W ith my travelling severely curtailed, I tried the time machine. I turned a few knobs and wham! I was in March 1931 at a studio in Grand Road, Bombay, that overlooked the railway tracks.
“What’s happening?” I asked a mouse that suddenly appeared by my side. He tittered, “This is a film shooting. These rooms are not soundproofed; so these guys have to wait till the trains stop running.”
I looked at him quizzically. “It’s 1930s, my friend. There were only silent movies. See how they are placing those large microphones inside the actors’ costumes, behind the props and every other place possible.”
“Must be uncomfortable right?”
“You bet. Oh! Look at that. They have musicians hiding behind the trees!”
This was fascinating. I hopped across until I found a man gazing out of the window. I introduced myself and asked him to give me the lowdown.
Getting briefed
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Ardeshir Irani, the producer of this film. I was inspired after watching Show Boat , last year. I knew it was the next greatest thing in films. I decided it would be in Hindustani, which is a mixture of Urdu and Hindi. For my story, I had Alam Ara , about warring queens, palace intrigues and, of course, romance too.”
For his heroine, he had found a young actor named Zubeida, and the male lead was Master Vithal, a Marathi stunt star. The villain was Prithiviraj Kapoor. “If the villain is not good, the movie can fail, you know,” he said. “We are almost done here. This is the fourth month of shooting. It takes just a month to shoot a silent movie.”
My time machine was beeping and my time had run out. Intrigued by what I had seen, I read up about Alam Ara . The film was a sensation. The Majestic Cinema in Bombay was mobbed and the police had to be called in. Tickets were sold on the black market for four to five rupees. But here is the sad part: No copy of this film exists. There are just a few stills to remember this pioneering film.
Fun five
Alam Ara was India’s first talkie.
The shooting was done mostly between 1.00 a.m. and 4.00 a.m.
Released on March 14, 1931, at Majestic Cinema in Bombay, its tagline read: All living. Breathing. 100 per cent talking.
The song ‘De De Khuda Ke Naam Par’ was sung by Wazir Muhammad Khan, a neighbourhood watchman. Irani hired him because of his coarse voice. The film had six other songs.
It introduced the concept of music and playback singing.
