Tanuja

She is effervescent—like the fizz on her favourite drink, lemonade! Indeed, during the making of “Hamari Beti,” in which her- famous sister made her debut, the six-year-old Tanuja had only to be promised, a lemonade to make her say her lines.

When she is not bouncing around, laughing, or making others laugh, she is to be found with her feet in the north and her head down south. That is because she loves to read—anything I can lay my hands on; even scraps of paper from the roadside—and usually does so with her feet in the air.

She can never pass a bookstall without stopping to scan its contents. Given three rupees to go and see a picture, she will buy a book with the money. She has often thought how wonderful it would be to marry a great, big bookshop and, perhaps, accept the husband as dowry! (“She is daft,” smiles her mother Sho­bhana Samarth, indulgently).

Where her career is concerned, she is burn­ing with ambition, but not for the usual reasons. “Can you imagine,” she says, her eyes dancing with delight, “with all that money, what a huge library I can have!”

With this penchant for the written word, it is not surprising that Tanuja is an extremely well-informed young girl. Her general knowledge is astonishing and she can talk on-almost any subject.

But, this bookworm isn’t a plain body with spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She is pert, pretty and has a whistle-bait figure. She is crazy about ballet, but not stark crazy as with books.

Her mother speaks of her tomboy daughter with pride and affection. “Tanuja never tells lies. She abhors people who lie. Once, pointing to the living-room carpet, I said to a friend: ‘That cost Rs. 800.’ ‘Oh, Mummy,’ piped Tanuja, you know it only cost Rs. 775!’”

She is also the most generous person alive, says her mother. In Switzerland, where she goes to school, Tanuja once gave her last 100 francs to a needy British friend, in spite of her own foreign exchange difficulties. Tender‑hearted, she always treats, rarely gets treated.
She is not very thrifty, either. Once, asked to take the small car to fetch her birthday cake from downtown, she took the big car and returned triumphantly bearing the cake. When her mother reprimanded her for not being economical, she pouted, “So what, Mummy. Don’t we have enough?”

But she is also dreadfully independent and can take care of herself at all times. Once, visiting friends at Malabar Hill (the Samarth family then lived at Pedder Road), she found the car hadn’t come to fetch her. Beckoning her ayah, she walked home, tired but proud. She was then six years old.

Her family calls for “Granny”. She is very mature and discourses on fate, destiny, sex, politics, philosophy and life in general, as if she were sixty instead of sixteen.

She is often blunt to the point of rudeness and nothing her mother says can cure her of the habit of being too outspoken. Once, after a ballet performance, at her school in Switzerland, she turned to the founder of the school, who took her to be Italian, and said: “Madam, don’t insult me. I am Indian.” She is fiercely patriotic and will not stand for snobbishness or colour differentiation.

Tanuja speaks French and German fluently, has lots of European friends, but is homesick even before the plane reaches Switzerland. She adores Indian food. Thinks European food is horrible.

She is terribly, achingly proud of her sister, Nutan, whose exact opposite she is. When shown a picture of Nutan in a foreign magazine at school, she burst with pride, as she cried excitedly, “That’s my sister!” Later, she wrote: “Oh, Mummy, you don’t know how wonderful it feels to tell people about my sister.”

This five feet two inches of solid mischief, tempered with amazing good sense, is a great philosopher. “If a man cheats you, so what? He won’t have the opportunity to do it again,” she says. There isn’t a malicious bone in her body, say her sisters and friends. Always ready to acknowledge her mistakes, she, nevertheless, stands for her rights.

Although not a dedicated actress, she is sincere enough to work hard and-then criticize herself severely after the “rushes”. She is always busy reading on the sets and one gets the impression that she doesn’t know what’s hap­pening around her. But she does—and more. Not only does she know her own lines but also of the other players.

She isn’t—she can never be—camera-con­scious. But she has given an ultimatum to her mother: “If any director asks me to overact, I shall walk out.”

Blunt–but so refreshing, this new charm­er, Tanuja. (Source – Filmfare Magazine, February 26th, 1960)

Jugal Hansraj in Masoom (1982)

This story of an illegitimate child is a real weepie, which picks up the theme of forgiveness that runs through so many Hindi movies. It is said to be based on Man, Woman and Child (1982), a film adapted from the book of the same name by Erich Segal of Love Story fame, although, in a seeming reversal of trends, this version by Gulzar seems less melodramatic than the western one.

D. K. Malhotra (Naseeruddin Shah) lives a seemingly idyllic life with his beautiful wife Indu (Shabana Azmi) and their two little girls, Twinkle (the young Urmila Matondkar, who later became a star in Rangeela) and Minni (Aradhana, a true star who, I believe, died soon after the film was made). However, it emerges that he had had an affair with Bhavna (Supriya Pathak), a desperately lonely woman, at his college reunion and a son, Rahul (the young Jugal Hansraj), was born. After Bhavna’s death, D. K. is told about Rahul, who comes to live with D. K.’s family in Delhi. Indu cannot forgive her husband, whom she now rejects, and refuses to accept Rahul. Indu uses harsh words to Rahul but occasionally moves towards him, only to draw away again. The girls welcome Rahul immediately and D. K. and Rahul develop a close relationship, although D. K. cannot bring himself to tell his son that he is his father whom he hopes one day will come to find him. Rahul finds a letter that reveals his parentage and runs away. Indu tries to accept him but cannot until the ultimate moment of the film.

The theme of forgiveness runs throughout. Even Bhavna’s ‘sin’ is forgiven by the narrative, as her affair with D. K. is explained as the action of someone deprived of all affection. The girls and Rahul are shown to be naturally forgiving and accepting of others, and are clearly the model to follow. Both the protagonists are in need of forgiveness: D. K. needs Indu to forgive him for his affair, while she needs to be forgiven for her refusal to let herself love an innocent (masoom) child because of her husband’s actions.

The pain of the two adult protagonists and Rahul is dwelt on at great length. It is occasionally verbalised, but the film uses gesture and performance, as well as song, to convey the emotions of the characters. The skill of the film-maker is to make us understand Indu’s treatment of Rahul, even while we sympathise with him. There is only one solution, namely the reunion of all the family, but the route to this is shown to be realistically difficult.

Masoom reveals a great upper-middle-class sensibility in its characters, their occupations and lifestyle. The women’s saris have an almost nostalgic value for a certain kind of elegance associated with the Delhi elite. The music is the light classical type, with haunting melodies by R. D. Burman and lyrics by Gulzar, including ‘Tujhse naaraz nahin zindagi’ (Lata Mangeshkar).

Naseeruddin Shah, one of India’s major acting talents, delivers an outstanding performance as the errant husband and devoted father, as does Shabana Azmi, who manages to portray her deep ambivalence to the child. Saeed Jaffrey, as always, provides strong support and the children are excellent.

Shekhar Kapur has made few Hindi films but all of them have been significant, including Mr India and Bandit Queen.

Cast and Production Credits

Year – 1982, Genre – Drama, Country – India, Language – Hindi, Producer – Chanda Dutt, Devi Dutt, Director – Shekhar Kapur, Music Director – R. D. Burman, Cast - Naseeruddin Shah, Saeed Jaffrey, Shabana Azmi, Supriya Pathak, Urmila Matondkar, Tanuja, Jugal Hansraj

Ashok Kumar and Dev Anand in Jewel Thief (1967)

Cast: Ashok Kumar Dev Anand,Vyjanthimala,Tanuja

Director: Vijay Anand

Music: S.D. Burman

Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri, Shailendra

Capsule Review: A film about mistaken identity starring the debonair Dev Anand cast as look­alikes. This clever suspense film with a surfeit of skilful narrative devices all climaxing in one of the most heart- stopping song-and­dance sequences ever filmed (Hothon pe aisi baat) is still a whopper of an entertainer. A masala mix, well-oiled though not over-spiced, pickled with the pride of the formulaic menu. S.D. Burman’s music goes a long way in embellishing and heightening the theme and mood. Interestingly, the second lead Tanuja (seducing her man with Asha Bhosle’s seductive Raat akeli hai) looks far more comfortable with the hero than the heroine Vyjanthimala. The stiff mood between the lead pair goes well with the plot. Jewel Thief is the kind of film where everything including the suspense, just falls into place with a rustling grace.