 | « Back to article | Print this article |
Dinesh Raheja looks back at Manoj Kumar's brilliant 1964 thriller Woh Kaun Thi, and explains just what made it an audio-visual treat.
It is a dark, rain-splattered night.
A car comes to a screeching halt on a deserted road as a strikingly beautiful woman dressed in white appears. She sports wet tresses, vacant eyes and an enigmatic half-smile.
She accepts a lift but seems to possess an extraordinary electromagnetic field -- the windshield wipers stop working as soon as she sits in the car. The motorist can't see the foggy road ahead; she can, clearly.
Her finger begins to bleed.
'Mujhe khoon pasand hai (I like blood),' she admits.
She asks him to stop the car at a crematorium.
A gate swings open to let her in.
Mist envelopes this polymorphous presence even as the haunting song Naina Barse Rimjhim Rimjhim. mingled with the squawking of bats, fills the soundtrack. The title Woh Kaun Thi rolls.
With well-honed skill, Director Raj Khosla deploys every spooky genre staple and more to kickstart Woh Kaun Thi. The film then hurriedly establishes that the befuddled, befogged motorist in the opening frame is Dr Anand (Manoj Kumar).
Anand loves Seema (Helen), much to the chagrin of fellow doctor Lata (Praveen Choudhury).
Though director Khosla lavishes two songs too many (Tikiri and Chhodkar Tere) on the Anand-Seema romance, he keeps the suspense element ticking by introducing red herrings (a mute, bouquet-holding, curly-haired shadow presumably spying on Seema) and portentous lyrics ('Hum khushi se na aaj mar jaaye') in the song preceding Seema's murder.
Subsequently, a harried Anand is summoned by an emergency midnight caller to a gothic, bat-infested, cobweb-ridden haveli.
Armed with a candle, Anand climbs a flight of rickety stairs to reach the room.
When he throws open the door, a banshee-like wail warns: 'Chale jao, chale jao (Go away, go away)'.
Next to a seated, ashen-faced woman lies the apparition in white Anand met on the rainy night. He leaves, shaken.
But at an inspector's insistence, retraces his steps to the haveli. He returns within minutes, but the haveli has no inmates.
Anand desultorily complies with his mother's desire and marries a girl of her choice.
On the wedding night, when he raises his wife's ghunghat, he is flabbergasted. It is the woman in white.
But she claims to be Sandhya (Sadhana), an orphan. Yet, each time her husband confronts her with their eerie encounters, she gives a mysterious half-smile.
In a nail-bitingly tense scene, Anand forcibly takes Sandhya to the haunted haveli.
Khosla frames the opening of the sequence in the haveli's room with Anand and Sandhya.
As Anand proceeds towards the bed, the camera accompanies him and Sandhya is edged out of the frame.
When Anand turns, the camera pulls back -- there is no Sandhya!
Yet, when Anand returns home, Sandhya opens the door -- dressed exactly as he had last seen her (pearl string, printed sari, et al).
Moreover, Anand's mother confirms that Sandhya was at home all evening!
Sandhya's ice-in-the-veins demeanour alienates her mother-in-law. Her refusal to face an exorcist only exacerbates matters. Claiming that her marriage is on the rocks, Sandhya says she is returning home. But her train has an accident and she is presumed dead. Bordering on insanity now, Anand is advised to take a holiday in Shimla.
But the apparition in white (Sandhya?) trudges through the snow-clad mountains of Shimla too and beckons, Chala Aa Mere Parwane Wafa Ki Shama Jalti Hain.
Four decades later, I would still rather not give away the denouement.
Suffice to say that the resolution of the mystery, taken with a pinch of salt, is imaginative and involving. Don't expect all the loose ends to be neatly tied up. If you ask: How did the car's wipers stop, automatically, scriptwriter Dhruv Chatterjee teasingly offers no explanations.
Manoj Kumar looks handsome and effectively strikes pensive poses, many of which became part of his acting arsenal in latter-day suspense thrillers (Anita, Gumnaam, Saajan).
The show-stopper is Sadhana. She is enchanting as the wife, choosing to invest the role with an intriguing Mona Lisa-like smile.
Simultaneously, she infuses an air of disenchantment and overt sensuality (inviting Manoj with open arms in Lag Jaa Gale) to the 'nether-world' woman.
To Khosla's credit, though he repeated Sadhana in a similar double role in Mera Saaya, he clearly delineated her two performances. Unlike Mera Saaya, where the wife yearns for her husband's acceptance and vociferously fights for his love, the self-respecting Sandhya of Woh Kaun Thi is a study in pent-up emotion and restraint.
With the aid of Sadhana, his ear for music and perceptive eye for song picturisation, Khosla cooks up an atmospheric thriller that ensures an audio-visual treat.
Sidelights:
Music:
Famous songs from Woh Kaun Thi
Lag Ja Gale sung by Lata Mangeshkar
Jo Humne Dastaan Apni Sunayee sung by Lata Mangeshkar
Naina Barse Rimjhim sung by Lata Mangeshkar
Shokh Nazar Ki Bijliyan sung by Asha Bhosle
Tikkire Tikkiri Takiri sung by Rafi-Asha
Chhod Kar Tere Pyar Ka sung by Lata-Mahindra Kapoor
This story was first published on Rediff in 2003.
