Aah! The 70s

I was watching Hindi film songs on YouTube last evening, and as always, YouTube's recommendation engine went rogue - tossing up a bizarre mix of forgotten gems and random tracks. One absolute banger that popped up was an RD Burman classic from "The Train" - O Meri Jaan Maine Kaha. This song transported me straight into the wild, technicolor jungle of 70s Hindi films where swag met melodrama in a cloud of cigarette smoke and disco lights. Back then Hindi cinema was an intoxicating cocktail of dacoits, pipe-smoking villains, and heroes with more chest hair than acting skills.

Aah! Those romantic action-thriller flicks - our "manly" hero - usually sporting 36" bell-bottoms and sideburns long enough to land small planes - drives an ugly-looking American import, designed by engineers who genuinely believed that size mattered and had a strong aversion to curves. In one scene, our hero serenades a chubby village belle with a syrupy romantic song, and in the very next scene, he is chasing a super-sized Baldy to uncover the wicked plans of an elderly and celebrated businessman (aka the villain) who has an unparalleled penchant for evil laughter. Typically, this Baldy wears a black-and-white striped T-shirt and leads our suave hero to the villain's secret underground "adda", a psychedelic lair, which features hundreds of automatic sliding doors and flashing red lights which may trigger a seizure.

Most of these "Boss addas" boast a fully stocked bar with at least two or three bottles of Vat 69 - a must for villainy, and a dance floor for Helen or Bindu. Before entering this garishly decorated barroom, our hero sprints through countless rooms, swiftly opening cabinets and drawers to find the single most decisive piece of evidence to incriminate the bad guy. He usually finds one of the following: an old black-and-white photo revealing the villain is his long-lost father, or a locket that that screams "You killed my parents!" after ransacking my "Swarg se Sundar" home, or a negative roll proving Mr. Baddy is a Chinese spy with a side hustle in smuggling.

After ransacking the adda's other rooms, our hero enters the bar-cum-dance room, orders some brown stuff in a whisky glass (most likely Coke or black tea) to flaunt his machismo, lights a cigarette with theatrical flair, and starts scanning the room like a panther in polyester for more clues. Why the dance floor? Because a scantily clad cabaret dancer is singing and gyrating to a fast-paced RD Burman tune, keeping our hero entertained and glued to his chair. This gives the pipe-smoking villain and his goons ample time to contemplate: To kill or not to kill?

While everyone is enjoying RD's catchy tune, Asha Bhosle's silky voice, and Helen's gyrating waist, the villain and his henchmen armed with "Desi tamanchas" or "Rampuri chaakus" pace restlessly, peeking through small windows or holes in the wall while red lights flash dramatically across their faces.

And the final showdown: punches, flying kicks, a monologue about justice, honor, revenge, and a "Bechari Maa" in white Saari tied to a pillar.

Aah, the seventies pure, unadulterated fun with seriously melodious songs.

Do watch "O Meri Jaan Main Kaha" from "The Train" on YouTube.

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- Atul Srivastava

[Photo: Arctic Ocean]