Now, when Manoj Kumar is in retirement, it is easy to overlook his monumental contribution to commercial Hindi cinema. From the time he turned director officially with Upkar in 1967 (he had earlier ghost-directed the patriotic Shaheed), Manoj Kumar emblazoned the silver screen with star-studded, epic-sized mega-musicals. Purab Aur Pachhim in 1970, Shor in 1972, were followed by Roti Kapada Aur Makaan (RKAM) in 1974.
A star-spangled magnum opus about love, betrayal, and unemployment, RKAM saw Manoj return to the role of the Everyman Bharat, the conscience of the nation pricked by the growing corruption in our society and by the inability of the common man to cope with the pressures of compromised living.
While Upkar was inspired by Lal Bahadur Shastri’s slogan Jai Jawan Jai Kisan, RKAM found its inspiration in Indira Gandhi’s Garibi Hatao slogan. Hence, in a sequence simmering with indignant drama, Manoj Kumar, playing Bharat, burnt his university degree in his father’s funeral pyre.
A love triangle unfolds
The pronounced political undercurrents of the drama notwithstanding, RKAM is at heart a love triangle, where the jobless hero Bharat (Manoj Kumar) is ditched by his ambitious girlfriend Sheetal (Zeenat Aman), who chooses to marry the rich industrialist Mohan Babu (Shashi Kapoor) instead.
The narration, steeped in symbolism, made outstanding use of Laxmikant-Pyarelal’s music, especially Main Na Bhoolunga, which recurs with ironic reverberations to remind the guilt-stricken gold-digger of a heroine of her betrayal.
A still from Roti Kapada Aur Makaan |
Music & emotional resonance
Although Manoj Kumar denies it, the love triangle in RKAM is strongly reminiscent of Guru Dutt’s Pyaasa, where the poet was abandoned by his fiancée for a rich catch. The prostitute Gulabo (Waheeda Rehman) smoothened the sensitive poet’s wounded heart. In RKAM, it’s the pure-hearted Tulsi (Moushumi Chatterjee) who provides hope for Bharat’s shattered heart.
Fifty years after it was released, RKAM continues to exude the scent of topicality. The issue of unemployment continues to haunt our social infrastructure. Manoj Kumar laced his sloganeering theme with devilish dollops of entertainment. Zeenat Aman bursting into her bottom-wriggling Hai Hai Yeh Majboori in Lata Mangeshkar’s seductive voice remains a central attraction, as does the anti-inflation anthem Mehngai Maar Gayee.
A still from Roti Kapada Aur Makaan |
The legacy of RKAM
The mix of socio-cultural concerns with a spectral melodramatic plot never defeated the narration’s purpose of keeping audiences involved till the dying moments of the movie, where Zeenat’s Sheetal must give up her life to redeem herself.
Vastly underrated at the time of its release, what comes across to this day is the writer-director-actor’s genuine concern for the collapse of the Great Indian Dream. His cinema invariably lamented the disillusionment of Indians after the Partition. From the farmer in Upkar to the working-class father in Shor, Manoj Kumar epitomised the dissolution of the Nehruvian dream. In RKAM, Kumar instilled a ruggedness and virility into the storytelling. Whether in showing Bharat’s sibling Vijay (Amitabh Bachchan)’s repressed anger at social injustice erupting into a decisive confrontation with his brother Bharat, or in the way the hapless Tulsi (Moushumi) is raped in a grocer’s backroom swathed in flour (a sequence that was roundly condemned as being voyeuristic and titillating at the time of release), Manoj Kumar’s creative aggression manifests itself in passionate images of drama and redemption played at an incredibly high decibel.
A still from Roti Kapada Aur Makaan |
Manoj Kumar had a penchant for increasing the volume of drama without letting his characters topple over with the sheer weight imposed on the plot. There are vividly etched cameos by one and all. Premnath, who had earlier immortalized himself as the altruistic Khan Badshah in Manoj Kumar’s Shor, returned in RKAM as the sword-wielding Sardar Harnam Singh. Amidst this rush-hour of high-maintenance characters, it’s easy to overlook the amazing Aruna Irani as a wry, self-deprecating mistress of a sleazy businessman. Aruna’s Panditji, mere marne ke baad bas itna kasht utha lena, mere mooh mein gangaajal ki jagah thodi madira tapkda dene defines the marginal people in Manoj Kumar’s cinema, who have no choice but to laugh at what destiny has chosen to do with their lives. When Zeenat’s character Sheetal resolves to marry money, Manoj goes on television to sing Aur Nahin, Bas Aur Nahin, Gham Ke Pyale Aur Nahin… The moment is so rich in ricocheting anguish, it jumps out of the screen and owns you.
Wrongly, RKAM has been interpreted as a potboiler. Yes, it brings together ‘ingredients’ from formulistic cinema in one line of vision. The pyramid of drama and conflict in the plot is constructed with meticulous care. The commodious material is edited (by Manoj Kumar), leaving no room for superfluous moments. In this remarkable filmmaker’s opulent oeuvre, RKAM stands tall for its determined stand on ‘burning issues’. The characters, especially those played by Amitabh Bachchan and Moushumi Chatterjee, represent the growing cynicism of young India towards corrupt politics and politicians which thwart middle-class aspirations. And yet, the film’s tone never gets cynical. Even when Bharat, in sheer frustration, throws his graduation degree into the funeral pyre, we know he will find his way out of the deadlock. That’s the magic of cinema. We can hope and dream through the suffering.
