Even more often, in Hindi cinema, I feel this sort of Partition echo is sublimated into rural/city romances, where two people find a connection despite their differences, but are torn apart by the fatefulness of space and local politics. In this category, some sugary Mithun and Ranjeeta Kaur romances (Rajshri, all) immediately come to mind, as well as a lot of Dilip Kumar film plots from the 50s. And when I say sublimated, I don't mean there isn't inherent meaning in conflicts of clan vs. clan, or caste prohibitions, or urban vs. rural lives being worked out through cinematic romance. But it does seem that Partition memory might be the larger conceptual touchstone that turns localized story-lines into something universal for the viewer.
[Spoilers below. It's hard to discuss this film without them.]
Pakistan's Lakhon Mein Ek (1967) gives us one of those satisfying moments in cinematic history when such subtextual story-lines become maintext. Starting from the first days of Partition violence, the story follows two Hindu and Muslim families in Kashmir, whose families are joined "by chance" in the chaos.
In self defense, the Hindu patriarch flees to India, but is accidentally separated from his young daughter, Shakuntula.
|One of the better moments of Talish's probably signature theatrics|
|Mehmood has 150% more style than substance, but at least he tries.|
After some convoluted events, Mehmood manages to stick around town for a bit, in order to romance Shakuntula, and frolic in the jaw-dropping scenery.
|Poor little lamb doesn't get to frolic ...|
Lecherous astrologer also tattletales to Mr. Khan, and Mehmood is then chastised for "hugging" a Hindu girl and thus taking her honor, and is ordered back on the road. [Gag me again, but the anti-hug rant is hilarious in a way, too.] Oh ho, but Mehmood can't possibly drive safely in such a state of grief, can he? [To you 99% of lorry drivers who actually keep your emotions in check on the job, I am sorry. Cinema has done you ill.]
|A better view of KITTEN here.|
Poor Shakuntala, too, who must woo dear Mehmood all over again. However, this time he has the benefit of remembering their childhood romps. Unfortunately, the new adult romps are interrupted by the massively inconvenient return of the Hindu patriarch, a broken but kind man, who has been stuck in an asylum for years. Shakuntula is immediately ordered to return with him to India. [Why he would want to go back is beyond me, as the film makes it clear he been ill treated primarily because of his loyalty to Pakistani friends.]
|Hindu papa confused by the judgy locals and grosssssss pandit|
Shakuntula tries to elope with Mehmood, to her credit, but to his credit [I guess?] Mehmood listens to his father's pleas to let Shakuntula have the Hindu life she was meant to have, and to not dishonor their families. [Fair enough, although why he's not in a puddle over giving up someone who's effectively his daughter is a mystery to me.]
Of course, India STILL does not treat them well. Shakuntula is a social outcast. She is apparently tainted because of her years spent in Pakistan. Her father wants to get her married, and enlists a super-creepy pandit to match-make. [I mean there are some scary pandits in Hindi cinema, but this one would definitely twirl his mustache if he wasn't required to shave it off.] The only man who wants Shakuntula is the local rape-y forest ranger. To appease her father, Shakuntula marries him anyway. Things do not go well.
The appeal of this film to the contemporary viewer is pretty obvious. A view of Partition from the other side. A Hindu/Muslim romance. Lorry-love. [I swear, this is a whole genre, akin to Westerns or swashbucklers.] The simultaneous propagandization of the Indian state AND humanization of individual Hindus. But also of note:
Time and memory erasure
10 or 15 years pass and the adults are older, but really no different. They haven't grown as people or
changed in loyalty or taken new paths. I guess this fits the idea youth has of elders--that of a static generation without adaptive qualities. Think of all the strong/weepy masala mothers who change little as time lapses and their sons grow older. Hindi films tell stories like this, and I expected the adults wouldn't change too much. What's interesting is to to see the same theme play out in Mehmood's (a young man) loss of memory. South Asian films LOVE the amnesia trope, but to write a son with two fathers, neither of whom can he remember concurrently, seemed a pretty obvious symbol for Kashmir. [But, you tell me.]
Blood ties as trump cards
Should you be loyal to your roots? Or to your experience? Your parents? Or your caregivers? There's a lot of symbolism going on here ... with multiple adoptive parents ... all of whom are cast aside or cast themselves aside when the biological parents return. I could be wrong, but this feels very fatalistic to me ... as if all of what has happened has been an anomaly that the universe must put right. Hindus belong on their side, Muslims theirs, and Kashmiris, you're just bound to be forgotten, what rum luck, sorry.
Women as symbols of family honor
GAG. But as always, it's interesting to see how some films subtly undermine the tradition by showing (A) how easily it can be manipulated, (B) how easily people's intentions and actions can be misunderstood, and (C) how badly it works out. Also, while the older generation is against mixed marriages, the younger generation is SO over that.
Justified violence is still destructive
It's hard to explain unless you've seen the end. But the film is not gung-ho about violence, even when it's used for self-defense. Based on a few scenes in the film, and the climax, I would guess that somebody behind the film was advocating for pacifism, or at least, making a case that while the men are off fighting, it's the women who suffer. Coming on the heels of the 1965 Indo-Pakistan war, this seems significant.
Hinduism and Islam are given equal respect
Hinduism as an individual's religion is caricatured here, but in a sweet way. While the details feel a bit exoticized, Shakuntula is not simplistic in her lonely devotion. She prays as fervently in her wilderness temple as any of the Muslim characters do in private. She even has an encounter with Krishna in the guise of her beloved. This all feels progressive, even if it may prompt a few smiles from actual Hindus. [As I'm sure the caricature of Christians and Muslims often does in Hindi films.] I don't think there's actually a single scene in a masjid, all of the religious scenes are in tiny mandirs. Don't get me wrong, the depiction of the Hindu religious establishment and Indian society itself is extremely negative. But in a Pakistani film in the '60s? Giving us a chaste, near-perfect Hindu heroine, and letting her dream of her Muslim beloved as Krishna seems moderately gutsy to me.
Obviously, what this film lacks in entertainment value, it makes up for in social significance. You can see it in a beautiful subtitled print on tommydan's YT channel.