FilmIndia (Jan-Nov 1942)

FILMINDIA September 1942 "It is Pharaoh — He has been stricken with madness," said Psamthek. "He stayed overlong watching the men at work on the halffinished canal; he was troubled because the sand kept creeping in, silting up the channel, covering the stonework, burying the causeway along which the men dragged the granite; and between the heat of the sun and the glare of the sand, the madness that the sand breeds fell upon him. He gave sudden orders that the work should cease forthwith; and rode back to the Palace raving so dreadfully of death and Ratnamala looks sophisticated in "Ten O'clock" a Prabhat social picture. bloodshed that the people fled in terror lest he have them all slain. I alone remained, to guard the temple. Now we can but wait, he will speak with no man, threatening with his sword all who approach him." "Nevertheless, I am his Chief Priest, and my place is by his side in such an hour," said Patris. In the great hall of Pharaoh's palace a little group of Pharaoh s counsellors were gathered. They greeted Patris as one returned from the dead; but even their wonder and gladness were overshadowed by the shock of the calamity that had befallen. "It is a stroke of the gods. How it will end, who can say?" said the oldest counsellor. Even as he uttered the question, it was answered. A footstep sounded suddenly on the wide marble stairway; and they looked up as Pharaoh himself came swiftly down. His bearing was majestic still. Only his crazed eyes betrayed him. He passed them and was gone; and an instant later they heard the furious beat of hoofs, and glimpsed him riding at full speed across the courtyard and away. "After him!" cried Patris. In the royal stables there were horses waiting day and night, ready saddled and bridled, upon Pharaoh's will; it was the work of a few moments only to mount and give chase. They could hear the clatter of his going echo wildly in the deserted streets; and when they had left the city behind and only the djesert stretched before them, they could see him far ahead, the sand flung up by his horse's flying hoofs enhaloing him in a cloud of sunshot silver. Brilliance of sun and glare of sand combined against them blindingly; it was as if he rode out before their dazzled eyes into that vast glittering world of sand and became one with it. # * # It was very much later, and the day was fading, when at last they found him. His horss had stumbled over a hiUcck of sand, and fallen, throwing him and breaking its own neck. They stooped over him, shocked and grieved; but his failing eyes sought only Patris; and the last words he rpdke were for Patris' ears. "The sands .... .have conquered," he said. That is how Shanta Apte looks iKi "Zamindar", a Pancholi picture. I Printed by Baburao Patel at the New Jack Printing Works, 75, Apollo Street, and published by him for "Filmindia" Publications Ltd., from 55, Phirozeshah Mehta Road, Fort, Bombay.