Abhimaan (Hrishikesh Mukherjee, 1973)

by Steffany Moreno

Upon a Google search for “Classic Hindi Movies” IMDb recommends “100 Old Hindi Movies You Should Watch”. At number 40 on this list of must-watch films, Abhimaan (d. Hrishikesh Mukherjee, 1973) makes its appearance. The film is described simply as the story of a popular singer whose pride is injured by his wife’s success, it was the leading actors of the movie, Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bhaduri (Bachchan) that caught my eye. Amitabh Bachchan is typically known as the angry and disillusioned son, the bad boy with a good heart, the misguided hero as we see in films such as Deewar (d. Yash Chopra, 1975). However in Abhimaan we see a different man, still angry, but changed.

           

The story follows the journey of Subir (Amitabh Bachchan), a professional singer who is just reaching the peak of his career, and his wife Uma (Jaya Bhaduri), a village girl with a beautiful voice with no intention of seeking fame. The two marry somewhat unexpectedly as Uma enchants Subir with her voice and beauty and return to Mumbai where Subir resides. Subir decides to push Uma towards a singing career she does not want with the dream of them being successful together. However, as Uma’s singing career flourishes Subir’s begins to deteriorate. Uma’s fame becomes a point of contention between the couple and their marriage begins to fall apart. Subir turns to alcohol to help him cope with his injured pride and searches for comfort in the house of his old love interest Chitra (Bindu). The alcoholism, jealousy, suggested infidelity, and anger prove too much for Uma. She leaves Subir and goes back to her village to live with her father and Subir’s aunt. Their lives are changed when Uma suffers a miscarriage and plummets into a severe depression (described as a state of shock) that leads Subir to search for her and ask for forgiveness. Finally the couple is reunited, and Uma is “fixed” after an emotional duet.

           

This film is structured in a way that places equal importance in the two leads. While the story is initially focused on Subir and his career as his rage takes over Uma is given more screen time, more dialogue, and because of this becomes easier to sympathize with. Both stars have beautiful character arcs, where there is a clear distinction between who they are at the beginning of the film and who they are by the end of it. Subir is originally self-centered, cocky and focused only on his career. He has no intention of getting married or settling down, his goal is to achieve stardom and enjoy the luxuries that accompany it. Uma is an honest, small-town (village) girl with an engrained set of values and love for life when Subir meets her. She is not impressed by his fame and has no problem telling him she despises some of his songs. Once their lives collide, however change sets in, altering them in several ways.

We see Uma gain confidence as she sings while remaining a loyal and humble wife. Simultaneously, Subir’s jealousy and wounded pride begin to consume him. Their marriage transforms with their characters; while playful and jovial at the beginning, by the time Subir is unrecognizable and head-deep in alcoholism their marriage is hanging on by a thread. Interactions are clearly forced (if at all present) where they once were effortless and constant, and where the house was once filled with music and light in later scenes it is darker and eerily silent except for Subir’s drunken yelling. Uma’s miscarriage prompts yet another development in their characters. Uma is absolutely destroyed after her loss, she refuses to speak to anyone and mopes around with an aura of hopelessness. Subir stops drinking, instead he becomes a supportive husband willing to seek medical advice in order to be able to help his heartbroken wife.  Their changes compliment one another. We see his complete turn around when he is asked to sing at a prestigious gathering and he stops halfway when Uma breaks down not only to console her, but also to share the spotlight with her. The film ends with a heart-wrenching song in which we physically see Uma stand up a little taller and sing a little louder implying her “return” all while her husband holds her up and sings with her. The fact that the movie is able to place both of them as heroes (Subir for saving his wife, and Uma for coming back from her shock) reinforces their shared importance and interdependence. These characteristics of the film make for an infinitely satisfying happily ever after “love wins” sensation.

As the name suggests, Abhimaan is entirely about the consequences of one being prideful. It addresses the fine line between the allure of confidence and the self-destructiveness of pride through the character of Subir. While he is originally the sheer embodiment of confidence in its most attractive and desirable form, he slowly transitions into a man ravaged by excessive pride. Subir serves as a reminder that while it is important to be successful, and to aim for greatness, it is also important to realize what is truly valuable in one’s life. It is pride that leads him to lose Uma and this same pride that prevents him from going to her and asking for forgiveness up until the miscarriage. The emphasis on the importance of love and family (especially children) over success in this movie indicates what Mukherjee deemed most important in life.

Only Subir and Uma have been discussed in depth above, but each character of Abhimaan is carefully and beautifully developed. It is impossible to not mourn with them, rejoice with them, and choose a side in their battles. When Subir’s aunt is introduced, one cannot help but feel affection toward her based solely on how much she clearly loves Subir. Similarly, when he lets her down by mistreating Uma one feels solidarity with her in her disappointment and chastising of Subir. It is the connections the film is able to make across the screen via character development that allow the viewer to give a standing ovation when Uma finishes her song, while reaching for a tissue of course.