We do know, thanks to Vinod Mehta’s adoring Meena Kumari: The Classic Biography in which the late journalist-columnist repeatedly refers to her as “my heroine” that she had a volatile love life and she made no bones about it. Was she born to suffer? And did she only suffer – was there nothing else to her life, the glamour, highs of fame, comforts, large, fawning staff and the poignant pleasures of love? As a child, Baby Meena had seen plenty of ups and downs, the roller coaster that life had laid out for her as a red carpet since the day she was born.
But don’t you think it was media-created? The woman herself seemed to revel in her misery. And then there’s that much-abused adjective “the Meena Kumari complex”, used to define anyone with a sad sob story.
Even today, the name Meena Kumari evokes so many things – melodrama, tragedy, pain, loneliness, alcoholic movie star and paradoxically, even the image of a quintessential Indian woman. She didn’t even live to see this torturous film’s grand success. She passed away, merely weeks after Pakeezah (1972) – arguably her most-loved film – released. Though she died at a shockingly young and tantalisingly seductive age of 38 it appears that she lived a life of 90. There was something genuinely affecting about Meena Kumari.
For another, she certainly did not have the scripted and calculated appearance of heroism that the otherwise talented Kangana seems to be projecting. Was she billed as a feminist? Was she the ‘hero’ in a Man’s World? Was she fearless and fearsome? Or just another mythologised vulnerable woman defeated in love? Was she a victim of male violence? That can’t be true because, for one, we do know that she used men. As we recall the turbulent life and times of Meena Kumari, we do wonder how the tragedy queen was received and seen in her own time. Kangana’s reputation as a glass ceiling breaker now precedes her fame as an actor. Over the last few years, feminists have appropriated Kangana Ranaut as one of their own for her outspoken outbursts and the courage of calling a spade a spade in an industry that doesn’t even recognise that something called a ‘spade’ exists, especially if it involves a woman. The question remains, if Radha is dead, then why is Nanda claiming that she is her, and why is she unable to recollect the last 16 years of her life as Subodh's wife, and Nalini's mother?Īll music composed by Laxmikant–Pyarelal.Meena Kumari passed away, merely weeks after Pakeezah (1972) – arguably her most-loved film – released. Then Nanda recalls a dressmaker named Glory D'Silva, and Rajesh undertakes the journey to Byculla, Bombay, and brings Glory back – who positively identifies Nanda and states that Radha, Nanda's sister, and her parents were all killed in a fire 16 years ago. On her insistence, Subodh and she travel to Bombay to unravel this mystery – to no avail, and they return home. Then Nanda sees a dead woman's body in her closet, which subsequently disappears when the others arrive she also tries to kill herself – in vain. Rajesh conducts some tests on Nanda and concludes that her brain activity is normal. Fearing that his wife is losing her sanity, Subodh first summons their family doctor, Dr.
She also states that she is to marry Ram Kumar of Bombay. The next morning she wakes up claiming that she is Radha that Nalini is not her daughter and that Subodh is her brother-in-law. On the occasion of Nalini's engagement ceremony with Mohan, a number of celebrations take place, including fireworks, which result in Nanda's accident, she passes out, is treated for minor injuries, and is allowed to recuperate. Darjeeling-based Roy family consists of Subodh, his wife, Nanda, and their daughter, Nalini.