TRIBUTE TO A DACOIT –SAMBA THE SNIPER

By Manas Paul

He was the best ‘sniper’ that the typical Indian film could ever think of---a sniper with an ever silent rifle. He did neither believe in blazing guns nor did he appear trigger happy like others of his ilk. He never shot. He was simply different. Throughout the film he sat quietly on top of a rocky dusty hillock holding an ancient .303 rifle across his lap for years guarding his Sardar who was constantly engaged in violent dramatics –laughing and killing in same breath or in leisurely time chewing Khaini or baring his dirty leering teeth. His loyalty to his Sardar was so religious that his menacing presence was enough. In fact, none in Rampur or in the cinema hall needed to tell that the silent and bearded dacoit up the rocky hills sitting alone was a sure shot and could pick up anyone who would try to act funny or simply disagree with the Sardar.
But Samba did not fight, he did not argue, he did not ride horse and did not show any violence at all. Yet without Samba, you just cannot think of Sholay. Without Samba Gabbar Singh was insecure-almost naked.
The Sardar, who preferred to shout his cohorts’ guts out, also apparently ‘loved’ Samba because time and again he was heard screaming—evidently to reassure his own unquestioned leadership—‘Arre o Samba…’
I like many of my age grew up with Sholay and its Amjad Khan-the Gabbar Singh, watching this movie umpteen times. Like millions of Indians I still remember all those Gabbar dialogues, desperate Dharmendra antiques to impress irritatingly talkative Hema Mailini, cool Amitabha trying to feel the almost supernatural existence of a white clad young widow, calculating Thakur personified by Sanjeev Kumar and his simple village valet Satyen Kappu, British jamane ki stupid jailor Asrani with a Hitler’s moustache, funny Surma Jagdeep Bhopali with his cock and bull stories, wise and heavenly Imam AK Hangal, even barber-the-jail bird Keshto.... All the characters acted out their parts so beautifully with so perfect unison that Sholay became the first Indian movie which was in all sense ‘total’ and till date the most popular in the entire sub-continent. Many cynic may find some of the shots true to Bollywood tradition were copied from Charles Bronson’s Red Sun or even How the West was Won...but there would be no doubt that Amjad Khan or in other words ‘Gabbar Singh-the-dacoit Sardar’ was ‘superb’-the ‘best’ in performance among a huge array of superstars. Then if Amjad Khan became world famous for his immortal performance as Gabbar Singh, it was also the man, who christened with an Irish sounding name Macmohan, became known with an unlikely Brazilian dance title ‘Samba’ across the country as the film Sholay kept on enthralling three generation in a row.
But what I actually found amazing was that it was Samba who made a world record: without any acting or performing any feat at all –only sitting silent with his rifle and an unassuming smile and a single dialogue- he could also become such a popular name.
Throughout his ‘career’ as ‘Baagi’ in the treacherous world of Chambal with a frightened Rampur in the periphery reeling under the ever present shadow of scary Gabbar, he spoke only once— ‘Poora Pachaash Hazaar, Sardar’.
And it was an instant hit.
It was perhaps the second best known dialogue of the film after Biju Khote-the- Kalia’s ‘ Hamne apka nimak khaya hai Sardar’.
Who should be given the credit...Sippy saab or Samba a ka Macmohan himself or the script writer Javed Akhtar?
We have already lost the great villains of our Indian films- K N Singh, Premnath, Ajit, Amjad Khan, Madan Puri, Omshib Puri, Amrish Puri et al. Recently, when Macmohan died we have also lost a quintessential silent sidearm of a filmy villain.
Of course, there were many henchmen besides their villainous Bosses, say for example, suave and well dressed Ajit-the-Leon (Lion) had all along with him his sidekicks ‘Micaaal’ and Mona Darrrrling. But can you really remember their faces? I doubt.
But when they said Macmohan has left us on May 10 last, we immediately recognized the face in the rocky upland—typical dacoit attire with bullet belts across his chest. And do not you feel that his was an uncommon face?
Macmohan seemed to me consciously sported beard to hide his sunken cheek and he dared to appear in all the films without any change. After Sholay I have of course come across Macmohan in some more films...mostly perfectly dressed, often with sunglasses but his role was still not very important as an actor besides the raging villains. Starting from Haqeeqat in 1964 he acted in almost 180 films. But Samba kept on shadowing him. In most of the films he seldom spoke, barring perhaps Karz where he was with Premnath. Despite his long career as a baddie he could never become an underworld Don.
Once, however, I saw him as a reporter attired in stereotype pyjama and punjabi with jhola for a brief appearance. I cannot remember the film but in one I have seen the ‘bad guy’ in a virtuous police officer’s dress also. The last film I saw Macmohan in was a recent comedy where Raju Srivastava, Sunil Paul, Asrani –all were there. The name of the film sounded like something ‘Bombay to Goa’. In this film I saw Samba had become old with greying beard and too many wrinkles in his face. In fact by then he was suffering from lung cancer.
The expression in Macmohan’s face always appeared to me as bored by the pathos of life and thus exuding an air of philosophical understanding. The face never betrayed any overt emotion, perhaps, except an ever present twinkle in his eyes... as if they found something indeed amusing also in the world.
I often wonder Samba might have also felt that his Sardar Gabbar Singh was eccentric full of all sounds and furies but destined to be mauled by a handless Thakur. He maintained a respectable distance from his Sardar. Perhaps the illiterate Baagi in the Chambals knew by experience the management mantra of the present day corporate world – always keep distance from the Boss or you would invite trouble. So he spent his hours up in the rocks –perhaps in a strategic corner far from the reach of hot headed Gabbar’s country-made revolver. Samba was a wise guy. Cool, calm, menacing who did not act, who did not perform but also he did not let you forget him. He was there all the time and, believe me, Samba will remain there as long as great old Bollywood keep on producing movies throwing up stars who burn bright for a while and then go to oblivion for ever. Even if ‘Macmohan’ is not remembered Samba will certainly be .

A WEEPING JIHADI AND HIS HEAVEN AND HOURIES

By Manas Paul

I am not sure whether any warrior of Islam hanged to death by a court after trial would attain 'Vehst' and -as such be eligible for those heavenly 'houries' with beautiful black eyes. As far as I understand, perhaps, Kasav had lost his claim to those paragons of divine beauty when he wept and admitted 'guilt' in Mumbai on 26/11. Neither his handlers in Pakistan nor the 16-year old houries somewhere up in the paradise would be impressed at a terrorist trained to kill the 'Kafirs' and to sacrifice himself for the cause of Islam crying in the public for his own life. This was shame for a jihadi ...

This is not for the first time, however, that such a question came to my mind. Last year I was reading a book 'The Siege of Mecca' by Yaroslav Trofimov. At that time also I was equally uncertain about the fate of that Bedouin fanatic Juhayman al Uteibi who along with his followers had seized Holy Mecca on November 20, 1979 demanding that 'Mehdi' had arrived. He and his stupid followers killed hundreds of Muslim pilgrims only to be later captured and happily beheaded by the Saudi Monarch.

Then, there was a man near our neighbourhood with a funny name 'Bangla Bhai'. He was also trying to make his way up into heaven throwing crude bombs here and there and killing some bystanders or poets or intellectuals. At last it was, however, not the bombs but the rope that ended his dream run to divinity.

I was wondering what could be their fates-- those Juhayman and Bangla Bhai--I mean after their death. I did not have any 'Wahabi' inspired fanatic in Tripura whom I could ask for the answer. But then I remembered Mohammed Hanif - the celebrated Pakistani writer of 'Exploding Mangoes'- who had some answer: 'God's Glory, God's Glory, every monkey has a hourie'.

But all those good wine and women in heavens aside, none could rule out some very un-heavenly developments that might follow the death sentence to Kasav.

For me Kasav stood strangely apart like a sore thumb. He was perhaps the first Fidayen -the suicide attacker- who was caught alive and stood trial in the court of law, he was the first dreaded terrorist who cried openly and in the public and he happened to be an enemy of a state that willy-nilly but relentlessly goes overboard to strengthen her democratic image. Considering these three major shortcomings Kasav seems to have little chance to be called as a true warrior of Islam as per the LeT standard. In fine, India has deprived Kasav of not only his earthly existence but also of his so cherished carnal pleasures beyond death for which he had taken that much of risk and butchered so many innocent people...

Nevertheless, I am certain some fanatics somewhere in Pakistani slums or Afghani mountains or even in some far off places like Sudan would like to come up with some new interpretation of Jihadi Sahadaat and pray for Kasav's transportation to his heaven and houries straight from the Mumbai gallows. If Kasav is 'lucky', there is also possibility of Osama bin Laden coming up with a tape for public distribution through Al Jazeera praising the young terrorist for his great man slaughter.

In today's (Friday) newspaper I read some Human Rights activists demanded life sentence for Kasav instead of capital punishment. They felt death sentence could not be a deterrent for terrorist attacks and as such he should be buried alive in prison for life. As far as Indian standard sentiment is concerned this did appear to me neither surprising nor intriguing. It was, in fact, quite expected that professional Humanrightswallas would take to roads to save Kasav from death. If anything surprising was there, it was their hitherto maintained conspicuous silence on the issue. This time the HRmasters had evidently kept in mind the prevalent situation. And they are except some token protests unlikely to act Teesta Shitalabad or suffer the Arundhuti syndrome finding blatant faults in the government establishments both in India and Pakistan for which 'Kasav could have very well been a victim' sort of thing. But, Kasav still has a chance to test his destiny. He can appeal to higher court and even go up to the President of India for clemency.

And as far as political considerations are concerned Ajmal Kasav was far more a hot potato than Afjal Guru. But still we are certainly not Israel nor do we have a cigarette smoking Golda Meir who would like to bring outright 'Wrath of Gods' to the perpetrator of inhuman killings.

In recent time there were five more state executions in our region - the hanging of five Mujib killers in Bangladesh. In Bangladesh or for that matter in the entire world the execution was hailed as it was seen as bringing the brute murderers of the Bangladesh President to justice. They were hanged in celebration. Six more were still on the run and being hunted world over. Since the Mujib assassins were allegedly acting at the behest of an American, and that too, a Jew named Mr Henri Kissinger, Col Frouk and his cohorts were unlikely to be blessed too..

But as far as Kasav is concerned, let me be frank, I am not quite sure about the passport of a weeping jihadi's journey to Heaven and his houries--those 'pearls hidden in shells on whom there would be no dust and whom neither any man nor a jinn had ever touched'.

DEVATAMURA: ENCHANTED, MYSTERIOUS AND-LOST

By Manas Paul

Wrapped in deep winter mist and soft chill, quiet flows the river Gomati - piercing through two massive mountains and moist verdure-to an ancient place- a place that has long been forgotten and long forsaken- Devatamura. It is where far, far from the madding crowd the 16th century amazing rock cuts despite their immense archeological splendors and importance stand desolate and forlorn. Devatamura is like Kublai Khan's Xanadu - enchanted, mysterious and isolated. But the vagaries of time and unforgivable apathy of the ASI and state government have taken the toll. Now this archeological treasure is on the verge of extinction.

Located deep in the forest with no human anywhere within 50 to 60 kms of its radius the two panels of the rock cuts- several miles apart - of unspecified deities of Hindu pantheon- just carved out at the steep rocky face of straight cliff that descends directly to the river bed about 150-200 feet below - are the archaeological splendour that is quite literally in the middle of nowhere. The only sounds here are those of nature - like the river which, after charting an arduous course through hills and dales, forests and verdure, gurgles like a baby in its cradle, or the birds that chirp as if to humour it.

THE TRAVEL THAT MAKES YOU A PART OF THE WILD

The two densely forested high hills that made the deep crevice through which the Gomati slowly and silently travels to reach Udaipur miles and miles ahead, is so densely green in mid-December that even a single unknown tree with a patch of white bark would immediately invite attention of the traveling tourists in the country-made boats far below.
If you want to escape from the daily drudgery that makes you so tired and often, insensible,- then drive your car up to Gomati ghat at Rangamati near Amarpur in South Tripura and rent a boat for a day's cruise down the stream for an encounter with the wild and the exotic manifestation of ancient arts. The experience for those ready to take the difficult trip is, indeed, rewarding. Only thing you must not forget is to carry dry foods and bottled water along. For the next 10 hours or so you will be on boat traveling in the wilderness. During the mesmerizing cruise through the all pervasive emerald green, it is a pall of hushed silence- a silence that oozes out from the dark wood, from the springy weeds, the damp ferns, the cunning creepers and the wintry mist that loosely drapes the tree leaves up in the mountain ridges- is your only companion.
As the boat floats in the hypnotic ambience, the huge and deeply dark unknown trees and flowering shrubs hanging awkwardly over the swollen river exude an earthly smell in abundance. A little torrent of a stream that emerges from nowhere behind a lonely moist stone- trickles down to meet the mighty and indifferent -Gomati and then gets lost without making any ripple- accepting the fate and embracing the long awaited union with a bigger entity.
The isolation is now and then accentuated by rasping of an elderly monkey hidden somewhere in the bushy banyan tree, or by an unidentified bird breaking into a sudden flight overhead or by an unknown creature slinking into dense foliage.
The sounds seem suggestive - only to add an element of expectancy and uncertainty that would grow with every passing moment in the human heart. "I won't be surprised if an anaconda emerges from the river. Its like experiencing the Amazon", murmured Biswajit Bhattacharjee, a young IT professional.
The 'possibility' and the 'feel' of a huge 'anaconda' indeed following you silently beneath the boat- is unsettling, for a moment. As the woods turns more magnetic, more inviting, more you loose your worldly moorings. You become a part of the wood. A part of the green, and the water, and the Wild.
And then, all of a sudden on your right appears the grand archeological rock cuts sculptured at the stony face of the cliff- a steep decline that is partly seen, partly covered by weeds, creepers and undergrowth.

THE MAJESTIC ROCK DEITIES

"This is where you wanted to come. Look, how beautiful". Dharma Jamatia, the tribal boatman, made his first uttering in three hours while two of his companions 'both Bengalis- who had already warmed up themselves with considerable gulps of local brew, slowly veer the boat towards the rive edge near the rock cuts. "But, seldom people come here", one of them rued. At that moment Subhash Das, former Director of Information, Cultural Affairs and Tourism of Tripura government also broke his long silence. He was lost in himself looking intently at the nature for the last three hours. "None knows exactly how and when those ancient artists carved out these rock cuts, but apparently these are about 500-700 years old" he said ' telling no one in particular.
According to legend in 16th century a Moghul expedition led by Houtan Khan defeated the Tripura King Amar Manikya (1577-86) who ruled from Amarpur at that time. The King took refuge in this deep forest at Gomati's bank. An artist who was also with the king in hiding found out his leisurely time and sculpted the two panels filled with deities, and something that resemblance a King's procession..
"There were bullet marks in the rock cuts.It is likely that the Mughal soldiers while cruising past the rock cut opened fire at them. In fact, we had found some irons possibly remnants of the bullets", said Swapan Nandi, an eminent artist of the state.
"Even at the base of the rock cut that appears to be of Durga you will find symbols that look like wine glasses of the Mughals. We believe that as the Moghul soldiers could not destroy the rock cuts with cannon firing, they sculpted wine glasses at the base of the Hindu deity", Nandi said. Das pointed out that though it is quite likely that the sculptures were made during the time of Maharaja Amar Manikya exact date can be ascertained only by experts.
"But if you look at the cliff face where the rock cuts were chiseled, you can imagine the desperation and devotion of the artists. Even today it is simply impossible to touch those massive sculptures that stand about 200 feet directly above the river bed. It is indeed amazing how in those days the artists could find out the place in such a wilderness and stood over the river with their chisels. A matter of ancient miracles", said Das, presently chairman of Tripura Small scale Industries Corporation.
"I have traveled across the world and seen many a world heritage site and I find this one no less a wonderful archeological splendor in comparison to them", he added.

THE APATHY AND THE UNFORGIVABLE LOSS

Boatman, senior bureaucrat, artists-all, however, agree in one point: the Archeological Survey of India has done nothing to preserve the ancient site. Nor has the state government done anything to make it a tourist spot. The result is --the rock cuts that stood silently for ages are now in ruins and many more sculpted panels that were evidently there at a point of time are peeling off the rock face.
"Even last time I remember some more panels were there which I do not see now. The apathy is unforgivable. It is a sin. It simply tells of our lack of sense of history and culture", said Priti Achariya, a poet. Then she added: Can you imagine, had these ancient sites been in a foreign country what kind of importance would have been attached to it and how they would go all out to make it an important tourist destination?
"It is true that Devatamura is not a favored tourist destination. None really seemed interested to come here", Das agreed.
"The ASI failed to do anything for the site. And it would be completely lost within next five years if immediate steps are not taken in right earnest to preserve this magnificent site. We have to really, really do something 'immediately", he added.
The points taken and understood. But none actually believes that the ASI or the state government would suddenly discover the importance of the ancient site. The ASI has already miserably failed to protect other historical sites like Unakoti, Pilak and Boxanagar Buddhist centre located in more easy places across Tripura. So, there is no reason to be hopeful that they would come here in the deep forest to protect the rock cuts at inaccessible mountain face.