Khwaja Ahmad Abbas: An Undeterred Voice of Reason In Hindi Cinema

Hindi cinema has, for the longest time, eclipsed its writers, and their contributions to its growth and timelessness. However, slowly that reality is beginning to change. And one of the most critical writers of our times, is Khwaja Ahmad Abbas, who died on June 1, 1987.

The power of cinema is to reflect the plight of the common people and enable them to see the injustice that causes it. It can help elevate the collective consciousness of a people, and build empathy in a way that cuts across societal and economic divides, binding people in an experience so human, that it allows them to experience what they cannot beyond their own lives. But that power of cinema is only unleashed truly by the writer—who understands which voices must own the narrative, what that will achieve, whose privilege they wish to call out and who they wish to get to think. All of this is visible in Khwaja Ahmad Abbas’s writing. 

K. A  Abbas's film writing wasn’t his first stint into the profession. After studying English Literature and Law, he began his early work life as a journalist. Working as a political correspondent first and later as a film critic, he eventually became a part-time publicist at Bombay Talkies. “The Last Page” (Azad Kalam, his column in Urdu) was the longest running political column in India’s history, and was later published into two books—‘I write as I feel’ (1948) and ‘Bread, beauty and revolution’ (1982). Some of his short stories like Bholi and Sardarji explore themes of communalism, caste, gender-based discrimination and prejudices, and muting of dissent. The idea of an egalitarian India—rooted in equity and equality and in the idea of a collective—informed his writing and critique of the society as he saw it.

This political thinking reflects deeply in some of his most prominent films as screenwriter and later as a director. Neecha Nagar (1946) is one the most prominent films of his early career. Directed by Chetan Anand, and a winner of the Grand Prix Du Festival at the Cannes Film festival in 1946, the film was inspired by Hayatullah Ansari’s story of the same name, which was in turn inspired by Maxim Gorky’s play, The Lower Depths (1902). The film—that could have been the lighthouse for what became the alternate film movement later in the 70s and 80s in India—was a sharp reflection on the deep chasm and dramatically different ways of life between the privileged and the underprivileged on the fault lines of class. All through K.A Abbas’s career, one finds repeated engagements with society and its glaring discrepancies, and this consistent engagement and questioning makes his cinema deeply reflective, political and relevant. Another critical film is Dr. Kotnis Ki Amar Kahaani (1946) for V. Shantaram—set during the Japanese invasion of China, when a doctor joins the Chinese resistance and cures a deadly plague. 

Dharti Ke Lal (1946), his directorial debut—that also had the screenplay and dialogue by him— was a scathing take on the Bengal famine. His characteristic style of socio-realism was evident in this and Neecha Nagar, followed by Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zamin (1953). These films brought to the fore the struggles of the socio-economically marginalised, as India fought for independence.

Then came K.A Abbas’s collaboration with Raj Kapoor in Awaara (1951), Shree 420 (1955), Jagte Raho (1956). Each of these films constituted sensitive portrayals, consistent critiques, and constructive engagements with societal issues. Especially in Shree 420 and Jagte Raho, 7-8 years after India’s independence, we see the criticism emerge of the Nehruvian dream or the flaws in its implementations. The chasms and the cracks that appear in the hopes, greed and survival are won over by the ideas of values and the collective. The worlds of any-path-to-wealth seem more tempting, till values finally win. The enemies are the class divides and unchecked power structures that work in tandem, eclipsing voices of the underprivileged. These themes shine in Shree 420 and Jagte Raho with metaphors in both screenplays and lyrics, visual and dialogue, and the protagonist’s struggles. The biggest point with these films was that even so close to independence, filmmakers had the freedom to critique flaws with systems and express their societal concerns fearlessly. These creative forms of dissent were encouraged, both by viewers and makers—a reality lost today at the feet of those in power, as dissent is relentlessly muzzled.

Understanding societal and cultural contexts and representing them from the gaze of those oppressed is as critical in documenting societal truths, as bringing alive reflections often lost in history. The 50s were a hallmark of this reality. Within this K.A Abbas’s, contributions are immense, since they were both political and human, sharp and sensitive, brutal and empathetic. Each of these films was set in the realities of survival and struggle, bring alive what it means to deeply desire a comfortable life, have the education and training, live without opportunity in a world designed to consistently oppress such people. The rise of capitalistic dreams could also be clearly traced in the films, as could the hedonistic pleasure that money provides. These stories are now absent in our mainstream cinema. And the loss of empathy is now palpable in audiences. 

His work continued with Saat Hindustani (1969), which was written, directed and produced by him. The film looks at seven Indians who attempt to liberate Goa from the Portuguese rule. Each of these protagonists belongs to different religions and varied parts of India, exemplifying what the true idea of India meant. An amalgamation of differences, united by the love for a country we would build together for ourselves. This film saw more assertive ideas of nationalism visibilised, with the flag being used across buildings.

As we see muting of dissent being a part of the narrative in K. A. Abbas’s films, it was also a part of his life. His documentary ‘Char Shahar Ek Kahaani (1969)’ ran into a roadblock with the Censor Board, who would only grant an adult certification, while he sought a ‘U’. The film viewed in sharp contrast the life of the rich across four cities of India with the poor. Over multiple turns that this particular case and fight took, K.A Abbas also challenged the constitutional validity of pre-censorship of films in the Supreme Court—the questions being whether the failure of the board in providing a ‘U’ certification to the film was curbing his right to free speech.

His body of work—as a writer and otherwise—points to a deeply engaged, active citizen of the country, who looked at political as the personal and personal as the political. Artists such as these enable us to look at society both holistically and humanely, which is critical in the violent, polarising and singular-narrative-upholding times that we live in.