FilmIndia (Jan-Nov 1942)

"Qcr ThaUs 0| The &uik Giue The Gods R Rest £2?y: !j/Tiss cSus/ieeCa ^//am£yat If our time-honoured conceptions of life after death and the division of the post-mortem world into Heaven and Hell still held true, many of our film-producers may pack up their belongings to visit that particular place which has been so well advertised by the author of the Inferno. One wonders whether any human beings here below have done more harm, censciously or unconsciously, to our Gods and Goddesses than these daring film-producers. In my "filmiess" childhood, when I offered my prayers to the deities with credulous fervour, the Gods, Krishna and Rama, Vishnu and Shiva used to neat majestically before my mind's eye in inexplicable divine forms, surrounded by a heavenly halo of mystery and wonder, and inspiring in the beholder implicit faith and devotion. Today, however, thanks to the activities of our film-magnates, I have come to possess very definite and concrete ideas of the appearance and demeanour of Gods! But I must at the same time frankly confess that the forms brought before me are such that I hardly feel inclined to say my prayers these days. For instance, the Gods come confusedly before my mental vision nn The smooth shaven Narada the Silver Screen — sometimes they are pampered and plumpy, sometimes lean and lanky; some have cenvex stomachs, others have concave pouches; some are gigantic, some dwarfish, some with their faces clean-shaven. others with stubby growth on their chins — but always with rotten sets of teeth, which make you wonder if dentists have no place in the realm of the Gods. The Bearded Narada As for the deified saint, Narada,-poor Narada, ubiquitous that he ts, can be seen thrust "cheek by jowl" into nearly every Puranic picture, and pitiably maltreated. Some one remarked the other day very aptly that the Screen-Naradas are of three types — (1) bearded Narada. (2) smcoth-shaven Narada, and (3) eggsmooth Narada (when the part is enacted by a woman). Evidently the producers conduct only a voice-test, and no appearance Miss Susheela Nambyar, M.A. trial, when they select the actors; if you can sing passably well, you can aspire to be a Shiva or Vishnu, Krishna or Rama. Never mind though your figure is fit for the "Before-portrait" of a slimming advertisement or for the exhibition of the ghostly forms seen in a spiritualistic seance. Sing in full-throated ease, and then there you are, on a par with your Maker Himself. After all. God has created you in His own image. Therefore, everyone of you (whether corpulent or consumptive, ugly or beautiful) must be an image of His. SEE TONSILS IF YOU LIKE The scene opens with the lashing sound of the Milk Ocean. You can see the great Serpent with his endless coils (Ananta) curled up, and Lord Vishnu reclining on His seat under the shadow of the thousand hcods. The splendour of the scene keeps you dazzled for a moment. Everything looks perfect as long as you see the scene from a distance. But then the Cameraman will not leave you at that. Slowly the whole paraphernalia of the mythological Vaikunta draws nearer and nearer, until at last the bulky figure of the actor who impersonates Vishnu overflows your vision, and your eyes fail to gauge the proportions of the actor. As you are trying to rub and clear your eyes off the bulk, the 'divine being' opens his mouth and lets out for your edification the torrents of his music — swaras and alapg 55