At the recent launch of Khwaja Ahmad Abbas' writing collection, a clip from a documentary on him was shown. As Abbas goes through his daily activity at the Blitz magazine office, the narrator informs us about his daily trips “from Bombay to Andheri.”
The film chronicles a largely forgotten figure of Indian cinema and also speaks of an erstwhile Bombay and Abbas’ links with it.
The protagonist of the film was the director of films like Dharti Ke Lal and screenwriter of successful Raj Kapoor films such as Mera Naam Joker , Awara and Bobby . For many, he is best known as the man who gave Amitabh Bachchan his break in Saat Hindustani . However, what really commanded a following was his columns for two Bombay weekly tabloids, Bombay Chronicle and later at Blitz . His column, The Last Page presented socially progressive arguments with humour and grace. It was a big hit with the readers and people read Blitz from the last page, they’d say. The newly launched book Bread, Beauty, Revolution Khwaja Ahmad Abbas 1914–1987 is a compilation of Abbas’ writings for his column.
Vibrant cultural life “ Bambai se unhe ishq tha (He was in love with Bombay). He grew up in a sufi, Spartan disciplinarian atmosphere but his heart was always elsewhere. He embraced the contrasting life of Bombay and fell in love with it,” recollects Syeda Hameed, a feminist, writer, former Member of the Planning Commission of India and co-editor of the book. She is also Abbas’ niece.
Abbas also belonged to an era when Bombay had a vibrant cultural life – he was one of the founding members of the Progressive Writers’ Association. It was home to sevral Urdu writers including Krishen Chander, one of Abbas’ closest friends. Even as someone whose controversial columns drew the ire of people sometimes, he lived fearlessly. Until his death in 1987, he stayed in Parel, Byculla, Churchgate, Khar (Danda), Juhu and Shivaji Park.
“Living in Shivaji Park in the challenging times of partition but he loved that challenge. He formed peace committees and had good relations with the neighbours,” recollects Anwar Abbas, a journalist now based in Pakistan and Abbas’ nephew.
Abbas wasn’t a very rich man, so he availed himself of public transport; reading on the bus' top floor was one of his favourite pastimes, recalls Anwar. And when he could afford it, the luxury and romance of the black and yellow taxis. In one of his last columns, about how he would like his funeral to be, Abbas wrote that Lavani dancers should perform at his final procession that should end at a certain spot in Juhu, remembers Iffat Fatima, the co-editor of the book.
Abbas’ 1968 film Bambai Raat Ki Baahon Mein was also one of the early Hindi films that looked at Bombay through the prism of film noir. All the elements of the genre were in place —the almost seductive title, the troubled hero with grey shades — Jalal Agha’s small time crook is the classic outsider in the big, bad city who wants to make it large.
Then there's the femme fatale, a cabaret dancer played by Persis Khambatta. It became a template in the subsequent decades, echoes of which can be found in recent films such as Anurag Kashyap’s Bombay Velvet — the film borrows the name of its lead characters — Johnny and Rosie.
“Ranbir Kapoor’s character was a lot like that of Agha’s in Bambai Raat .. and like Abbas sahab, Kashyap doesn’t condemn the character for his criminal background but sees him as in the context of the situation and milieu he grew up in.”
