Rattan Kumar and Neelo in Alladin Ka Beta (1960)

According to Pakistani Film Critics, there were two reasons behind Rattan Kumar’s failure as a leading man.

1. Rattan Kumar grew up to be quite a handsome man, but his facial features were delicate, making him unsuitable for macho roles and only suitable for romantic roles.

2.  Another problem facing him was that he became a leading man at a very young age i.e. 17! And it was very difficult for producers to pair him with leading Pakistani heroines of that time. The only suitable match for him was Pakistan’s first pinup girl Neelo, but even she was few years older than him.

In this song, a very young Rattan Kumar is seen as a leading man with Neelo in Pakistani film Alladin Ka Beta (1960). Singer is Naheed Niazi, Music by G.A. Chisthi.

1. Amarnath the Music Director, 2. Amarnath the Actor

Amarnath the music director was the elder brother of the music director duo Husnlal-Bhagatram. He belonged to the Punjab School of Music Composers and composed for many films made in Lahore including Daasi (1944), Dhamke (1945) etc. His most famous film as the music director was Mirza Saheban (1947), which he composed jointly with his younger brothers Husnlal-Bhagatram. Songs sung in the voice of Noor Jehan became very popular all over India. Sadly, Mirza Saheban was Noor Jehan’s last released film in India.

Noor Jehan singing for herself and G.M. Durrani singing for Trilok Kapoor in Mirza Saheban (1947), music by Amarnath, Husnlal and Bhagatram.

Amarnath the actor appeared as the leading man in few Hindi films including Jalte Deep (1950), Johari (1951), Lachak (1951) etc. Here he is seen with Geeta Bali and Manorama in Johari (1951). Geeta Dutt singing for Geeta Bali in Johari (1951), music by Harbans -

Shakila in Hatim Tai (1956)

It was an era of no complaints. Back in the ’50s, the audience didn’t think of huffing about warmed-over goods. Quite often, the plot wasn’t what they had come for. Their hope was that for the price of admission they might gain temporary entrance to a charmed world.

Hatim Tai (1956), a trip to a continent chockablock with fairies and filigree, still brings a rosy glow to the cheeks. To view it now is like opening a time capsule: the nostalgic fragrance is almost overpowering. It was revived lately at an obscure cinema hall (situated a whisper away from Bombay’s red-light district Playhouse). And though the colour print has faded into black-and-white, the shows continue to be soldout. The reason’s simple: every frame is achingly sweet, every moment in it has the appeal of a happily purring cat playing with a ball of string.

A creation of the most underrated magician of the Indian movies—Homi Wadia—it is a homage to honesty and the kind of noble values that have withered with the ages. The central character Hatim Tai is a saudagar, a merchant of all that’s pious and pure. A generous soul, his only mission in life is to spread cheer and charity. He’s something of a Boy Scout too, as nothing gives him more pleasure than to do his good deed for the day. Even if it’s something inconsequential like feeding bits of loaves to fish swimming in a transparent sea. You can almost hear the marine life thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

Not surprisingly, the most beautiful fairy in the cosmos, Husna Pari falls in love with Hatim. She has wings and can perhaps never live with earthlings. But love will overcome the rules. After all, what’s a fantasy without a honey-sweet ending?

Tribute must be paid to the stimulating script fashioned by Homi’s brother who was simply known by his initials J.B.H., a director of equal statute. There’s a fluidity to the telling of the episodes, which are based on the seven eternal questions. What must a man experience in life? Why should he do good deeds? Will he reap as he sows? Are the honest truly blessed by the lord? Is there a supreme being living on a mountain from where he can observe all? What is the secret of the pearl that is as big as an ostrich egg? And will the forces of evil be destroyed ultimately?

The film works as a legendary epic, alternating between scenes of ecstasy to scenes of torment. That the wicked will obstruct the wise becomes a law of nature. There’s a classic master villain naturally and a jinnaat (the monster) laughing fiendishly. The conflict between the good and the bad appeals to your primeval instincts, and that’s where the fantasy becomes almost real. You identify with the kindly though you know the characters are purely imaginary, straight out of a child’s dream on a Sunday afternoon.

Contributing considerably to the appeal are the shimmering lace-and-brocade costumes, the sumptuous sets that can compare with the best in studio art today and of course, the gliding camerawork giving you the feeling that you’re suspended on a flying carpet. It was Homi Wadia’s first film in color, incidentally, As he didn’t have enough lights for the slow Gevacolour stock, the studio doors were left open to let the sunlight trickle in. And the incandescence is amazing.

Jairaj in Hatim Tai (1956)

The cast is led by Jairaj, a companionable sort of actor. Never showy or trying to hog the attention with high-pitched histrionics, Hatim remains his most consummate performance. But the real show-stopper is Shakila as the fairy. Till then, she had been doomed to B-grade features. She did have her days of glory, too, as she was teamed with Dev Anand in C.LD., Shammi Kapoor in Chinatown and Raj Kapoor in Shriman Satyawadi. Yet, the sprite from the heaven’s at her peak here: gentle, delicately-featured with her smile sending a 100 flowers into bloom, and a voice that sounds like piped-in music. It’s easy to be captivated by her allure and rank her as the first love of your life.

At this point, I must confess that Hatim Tai is also something of a sentimental choice. Seeing it in diapers at the Novelty cinema, it had me in thrall and asking for repeat screenings. It also made me aware that there’s something like a top-shot (shown here with dancers spinning like tops on a palace floor). It made me aware that yarns set in unspecified centuries will perhaps connect with ‘people even in the 21st century. For the question of vice and virtue will always exist. Only the faces change.

Also, when there’s a balance of humor, awe, benevolence, cruelty, action and splendor, the outcome has the exoticism of an Arabian nights adventure. Wrapping it all up is S. N. Tripathi’s inspired music score, including that devotional song for all seasons Parvardigar-e-alam, tera hi hai sahara.

Exactly 30 years after he made his masterwork, today Homi Wadia is a man reclusive from the glitter of showbusiness. If you ask him about Hatim Tai , he wonders why you’re making a fuss. He needs to refer to his files to remember it’s cast. “Besides the leading pair there were Krishna Kumari (as the vamp), Naina, Meenakshi and B. N. Vyas,” The 76-year-old trouper had to chuck up film making in the early ’60s because of labor union problems at his Basant studios. “I decided to quit gracefully,” he says, “But I’m busy, I still have my film distribution office, a theatre and a laboratory.”

Homi Wadia’s wife Nadia has retired as silently into the background. The couple rarely make a public appearance except perhaps to go out for a day at the races. Unlike the late J. B. H. who was an M.A., L.L.B., Homi rejected studies after completing school. The brothers worked on paltry salaries in a studio lab till they branched out into film making, coming together under the banner of Wadia Movietone.

Homi, the younger of the two, was inspired by Zorro. His first film Thunderbolt had a hero jumping from roof to roof. Completed at a cost of Rs. 2,000 (thanks to the inexpensive Pathe camera), it was sold for release at Rs. 3,000. Came the time of the talkies and there was Veer Bharat on the subject of Hindu-Muslim unity. But what the brothers were most closely identified with were their collaborative efforts with J.B.H. directing and Homi handling the camera. The team completed at express-speed snappy action movies with great titles like Toofan Mail and Frontier Mail. The glorious, trigger-happy Nadia the Hunterwalli to name only one out of a staggering collection.

Eventually, the brothers split. While J.B.H. was cerebral Homi was the practical, no-nonsense type, taking life and cinema as they came. Mythologicals, Alibaba, Alladin, he did them all. He probably doesn’t consider Hatim Tai his summit. “It was made in the silent era also,” he shrugs. Which to a degree, is like Da Vinci shrugging that Mona Lisa is run-of the-mill (Article written by Khalid Mohamed in 1986).