Remembering Bollywood's many female icons: From Waheeda Rehman and Madhubala, to Zeenat Aman and Rekha

In today’s digital world, the only thoughts that come to mind when one mentions the word ‘icon’ would be that of a graphic symbol of an app, a file, or even a function as seen on a computer screen. However, the said word has another meaning that is not lost to the world yet. We are referring to a person who is widely admired for having great influence or significance in a particular domain. Among the many icons we know of in India, are the yesteryear actresses who ruled the Indian cinema industry for over four decades.

Let’s start with Devika Rani—the First Lady of Indian Cinema. The grand-niece of Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore schooled in England, locked lips with her husband, Himanshu Rai, in the 1933 film Karma in what was then the longest kiss, and relocated to India the following year to set up Bombay Talkies Studio with him. Through the ’30s and ’40s, Rani starred in socially relevant films such as Jeevan Naiya (1936), Achhut Kanya (1936), and Jeevan Prabhat (1937), turning the spotlight on issues such as prostitution, casteism, and childlessness, and introducing several emerging talent, which included Ashok Kumar and Dilip Kumar.

Devika Rani remained the studio boss even after Rai’s untimely demise in 1940, till she sold her shares, married Russian painter Svetoslav Roerich in 1945, and moved to Manali to make wildlife documentaries. She was a Padma Shri awardee (1954) and was also the first recipient of the Dadasaheb Phalke Award (1970), which is the country’s highest honour for cinema. 

 

 

With Rani’s exit, the First Golden Age ended. With the entry of Nargis, Bollywood witnessed the start of its Second Golden Age. The actress made her debut in Talashe Haq— written and produced by her mother Jaddanbai—at the age of six in 1935. Her name appears in the credits as Baby Rani and Nargis was referred to as ‘baby’ by family, friends, and the film fraternity till well into middle age. Baby grew up to romance an Awaara Raj Kapoor. Many would recall that their film, Barsaat (1949)—it was given a ‘U’ certificate initially—was deemed too hot to handle, and later re-censored with a ‘U/A’ certificate. What was interesting to note is that with this duo, Bollywood romance grew up as well. 

Nargis is fondly remembered, by film aficionados, as ‘Mother India’ today. The image of the actress seen forging a plough in Mehboob Khan’s 1957 epic drama film is often associated with the archetypal Indian woman—it reminds the viewer how the burden of responsibility is on the frail shoulders of women who struggle tirelessly against all odds. 

The film ends with Radha (played by Nargis) shooting dead her rebellious son Birju (Sunil Dutt) when he threatens the dignity of a woman, whose father, ironically, had made her an indecent proposal. This iconic moment elevated the heroine to the status of a hero. In real life, Nargis married Dutt soon after, retired prematurely to become a mother to their three children, Namrata, Sanjay and Priya. ‘Mother India’, however, has loomed large over every subsequent generation.

 

As we move from the maa to the priyatama, we meet Meena Kumari and Madhubala who, despite the occasional Kohinoor (1960), Azaad (1995), Howrah Bridge (1958), and Barsaat Ki Raat (1960), which showcased them in happier avatars, often left us teary-eyed with their sob stories. Meena Kumari as Raaj Kumar’s silent lover in Dil Apna Aur Preet Parai (1960), the discarded wife in Sahara (1958), and the tawaif in Pakeezah (1972) who almost loses herself in the ignominy of her birth remains Hindi cinema’s undisputed ‘Tragedy Queen’. Her one act of rebellion, taking to the bottle to keep her husband home in Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962) at a time when it was unthinkable for a respectable Indian woman to consume alcohol, sets her apart from other tragediennes.

Madhubala also lived through many movies of misery, but it is her Anarkali in Mughal-E-Azam (1960) whose “Pyar kiya to darna kya” has become the clarion call for rebellious lovers down the decades. That both actresses loved and lost, and went away too soon, added to their mystique.

 

Waheeda Rehman played her share of Sati-Savitris too, but tried to break free of the stereotype with C.I.D.’s (1956) good girl vamp, Reshma in Reshma Aur Shera (1971) who marries her lover’s brother to save his life after Chhotu has killed her father and brother, and Guide’s (1965) Rosie who walks out on her elderly husband to pursue her dreams of becoming a dancer. In later years, Rehman admitted that when she signed Dev Anand’s Indo-American co-production, she was warned she was committing hara-kiri (a Japanese ritualistic suicide). Rosie defined her career and Guide redefined Hindi cinema.

At 19, as the misjudged and disruptive orphan in Seema (1955), Nutan won her first Best Actress Award. She added more trophies as she fought caste differences in Sujata (1959), the class divide in Milan (1967), and was even jailed for murder in Bandini (1963). Bandini is often known as one of the greatest performances in Indian cinema, and Nutan continued till cancer cut short her journey.

Nutan’s Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki (1978) co-star, Asha Parekh, graduated from a junior artiste and a stunt-film heroine—like Mumtaz—only to become the highest paid actress before her premature retirement. Parekh was known for naach-gaana and the joie de vivre she brought to the screen. But she also starred in social conscious films such as Do Badan (1966), Chirag (1969), and Kati Patang (1971). 

 

The Dadasaheb Phalke recipient and Padma Shri awardee, Asha Parekh was the first woman chairperson of the Central Board of Film Certification of India, and contributed towards the welfare of the film industry through the associations and trusts she commandeered.

 

Asha Parekh’s matinee idol, Vyjayanthimala, with whom she shared screen in the 1957 Kishore Kumar-starrer Aasha, conquered the South before venturing to Bollywood with Bahar (1951). She went on to not just make box-office history with films such as Gunga Jumna (1961), Sangam (1964), Naya Daur (1957), Suraj (1966), Jewel Thief (1967), Sanghursh (1968), and Prince (1969), but also hiss-story with Nagin’s “Man dole, mera tan dole” (1954).

The Sangeet Natak Akademi Award winner was the first Indian to perform at the UN General Assembly in 1969. But she was more than a dancer in films. Her mujrewali Champabai in Sadhna (1958), who finally finds acceptance as Rajni in Sunil Dutt’s home, bagged Vyjayanthimala some of the choicest awards and made a strong case for the rehabilitation of prostitutes. She could have taken home another Black Lady for Devdas (1955), but she refused the award, pointing out that Chandramukhi, one of Hindi cinema’s best tawaifs, was not a supporting role.

Vyjayanthimala bowed out of Bollywood in 1969, a year in which she had a hattrick of hits—Prince (1969), Pyar Hi Pyar (1969), and Ganwar (1970)—moving to politics in the ’80s and continuing to enthrall with her dance performances. To this day, Madhumati’s refrain, “Aaja re pardesi” haunts us as much as Mahal’s “Aayega aanewala”. 

Who can forget Sadhana in Woh Kaun Thi? (1964) even if she wasn’t one really. Her picture-perfect beauty and luminous smile still shine through a number of her films such as Hum Dono (1961), Mere Mehboob (1963), among others. And who can forget that Audrey Hepburn-like fringe in Love in Simla (1960), popularly known as the ‘Sadhana Cut’, or those figure-hugging churidar-kurtas and mojaris from Waqt (1965), which periodically return as fashion statements.

 

Another style icon is Sharmila Tagore. Satyajit Ray’s Devi (1960) and Shakti Samanta’s Kashmir Ki Kali bloomed into a glamorous diva with An Evening in Paris (1967) making knotted cholis, kohl-streaked eyes and the bouffant fashionable. Films such as the National Award-winning Mausam (1975) made the dimpled beauty an actress of substance and at 78, continues to challenge social taboos, playing a grandmother in the recently released Gulmohar who is ready to come out of the closet. 

 

Jaya Bhaduri Bachchan, another Satyajit Ray discovery, left the auteur’s Mahanagar (1963) to come to Mumbai as a die-hard Dharmendra fan in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Guddi (1971) to underline the difference between reel and real for starry-eyed teenagers her age. The duo recently reunited in Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani, and while there is nothing of the shy schoolgirl in her domineering matriarch and hard-nosed tycoon Dhanlakshmi, Jaya imparts another life lesson. Money can’t buy happiness…tyranny can’t command respect and it can get pretty lonely without family. She also brings back a wave of nostalgia for Koshish (1972), Kora Kagaz (1974), Abhimaan (1973), Mili (1975), and Sholay (1975), which took her beyond the girl-next-door. 

 

If Jaya reveled in her simplicity, Zeenat Aman unabashedly flaunted her sexuality. Parveen Babi and she were the ‘liberated’ actresses of the ’70s—they mirrored the West in the way they spoke, dressed, and the characters they played, blurring the lines between the holier-than-thou heroine and the harlot vamp. As the hippie Janice in Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1971), she turns the spotlight on the flower children lost in the haze of psychedelic drugs. In her quest for justice in Insaf Ka Tarazu (1980), she doesn’t hesitate to pick up the gun. And her mini sari in Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978) remains the most desirable attire in the world even as it reiterated the age-old notion that beauty is only skin deep.

If Zeenat tantalised a man’s forbidden fantasies, Hema Malini became their ‘Dream Girl’ (1977). She took over the box-office scores with her commercial entertainers, but it is the spirited Basanti of Sholay, the Machiavellian Madhuri of Lal Patthar (1971) and the supportive Pooja of Baghban (2003) who keep her in our memories, along with her ethereal beauty which makes her a shayar’s ghazal, a jheel’s kamal, a Dream Girl even in her seventies.

 

With Rekha, too, time seems to have come to a standstill. At 68, she remains as beautiful as she was in Silsila (1981), Umrao Jaan (1981), and Utsav (1984). Of course, in earlier films such as Sawan Bhadon (1970), Do Shikari (1979), and Rampur Ka Lakshman (1972), we saw a very different Rekha, but through grit and determination, make-up and a new wardrobe, yoga, and improved performances she discovered the elixir of life.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies…

These lines by William Shakespeare to describe Cleopatra are apt not just for Rekha, but all these icons from the ’40s, ’50s,’60s and ’70s, some of whom may have disappeared into the mists of time, but remain our idols and ideals.