Remembering the Tragedy Queen Meena Kumari

Though her own life was full of heartache, none could reduce an audience to tears like Meena Kumari could - and she could play every role to a fault

Death anniversaries of movie legends provoke remembrances. Print, blog and Internet sites rewind to the stupendous actors that were. Television channels rotate daylong flashbacks in the form of memorable songs, dances and dramatic scenes, captioned under the title of 'Shradhanjali' or 'Tribute.'

OLD WORLD CHARM: Meena Kumari in scenes from(clockwise from bottom) Phool Aur Phattar, Dil Apna Preet Parai, Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, Mere Apne, Bahu Begum; and (top left) Kohinoor

I am guilty of travelling down the same predictable route. No option. Suggesting a retrospective of the legend's films by some film distributor or cinema owner is futile. Ditto the government's film festival officials, who haven't ever spared a thought for artistes still enshrined in the hearts of cinemagoers. Neither has the film industry ever considered paying homage of any kind to those who have contributed tremendously to the evolution of Bollywood, as it is known today.

Meena Kumari's grave in Mumbai's Rahmatabad cemetery in Mazgaon is rarely visited. Gratifyingly, though, the tombstone - which was in a decrepit condition - was renovated at the behest of her step-daughter, Rukhsar Amrohi, some six years ago.

If books have been authored on the actress, they have sought to delve into her private life rather than her ascent from a child star to a heroine who excelled in both high-drama and comedy, wrote poetry, and appeared in unconventional endeavours that weren't purely designed for commercial success (examples: Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Majhli Didi, and music composer-turned-director Salil Choudhury's Pinjre ke Panchhi).

Every now and then, there have been announcements of a biopic on the actress, born Mahjabeen Bano, the last one claiming that Kangana Ranaut had assented to incarnate the legend. None of the projects have fructified, largely because of the legalities involved in recreating her life story, which was drenched in heartache and melancholia.

Incredibly, despite her loneliness and isolation, she could leave her emotional baggage at home to perform with emotive accuracy before the eye of the camera at the studios. In a career spanning three decades, she appeared in approximately 90 films, before passing away of liver cirrhosis at the age of 39 on March 31, 1972.

Lore has it that there were no savings to pay for her hospital expenses and for her burial rites. Hers, in fact, is a cautionary tale for B-town's actors, coerced by circumstances, to shift towards the shadows of Sunset Boulevard. Her last films - particularly Dulal Guha's Dushman and Gulzar's Mere Apne - featured her as a white-haired widow prematurely.

Curiously, she was frequently slotted into the character of widows garbed in white saris, be it as Jeetendra's sister in Jawaab or as the conscience-prodder of a criminal played by Dharmendra in Phool aur Patthar. As for Saawan Kumar Tak's Gomti Ke Kinare, it showed her as a single mother, harangued by nasty accusations of her past as a courtesan. As it happened, after a point, the actress wasn't allowed to be at ease. No more fun time, no more entertainers of the Azaad and Kohinoor variety, in which she was a perfect match for Dilip Kumar.

Incidentally, an eminent psychoanalyst had advised Dilip Kumar to move away from the doom-stricken characters he had enacted in a series of films, including Deedar, Andaz and Devdas. The actor has been deeply affected by those performances, and consequently shifted to light-hearted, swashbuckling projects.

The parallels between her real and reel life are suffused with irony. Which is why I wonder how many will remember to shed tears for Meena Kumari on her death anniversary on March 31. The candle, as it's said, is blowing in the wind.