Raavan ki Katha!
It was the summer of 1966 (or was
it 1967? My memory teases me sometimes!). I was eleven (or twelve, as the case
may be). School was closed for the summer vacation and we children were
enjoying our holiday in the small mining camp of Deogiri, up in the hills above
the valley of the now infamous mining town of Sandur in Karnataka.
For us urbanites, Deogiri was a
resort to beat all resorts. But the people who earned their livelihood from the
mining activity there, like my father (who was the Mines Manager of the company
operating the mines there) and his colleagues, found life rather tough and
monotonous; it was a welcome change for them too when their children came there
to spend their holidays.
And so it was, one day, when my
father announced after breakfast that he would be going down to Sandur for a
meeting. He looked at me and asked me, much to my surprise and delight, whether
I would like to go along for the ride. I was surprised because my father was not
known for making such tempting offers and delighted when I thought of the
thrilling Jeep ride that awaited me.
I got ready in a jiffy and jumped
into my father’s official vehicle, a maroon Jeep. Our driver hopped in at the
back, for he knew my father liked to drive. The journey to Sandur took about an
hour and involved going down a winding unmetalled road cutting through the forest and
which had several hairpin bends. My father was an accomplished driver and
negotiated the bends with ease while I watched from behind him with bated
breath. We saw a few langurs of which
there were plenty in this forest but otherwise the drive was without incident.
We reached Sandur a couple of
hours before lunch and I was dropped off at my father’s friend’s (who was also
a mining colleague) house. I whiled away my time playing in the garden while my
father and his friend went about their work. They returned in time for lunch
with another colleague and we were treated to a North Indian fare consisting of
chapatis, dal and some dry kind of sabji.
I heard my father’s friend suggesting that, since they had completed the day’s
work, they could drive down to Bellary, which was another hour away, and catch
a newly released Hindi film. My father, who was not an avid film goer, agreed
reluctantly. For me it was an unexpected double bonus, coming on top of the Jeep
ride. Having absolutely no knowledge of Hindi did not matter.
Soon we were on our way, my
father and his two friends in front, me and our driver at the back. As we sped
along the hot and dusty road to Bellary, the wind howling in our ears, I
thought I heard my father’s friend say that the film was called Raavan ki Katha; I guessed it would be
some story from the Ramayana and was excited at the visual treat in store, of
seeing Lord Rama and his faithful band of monkey warriors led by his parambhakt Hanuman battle it out with
Raavan and his army of asuras to
bring back Sita.
We were running late and entered
the theatre compound in a rush. One person ran ahead to get the tickets while
the rest of us ran straight up to the doors. We were just a wee bit late
entering the hall and the opening credits had rolled as we found our seats. The
film, unfortunately, turned out to be a disappointment. I waited in vain for
the battles between Hanuman’s vanara
sainya and Raavan’s asura soldiers. Instead, there was some girl
riding on a cart filled with hay and singing a song which had a catchy refrain
with a couple of Holle Holles thrown
in. There was a chap sitting in front looking somewhat petulant when the song
began but the two of them come to some kind of understanding by the time it
ended. The horse was also cantering along without breaking into a sweat. I
tried to get interested but my not knowing a word of Hindi did not help much. I
think I even managed a small nap during the show! All in all, it was a big
letdown for me though my father’s friends seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed it.
As we came out of the theatre, I
happened to look up at the huge hoarding advertising the film put up at the entrance
to the theatre. And there I saw the title of the film and understood why there
was no Rama or Raavan or Hanuman – the film was called not Raavan ki Katha, but
Sawan ki Ghata!
© Shiva Kumar 2014
PS: I don't even know if the title is grammatically correct!
