Priyam Sinha
This International Women’s Day, we must celebrate the journey of all those women who pursued their dreams and ventured down the uncharted path in the Bombay cinemas. As I flipped through the pages of Durga Khote, Kanan Devi and Madhubala’s autobiographies, I wondered why despite such a glorious past of numerous actors in the Bombay cinemas, only some were noted down in history.
And most importantly, why these autobiographies too focussed on their linkups, rumours, and scandals. While I glanced through Saadat Hasan Manto’s work, I read experts about Nargis having a “colourful life” and too little about her professional accolades. It made me ponder and dwell into penning down my thoughts in the form of a poem.
The close association of cinemas being “entertainment for all,” and a cinematic experience being a collective outing for friends or family added to the inhibition of women wanting to pursue acting. Women were also made to believe that the constant exposure to the camera lens has detrimental health consequences.
The hypocrisy was strongly foregrounded in the lives of young girls who were told to take up more respectable professions if they desired to get married and have a family in the future. So, doctors and teachers were deemed to be the most lucrative and noble careers for women who could avail of education.
Despite such allegations and morality debates being raised about women’s sexuality, some women pursued acting in the Bombay cinemas. Thereafter, their lives and familial matters were the subjects of gossip, scandals and rumours, often preventing them from being respected. Fingers were pointed towards their failure to perform familial or maternal duties. In the past decade, feminist historiographers started researching the autobiographies and oral narratives of women who joined cinemas in the Phalke era. I draw inspiration from all those women who battled their way through the Bombay cinemas in the tumultuous talkies in the 1930s.
Clipped Wings and Untold Stories
I ran across a butterfly with a broken wing, struggling only wishing to soar high up in the sky this left me thinking.
I too was one of them,
Wanting to soar high up in the oblivion,
Stardom, fandom, glitz and glamour enticed me.
I saw it all,
But I was a child,
Innocent, naïve and helpless!
I didn’t know what it takes to be a star.
The baggage it beholds,
The emotions it buries,
The uncertainties, stigma and humiliation at each step.
And now I look back at those days,
Wondering, if my wings had been clipped.
Asking, if that butterfly was freer than me?
Muddled in thoughts.
Everything around me seems so empty,
I felt empty.
There was this lingering pain looking into the mirror.
I could not see myself.
It just seemed like flesh and bones.
Emotionless, heartless, crying from within, wanting to shout out!
There is nothing I have to offer!
My youth has gone in this big bad world I was told to stay away from,
I battled and survived,
And yet I am lost and forgotten.
I am not the only one!
So many like me are out there…..
Lost in history, left distraught,
Working round the clock,
Unaccounted, unacknowledged,
Left in despair,
And disgruntled.
We hid it all yet again, faking a smile!
Lights! Camera! Action!
Showtime it is,
The camera pierced into my body,
It felt like a sword,
I smiled yet again, looking at the cameraman.
“My lines?”
Not as many as the hero!
“Why am I here then?”, I murmured!
There was no answer!
The cameras came closer,
This time with lights brighter than before,
It went up and down, scanning my body!
Eyes, lips, neck and beyond.
So, I am the hero,
I said to myself.
Yet I have no lines?
I stared into the clear sky,
Hoping for an answer.
All I could hear were cries from within!
But no answers!!!!
I told myself this time I was not the hero, so I had no lines.
Searching for hope,
Spotted the butterfly again!
Wonderstruck, amused and elated I was,
But why?
Alas! She’s free,she isn’t forced to smile,
Her wings aren’t clipped!
She does what her heart desires,
Undeterred, audacious and daring!
“When was the last time I smiled for myself?”
There was an uncanny silence!
No answer, just silence,
A dreadful silence that tore me apart!
I felt like a doll kept at a museum,
To be viewed by all,
I looked around for someone to cry to and saw the men,
So many of them.
They were the heroes,
But there was something different
They had the lines,
Those lines I yearned for.
“Why am I always the helpless one?”
“Why would he protect me yet again?”
This time angry, wanting an answer!
But no one cared
I walked up,
Demanding my rights,
But no one heard.
I deserve an explanation.
But all I got was a smirk,
A stare signalling that I am replaceable!
It shattered me this time,
I am the muse, nothing else!
Objectified in silence,
I heard someone calling me,
I turned, the cameras were ready!
The show was to start,
And there’s no looking back.
I signed the contract of slavery,
Not knowing what was there,
Apparently, a secret! I was told
Feels more like a trap now!
But too late…
So now what? Twelve-hour shift then before I break down and cry for the others to see wish I could just call it a night,
I am now longing to go home!
“Home” encompassing an ocean of emotions.
But loneliness awaits in those four walls now.
Those dear ones left me,
It’s just me and my thoughts!
But a rosetinted picture glamorous enough for the world to see!
How many poets paint a picture never to be discovered?
I am one of them! So, I penned down my muddled thoughts in a diary,
Never to be seen!
Lost in history,
Never to be heard!
I remained silent, yet to be discovered.
And now I am no more,
No words left for you to read
And my story remains untold!
All you know is that I smiled for the camera
And died with my stories,
No one cared then, noone cares now!
The heroes stayed on!
And so did their memoirs…..
