this story written by Ali Mohammed Lone, a man with literary background. It is plot of countless Hindi films. But it is the social background, the Kashmiri culture, within which this simple story is told, its music, the idioms of its language and the gesticulation of its people, that all add various unique delicious layers to the experience of watching this story unfold on screen. Even to a  Kashmiri viewer it offers layers of ecstatic wonder, layers that the interested viewer can devour to his contentment in each viewing.

 Although nothing much is known about the film’s Director, Jagi Rampaul and the Producer, M.R. Seth, this film was considered path breaking enough back in 1964 to win a President’s Silver Medal. Generations of Kashmiri people remember this film for some great performances by lead cast: Omkar Nath Aima as hero Sulla.Sultan, Mukta as heroine Sarye/Sara, and an outstanding act by Pushkar Bhan as villian Barkat. But most of all this film was remembered for its use of folk songs and some beautiful new Kashmiri songs written by famous poet-writer-painter artist G.T.Santosh and set to music by great Mohan Lal Aima. For generations this film has been known as the first Kashmiri film ever made.

What now follows is not a review of the film, it’s something else, it’s how the film interact with memories.

The opening scene of the film when Rajab arrives in the village to check up on Sultan.

Children playing Hopscotch or Sazlog in Kashmir, taken by James Ricalton in c. 1903,

Rajab, known fondly as Rajab Kaka or Rajab Uncle, distributing sweets, maybe Shirin or Nabad, sugar candies, to children of the village.

After burying Sultan’s mother, Rajab Kaka takes Sultan alongwith him back to his village. As they start of, a woman hands him Kulache for the journey and beseeches him to take care for the motherless child.

Sara, the daughter of Rajak and Sultan hit it off instantly. Meanwhile…

Sara’s brother Razak is chilling out with Barkat the bad boy. Barkat spots the Pandit boy, Poshkar walking with a stack of hay on his back. Just for fun, Barkat flings his cigarette bud onto the load on Poshkar. As Poshkar slowly and without knowing carries a blaze on his back, the bad boys laugh out at the scene.

Sultan and Sara reach the spot, Poshkar gets rescued by Sultan. With this episode Sultan makes a friend, the Pandit boy Poshkar.

‘Myane Bhagwano’, O my God. Poskar’s cry on realizing that his stack was on fire.

love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave’

The boy and the girl grow up, already deeply in love.

‘Batt’e Aaprawun’. Sara feeds Sultan.

Barkat fumes.

Sara and Sultan will marry each other, is an eventuality even hinted by old Rajab Kaka.

Notice the headgear on the woman who walks into Poshkar’s shop to barter an egg

A Kashmiri woman drawn by drawn by H.R. Pirie  in around 1908

The only comic sequence involves a woman who walks into Poshkar Nath’s shop to barter an egg. In a demonstration of typical Kashmiri humour, Poshkar Nath quip’s about the size of the egg.

After the joke, the stage gets set for the gloom to descend. Barkat starts poisoning Razak’s ears, how the village people are not saying nice things about Sara and Sultan. Razak, in a round around way tries to reign in his sister, but Sara snubs him. Razak goes to his father complaining about relation of Sara and Sultan. Razak seems more worried about the fact that Sultan can stake a claim on what he believes to be his property and land. Rajab Kaka tries to put some sense into his son, but the worms of doubt get laid into his mind too. After a villager also asks him about Sara and Sultan, the father feeling ashamed, publicly lashes out at Sara.

Now Barkat plays he next move. Using his minions, he takes the matter to village panchayat with the purpose of throwing Sultan out to village.

As the minions start to take control of the panchayat’s proceedings, Pandit Poshkar Nath moves in to defend the case in favor of his friend Sultan.

The matter ends with Poshkar Nath not only stopping Sultan’s excommunication but using his wit even manage to get a ruling that Sultan has a right to the property.

Barkat isn’t very happy with this outcome. The object of his immediate anger is Poshkar.

Barkat plans to destroy Poshkar by looting the supplies coming in from city for Poshkar’s shop. As the plan is being executed, Sultan comes in at the last moment and fights off the looters.

‘Kal’e Thol’ – Sultan’s  Kashmri Headbutt.
The only other genuine Kashmiri combat move involves throwing a Kangri over  the opponent’s head.
I have actually seen my father perform this artistic maneuver many moon ago.

After this the forces that try to seperate Saran and Sultan only get stronger. Sara sees a storm coming. She shares her worries with her friend, the wife of Poshkar. [There voices drowned in the gurgling of the stream.]

Meanwhile, Poshkar Nath tries to talk sense into Rajab Kaka who now seems to be dying of guilt. Rajab Kaka admits that he still loves Sultan like his own son but it’s the voice of the villagers that he fears.

The lovers grow sadder. Razak sings his love’s lament. Rajab Kaka dies. Razak get’s into mounting debt due to his gambling habit. Barkat makes his next move. Sara knows what is coming her way.

A Kashmiri Hanji woman with Kanz and Muhul.1904

 She talks to her friend about the fate that has befell her.

She asks God for help.

The village bard sings. The visuals get poetic.

Sara gets buried under autumn leaves of Chinar. Harud, autumn is upon the village and upon Sara. Play of seasons is constant theme in modern Kashmiri literature. This scene pays dues to that theme.

Razak finally gives in and to settle his debts, agrees to marry-off his sister Sara to Barkat.

Sara’s Mainz Raat arrives. Before the night, she meets Sultan one last time. Sultan bemoans his fate, swears over his love and respect for Rajab Kaka. Sultan bemoans his orphan status.

He tells her he is happy for her. He tells her maybe it wasn’t meant to be. He asks Sara why isn’t there Henna, Mainz , on her hand.

 The film gets its title from this sequence. It’s the most significant scene of the film.Sara’s Mainz raat is symbolically arranged by her lover Sultan when he puts bangles around her arms and wishes her happiness.

Sara is married off over the sound of Kashmiri wedding song. [At this moment my mother walks into the room, without asking what I was upto, goes through my cloths singing the song from the film. A song about Mainz.]
The brilliance of Mohan Lal Aima’s use of music shines through. He was at his peak back then. Even the use of background score for someone the scenes is well ahead of time and imaginative. And the music is just not limited to folk, there’s contemporary film, with a distinct Indian Cinema touch of the ear and there is classical Indian music setup. [I will be posting a Soundtrack from the film sometime soon. A cleaned up sound extracts from this film]

Sultan looks on.

 Barkat get a wife. He is infuriated at seeing those bangles around Sara’s wrist.

He knows he has caged a bird.

Now, having again lost all his possessions, Razak realizes his follies. He is repentant.

We now see a new side of Sara’s personality. There is residence. She fights with her husband over the state of his brother. She wants Barkat to help Razak out. Barkat too notices this side of Sara’s personality. He who used to flick knives is now beaten by the verbal lashing of his wife.

He gets a quasi heart-attack. We now see a new side of Barkat’s personality too. Strong, evil Barkat now comes across a weakling afflicted by consequences of nature. He, the corrupter of simple village folk now sees cure, refuge in city, the capital of corruption. It’s a textbook Indian film situation but to see Srinagar at the seat of corrupt requires a present Kashmiri viewer to really challenge his senses.

Srinagar is the waterdown version of big bad Bombay in this social setup.

Barkat acts like an a Kashmiri version of Devdas. He wants to drink as much alcohol as there is water in the ocean. Definitive Devdas inspiration. He smokes, drinks and gambles. Back then when Srinagar wasn’t yet cleansed, among other things Srinagar still had vice centers like gambling den, drinking joints and cinema hall. Now these are only private pleasures in the city.

Sara now shows another facet of her personality. She now weeps for her husband.

Over the grave of her father, she cries for husband and wishes his return. Her two brothers, Razak and the Pandit brother Poshkar Nath console her.

Now, Sara, the woman who used to tie threads on Pir’s mazaar for fulfillment of her love, grabs a black veil and prays to Mustafa, the head of all Pirs.

The beauty of it is that this transitions is presented so logically that it takes imagination to conjure up conflicting natures of her personality.

She is delighted when Sultan volunteers to find and bring back Barkat from the city.

Sultan grabs Barkat from a den and brings him to Sara.

Barkat is dying. He is repentant. He wants the bird be set free.

Barkat dies.

Earlier in the movie on being asked by Poashar Nath about getting Sara married, Rajak Kaka had said that by the end of Harud, autumn, Sara will be happily married off.

The season has changed. Harud is over. We hears the songs of reaping.

We see Sara and Sultan together working the field, reaping. We see a new sun rising.

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I first watched this film on Doordarshan in its afternoon regional film telecast on some weekend more than a decade and a half ago when I was still a teenager. I must admit I didn’t grasp most of it back then but it felt significant back then as some of the sights and sounds from the film remained with me for a long time.

A couple of years back, when Kashmir again started churning inside my head, I remembered this film. Given the state of film archives in India, I never thought I would be able to watch it again. I felt the loss of this film.

The complete film, probably procured from Pune film archives (which for some unknown reasons does not list it in its online listing) is now available on Youtube channel of Rajshri.  For some strange reason a quick google search on this film will have you believe that the film was made in 1977. Which of course is wrong. It was made in 1964. And for obvious, self-defeating financial reasons the channel uploader had tagged this film with all kind of nasty, profane keywords (hence the pathetic related videos over there). Which of course is wrong. But at least we now have the film, even if it now swims in a river of innoquitues that is Internet.

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I cannot by help think that if this film was to be re-made now, it will be pregnant with elaborate political connotations and undercurrents. It will be something flashy and sense numbing, something that will try to educate you but won’t let you think, something that will try to interpret ideas but won’t dare you to interpret. It will be real. It won’t be cinema. It won’t be something as simple as Mainz Raat of 1964, the first Kashmiri film. 

“The first film Maanziraat was released in 1968. It was directed by Pran Kishore, featuring Omkar Aima as the hero and Krishna Wali as the heroine, with Som Nath Sadhu, Pushkar Bhan and others as the supporting cast”
~ Came across this interesting  bit in ‘A History of Kashmiri Literature’ by Trilokinath Raina. In the original credits Pran Kishore Kaul is mentioned as Assistant Director. Also the lead actress is named as ‘Mukta’. But from what I have heard, the actress as almost certainly Krishna Wali. Pandit community is so small that I have actually heard about the tough days that the woman had to face in her real life.

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Mohanlal Aima, 1964

Mohanlal Aima singing to a group of tourists on a houseboat on Nagin Lake in 1964.
Found this photograph by James Burke at Life Magazine archive

James Burke has caught this prolific Kashmiri musician at a delightful moment. It the classic stance of a Kashmiri singer. As the backing artists pick up the refrain, as the tempo picks up, the lead singer spreads out his arms like an eagle, doesn’t close his eyes, looks his audience, his patron for the night, straight in the eye, and trying to keep his neck unmoving, moves his head left-right-left-right even as his shoulders blades shove the arms, right-left-right-left. And then the arms drop.

Untitled Post

“Speak you this with a sad brow?”

Never
So this is how I got this cut:

That day too
I got back from school
it was a sunny afternoon
I ran up
with a spring in my feet

up the four steps 
of a red braand kaeny

123.4
My home
A big lock on the old door
Nobody home
where is everybody?
not a soul in sight

I had to go
I am going to leak
I jumped a curb
to the right
Don’t know why
I peeked in from the window
it still smelt of of last winter
– paint and turpentine

Anybody home
I have to go

Even in the best of schools
toilets stink
boys have piss wars
you get jumped.
you Hindu or you Muslim
you stand
they sit

if you do have to
have to go
in school
you stand up from that back row
head held low
you raise your right hand
hold it just close to the chest
a straight palm facing
the bespectacled Mam
no smile
look very Majboor
you sing out:
‘Miss, may I go to toilet?’

Can’t go
I had to go
That day too my bladder was full
how I held on
earlier in that moving bus

onto a promise of home

deliverance
can’t tell 

The home is locked

So now I must go
there
to my favorite spot
the wall next to the red square
just at the foot of the four stairs
where in old days I was warned
not to go
‘we do dishes there.’

So the wall
it was going to be
I dropped my bag
under the foot of the window
A quick lunge back over the half-foot curb
over the stairs
and to the wall, I go

But, no

My left foot hit the worn edge of that curb
I tumbled
I fell
across the pitch line
and then my brow hit the knee of first step
Before the pain arrived
an aunt  arrived on the scene
she cried out

or do you play the flouting Jack,
to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder,
and Vulcan a rare carpenter?


Did I go or did I not go
I don’t know.

Did my pants go wet.

I am told I didn’t cry
This I willingly believe
I remember I didn’t cry
How could I
you told me I wasn’t crying

I always claimed it took seven stitches
but I know I took only five
to close my case of Boomb’fo’tun

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Pandit, Matriculation Admit Card, Panjab University, 1908

[This rare document has been sent in by Rudresh Kaul. He writes:]

Kanth Kaul (Kantah Koul, as written on the admint card) was my great grand father.He studied at CMS, Srinagar. I believe first from our family to do so. Amongst others were his younger cousin Isher joo, who later on became a teacher of Maths at his alma mater and was a colleague and friend of Master Samasar Chand Kaul . He was known as Master Isher Kaul or Master Isher Koul Dhobi, Dhobi being our family nickname. We were residents of 150, Sheliteng- Babapora, Habbakadal, Srinagar. But, important thing is that this card had been printer at Union Printing Works, Lahore. It was issued on 5th February, 1908 and signed by the then Registrar of the University of Panjab , A.C. Woolner [a Sanskrit  scholar now buried at Gora Kabristan of Lahore.]

zor kor veshive sahlaban

Bank of Jhelum somewhere outside of Srinagar. 2010.



buji aki dop yi kya didi gom
kasabay osum su kot didi gom
su ha didi nyunay gura aban
zor kor veshive sahlaban

Said an old granny in a wild flurry,
“Oh, woe is me! Oh, woe is me!
O where’s my headgear?”
“O granny dear, O granny dear,
The yellow flood has carried it off.”
The Vishav has overflown her banks.

A Kashmiri limerick displaying from  J.L Kaul’s Kashmiri Lyrics (first published in 1945. revised and edited by Neerja Mattoo (2008)).
Vishav, fed by Kaunsarnag lake, is a tributary of Jhelum which it meets at Bijbehara..
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Zooni, the great film that never got finished

[Cross posted on my other blog about other thoughts that inundate my mind]

Dimple Kapadia puts on makeup as she gets ready to shoot for ‘Zooni’.
A Kashmiri crowd, of mostly teenagers, looks on. 1989.

Came across this beautiful image in ‘Mary McFadden: high priestess of high fashion : a life in haute couture, décor, and design’ [ at Google Books, check it out for her story about the film that never got finished]

In a New York Times article dated 1990 [link], she is quoted saying:

‘This is like a Cecil B. de Mille production, with 1,000 people in two village to dress. There are no records of how people looked, and no miniatures like other places. I took a melange of looks from the high courts of Persia and Suleiman the Magnificent in Constantinople, so they have more of a Persian feeling. The Mogul Empire had not yet influenced Kashmir.’

For much of late 1980s, Muzaffar Ali, back then already acknowledged a master filmaker for his cinematic rendering of Urdu novel “Umrao Jan Ada” (1905) by Mirza Haadi Ruswa telling the story of a 19th century Lucknow courtesan , was busy planning his next big project, cinematic rendering of the folklore surrounding 16th century Kashmiri poet-empress Habba Khatoon, known to her people as Zooni.

This film was going to be his masterpiece, a project so ambitious in its approach to the subject, an attempt so detailed in its planned execution that it would have been absurd to call it an Indian film at all. Who had heard of a well researched Indian film?

American designer Mary McFadden did the costume designs. Art historian Stuart Cary Welch was  consulted for getting the feel of the era right. The two men behind Umrao Jaan’s musical soundtrack weaved something special for this one too: Akhlaq Mohammed Khan ‘Shahryar’ offered lyrics while Khayyam put those words to music. With his plans to shot the film on location in Kashmir, there was the need to capture the intrinsic beauty of the locale, its people and of the story on camera. The scenic beauty of Kashmir needs to be approached either with a certain restrain or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, with a feeling of Fanaa (not to be confused with that nasty ‘eye of needle meets I don’t know what’ film). Camera was handled by Basheer Ali, a new talent, a protegee of Ishan Arya, the cinematographer for M.S. Sathyu’s Garam Hawa (1975). You would have had to watch the film to know which way it went. The project had already taken some time in making. But it seemed like something worth waiting. Dimple Kapadia, was moving from her nadir of Zakhmi Aurat and on way to her zenith of Rudali. Maybe Zooni was going to be her zenith. Vinod Khanna was well past his peak and well passed his Osho days. But if he was still man enough to sell soaps, he was man enough to portray a king, he already looked the part, riding a horse in that popular soap ad, there was going to be much galloping in this film too (the age of galloping men was to end later with Khuda Gawah (1993) starring the better half of Amitabh-Vinod Khanna duo). Yes, there would have been fans and critics who would have judged their performance. There would have been verdict of the box-office. But we are getting too far. Who worries about the box-office while  the film is still being made? (Don’t answer.)

The film never got finished even as all the songs had been recorded and a lot of scenes had been shot in Kashmir.

By the end of 1990, with the situation in Kashmir going from normal to bad to worse, to at one point seeming like the end, Muzaffar Ali must have got that terrible feeling in the gut that the film may never get finished.

Maybe it would have been just another film, ‘Oji he should have retired after Umrao Jaan. What point this Zooni? These indulgent directors, I tell you.’, that kind of thing and not something that Muzaffar Ali claims would have changed the history of India. Can films change history? Or maybe it would have been special. It would have found an appreciative audience. We may never know.

And perhaps this was the last Indian film to be called a Cecil B. de Mille kind of production.

A trailer of Zooni  uploaded to youtube by Basheer Ali. In last couple of decades the world has got used to crisp images, only HD even on Rs.9000 camera. So the film was look dated now but at least the music can be digitally mastered. Song in the background ‘Rukh-e-Dildaar Deedam Daras Ko Aaye Preetam’.  I read about this song at this blog post by Shahryar’s son about his father’s failing health. I do hope at least the soundtrack of this film gets released.  But the way Zooni and Kashmir are intertwined. There is even little hope of that.

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Bombay film industry had long tried to make a film of Habba Khatoon. All attempts were doomed. First attempt was by Mehboob Khan in 1960s, it was going to star Saira Banu as the queen and Kamaljeet was the king. The project was shelved after Mehboob Khan’s death in 1964. Another attempt was made in 80s by Sanjay Khan who wanted to cast Zeenat Aman as the queen. The songs for the film were recored by Naushad with Rafi. The film was never completed and the songs from the film proved to be last collaboration between Rafi and Naushad.[song]

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Museum, Old and New

Recently, I got an email from someone involved in the design of the New Museum in Kashmir. He had stumbled across my blog, found it interesting and wanted to know if I would like to connect with their project. I was delighted. A new museum in Kashmir. I don’t know how things would roll on that front. But for now, I would like to share these photographs of the first museum of Kashmir:

In 1898, after a proposal from a European scholar, Captain S.H. Godmerry, Maharaja Pratap Singh converted the Ranbir Singh Palace in Srinagar into the Pratap Singh Museum [official website]. Most old-timers remember it as the museum near Bund. The  rare photographs of the building posted here are from around year 1905, a year of great flood and great winter,, and taken from a book called ‘The romantic East Burma, Assam, & Kashmir’ (1906) by Walter Del Mar. I had stumbled across it a couple of years back somewhere in the web, the images from this book stayed with me even as the details of the books got blurred after I lost my ‘bookmarks’ in a system crash. Last  night, as a browsed through a book at archive.org, I recognized the lost images.

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