Ganga Meri Ma (guest post)

This week I'd like to introduce my lovely girlfriend Danielle, for a guest post on the patriotic song "Ganga Meri Ma," from the truly odd 1969 film Tumse Achha Kaun Hai.



Thank you Mr. Gilder, and thank you for inviting me to contribute to your web log. This particular number struck me, even on the first listen, as being a strong candidate to replace India's current national anthem, which, after several minutes of grueling Wikipedia research, I discovered was composed to honor George V of England as the "Dispenser of India's destiny." This number is a little more rollicking and a little less colonial-riffic. That said, it's also just plain catchy. Bollywood numbers from the era covered by this particular blog seem so foreign, so kitschy and absurdist, but after a quick listen it seems as if these melodies are only one enterprising producer away from being re-casted as America's next pop phenom, or at least a backing loop to a rhythmic spoken word song about the perils of the streets and the joys of amassing great fortunes.

But unlike Jay-Z, Shammi Kapoor has a spastic sweetness, sort of Joaquin Phoenix meets Jimmy Kimmel, and his gestures are unrivaled. As he dips his head into the glacial waters of the Ganges, I can't help but think to myself, "Damn that water looks cold," but he just shakes it off, like a stone-cold badass. He throws an apple AT HIMSELF and then CATCHES IT, in ANOTHER PART OF THE COUNTRY. At 3:11 into the clip, he answers the eternal question "Which Vastness?" And then there's a stunning cameo of Ghandi-as-Buddha at 3:20. As a procession of floats roll by, representing the various unique cultures and regions of India aka Hindustan, I again am amazed at Mr. Kapoor's ability to maintain his goofy-cool while dancing through a copious fog of diesel fumes.

The accumulated evidence makes the conclusion inevitable: you cannot fuck with this guy. His mother is the Ganges, and his father is the Himalayas. As a Southern California native, all I can really put up against that is that my mother is the Los Angeles River, and my father is Mt. Wilson. For those who do not know, my geological parents are plainly lame in comparison. The final bit, with its neat rows of uniformed schoolchildren forming a living map of India, made me patriotic for a country I have never even visited. I spent even more grueling minutes researching performances of India's present national anthem, and I firmly believe that homemade floats, clapping schoolchildren, and a spastic pudgy man dancing like a lunatic in a field full of purple saffron crocuses is a tad more appealing than shots of a barren landscape, slow-motion pans of armed forces, and helicopters laden with Ghandi-knows-what.

Aaja Aaja Main Huin Pyar Tera

Introducing my favorite Bollywood actor - Shammi Kapoor! Also known as "the Indian Elvis Presley," he cultivated a distinctly Westernized, urban, hip persona, in contrast to the romanticized agrarian and traditional values portrayed by most male stars of the time. He was a huge star in the '60s, and with his youthful, hyperactive intensity, he took over the role of the romantic playboy like no other. As the Official Shammi Kapoor Fan Club puts it, "To watch him tease the heroine was much like observing an overgrown pup romping and frolicking in a bed of prized roses." Shammi's songs were often performed by the playback singer Mohammed Rafi, who was a friend of Shammi's and worked to imitate the vocal style of early Western rock singers like Elvis.

This crazy spasmodic dance sequence is from the film Teesri Manzil, from 1966, which actually has quite a few excellent dance numbers. Shammi's manic, broadly expressive moves are on full display in this deranged, twitch-filled choreography. I have to confess that I have actually watched this movie countless times in an attempt to incorporate Shammi's unique and brilliant moves into my own dance repertoire.

You may have noticed from the bit of dialog at the beginning of the clip that this is supposed to take place in a "rock and roll club," and while the band's music certainly has a strong Western pop influence, their outfits are just confusing... the only description that even sort of fits is that they look they're supposed to be Robin Hood's suave cousins.

Anyway, after several minutes of Shammi cavorting around the club, his lady friend, Asha Parekh, decides it's time for a twitchy dance showdown, and man does she have some tricks up her sleeveless top. By the way, don't get any ideas - that top is the product of advanced Bollywood engineering efforts to produce the most formless and unenticing shape possible. But that's okay, because with Asha, it's all about the eyes, and in this case, her seduction strategy seems to be to induce epilepsy in her victims by fluttering her eyelids at theoretically impossible speeds. This capability, along with some of her jerkier dance moves, make me suspect that Asha Parekh is, in fact, a robot. All I can say is, better not cross her, because she's got a serious posse of backup dancers who clearly have the ability to travel into the future to purchase tights from American Apparel.

Somehow, the excitement just keeps on building, and the contagious epileptic fit dance spreads to the rest of the club! In a final flurry of fast cuts, we see a few token white patrons, several dancers who clearly need either immediate medical attention or an exorcism, and most exciting of all, the guitar-cam, which shows us — for no conceivable reason — the view through the sound hole of the guitar! Finally, the fat lady collapses, and it's all over. I absolutely love it.