The tawaif-hood of Rekha

in Dil Cheez Kya Hai

1899. Urdu writer Mirza Hadi Ruswa publishes the first modern Urdu language novel ever Umrao Jaan Ada. The story follows a little girl who is kidnapped and sold to a kotha. There she learns the art of being an entertainer. She learns dance, music and poetry. She, a woman who is denied the basic pleasures of life, falls in love, her biggest mistake. Many years later, the novel inspires generations of filmmakers in two warring countries. 

Ruswa’s novel knows no death. The story of Umrao Jaan lives on in adaptations after adaptations in both India and Pakistan. Starting from 1972 up until last year, 2023, the story has continued to catch the fancy of creators. The inherent potential for melodrama, song and dance and passionate love makes it the perfect recipe for audiences in the subcontinent. The story is based in undivided India, it is only natural that everyone claims it as their own.

But in popular culture, one adaptation has staked a larger claim on it than others. In 1981, Hindi film director Muzaffar Ali created a spell with his version Umrao Jaan. The film has found a home in the classics of Bollywood cinema. In 1981, it was one of the highest grossing films of the year. Shocking for a release coming from the “parallel cinema” movement in India which prioritised, among other things, acting prowess over stardom. The film starred Indian TV hero Farooq Shaikh, art-house trailblazer Naseeruddin Shah and the most coveted actress of her time, Rekha. 

The 80s were Rekha’s era. “Dark skinned with South-Indian features,” Rekha wasn’t the usual candidate for success. This comes from an industry that was infatuated if not obsessed with fair-skinned beauties. However, her acting prowess knew no complexion. Born to an actor mother, it seemed to be in her blood. Her capabilities alone took her from playing simplistic glam girl roles to meatier characters. Umrao Jaan was one of those. 

Rekha’s talents are in a distilled 6-minute dance number, the first in the film; Dil Cheez Kya Hai. The music by Khayyam and choreography by Kathak guru Gopi Krishna is intricate, moody and spacious. It wouldn’t be right to call the choreography pure Kathak, however I hesitate before referring to anything as impure. It would be safer to refer to it as mujra, a style influenced by classical Kathak. The song opens with a closeup of Rekha, seated with her eyes closed. She opens her eyes and makes contact with the audience. In the choreography even the aalap or melodic introduction is not spared. She begins singing the lyrics: 

Dil cheez kya hai

Why my heart,

Aap meri jaan lijiye 

Take my life instead 

Bas ek baar mer kaha

Just once,

Bas ek baar mera kaha maan lijiye

Just once, listen to what I have to say

Dil cheez kya hai aap meri jaan lijiye

Forget my heart, take my life instead

The choreography on the first few lines runs us through Rekha’s spectrum as an actress and a dancer. Gopi Krishna choreographs each line with a different emotion and perspective. It starts with a teasing gaze as Rekha sings the first line “dil cheez kya hai”. She tears open her chest with a gesture, revealing her heart to us. She offers it to her audience and asks, squeezing her hands together with childish joy, that they take her life instead. As the melody builds, her teasing returns as she, in her dance, draws a veil over her face which she peeks through. She sings the line once again, emphasising it. This time, she expresses it with helplessness. She actions to her chest and drops her hands beside her body lifelessly. Her face tells us “What am I to do if my heart aches for you? I am helpless in this.” As she asks her audience once again to take her life instead, she grabs her big toe and gestures it forward in offering. Such an interesting choice of movement this is! She continues to play the helpless girl in love in this line as she pushes her leg away and drops slightly towards the ground. She continues to plead, this time, teasingly. “Bas ek baar mera kaha,” she sings with some force. She repeats, “bas ek baar mera kaha” with more force, actioning to her lip as she does so emphasising “listen to my words.” The percussion kicks in, she gets up and sings “maan lijiye” with assertion, teasing the audience by scrunching her nose slightly as if to say “you also want me, I know.” 

We do Rekha. We do. 

Just this opening is so intricately crafted. It is a story within a story and what holds us from wavering is Rekha’s gaze. Now yes, her eyes are beautiful, but it is how she uses them that makes a difference. Emotion strikes through them, shape-shifting as per her will. It draws you in. In fact, her eyes in this entire song guide our attention. It is the thing dance gurus keep stressing on; how to use the eyes to tell a story. The camera doesn’t move in this sequence. It stays still and cuts between magnifications. It begins to move only when the percussion sets in. That allows us to enjoy the music. 

A moment in the song that stands out for its amalgamation of music, shot taking, choreography and execution is a circular track that follows Rekha in a mid-shot. She sings: 

Is anjuman mein aapko

At this gathering, 

Aana hai baar baar

You must come again and again

Rekha is speaking, with her dance, to someone off screen; is anjuman mein aapko. However, in a moment she makes direct eye contact with the camera. Something she hasn’t done yet. She seems to still be talking to her audience, but this time, we are included. The first time she sings “aapko,” she looks off screen, pointing to someone. The second time she sings it, she looks at us, inviting us to her party. We and the nawabs at her mehfil are asked to come again and again to visit her. For the words “baar baar,” she repeats the same action twice. A fascinating choice of movement. The execution of this shot looks seamless. My guess is that she turned to face the camera as the camera circled around her. 

Rekha is a trained classical dancer but not in Kathak. The addition of a lot of hip movements and unorthodox swaying movements make this more similar to mujra. These movements are home ground to Rekha. And so, it is equally more impressive when she executes traditional spins, gestures and movements rather accurately in the piece. While many actresses have performed Kathak or Kathak-inspired spins on-screen, hardly any have done so in a full-body shot. Directors have usually placed the camera above their heads to conceal inaccuracies in form. Here, director Muzaffar Ali has faith and so we get a track shot of her spinning. 

Rekha sits down again and sings: 

Lekin yeh kya ke gair ka

But from strangers

Lekin yeh kya ke gair ka ehsaan lijiye

Don’t listen to strangers

Lekin yeh kya hai gair ka ehsaan lijiye

Don’t listen to strangers

Dil cheez kya hai aap meri jaan lijiye

Why just my heart, take my life instead

This verse oozes Rekha’s charm. Her uncanny ability to shine on screen is front and centre. She sings the first line pouting as she throws her hand to the ground as if she were throwing a fit. She sings the line once again, teasing, as she always does, as the percussion kicks in and Rekha flashes her smile. She catches the percussion by tapping her feet and moving her head together. And once she stands up, it's Rekha, not Umrao Jaan, in full glory. This particular sequence in the film felt like a slight departure from the character of Umrao Jaan who had a more silent expression of sensuality about her. However, it was in my opinion a welcome departure. 

Once up, the choreography takes an interesting turn. While we are used to choreography that follows the lyrics, here Gopi Krishna chooses somewhat differently. I interpret the movements as having the same feeling as the lyrics but not representing them literally. The representation of the word lijiye or to take has Rekha doing a pulling action using the hamsasya or swan-like hand gesture. When Rekha sings the line of the chorus dil cheez kya hai aap meri jaan lijiye, she gives an expression she is known for; mouth slightly agape, nose slightly scrunched, teasing her audience. The choreographic choices here are so interesting. They all have a base in classical movements and vocabulary, but Gopi Krishna’s touch makes it unique. 

Through the film’s dance sequences, Ali has relied on close ups. It is only natural as all the choreography emphasised Rekha’s eyes; just five minutes with them and they will catch you. Filled with deep sadness, they shine back at you as if the heartbroken girl in Ruswa’s story had come to life. Reflecting on the process of making the film, director Muzaffar Ali remarked “the striking feature of Rekha is that which draws from her past. Her eyes conveyed the experience of having been broken and then having pulled herself together.” The filming of Umrao Jaan coincided with a major life event: her breakup with Hindi film superstar Amitabh Bachchan. Till date, she wears sindoor or red vermillion that married women wear, allegedly for Mr. Bachchan. Tabloids say she is still not over him. “She became a walking corpse,” Ali said. And that joyless being breathed life into Umrao Jaan. 

Umrao and Rekha shared many similarities; they were forced to earn from a young age, disassociated with family, excelled in their craft and fell in love with someone they could never have. When Rekha sings Dil Cheez Kya Hai or even Yeh Kya Jagah Hai Dosto, her final song in the film, it is her eyes that say more than the choreography, the lyrics by Khayyam or the camera work by Pravin Bhatt. In an interview to the BBC she had once said “There was something about the film, that Umrao Jaan just got made. Maybe it just had to happen. I was going through a difficult phase in my personal life and it got reflected on my face.” That face is what makes Ali’s adaptation of the novel a classic. It is that face that everyone wants to aspire to have. It is that face that is timeless and knows no bounds. Just like Ruswa’s novel, this Umrao has settled into the annals of Hindi film history. 

Audio editing by Shashwat.