Bhumika

<p>depicts the life of an actress, Usha ( ), the granddaughter of a famous female singer of the traditional community of . Usha’s mother ( ) is married to an abusive and alcoholic man. Following his early death, and over her mother’s objections, Usha is taken to by family hanger-on Keshav Dalvi ( ) to audition as a singer in a Bombay studio: the first step in a process, watched approvingly by Usha’s doting grandmother and with horror by her mother, that will eventually carry her to on-camera adolescent stardom, and to an ill-fated love marriage with Keshav. Usha’s motives for stubbornly pursuing this relationship (culminating in a pre-marital pregnancy) with the unattractive and much older Keshav — who appears to have lusted after her since her childhood — are not spelled out. Presumably, she either feels indebted to him for his loyalty to her family (of which he frequently reminds her) and for her own worldly success; or simply views him as a means to escape her abusive home. She is also a headstrong woman who enjoys her acting career and is bent on challenging her uptight mother (who opposes the match because Keshav does not belong to their caste, just as she opposes cinema itself because of its presumed disrepute). Once the two are wed, Usha is shocked to find Keshav continuing to act as her “business manager”, arranging starring roles for her opposite heartthrob Rajan ( ), who himself has (unrequited) love for her. Since Keshav’s own business is unsuccessful, he remains entirely dependent on Usha’s earnings – a fact that Keshav resents. He thus becomes both a jealous husband with a fragile ego and nasty temper, as well as a greedy pimp who compels his wife to take risqué work despite her dislike of her co-star and her protests that she “only wants to be a housewife” now that their daughter has been born. Not surprisingly, the relationship becomes increasingly poisoned, particularly by Keshav’s suspicion (fed by star-magazine gossip) that she is having an affair with Rajan, which is partly true. Verbally and physically abused by her husband and periodically obliged to live in a hotel, separated from her daughter and mother, the desperately unhappy Usha eventually instigates two unsatisfying liaisons: with the nihilistic and self-centered director Sunil Verma ( ), with whom she plots a double-suicide (which he foils), and then with the wealthy businessman Vinayak Kale ( ), who keeps her as a pampered mistress on his palatial estate. Here Usha briefly finds a kind of “respectability” as a de facto second wife, earning a measure of love and admiration from Kale’s mother ( ), son, and bedridden wife — but (as she learns one day when she tries to take the boy to a nearby fair) at the cost of even the most rudimentary freedom. Unable to abide by Kale’s feudal patriarchal rules, she finds her only hope of escape in the intervention of her still-legitimate husband, the hated Keshav, who promptly brings her back to a Bombay festooned with billboards of her own face, and to the same drab hotel and lonely prospects. Kale’s bitter wife remarks to Usha as the latter prepares to leave, “The beds change, the kitchens change. Men’s masks change, but men don’t change.” Usha’s daughter, now grown-up, invites Usha to live with her and her husband, but Usha refuses. The movie ends with Usha, alone in her hotel room, receiving a phone call from Rajan. The film was based on the autobiography of the doyenne of Marathi theatre and cinema Hansa Wadkar during the 1940s and 50s. The biography was told to journalist Arun Sadhu, who used the title of the hit musical, (1959) or ” “Listen, and I’ll Tell.” The film was set in the Maharashtra region. Benegal’s previous films were based in the Hyderabad region, and since he was unfamiliar with the region, he roped in screenwriter and playwright to co-write the script. Another noted theatre director and playwright wrote the dialogues. The story moves back and forth across flashbacks to the early life of Wadkar. Apart from the non-linear narrative, the film also employed the device. Lead actress, a 22-year-old Smita Patil still new to the medium, found the role daunting initially, yet as the filming progressed, playing the multi-layered character, she found not only her space in the industry and went to win the Best Actress Award for her performance, and today it is considered one of the best performances of her career. The song ‘Baju re Mondar’ is sung by two stalwart vocalists of Hindustani classical music, Saraswati Rane daughter of Ustad Abdul Karim Khan of Kirana gharana, and Meena Fatherpekar her granddaughter. All music is composed by . In the scene after the marriage of Usha and Keshav, the song ‘Ek bangla bane nyara’ from the movie sung by K.L. Saigal plays in the background. In ‘s autobiography, he recounts “As for Bhumika, it was an absolutely different role, wherein I played a landlord from Goa. Interestingly, during the making of this film, Shyam told me, “Your face is very hard for this role and I cannot take anybody else either. So, I want you to look a bit softer.” I said, “What can I do?”” He suggested, “Go to a beauty parlour and get some facial done.” I said, “But the face would remain the same.” He said, “No, no, the softness would come.” So, I was sent to Taj Mahal Hotel for about ten sessions of facials, which were naturally paid for and it did make a difference; for I noticed that the face indeed looked much softer. Here is a strong character of a zamindar, who marries this girl and takes her to his village in Goa. She lives over there till the time she wants her freedom and claims that she could go anywhere and how any restrictions could be imposed on her within those four walls? She retaliates and nonchalantly defies my orders. That is when I was to slap her saying, “No, I brought you with a condition. I told you how you would have to be staying here and you are trying to go against that condition. I won’t allow it. You don’t want to live here, I’ll send you back even now.” This zamindar was a gentle, principled man who was soft-spoken but firm, as he laid all his cards before the woman, . Normally, we slap in such a way that without hitting the other actor, you have to react. I discussed with Shyam that by giving a real slap we would get the right reaction. He approved of the idea but warned me not to slap her forcefully. I rehearsed the scene without hitting her but slapped her in the final shot not realising the impact. It had the desired effect and what a fantastic reaction came on her face, as she looked daggers at me. It conveyed, “How dare you slap me?” But Smita was a natural actress and very professional. Her performance was always acclaimed. As the shot ended she ran after me to hit me. The whole unit was enjoying the incident.”</p>