If the longevity of artwork is measured by its contemporary relevance, Abhimaan (1973) makes it to the list with pride. Fifty years after its release, the Hrishikesh Mukherjee classic continues to speak to us. Its theme hasn’t aged, the characters remain believable and the music continues to strike a chord. Written by Nabendu Ghosh and Rajinder Singh Bedi (dialogues), who like Hrishikesh sharpened their skills under the sprawling umbrella of Bimal Roy, the story of how a self-centric singer’s ego destroys his tuning with his more talented wife finds an unmissable echo in modern relationships. Here is a love triangle where the male ego forms the significant other.
Often those looking for trivia calculate the reach of the story by looking only for where it came from. Some say it is inspired by the relationship between Pt Ravi Shankar and Annapurna Devi. Others say it draws from the fractured bond between Kishore Kumar and Ruma Ghosh. There are others who find it influenced by the Hollywood hit A Star Is Born. The moot point is we can still align with the soul of the subject which was first titled Raag Ragini.
In Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s universe, it is hard to find a villain. There are only flawed characters who are products of their circumstances and social conditioning. Subir Kumar (Amitabh Bachchan) is no different. He knows his limitations as a singer but still gets swayed by the perks of stardom.
In fact, early in the film, at his wedding reception, when he welcomes Brijeshwar Rai (David Abraham), a doyen of classical music, he introduces himself as a mere pop singer. He knows his position in the hierarchy of music and perhaps that is why he gets attracted to Uma (Jaya Bhaduri).
A village girl, she has learnt from her father, a maestro untouched by popular strains. She has a strong grasp on classical notes and knows more than a thing or two about how melody flows in nature, It is something Subir has lost sight of in the race for fame. Popularity has begun to look fake to him and he finds himself lonely even amongst a crowd of fans. So, in a way, Uma completes him but Subir gradually starts looking at her as competition and her success scars his male entitlement.
The impending conflict, something Subir is unaware of, is very well summed up in the same wedding reception by Rai when he finds Uma more talented than Subir. He tells a friend that society tells us that man is superior to woman and considering Uma is more talented than Subir, it might hurt his ego and fill him with envy. When the friend says Rai should not worry as the kitchen and kids will dry up the river of music in Uma, Rai concludes: ‘It would be worse!’ It is a reality that our patriarchal society is still struggling with. We want our women to break the glass ceiling while holding a pressure cooker in one hand and a griddle in the other.
Some critics find that Uma doesn’t have much agency over her decisions and follows the path shown by her father and husband. When viewed in the context of the social mores of rural India in the 1970s, it is not regressive. Hrishikesh Mukherjee does provide Uma with a distinct voice. In their very first meeting, Uma tells Subir that she doesn’t like all his songs. And when he says he does it for the public, Uma politely retorts one should sing to please oneself and not the public. Of course, it is something that she has learnt from her father but she has the courage to let her opinion be known to a star. It indicates her understanding of true music, something Subir appreciates first. In fact, she shows him a side of music that he has yet to grasp.
When the industry was busy turning Amitabh into a glorified stuntman, Hrishikesh Mukherjee kept challenging the actor in him. In Abhimaan, Amitabh internalises the storm of jealousy that he could not control despite his efforts to let Uma grow and eventually implodes. He drowns himself in liquor and seeks empathy from his modern friend Chitra (Bindu cast against type) but again the director is in no mood for furthering the stereotypical image of modern women in Hindi cinema. Chitra knows that her love for Subir is one-sided and doesn’t back his churlish behaviour towards Uma.
When Uma goes to Chitra’s house to fetch Subir, the two girls know that they are in love with a man who perhaps loves himself more than anybody else.
Curiously, Rajinder Singh Bedi , who also wrote the dialogues of Bimal Roy’s Devdas (1955), uses the popular dialogue of the film, Kaun Peeta Hai..., when Subir likens himself to the iconic character and describes Chitra as Chandramukhi.
In Rajinder Singh Bedi Mukherjee’s films, music is a tool to make little statements that can’t be said through dialogue. It is the melodies of S.D. Burman, ornate with Lata Mangeshkar’s voice and Hariprasad Chaurasia’s flute, that generates ripples every time we watch this riveting romance. From Meet na mila to Nadiya kinare to Teri bindiya to Tere mere milan to Ab toh hai tumse, each song drives the narrative and adds depth to it. For instance, Ab to hai tumse, the song underlines the moment when Uma starts eclipsing Subir as a singer. In the midst of stalwarts like Lata, Mohammad Rafi and Kishore Kumar, the relative newcomer Manhar gets to sing Loote koi mann ka nagar and Anuradha Paudwal makes her debut by rendering the shlokas that find the attention of Subir. It is said Loote koi was originally meant to be sung by Mukesh whose son Nitin assisted Mukherjee on the film.
Fresh from their marriage, Amitabh and Jaya exude remarkable chemistry. Jaya deservedly went on to win the Filmfare Award for Best Actress. And so did S.D. Burman. Interestingly, the same year, Amitabh was ignored for Saudagar where again he played a flawed husband. But he bagged the best supporting actor award for Namak Haraam where he played an imperfect friend, who much like Subir is a loveable monster, taking a long time to look beyond self interest. David, Asrani, and A.K. Hangal were regulars in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s film they voiced the director’s worldview. Here it was no different.
When Jaya took a break from films, the rumour mills started speculating whether Abhimaan has found a way into their lives. Interestingly, the film was produced by Amitabh Bachchan’s secretary Pawan Kumar under the banner of Amiya which was perhaps drawn from Amitabh and Jaya. It says something about Bachchans’ proclivity towards projects where the line between reel and real life blur. Years later they joined hands in Silsila where they very well knew that comparisons would be drawn with their off-screen relationship.
