The other day while speaking to Jayaprada, the conversation unwittingly veered around “Sargam”, her first Hindi film that is still talked about some 35 years after it was produced. Back in 1979 when the film was released, Jayaprada became the talk of the town with cine-goers raving about her unblemished beauty, the critics though talked of her formidable dancing skills. The hoardings across the cities focussed on her innocent face resting on the dafli next to the hands of the hero, Rishi Kapoor. Some highlighted her hourglass figure with shots from the song, “Parbat ke us paar”. For weeks on end, nay, for months, she provided a visual treat at cinema halls across the country.
Everybody saw her, admired her; men loved the little mole above her upper lip, her sharp nose, her pouting lips. The women were at ease with her classical features; in a glamour-ridden film industry she was the quintessential Indian beauty. In simplicity lay her appeal. Never mind she tied her cotton saris just a wee bit below her belly button. Yet nobody had heard her, this only heightened the mystery about the new ‘import’ from the South. She was the ‘gungi gudia’, the deaf and dumb girl who said it all with her dancing eyes, her twinkle toes. She had learnt the sign language by spending time with specially-abled people in Hyderabad. After the film, many speech and hearing impaired people used to come to spend time with her, thinking she was similarly placed.
Yet it did not seem that way when the film was launched. Producer NN Sippy had taken a risk by backing a rank newcomer who knew no Hindi for the lead role opposite the hugely popular Rishi Kapoor, not renowned to be patient with fumbling co-stars. The risks did not end with the casting. The film’s story had been told a hundred times, boy and girl meet, slowly fall in love amidst all the obstacles, sing a few songs…. Yet, director K. Viswanath thought, why not 101st time? He was quietly confident that his treatment would make an ordinary story appear extraordinary; so he weaved in the dance angle: his heroine is a deaf and dumb dancer; his hero plays the instrument – dafli . Throw in the scheming stepmother, the hapless, indefinably old schoolmaster father. And you have a story and characters that probably all cine-goers would have seen many, many times.
Yet the film had many things going for it. First of all, the director. K. Viswanath was known for sensitive films with soothing music and little melodrama. He had already helmed “Siri Siri Muvva”, the Telugu original of “Sargam”. He was a thinking man’s director, low profile, focussed, patient with his actors, staying true to tried and tested ways. Here in “Sargam”, he etched out each character with care: the dancing teacher, the friend, the stepsister, all have their moments under the sun. The best though comes in the rich symbolism he uses throughout the film. His deaf and dumb heroine is a liberated soul, one who picks up a garland from Krishna’s statue and proposes to her friend. Importantly, unlike other Hindi films where the lead character usually gained power of speech, hearing and sight at the end of the film, here, his heroine stays that way throughout; the message being her dancing skills makes other skills superfluous.
At another moment, later in the film, he uses the images of Ram-Sita-Lakshman and Hanuman to tell us that all would be fine shortly. At yet another place, he gets the ghungroos hung in the path approaching the sanctum sanctorum of the temple. The message is subtle but clear: the ghungroos are the heroine’s tapasya , her way to salvation. They have God’s blessings too. Then in the hugely popular song, “Dafliwale dafli baja”, shot in Kashmir, he has his heroine dance at a slightly higher level to the hero to show their respective stations in life.
Talking of the “Dafliwale” song, the film’s music by Lakshmikant-Pyarelal was a highlight with almost all the songs reaching the top of popularity charts. “Koyal boli” with the soothing sound of the cuckoo was suitably shot on the banks of the Godavari in Rajahmundhry; “Parbat ke uss par” in Ooty and “Dafliwale” in Kashmir. HH Kapadia’s cinematography helped disseminate the film’s message.
Then, the film again relies on Viswanath’s skills as he settles down to draw the best out of his main actors: Dr Shreeram Lagoo as the venerable but weak father evokes sympathy. Shashikala is as Shashikala usually was: loud, single layered but able to impart her role with an iota of plausibility. What of his hero and heroine? Rishi Kapoor happily gives off his best, a world removed from the urban lover boy image he had then.
Yet, he was essentially the second lead of the film; this being the so-called heroine-oriented drama. Jayaprada, as a mute artist, had everything going for her; her limited Hindi language skills were not exposed to cine-goers. What did come across to them was a fine dancer, an able actor and a girl so beautiful as to remind one of flower buds. In the film, she teases the hero, romances the camera. These skills were to be used to wider acclaim in the years to come before the tune of the times changed. But “Sargam” was her moment, her lilt, our joy.
