Dead As A Dodo (Hopefully!)

Otherwise known as: Tropes in Hindi cinema that I have bid adieu to, without regrets, and ones that I hope will go the same way...   

I must confess that it is one of Dustedoff's more recent posts that triggered the inspiration for this one. She wrote about the 'lost and found' trope and its absence from cinema today, and in the comments, there was a discussion about other such tropes that have vanished without a by-your-leave. 'Don't people go on picnics anymore?' bemoaned one reader. True. Those were innocent archetypes that usually set the scene for a decent song. And yes, I mourn their absence as well. But that set me thinking - what about the many tropes that have vanished (or should vanish) without their being mourned? 

Long ago, I wrote a post on character archetypes in Hindi cinema that we do not see any more. In that post, I also wrote that I was just listing the characters who have vanished from our screens, not arguing that they should still be around. Here, though, I'm talking about  tropes I wish would vanish, tropes that have vanished, and should stay vanished, beginning with one of the most egregious. 

1. Sex as a cure for hypothermia

Can I just say Thank you to whichever god of cinema it is that decided that this particular cure should be retired? While the dialogues pay lip service to 'body warmth' being the last ditch resort to keep hypothermia patients warm until they can get medical help, no one (as far as I know) suggests that that means they need to have sex with an unconscious woman in order to save her life. Note that it is always the woman who is in need of being 'warmed up'.  

Examples are quite a few, from Shashi Kapoor regretfully (yeah!) 'doing the dastardly deed' with an unconscious Sharmila in Aa Gale Lag Jaa  to the horrible, horrible (Manmohan Desai, how could you?!) scene of Amitabh doing the same to Meenakshi Sheshadri in the travesty that was Ganga Jamuna Saraswati. My only question after coming out of the theatre was, God, why did Amitabh have to stoop to this? 

Unfortunately, GJS is unforgettable, though not for the same reasons for which one usually uses that description. 

 

2. The heroine getting pregnant after one night of illicit passion

This could also be a corollary to 1. But whether she is unconscious when the hero is having his way (what a lovely euphemism) with her (Aa Gale Lag Ja), or she consciously gives in to the raging hormones - if she is not married (and this is an important precondition) - she will become pregnant (Ek Phool Do Maali, Aakhri Khat, Andaz, Dhool ka Phool - take your pick). Someone mentioned Sharmila as the face of the unwed mother in the comments on my post on the various filmy Maa(s). I must agree. She was definitely unbelievably fecund on-screen: Daag, Aradhana, Mausam, Aa Gale Lag Jaa, Satyakam, Sunny, Swati... all come to mind.

 

Corollary to the corollary: This natural calamity also occurs if the heroine is married, but her husband has to stay away from her due to circumstances beyond his control (Baarish, Aan Milo Sajna) - like being in jail, for instance (or hiding from the law).

 

But he will escape, and in the one night that he manages to elude the cops and meet his wife, they will give in to their lust (sorry, pavitra pyaar) and voila! Hero is back in jail, and heroine is pregnant, and being chastised most severely for being unchaste.  

3. Doctors diagnosing the heroine's pregnancy by checking their pulse (Thanks to Dustedoff for providing both the example and the screenshot.)

Perhaps this should also be a corollary to the above, since, usually a month or so after the afore-mentioned night of illicit passion, the heroine faints. Again, usually, at a party. Or just in public. And among the guests, or the standers-by, there will be a doctor, who is so talented that just by checking the lady's pulse, he will proclaim loudly, Ye maa ban-newaali hai. (See Humraaz, for instance.) Stray thought: haven't they heard of patient privacy at all?

The other sign of pregnancy does not need a doctor to spot that the heroine is indeed, pregnant. She will throw up. And there will be an old woman conveniently around (usually Leela Misra) who will mutter in tones of deep disgust: Arree, kulta, tum humein kisi ko munh dikhane ke laayak nahin chhodi! Tu paida hote hi mar kyun nahin gayi...

(Confession: This scene actually takes place 25 years after the occurrence, but Leela Misra is still excoriating Sulochana for having been pregnant out of wedlock two decades and a half ago. Sentiments similar to the examples I gave above were expressed with much contempt. I couldn't resist putting it here, because it so efficiently expresses my point - the 'shame' of a youthful mistake never ends.)
I haven't seen much of this around at this point, and I hope never to see it again.

4. The hero's sister, who is only there so she can be raped by the villain and then commit suicide (or be murdered, or become an unwed mother whereupon, see above...)

This was rather common from the late sixties all the way to the eighties. If the hero had a sister who was not a mainstream or second-tier heroine* (think Faryal, Madhu Malini, etc.), then you can bet she was there just so she could be raped by the likes of Prem Chopra, Ranjeet, and their ilk (Faraar, Adalat, Resham ki Dori). That would be the reason for the peace-loving, plough-toting (or file-carrying) hero to lay down the tools of his trade and pick up a rifle. But not before he knocks unsuccessfully at the doors of justice, and/or is framed for crimes he did not commit. Badlaaaa! Main tera khoon pee jaaoonga... Goodbye, sisters. I'm so glad you are not around to be raped any more. 

*If the sister is a mainstream heroine (Nanda, Shyama, Zeenat Aman), then she will be paired off with the second leading man or will be the focus of the plot (Chhoti Bahen, Bhabhi, Hare Rama Hare Krishna...) If she is a second-tier heroine (for e.g. Aruna Irani, Nazima, Naaz, Shubha Khote), she will be paired off with the comic interest (Junglee, Gharana, Sasural...). In both cases, she will not be raped, or if they try, she will be saved in the nick of time. After all, heroes, even second leads, and comedians cannot be paired with 'damaged' (ugh!) goods. 

 

An important corollary to this is if the heroine (or one of the heroines) is saved from rape by the hero (one of the heroes) she will promptly fall in love with him. It often leaves me scratching my head. If someone saved me from rape or molestation, I would be grateful to him/her/it until the end of my life and beyond, but I did not know it was mandatory for me to fall in love with them. How do you fall in love with a person just because he saved your life and/or your honour? Or do these women not know the difference between gratitude and love? (If one of my readers can explain this to me, I would be eternally grateful. No, not in love with you, but grateful...)

5. Widows given a second chance at love (and life), but only if they are 'untouched' (I love euphemisms.)
 In the ways of the patriarchy, women have to be 'pure'. So with few exceptions, a hero can only marry a widow if she is a) Not really a widow (Kati Patang) b) It was a child marriage and she hasn't even been to her sasural (Bhabhi) and, c) If her first marriage was not consummated for reasons later explained (Ek Phool Do Mali)

Basically, if the woman is a virgin even though she is married and widowed, she has every right to fall in love and expect the man to marry her. Otherwise, she will step aside for the 'pure' heroine, or will die to save the hero/her child/any stray passer-by, but she will not let her apavitr saaya tarnish the hero's life.

6. If you are a girl and you smoke and drink and wear short skirts even after you fall in love with the hero*, you have to die

Really. Don't you know it is against Bharatiya sanskar?** Only those loose, western women smoke and drink, and we all know they sleep around. Chee chee.  So if you are an Indian woman and smoke, drink, and (gulp) have premarital sex, you have no hope in hell of having a halfway decent life. Die! The 'bad' girls in Hindi films always do. Of course, they sometimes salvage their eternal soul by taking a bullet meant for the spineless hero so they can die in his arms, begging for another life so they can learn to be worthy of him. (Helen in Teesri Manzil, Sharmila in An Evening in Paris, etc. Aaaaaargh!)

*That is because heroines who wear short skirts and 'westernised' clothes change into salwar-kameezes and saris the minute they fall in love - with a hero, who ostensibly fell in love with their mini-skirted avatars. (An Evening in Paris, Purab aur Paschim, Ziddi, any number of films.) Oh, and their hair grows surprisingly long overnight as well, and good Indian girls always know their Sanskrit prayers and will keep Karva Chauth.

If she continues to wear western outfits and/or talk to a paraya mard, be assured she will come to a bad end (Nargis in Andaz).

** Some day, I would like to lay my hands on this Bharatiya Sanskar  manuscript (and tear it up). I will bet my last penny that if there is one, it has been penned by a neanderthal male. (Most men I know are, thankfully, sensible creatures.) 

7. "Betiyaan paraya dhan hoti hai."  "Betiyon ke ghar ka paani tak peena hamare dharm ke khilaaf hain"

I should hope that the idea of 'paraya dhan' is banished not just from our films, but also our society. a) I'm not my husband's property and, b) I still 'belong' as much to my parents and siblings (and they, to me) as I do to my husband. 

Two, this concept of the girls' parents being somehow inferior to those of the boys'? It sticks in my craw, and I write this as the mother of two boys. 

Of course nothing beats the dialogues by the women themselves, the ones who touch their husband's feet and cry, "Tumhare charanon mein hi apna swarg hai", or (removing his sandals), "Ye toh mera janm-janmantar adhikaar hai." (And this gem was, quite unforgivably, from Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Pyar ka Sapna.) Barf. 

8.  The hero stalking the heroine, teasing her, refusing to take 'No' for an answer because, of course, she is in love with him - or will be

Yes, I'm aware that quite a few movies I have liked in the past, and still like for that matter, had that trope well and truly ingrained in their DNA. (Yes, Shammi Kapoor movies, especially.) But those were more innocent times, and the interactions were also quite respectful once the romance was established. However, I would be the first one to agree that that particular element needs to be well and truly buried today. 

So, yes, men need to learn that 'No' means 'No!' (Not 'Now!') It does not mean 'Yes' or 'Maybe'. And no, we are not going to fall in love with you because you follow us around, call us a billion times, and basically act like you have no life of your own.

Nor are we in love with you because we smile at you and talk to you. If we liked you (yes, in 'that' way), we would tell you so. You don't need to 'pursue' us. We are not game. 

But to be fair to the men, a note to women out there who think it is cute to play games because 'men like to pursue women', and 'women have to play hard-to-get, or the man won't respect you'. Please do not say 'No' when you want to say 'Yes'. Conversely, please do not feel pressurised to say 'Yes' when you want to say 'No'. And once you do say 'Yes', please own that you did, in fact, say 'Yes'. There is a fine line between flirting and being a tease. 

(You are surprised that both men and women fall prey to this stereotypical behaviour? It's quite prevalent, I can assure you, on the part of both sexes. Isn't it time we banished this not only from films but from our lives as well?)

p.s. to men: Saying 'Yes' does not make a woman 'desperate' or 'loose' or unworthy of marriage.
p.s. to women: And you don't want to marry (or have a relationship with) the men who think that of you, anyway.

Now that we have got most of the horrible tropes out of the way (if you have any more to add to the list, feel free), here are some of the amusing ones that have also disappeared (one hopes!) and should stay that way.

9. The hero and heroine singing a song of eternal love and vowing to be together not just in this life, but saat janam tak...

I do not know about the hero and heroine, but the audience definitely knows by now that tragedy will immediately follow the lovey-dovey happy song. The hero and heroine will be separated - by circumstances, death (real or supposed), or betrayal (real or supposed). Retire this one already, please. Though I must confess that we got a lot of lovely songs from this plot device (Sangam, Rajkumar, Andaz, Mere Mehboob...).

10. Older heroes acting as college students
This was the bane of a certain period in our films. It was quite a stretch of imagination to watch people like Rajendra Kumar, Manoj Kumar, Joy Mukherjee, Biswajeet and their ilk pretend to still be in college when they looked old enough to have kids in high school at least. They also had cringe-worthy dialogues to go with that role -"Maa, main college mein first aaya hoon."

 

Unfortunately, while the heroes may not be in college today, the trend continues: heroines of a certain age soon become their erstwhile heroes' elder sister or bhabhi, while the heroes continue to romance other heroines who are almost twenty years their junior.

 

11. The hero and heroine breaking into a song-and-dance routine in public, accompanied by dozens of people impeccably attired in costumes (mostly), all knowing how to match steps to an intricately choreographed number

 

And it doesn't matter if the setting is in India or abroad, in a club or on the street. It is a given. I suppose one should be glad that they don't come bearing pots and pans these days.  Sai Paranjpye spoofed this trope beautifully in Chashme Buddoor.

 

This trope actually reminds me of a funny story that a friend of ours who resided in the Gulf told us. He was watching a Madhuri Dixit film on TV one day, when, in the middle of a song sequence, there were a few dozen camels walking across the screen. He didn't think much of it, since he is used to horses, elephants, pots, duppattas, flowers, etc., being used as props in song sequences. Until he came to India and happened to watch that song sequence again - there was the suggestion of a kiss where he had seen the camels before, and the authorities in the Gulf had done their own (intelligent) moral censorship, knowing the average Hindi film-goer of those times would not be any the wiser.

Corollary to the above trope: Can we stop having the heroine jump into the middle of a group dance (usually folk, usually in the village), and immediately know all the steps so she can dance it perfectly without missing a beat?

12. The 'climax' song in the villain's den

Stop making our heroes (and heroines) look like idiots. (Some of them don't need any help.) Why, when you are attempting to breach the villain's den for a rescue attempt, or to bring him to justice, would you go in dressed in the flimsiest of disguises? The cops in our movies may be bumbling idiots, but the villains aren't. Usually. Besides, isn't the whole purpose of the exercise to get the villain? Not waste time singing songs? Or until the pest of a mother shows up to tell the hero, 'Tum kanoon ko apne haath mein mat lo, beta' thus giving the villain a chance to use her as a shield. (At which point, a sensible man should say, 'Oops, sorry, ma' and shoot the villain anyway. The greater good, and all that...) 

Besides, everyone is able to see through your 'gypsy' disguise. Note to all scriptwriters and heroes: You are still recognisable as 'you' under that thin mouche. And just in case you didn't know, a sheer veil doesn't a disguise make. But of course, if you can fool your wife just by shaving off your mouche, then villain kya cheez hai?

It is interesting, as a sociological thought-process, to see just how many of these plot contrivances that I would like to see disappear are those that reference women.  I do agree that films (and film stars) are soft targets and that someone, somewhere, is going to be offended at something. 

I believe films are a reflection of society in some ways. But it is true that society reflects what films show as well. I also believe strongly that films do not necessarily have to be 'moral'. I do believe, though, equally strongly, that they have to be careful about the message they are sending out. What I ask is that film-makers take stock of whether what they are showing is true to the spirit of their story, to the character who is behaving in a certain way, to the ethos to which that character belongs. Most often, they are not. They are just contrivances that can easily be done without. 

I love my Hindi cinema, both the realistic ones, and the impossibly masala ones; I'm perfectly happy watching a total entertainer that doesn't take itself seriously, and is very clear about that aspect of it. I will overlook the huge leaps of logic that are needed to follow the plot (what plot?), ogle the eye candy on screen, listen to the songs, laugh at the comedy, clap at the punchlines, enjoy my samosa and chai, and come back happy to have spent three hours on that experience. 

I love to watch a film intelligently made, that has a certain message that is a part of that arc of the narrative, and seeks to disseminate its message in a way that is palatable to the average viewer. 

I'm perfectly fine with a film that espouses the film-maker's point of view, be it ever so serious, as long as he does not patronise me. If he has made me think, if he can cause me to reflect on a long-held bias or attitude and accept there might be a different point of view even if I still do not agree with it? Bliss. Icing on the cake. Cherry on top. (Masculine pronoun used for convenience.)

Where I personally take offence, is the film that treats its audience as idiots, objectifies its female characters, stereotypes the male ones, espouses regressive beliefs under the umbrella of 'sanskar' and takes itself and its 'message' so seriously that the filmmaker hits us on the head with what is 'good' and 'bad' (in his opinion).

I respect the huge time, effort and money that goes into making a film, any film. All I ask is that filmdom respect the viewer as well.

These are my wish list of plot devices that should either stay buried or be given a quick and respectful burial. What tropes would you like to see banished from the lexicon of Indian cinema?