Anger After Vijay - New Masculinities in 80s Hindi Cinema
                     Anger After Vijay - New Masculinities in 80s Hindi Cinema
In the year 1986, as several expected blockbusters were biting the dust at the box office
(Samundar,  Jaal,  Bhagwan Dada),  an unlikely fan favourite  emerged in the  form of  N
Chandra’s  Ankush.  The  film  presented  a  familiar  tale  of  four  disaffected  young  men
undergoing a moral transformation through association with a kind-hearted young woman,
yet everything from its aesthetic to the way it presented its underlying message jarred with
that of a conventional Hindi potboiler. The anti-hero was nothing new to film audiences at
this point, as only a decade prior audiences had cheered the exploits of Amitabh Bachchan’s
lone wolf Vijay (Deewar, Yash Chopra, 1975). By the mid-80’s Bachchan’s command over
the box office was gradually in decline, and in that vacuum a new configuration of the hero
was  required.  Hence  the  anti-hero  presented  in  Ankush  differed  significantly  from
Bachchan’s icon of proletarian angst.
By the mid-80’s Bachchan’s command over the box office was gradually in decline, and
in  that  vacuum a  new configuration  of  the  hero  was  required.  Hence  the  anti-hero
presented in Ankush differed significantly from Bachchan’s icon of proletarian angst.
Although in this article I focus mostly on films from the eighties, to trace the lineage of the
new anti-hero, we need to take a step back to the pre-Vijay era, to a film that was a direct
inspiration for Ankush. N Chandra had broken into the industry as a clapper for Gulzar’s
Parichay (1972). He has later credited Gulzar for shaping his philosophy of cinema and
aesthetics. It is little wonder then, that for his own directorial debut, he harkened back to
Gulzar’s directorial debut Mere Apne (1971). The Vinod Khanna-Shatrughan Sinha-Meena
Kumari  starrer,  was slated to  be  a  remake of  Tapan Sinha’s  successful  Bengali  venture
Apanjan (1968). Apanjan was one of the first no-holds-barred takes on the disenchantment
of the youth of the nation and directly addressed the turbulent political situation in West
Bengal. Gulzar modified the story to give it a more universal flair, but did not cut out the
violent urbanism that it depicted.
In many ways, Mere Apne was an incredibly urgent film.
In many ways, Mere Apne was an incredibly urgent film. Gulzar’s penchant for poignant
poetic moments framed within populist melodrama will seem like an odd fit  for a story
about violent street gangs. But the character of Meena Kumari (the veteran was severely ill
at the time of production yet persevered through it),  who played the role of the elderly
grandmother, Nani Maa playing a transformative role in the lives of two street gangs, allows
for Gulzar’s trademark humanism to shine through. Mere Apne made no bones about fact
that old values of solidarity and care were coming frayed, and a tattered community was
easy prey for political vultures. This is perfectly captured in the bitingly sharp Haal chaal
thik thak hai. Gulzar’s script walks a tightrope between upholding certain traditional values
while  at  the  same  time  not  completely  demonising  urban  life,  and  is  bolstered  by  a
wonderful young cast of actors (one can’t help but smile at the sight of a young Danny
Denzongpa, perennially accompanied by his ventriloquist’s dummy). The film has a dark
climax (it starred Meena Kumari, it would be wrong to expect differently), with the death of
Nani Maa and the arrest of the two gangs. For a short while the grandmother is able to
reform an ideal filial society with the young men, but political opportunism soon snuffs that
out. The film served as a warning about the lack of proper welfare infrastructure and the
havoc it causes to social bonds.
Mere Apne made no bones about fact that old values of solidarity and care were coming
frayed, and a tattered community was easy prey for political vultures.