Last December, I watched Shree 420 (1955) in a somewhat empty cinema hall in Gurugram, where it was being screened it in honour of Raj Kapoor’s centenary year. The movie follows a down-on-his-luck Ranbir Raj (Kapoor) navigating the dishonest upper echelons of Mumbai. Though Raj initially deeply cares for his brethren who share his poor luck and exploitation by the corrupt rich, he eventually succumbs to the latter group. On the two sides of the moral and economic spectrum are Vidya, played by Nargis, and Maya, played by Nadira. There is a stark contrast in their wardrobes as they tussle for Raj’s romantic attention; one pulling at his simpleheartedness, the other at his greed. Your fidelity will push you towards the sari-clad Vidya as she is sidelined by Raj halfway through the film. But you would be forgiven for being tempted by the hedonistic Maya, who, in her black Western wardrobe and diamonds, is having a lot more fun.
I miss the Bollywood vamp. With unbridled promiscuity, campy dialogues, husband/boyfriend-stealing impulses and plunging necklines, she was what our chaste heroines could never be: deliciously, unpalatably wicked. An image clicks into place—do you also think of big, stylish hair, loud, garish makeup and a cigarette when you think of her? The Bollywood vamp could be a gangster’s sidekick, the husband’s mistress, a run-of-the-mill criminal, a cruel mother-in-law, a matricidal maniac, a sexy cabaret dancer or just a very mean, rich girl who doesn’t like the female protagonist. Within the film’s universe, she is never ‘nice’ and always a bit of a pill.
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