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FILMINDIA
April 1941
subsidised and people encouraged to populate the vast empty lands. Where is the earthly sense of building models if these models are never going to grow into full fledged industries? A number of advertising films of the Mysore State, its gardens, its democratic rulers, its beautiful climate, its forest resources, its industrial possibilities, its people, its mineral wealth, etc., etc., should be immediately made and shown all over India, to attract people to go there and settle. THE PRIZE GARDENER
Sir Mirza Ismail, the present Dewan certainly makes a splendid gardener. But having made his Garden of Eden he must now plant modern Adam and the ultra modern Eve in it to create a new world. That is the only way the Mysore State will ever flourish. There are beautiful flowers in those beautiful gardens but none to smell them and they seem to be "born to blush unseen and waste their sweetness on the desert air."
That is my epitaph on Mysore, a city that is not yet born.
The State has clearly wasted millions in beautifying the land, perhaps to feed the vanity of its rulers. A big typhoon can destroy this artificial beauty of years within a few minutes. Had the State spent half the money in improving the economic existence of its people, the work would have been more lasting and more humanitarian. After aU the real beauty of a modern state is in the economic independence of its people and the pride of its ruler is in the happiness of his subjects.
The researchful approach of the state towards its economic problems has created numerous models, but it is time now that the models start growing into big industries to provide work for the millions who are at a loose end at present.
With these depressing thoughts we went to sleep for the night. Here was wealth buried in the gardens, useful neither to the man nor to the beast.
POOR OLD TIPPU
The morning found us speeding back towards Bangalore. On the
way, we visited Seringapatam, the once flourishing capital of Tippu Sultan. Some where near the Water Gate, there is a stone marking the place where Tippu was found dead, after having fought valiantly with the British.
Since then many have fought with the British and died but no stones are erected in their memory. There is no glamour about Seringapatam. It seems that the state wants to keep mum over those thrilling times in its history. Therefore the present memory of Tippu, the great warrior, somehow leaves a rather pathetic taste in the mouth.
That graceful bit is Nalini Jaywant in •'Radhika" a National picture.
On the long way back to Bangalore, something had to be done to break the monotony and Jayantilal rose to the occasion by reciting romantic and philosophic Urdu poetry. Baburao took up the challenge and responded with several jaw breaking couplets in Urdu. Between them two Galib, Daag, Chakbast. Hali, Bismil and even Pandit Indra were revived.
One could never have suspected Jayantilal, the confirmed bachelor, of having poetic inclinations, but in a travel you often get strange companions and Jayantilal proved a sweetly strange one.
Back at Bangalore, we rushed to a tea party given by Famous Pictures at the Chamber of Commerce building. It was a crowded affair composed of the trade people, the picked intelligentsia of the town and the local press. The informal nature of the function made it very enjoyable and Baburao, as usual, talked with one and all, wisecracking and inquisitive, but gathering in the end all the information he wanted, unnecessarily, of course.
WITH THE STUDENTS
Sharp at 6 p.m. we arrived at the Intermediate College where in the college quadrangle, thousands of students were anxiously waiting for Baburao Patel, the editor of "filmindia."
I had seen students but never so many together and as they were all keyed up to heckle our bullying editor, warnings of which having been given to us previously, the general atmosphere was tense.
Frankly, I was nervous. And for a moment I wished that the whole thing had been called off. But when our six-foot editor entered the quadrangle with his easy nonchalance throwing about uninvited smiles, meaning that he was really a friend of the boys, I felt a little more assured as I saw the boys relaxing their tense expressions a bit.
And let me tell you that those were not ordinary boys. They were clever college guys. their eyes sparkling with knowledge and confidence, and their brains spoiling for a fight with our prize champion.
The most gentle among them was their Vice-President Mr. Mir Mohiyuddin Hussain.
Baburao Patel went to the dais with the confidence of a war-scarred hero. The boys were still sulking. They received him quietly with a strange but silent antagonism to a guest they had themselves invited. They had probably sworn in their minds to let this big guy through an acid test.
We took our seats behind. For the first time I snuggled close to Jayantilal and he didn't seem to mind it. The entire atmosphere was charged with expectancy. We had
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