The government finally wakes up to announce the Dada Saheb Phalke Award for seasoned actor Waheeda Rehman whose grace and gravitas have enamoured and inspired generations. One can’t agree more with Prime Minister Narendra Modi when he writes the actor “embodies the best of our cinematic heritage” on X.
A natural performer, Ms. Rehman has essayed path-breaking roles and understated performances, all striking a chord with film lovers. Negotiating a space between the idealism of Mother India (1957) and the diffidence of Main Chup Rahoongi (1962), her Rosie (Guide, 1965) and Hirabai (Teesri Kasam, 1966) are deeply conflicted characters who eventually sacrifice their flawed relationships so that their art and soul can survive. No less is her poignant portrait of Reshma (Reshma Aur Shera, 1971), which won her the national film award. Reshma betrays her love for stopping bloodshed between two clans.
In Chaudhvin Ka Chand (1960), Shakeel Budayuni describes Ms. Rehman’s beauty as a shayar’s khwab (poet’s dream). Indeed, she is a picture of boundless charm and elegance but her poise emanates from her strong convictions and bold choices.
Hailing from a modest South Indian family that had lost its breadwinner early, Ms. Rehman declined to adopt a screen name and refused to be a ‘yes’ person in an industry ruled by patronising stars and filmmakers. Reminded that it had been the norm, she refused to conform to a regressive practice. Asked to sport revealing outfits, she put her foot down and resisted playing a preening satellite to the reigning stars and patronising filmmakers.A symbol of our cultural diversity, the young Ms. Rehman could speak chaste Urdu and perform Bharatanatyam. When Guru Dutt reached out to the 17-year-old after watching her scintillating dance performance in the Telugu blockbuster Rojula Marayi (Days Have Changed), the title proved prophetic for the young Chand, her name of affection at home. The meeting with the maverick filmmaker not only transformed her life but she rose on the horizon when Hindi cinema was in the golden age.
In C.I.D., her first Hindi film, Guru Dutt cast her in the supporting role of the other woman who seeks to manipulate the hero. It was a dress rehearsal for Gulabo, the golden-hearted hooker, the centrepiece of Pyaasa (1957). In arguably the most influential film of Indian cinema, she, together with her mentor, humanised a courtesan and set a template on which the hooker is not just a one-dimensional object of desire without any agency. She went on to play enchanting variants of Gulabo in Moni Bhattacharjee’s Mujhe Jeeno Do (1963) and Abhijan (1962), Satyajit Ray’s noirish adventure, and Basu Bhattacharya’s Teesri Kasam. Set in rural spaces, they let her experiment with dialect and body language.
Top of the ladder
Before that, in Guru Dutt’s self-reflective Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959), as Shanti, a raging film star, she refuses to be emotionally emasculated. by the fact that she was picked from the street by a genius filmmaker and turned into a charming force overnight. Her innate sense of humour and irreverence comes through as the lively Jaba, a delightful contrast to Meena Kumari, in Abrar Alvi’s Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962) and her love for adventure is on display in Biren Nag’s Bees Saal Baad (1962), a haunting mystery. In Asit Sen’s Khamoshi (1969), as a nurse torn between her profession and psyche, she gives a masterclass in understatement.
She once told this journalist that once she liked a story, she never thought of the “repercussions” of playing a character. In fact, when asked about the one thing she liked about today’s film industry, she said the “pressure of being a good person come what may have receded” on the Hindi film heroine. “Maybe because I never learnt acting, I thought the best way is to feel it. And when you feel it, the emotions come out naturally,” she had said.
She was at the top of the ladder in the 1960s but fame sat easy on her slender shoulders. Refusing to be bracketed just as the Guru Dutt protege, she worked with master filmmakers across camps. From Dilip Kumar to Amitabh Bachchan and Soumitra Chatterjee to Sanjeev Kumar, she performed opposite actors of different styles and generations with distinction. Apart from Guru Dutt, she forged an electric on-screen chemistry with Dev Anand and Sunil Dutt.
Her dance training punctuated her performances but she never allowed it to overshadow her acting. It was only after the classical Piya Tose Naina Lage Re and the folksy Pan Khaye Saiyyan Hamar became raging hits that the world took note of her first love. Years later, she put young actors into the shade when she jived to Sasural Genda Phool.
Ms. Rehman aged like fine wine as her acting never became dated. She went on to deliver some memorable performances in less-known films such as Zindagi Zindagi, Namkeen, and 15 Park Avenue. When Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra was looking for an actor who could justify the woman of fortitude in Rang De Basanti (2006), his only choice was Ms. Rehman. Playing the woman who sacrificed her husband and son for the country, it was her candlelight march scene that proved to be the lasting memory of the film. She described the film as her “swansong till date” but then there was Anup Singh’s The Song of Scorpions (2017) where she returned to the haunting deserts after Reshma Aur Shera. According to Mr. Singh, Ms. Rehman used to be the first to get into costume and walk down deep into the desert. “Standing on a dune, she would say aa jaao…let’s start! When I would advise her to rest, she would say, ‘light jaa rahi hai…shoot karo (the light is fading, let’s shoot).’”
