Ma Tujhe Salaam

Till the time Ram Gopal Varma and his tribe barged into Bollywood, Ma was as important as the heroine in Hindi films. Well, almost. The mother appeared in a dozen avatars: Maa Ki Mamta, Maa Ke Aansoo, Maa Ka Anchal and Maa Ki Saugandh. Three films were named Maa, not to forget a Maa Baap, a Maa Beta and a Ma Beti. Often hysterical and always melodramatic, screen mothers would often burst into tears.And usually without provocation. Much of this was stereotype. But some of Bollywood’s enduring dramatic moments were also weaved around Ma. Here’s five of the finest:
Mother India | 1957
The son she adores has just kidnapped a fellow villager’s daughter and is riding away. So what should Ma do? Nargis, playing the title role, does the unthinkable. She guns him down. Quietly and almost stoically. And when he dies in her arms, she sheds dignified tears. Mehboob Khan’s movie showed that a mother can rise above any family bond for the sake of truth and justice. Bollywood never shocked the audience to such an extreme degree again until gangster Sanjay Dutt arrived with Vaastav (1999). Mother Reema Lagoo shoots him from close range. The unbearable ache of life that he carries in his drug-driven body gently ebbs away. Finally, he is at peace. So is Ma.
Mughal-e-Azam | 1960
For most mothers in Hindi films, life revolves around either/or. They must choose. Between modernity and tradition. Between right and wrong. Even between husband and son as in Mughal-e-Azam. Queen Jodha Bai must choose between emperor Mohammed Jalaluddin Akbar and Prince Salim. Torn apart, Durga Khote cajoles, argues, rebukes and finally begs before son Salim (Dilip Kumar) to give up his ladylove Anarkali (Madhubala). ‘‘Main tumhe apne doodh ka vasta deti hoon,’’ she insists. ‘‘Aap apne doodh ka muawaja (barter) maang rahi hain,’’ the prince replies. She goes back to her husband and pleads for her son, ‘‘Aap sirf Ma hain, sirf Ma,’’ says the emperor. ‘‘Aur aap sirf Shahenshah hain, sirf Shehanshah,’’ she thunders. A mother can fight both a prince and an emperor. And lose each time.
Deewar | 1975
The good son and the bad son squabble over Ma. The bad son has a mansion, a car and a huge bank balance. The good son has a police uniform, a plump girlfriend and a secret treasure. ‘‘Mere paas ma hai,’’ he says. The bad son wants the mother to stay with him. But she decides otherwise. ‘‘Ma ko kharidne ki koshish na karo, beta,’’ she says. Few screen mothers have faced such tough moral and ideological choices. And triumphed.
Devdas | 2002
She is a mother who knows her daughter is in love. Brimming with expectations, she goes to the boy’s home. First they make her dance; then they declare that the match is unacceptable. When the taunts turn coarse, Ma loses her cool. Flaying her nostrils, voice rising to a hysterical high, Kirron Kher goes over the top and out. ‘‘Tum behri ho jo apne bete ke dil ki dhadkan nahi sun sakti. Tum andhi ho jo un dono ke beech ka pyar nahi sun sakti. Aur bahut jald goongi bhi ho jaogi jab apne bete ki barbadi ko dekhogi.’’ Truer words were never spoken.
Sehar | 2005
In mafia-ridden eastern UP, there’s a buzzword:varchasva. And the protagonist cop — Arshad Warsi in a terrific, underplayed turn — wants to know what it means. ‘‘Could you tell me about it,” he asks mom Suhasini Mulay. The widow of a policeman who had committed suicide falls back on her college memories of political science and explains: ‘‘Varchasva means absolute power. Something that cannot be distributed or shared but can only be wrenched out.
Everything happens according to the wish of the man who commands varchasva and on his terms. ‘‘No political scientist would have explained the theoretical core of the UP mafioso fighting for railway contracts any terser or better. A Ma with a difference.
avijit.ghosh@timesgroup.com