by TINASHE MUSHAKAVANHU

ZANZIBAR has long been an island of arrivals for traders, sailors, slaves and, more recently, waves of tourists. I arrived as a wedding guest and a reader of the Zanzibar-born novelist Abdulrazak Gurnah, in search of the literary and emotional landscapes that shape his fiction. For a week, I was part of the tourist economy of this East African island, passively complicit in its curated pleasures.

For all its beautiful images on social media, Zanzibar is a site of difficult memory. It was once a central node in the Indian Ocean slave trade, so its past is carved into the coral-stone buildings that reflect a complex fusion of Swahili, Indian, Arab and European influences in architecture and town planning.

A visit to the Old Slave Market was sobering. You cannot look away once you’ve seen it. And yet, Zanzibar is now overlaid with carefully packaged experiences: boutique hotels with infinity pools, beach picnics with imported champagne, stalls of “African” art mass-produced for western eyes. The art has become so generic that it hurts. All the curio markets on the island look the same.

Even the language has been commodified. Everyone is selling something. Everyone is searching. “Jambo,” (Hello) say mostly young men offering one service or another. “Hakuna matata.” (No worries.) “Pole pole.” (No rush.) These cheerful Kiswahili phrases made famous by the likes of the Lion King movie are repeated like slogans and feel soulless.

Most of the cars on the roads operate as taxis with stickers that say: Private Hire. The tuk tuks, three-wheeled tricycles, weave in and out of traffic because movement is an act of constant negotiation, part of a tourist infrastructure that operates as a regulated service.

Amid the hum of engines and the ceaseless choreography of traffic, I kept searching not just for respite from the heat or wifi or good coffee, but for something literary. I was looking for the celebrated writer Abdulrazak Gurnah. Not the man (he hasn’t lived in Zanzibar for decades), but the essence of his writing, informed by this place: the ache of exile, the weight of history, the restless question of belonging he grapples with.

The African Mirror for more

by JEFFREY ST. CLAIR

So here’s what I don’t get, he’s [Trump] been sitting on the Epstein Files this whole time and every time someone brings it up there’s suddenly some kind of brand new emergency: Putin gets to keep part of Ukraine, job numbers are “fake,” let’s investigate Letitia James, investigate Jack Smith. It’s like, Dude, just release the files. If your name’s not in there, you’d think you’d want everybody to see them, right? But instead, it’s constant shiny distractions, while the one thing that matters just stays locked up. Look, man, if you still think he’s playing 4D chess, I hate to break it to you, but the guy’s barely playing checkers and he’s eating the pieces. I mean, c’mon, how much horseshit before you realize your Alpha Male is just an 80-year-old dude with early dementia spray-tanning his face at 3 AM while rage tweeting about Rosie.

– Joe Rogan

+ As a naive country kid from the glacier-smoothed farmlands of central Indiana, I arrived in DC in 1977, lived in the District through 1982 and commuted back there to work from Baltimore for another year.

DC was a much rougher place and poorer, though more vibrant, city in the 70s and 80s than it is now that it’s been almost completely gentrified. I didn’t have a car, so I rode the Metro, took the bus, or walked everywhere. I went all over town at all hours, from Tenley Circle to Adams Morgan to Anacostia, often late at night going to clubs to hear bands, going to and from the libraries at Georgetown or Catholic because AU’s was so shitty, working at Blues Alley and a movie theater deep down Connecticut Avenue, and later giving talks and attending organizing meetings for the Freeze Campaign. I never felt threatened, frightened or compelled to look over my shoulder. Never got “mugged,” saw anyone get “mugged” or knew anyone who’d been “mugged”–not in DC. Back home in Indy, yes. In Manhattan, sure. Not in the District. I’m not saying there wasn’t violent crime in DC. Of course, there was. There were hundreds of thousands of people, squeezed together, in a relatively small area, where extremes of wealth and poverty collided every day. There was bound to be friction. Maybe there should have been more of it, given the precarious circumstances many DC residents were compelled to live in. I’m saying I was never haunted by the prospect of being stuck-up, robbed, shot or stabbed. I went wherever I wanted to go, freely.

In all of those hundreds of trips downtown, I had two “violent” encounters. As a freshman at AU, I was aggressively propositioned in the bathroom of the Rayburn Building by a staffer for a Georgia congressman, who then stalked me back on campus and made harassing and obscene calls to the dorm phone at Hughes Hall for a couple of weeks. The second incident occurred six years later, when I was grabbed from behind, thrown to the sidewalk and kicked repeatedly by two Caucasian men in trench coats after giving a talk at GW against the Reagan arms buildup. They didn’t take my wallet, but they did warn me to “keep my fucking mouth shut.”

Counterpunch for more

by VIJAY PRASHAD

After nearly two years of Israel’s Western-backed genocide, the peoples of the Arab and Muslim world are seething with anger, yet there are few overt signs of a popular uprising in Arab states that are ruled by pro-Washington autocrats.

As more and more Palestinian children die of starvation in Gaza, can those autocrats survive? Might we be on the cusp of a massive anti-Western uprising in West Asia?

To explore these questions, Dimitri Lascaris speaks with Vijay Prashad.

Vijay is a historian and journalist, and the executive director of Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research. He is also the chief editor of LeftWord Books and the author of forty books, including The Darker Nations: A People’s History of the Third World, The Poorer Nations: A Possible History of the Global South, and the Fragility of U.S. Power, written with Noam Chomsky.

Vijay and Dimitri also discussed Israel’s growing instability and vulnerability, as well as military cooperation between Iran, China, Russia, Pakistan and North Korea.

Youtube for more

by HASSAN ABBAS

The Indus Waters Treaty has been a failure — scientific, environmental and socioeconomic. It stood on a pillar made of political sand, which has collapsed. Let us brace ourselves for the reality that the IWT is no more; let’s rejoice and move on with the opportunities this situation has brought.

Surprisingly, neither India nor Pakistan was facing water shortages when the treaty negotiations started. It was triggered through political prejudice alone — India shut down the canals emanating from the head works now under its control (after Partition) but feeding irrigated land in Pakistan. It was a war crime according to the Rome Statute. The dispute was immediately hijacked by players of the Cold War. It was seen as an opportunity to prevent India from drifting into the communist bloc and Pakistan from becoming another Korea — were war to break out over the Kashmir dispute.

Based on this premise, David E. Lilienthal, the former head of Tennessee Valley Authority, proposed a ‘solution’ and wrote to Eugene Black, president of the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD), that there were business opportunities for the bank in the implementation of his proposal regarding the Indus Basin.

Lilienthal’s solution, however, defied science. First, it suggested that both countries build infrastructure to prevent the river waters from reaching the sea — a death sentence for the world’s sixth largest mangrove forest and the Indus Delta, which is an environmental system of global significance. Second, it supported an illusion of greening the deserts through canals.

The IWT allowed the complete shutting down of three large rivers, with no provision of environmental flows downstream, which was unprecedented. The final nail in the coffin was driven by letting India dispose of unlimited contaminants into the empty riverbeds of the Ravi and Sutlej flowing into Pakistan.

Neither India nor Pakistan was facing water shortages when the treaty negotiations started.

International water treaties are negotiated to safeguard the rights of lower riparian jurisdictions. Primarily, a treaty is needed to protect a lower riparian from excessive diversions upstream, which may reduce the flow downstream; extreme damming upstream, which disrupts the natural rhythms of flow downstream; and dumping polluted waste upstream, which contaminates the water quality and impacts the environment downstream.

Dawn for more

by B. R. GOWANI

Transliteration and a rough translation (with notes) of a beautiful Pakistani song in Punjabi sung by Yashal Shahid. Her highly sorrowful and powerful voice conveys the grief of desertion by her lover. She has composed the above version herself.

The song is written by Sibtain Khalid who composed its music, and sang this song in March, 2017.

Tere dhoke ne (lyrics)

tere dhoke ne sajnA meiN nu mAr mookAya / meiN mar te gayiAN phir sAh kiyooN ae AyA

jag nu ravAyA, meiN tenu hasAyA / phir vi pale kuchh nayuN AyA

teri yAdAN sahAre meiN jee te lavAN gi / ae zehr judAee dA pee te lavAN gi

ek gham tu see ditA, sau gham Ap pAle / sab kitA see apnA tere hawAle

hoohN rAtAN nu yAdAN dee chhAve beh ke / meiN tasbih karAN terA nAN le ke

thak gaiyAN sAre meiN dukhDe seh ke / Ave gA muD ke gayA si tu keh ke

meri banjar akhyAN vich sAvan lawAyA /te mein hanjwaN di bArish vich piyAr bahAyA

tere dhoke ne sajnA meiN nu mAr mookAya / meiN mar te gayiAN phir sAh kiyooN ae AyA

Your betrayal (translation)

your betrayal has killed me, my love / I’m dead, so why am I still breathing, my love? <1>

I made the world cry but with smiles I graced you / yet, I didn’t gain anything from you <2>

with the aid of your memories, survive I will / the poison of separation too, drink I will

hundreds more I sprouted from the grief you gave / everything of mine, to you I gave <3>

at night, sitting under the shade of memories’ flame / using rosary, I recite your name

all the suffering that befell has exhausted me / you’ll return is what you had told me

my barren eyes are filled with the Saavan you brought / I let my love swept away in the tear-rainfall you brought <4>

your betrayal has killed me, my love / I’m dead, so why am I still breathing, my love?

Notes

<1> Its’ as if the person is saying: “I am a dead woman walking” — not in the sense of a prisoner being taken to be executed — but like a living corpse who has no desires or hopes. A person who is buried alive under the weight of her sweetheart’s treachery.

<2> That is, I fought and stood up against the world who was opposed to our union, to make you feel that you are not alone — you have someone by your side all the time.

<3> The grief of betrayal gave rise to many more sorrows, such as depression, loneliness, taunts and ostracism from the people I went against for you, and so on. Everything that belonged to me, including my existence, I gave it to you.

<4> The word “banjar,” common to several South Asian languages, means “infertile,” “unproductive land,” “barren,” etc. So if the barrenness has been filled with water, that is tears, the betrayed one should be thankful but that is not the case, and it shouldn’t be. I don’t know what the writer had in mind by using the word “banjar” here.

The Monsoon season lasts from June to September in the Indian subcontinent. The second month of rainfall, July 15 to August 15, is called Saavan.

B. R. Gowani can be reached at brgowani@hotmail.com

JPMORGANCHASE CENTER FOR GEOPOLITICS

Expect an imperfect deal by end of Q2
As Europe runs low on weapons, Ukraine on fighters, the U.S. on patience, and transatlantic unity frays, President Zelenskyy will likely be forced to accept a negotiated settlement with Russia sometime this year that freezes the fighting but stops short of a comprehensive peace agreement. Putin’s losses are also far from sustainable. At its current rate of gain, Russia will control all of Ukraine in about…118 years. So Putin will aim to cut a deal that is favorable to his overall goal to eventually control Kyiv. 2025 was always going to be the year of negotiation, and the endgame is here.

But will it last? The durability of any settlement will depend on: (1) how satisfied President Putin is with Ukrainian and Western concessions (did he get enough of what he wanted?). Both sides need a deal they can defend politically. And (2) the strength of the security promises underwriting it (are they sufficient to deter further aggression and allow Ukraine to rebuild with confidence?). These are in direct tension; the weaker the security promises, the more concessions Ukraine will have to swallow—neutrality, demilitarization, disarmament, territory, etc.—or risk a return to fighting.

Generally, we see 4 possible outcomes, each with parallels to other countries today:

Odds: 15% Best case – “South Korea”
President Zelenskyy will get neither NATO membership nor the full restoration of Ukraine’s territory. However, if he can secure an in-country European tripwire force backstopped by an American security promise on assistance and intelligence support, then the 80 percent of Ukraine still under Kyiv’s control will be set on a much more stable, prosperous, and
democratic trajectory. The West’s decision to leverage the approximately $300 billion it has frozen in Russian sovereign assets would also get reconstruction in Ukraine off to a good start.

JPMorganChase for more

by ASHLEY BELANGER

OpenAI scrambles to remove personal ChatGPT conversations from Google results.

Faced with mounting backlash, OpenAI removed a controversial ChatGPT feature that caused some users to unintentionally allow their private—and highly personal—chats to appear in search results.

Fast Company exposed the privacy issue on Wednesday, reporting that thousands of ChatGPT conversations were found in Google search results and likely only represented a sample of chats “visible to millions.” While the indexing did not include identifying information about the ChatGPT users, some of their chats did share personal details—like highly specific descriptions of interpersonal relationships with friends and family members—perhaps making it possible to identify them, Fast Company found.

OpenAI’s chief information security officer, Dane Stuckey, explained on X that all users whose chats were exposed opted in to indexing their chats by clicking a box after choosing to share a chat.

Fast Company noted that users often share chats on WhatsApp or select the option to save a link to visit the chat later. But as Fast Company explained, users may have been misled into sharing chats due to how the text was formatted:

“When users clicked ‘Share,’ they were presented with an option to tick a box labeled ‘Make this chat discoverable.’ Beneath that, in smaller, lighter text, was a caveat explaining that the chat could then appear in search engine results.”

At first, OpenAI defended the labeling as “sufficiently clear,” Fast Company reported Thursday. But Stuckey confirmed that “ultimately,” the AI company decided that the feature “introduced too many opportunities for folks to accidentally share things they didn’t intend to.” According to Fast Company, that included chats about their drug use, sex lives, mental health, and traumatic experiences.

Carissa Veliz, an AI ethicist at the University of Oxford, told Fast Company she was “shocked” that Google was logging “these extremely sensitive conversations.”

Ars Technica for more

The making of Pyaasa, the Guru Dutt film that changed Indian cinema

by YASSER USMAN

Guru Dutt: An Unfinished Story by Yasser Usman (Simon & Schuster, 1921)

Pyaasa dared to question a society that dismissed sensitivity and art in favor of money and power. It asked what matters more: art or ambition, integrity or money?

This year marks the centenary of Guru Dutt, the legendary filmmaker-actor whose hauntingly poetic cinema still stirs hearts a century after his birth.

Guru Dutt would have turned 100 on July 9, 2025. Yet he remains vividly alive in our collective memory through films that still resonate deeply. At the heart of his legacy is Pyaasa, his most haunting creation. While writing the book Guru Dutt An Unfinished Story, I discovered that Pyaasa, like much of his work, was deeply personal, drawn from his own rejections, loneliness, and creative yearning.

The making of Pyaasa was not just cinematic history in the making, it was the story of a man revealing his soul. As the classic unfolded like a fever dream on screen, Guru Dutt’s own life spiraled behind the scenes.

Pyaasa was inspired by Guru Dutt’s early days in Bombay as well as the struggles faced by his father. His father’s lifelong ambition was to engage in creative writing but he could only become a clerk. This exasperation he felt manifested itself in a childhood marred with his bitterness, reclusion and constant fights in the house for Guru Dutt and his siblings.

Guru Dutt’s sister, the late artist Lalitha Lajmi had told me, “Yes, Pyaasa’s theme was inspired by my father. Father was very creative and well-read…Guru Dutt inherited my father’s temperament. But it also drew from Guru Dutt’s early struggles in Bombay.” After working as a young choreographer and assistant director at Prabhat Film Company in Pune, 22-year-old Guru Dutt arrived in Bombay in the late 1940s but 1947 turned out to be a year of rejection and humiliating struggle for him. India had just achieved independence but was suffering the bloody aftermath of the Partition. Guru Dutt lived with his family in a small rented flat and was struggling to make ends meet. He had realised how difficult it was for a creative man to survive or to make a place in the cut-throat culture of the film industry. He went door to door of many film producers but couldn’t get work for almost a year. In that frame of mind, he wrote the story about the frustrations and anguish of an artist and called it ‘Kashmakash'(Conflict). The first draft of ‘Kashmakash’ was intensely personal. Guru Dutt poured his disillusionment, disappointment and resentment into the story and promised himself that he’ll bring it on screen.

A decade later, this story would become the blueprint of his most celebrated film Pyaasa.

In the years that followed, Guru Dutt’s fortunes began to shift. By 1956 Guru Dutt had secured his place as a promising filmmaker with four three successes as a director- Baazi (1951), Aar Paar (1954) and Mr & Mrs 55 (1956). Success had brought Guru Dutt the quintessential Bollywood dream: a bungalow in posh Pali Hill, a marriage and children with legendary singer Geeta Roy, and his own production house where he wore the hats of producer, director, and lead actor.

Though he had achieved success riding on the popularity of romcoms and thrillers inspired from Hollywood, in his heart, he yearned to prove himself as a serious filmmaker. Finally, he chose the story he’d long yearned to tell. Pyaasa, which literally means ‘the thirsty’, ignited an unquenchable thirst for creative perfection that would ultimately consume him.

For his most ambitious film yet, Guru Dutt wanted the best actor around. He wanted the ‘tragedy king’, the top star of the 1950s- Dilip Kumar. Dilip was known to take his craft extremely seriously and was a perfectionist to the core. He normally worked in one film at a time to give it his 100 per cent. This was exactly the kind of dedication Guru Dutt wanted from his Pyaasa hero.

Guru went to meet Dilip Kumar and narrated the script of Pyaasa to him. Dilip Kumar agreed to do the film in principle and quoted his price of one-and-a-half-lakh rupees. Guru Dutt requested him to consider reducing the price. In reply, he was asked not to worry about the money. Now that Dilip Kumar was to take on the lead role, his loyal film distributors would take care of the finances. This perhaps was the point where Guru Dutt disagreed with him. Guru Dutt clearly told Dilip Kumar that he had a fixed team of distributors too and he had committed Pyaasa to them. At that time Dilip Kumar promised Guru Dutt that he would come for the shooting from the next day.

The following day, all preparations were done for the muhurat shot. The entire unit of Pyaasa was waiting to welcome their star, Dilip Kumar. Hours passed but Kumar didn’t arrive. Guru Dutt’s production controller and confidante Guruswamy said, ‘I myself had gone to fetch Dilip Saab. But he was not to be found at home.’ Guru’s brother, Devi Dutt recalled, ‘He [Dilip Kumar] was to attend the mahurat at Kardar Studio. Also, [producer–director] B.R. Chopra’s office was in the same compound. Dilip Saab went there to meet him. Dilip Saab sat there discussing the script of Chopra Saab’s Naya Daur as the mahurat time (of Pyaasa) slipped by. Guru Dutt sent for him. Dilip Saab said he’d be there in ten minutes.’

But even then Dilip Kumar did not turn up.

Around lunch time, Guru Dutt sent for two bees. By 3 pm he had decided to play the protagonist himself and took the first shot- a close-up shot of a bee thirsty for nectar but a man passing by crushes the innocent life under his foot.

It’s true that had Dilip Kumar turned up on that fateful day, Pyaasa would have been a very different film. But the way in which Guru Dutt played the role of Vijay, it is difficult to imagine anyone except him in that role now. He gave it his everything. Guru Dutt became Vijay, the heartbroken poet. Guru Dutt had always underestimated himself as an actor. In all his films where he had played the lead role, he was always the reluctant second or third choice. But the audacious move by Guru Dutt to take on the role that Dilip Kumar refused paid off and it became ‘one of Bollywood’s all-time greatest performances’.

With himself in the lead male role, the quest for the female lead started. The casting of the female leads for Pyaasa went through many changes. Initially Madhubala was considered to play the role that finally went to Mala Sinha. Meenu Mumtaz was signed as the streetwalker’s friend while the song ‘Jaane kya tune kahi’ was to be picturised on Kumkum. However, in the final cut, both Meenu Mumtaz and Kumkum were out. A relatively new actress, Waheeda Rehman, was finalized to play the lead role of the prostitute, Gulabo. It was Guru himself who had introduced Waheeda in Hindi films with his last production C.I.D directed by Raj Khosla.

Initially Guru Dutt’s team wasn’t happy with her casting. It was a complex role that required a mature and seasoned actress and Waheeda was just one film old. But Dutt was certain, captivated by the young South Indian’s quiet confidence. The new mentor-protege relationship was already being talked about in the corridors of the film industry.

As Pyaasa took shape, Guru Dutt’s personal life began to unravel. Once a celebrated love story between star singer Geeta Roy and the struggling filmmaker, their relationship changed after Dutt’s success. Though Geeta’s voice graced all his films and contributed to his rise, she often felt overshadowed and underappreciated. Lalitha Lajmi told me, “They were deeply in love. But there was one major conflict in their relationship. Guru had promised that Geeta would continue singing even after their marriage. But now he wanted her to sing only in the films produced by Guru Dutt. He wanted Geeta to take care of the family, the big house they had built. With every successful film Guru achieved fame while Geeta felt that she has been denied her share of fame.” Frequent arguments took their toll, and rumors of Guru Dutt’s closeness with Waheeda Rehman only deepened the rift between him and Geeta.

Guru Dutt initially planned to shoot the red-light area scenes on location in Calcutta but shifted to a studio due to security concerns. People close to Guru Dutt have gone on record to say that he did not believe in shooting a film with a bound script or strict planning of shooting schedules. He was rather fond of ‘creating’ the film as it took shape on the sets, making a lot of changes in the script and dialogues. Pyaasa was no different. Guru Dutt shot the film in random order and it is said that the raw stock Guru Dutt used for any one film could have finished three films. He would shoot and shoot and was unsure about what he really wanted in a particular scene.

Even with himself, for the famous climax sequence in Pyaasa, he shot one-hundred and four takes! He kept forgetting the dialogues as it was a very lengthy shot, but he wanted it just right…he would shout and get bad-tempered when things did not go right. Before Pyaasa, he would scrap only one or two shots of a film, rather than entire sequences. But beginning from Pyaasa, the scrapping and reshooting had reached worrying new levels. People close to him noticed this change. Many believed his personal turmoil was wearing him down, but it was also clear that with his dream project Pyaasa, Guru Dutt was determined to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of perfection.

Sleep evaded him. The misuse of and dependence on alcohol had begun. At his worst, he started experimenting with sleeping pills. Remembering those days, Lalitha Lajmi told this author, “The kind of serious films he was making had also affected him. His personality had changed. He had become more reclusive…sometimes he used to call me saying he wants to talk about something. But whenever I went to meet him, he never really confided. He was disturbed.”

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Guru Dutt: A master, remembered

HINDUSTAN TIMES WEEKEND TEAM

He was once a telephone operator; then a dance director. Much later, he began making luminous films that remain classics to this day: Pyaasa, Jaal, Kaagaz Ke Phool.

In many cases, the stories were his stories; the tussles, his tussles.

In his centenary year, a tribute to a tortured artist.

Guru Dutt was born in 1925, into a family from Mangalore (now Mangaluru). His father, Shivashanker Padukone, moved cities and jobs frequently, before settling in Calcutta in 1929, where he found work as a clerk. (Incidentally, Dutt’s given name was Vasanth Padukone. His parents changed it after a childhood accident, hoping to accord him better luck.)

After school, Dutt stopped studying in order to work and help keep the family afloat. At 16, he found a job as a telephone operator. It was
a relative who noticed his love for arts and helped him find a job with Pune-based Prabhat Film Company.

In this picture, Dutt is captured behind the scenes of his final production ‘Baharen Phir Bhi Aayengi’. This film, a romance drama, was initially shot with him in the lead role; it would be released two years later, with Dharmendra starring instead. Dutt died by suicide in 1964.

When Dutt was found in his flat in Bombay, dead having drunk a glass of water with sleeping pills dissolved in it, he was only 39. It was his third suicide attempt.

In her book ‘Guru Dutt: A Life in Cinema’, Nasreen Munni Kabir quotes his brother, filmmaker Atmaram Dutt, as saying: “He was quite social in his early days…had a very pleasant nature… Whether it was the success or his filmmaking, he became increasingly enclosed, more and more cut off.”

In the early years, even his films weren’t as dark. Dutt directed and starred in romantic comedies such as Aar Paar (1954; in picture), playing a rakish but charming taxi driver who finds himself fancied by two women.

In fact, the genre he founded — Bombay noir — was gritty but not dark. Atmospheric and morally complex, these were films also laced with humour. They featured smoke-filled clubs and cabarets, heroes who were rakish rogues, women who were luminously beautiful, and sepia streets pulsing with crime, romance and intrigue.

Among the pioneering films in this genre were Mr & Mrs ’55 (1955; in picture), starring Dutt and Madhubala; and Jaal (1952), starring Dev Anand and Geeta Bali.

…

Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959), about a successful film director’s self-destructive slide into penury and alcoholism, was so dark and defeatist, it crashed at the box office. Even Waheeda Rehman didn’t believe in it.

In an interview with Nasreen Munni Kabir, she said: “I thought the film was too sad…too heavy… I know there are many good moments in Kaagaz Ke Phool, but as a whole I don’t think it worked.”

Dutt, who set great store by commercial success, lost a little more of himself with this failure. He never directed a film again.

…

A third dark classic, Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962, in picture), would complete what is considered Dutt’s trilogy, following Pyaasa and Kaagaz Ke Phool, even though the 1962 film, produced by Dutt, was directed by his long-time writer Abrar Alvi.

The haunting story of a late-19th-century Bengali zamindari family’s decline, it features outstanding music by Hemant Kumar and a towering performance by Meena Kumari as the neglected ‘chhoti bahu’ who turns to alcohol in an attempt to win over her indifferent husband (Rehman).

The tragedy of his life, and his end, have marked Guru Dutt’s legacy, but there are lighter moments to remember too. On set, he was famously short-tempered and so compulsive a re-shooter that Alvi called him the “Hamlet of cinema”, after he took 104 takes of the climax scene in Pyaasa. He built a dream team around himself. Waheeda Rehman and Johnny Walker featured in almost all his films. Alvi buffed each screenplay until it shone. Master cinematographer VK Murthy and production head S Guruswamy worked with him for years. As did music composers SD Burman and OP Nayyar. Dutt’s wife Geeta Roy Dutt sang some of the most spectacular songs of her career in his films.

Hindustan Times for more

Sahib, Bibi, aur Ghulam: The original screenplay

by MAMUN M. ADIL

Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam — Guru Dutt’s masterpiece and Meena Kumari’s tour de force — remains one of Hindi cinema’s most enduring classics, even after more than half a century of its release, in 1962. Such is the film’s following that well-known film journalists Dinesh Raheja and Jitendra Kothari have published Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam: The Original Screenplay — a slim volume which, as its name suggests, contains the screenplay of the film in addition to several informative and compelling essays about it. Also included are interviews of some of the people who acted in and worked on the film.

Based on a novel by acclaimed Bengali writer, Bimal Mitra, titled Saheb Bibi Golam, the film centres on the relationship between Chhoti Bahu (the bibi), Bhoothnath (ghulam) and her thakur husband (the sahib) and takes place in Calcutta, at the end of the 19th century. Raheja points out that it was a time when the “British Raj is in force and the film shows earnest freedom fighters battling British Tommies in the streets of Calcutta … when buses were drawn by horses. The film’s protagonist, Bhoothnath, stays in the staff quarters of an imposing haveli which houses Chhoti Bahu. Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam’s dominant theme is the slow degeneration of the grand haveli, which is a metaphor for the old age zamindari finally collapsing under the weight of British colonialism.”

Raheja points out several elements that even the most avid fans of the film may have missed. For instance, there is a definitive emphasis placed on detail with regard to the haveli lifestyle. For instance, he points towards an “opulent wedding for [the zamindar’s] cat,” the caste system that is almost palpable in the film as well as the fact that the haveli’s Bari Bahu is suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder. A sub-plot of the film revolves around the relationship between Bhoothnath (played by Guru Dutt) and Jabba (played by Waheeda Rehman). However, the dominant theme undoubtedly — and firmly — centres on the relationship between the Ghulam and his Bibi.

This relationship begins when Bhoothnat is ushered quietly into the haveli in the middle of the night to meet Chhoti Bahu. Raheja points out that “to establish Bhoothnath’s sense of awe and wonderment, Choti Bahu is introduced gradually — both Bhoothnath and the audience first see her dainty, alta adorned feet and her resplendent silk sari … a close-up of [Choti Bahu’s] luscious painted lips followed by a shot of her evocative eyes suggests that the director is emphasising Bhoothnath’s cognition of her physical attributes, and is signalling the promise of a relationship. Or so one presumes, but the relationship reveals itself to be far more complex as it unfolds on screen.”

Director Abrar Alvi and cinematographer V.K. Murthy, who passed away earlier this year, present Meena Kumari semi-lit or surrounded by shadows, “this half obscure image adding to her character’s mystique and layering the meaning of her actions. The Caravaggioesque shadows also accentuate the atmosphere of neglect, and evoke a sense of foreboding and claustrophobia.”

Chhoti Bahu asks Bhoothnath to get some sindoor (he works at the factory that manufactures it) because she believes that it will help her woo her husband, who is prone to going to the local kotha at night, rather than spending it with her. Thus begins the relationship between Chhoti Bahu and Bhoothnat; the sindoor doesn’t work, after which, in another attempt to woo her husband, Chhoti Bahu asks Bhoothnat to procure her a bottle of alcohol and eventually becomes a raging alcoholic in a bid to secure her husband’s affection. (Incidentally, this was the first time that a woman was depicted drinking alcohol in a Hindi film.)

The most interesting aspect of the film remains the ambiguity that envelopes the relationship between Chhoti Bahu and Bhoothnath. Does the ghulam physically desire her? Does she see him as more than just a devotee? This question of course brings to mind that memorable scene during which Bhoothnath grabs her hand to stop her from drinking more, which causes her to yell and scream “O maa! Tune mujhko haath lagaya? Parayi stree ko chua tune? Nikal ja yaha se!”

The obvious interpretation would be that Chhoti Bahu is so faithful to her husband (who, to make things even more complicated, it is insinuated may be impotent) that she cannot stand the thought of another man touching her. However, another equally potent interpretation is that she realises that she warms to his touch, causing her to lose control and order him out.

Raheja, in another article called Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam: An Ode to Platonic Relationships? writes: “Whether or not there are subliminal desires that lurk in the crannies of the heart, Chhoti Bahu does not see herself as the vehicle for her own fulfilment. Bhoothnath walks into her life when her husband had already made a habit of walking out on her but Chhoti Bahu never loses self control even when she is drunk. She may have vaulted past a critical barrier and taken to drinking — but only to please her husband … If she has other feelings, she has sublimated them in sacrifice.”

The book contains interviews with Waheeda Rehman (who says that Guru Dutt was too old to play Bhoothnath, and admits that she wanted to play Chhoti Bahu’s role initially, among other things, although her relationship with Guru Dutt in real life unfortunately is not touched upon), the late V.K. Murthy who expands on how he used shadows to make Meena Kumari more mysterious and beautiful, as well as Minoo Mumtaz (the courtesan) and production manager Shyam Kapoor, both of whom provide insight to the making of the film and the man who was Guru Dutt.

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Guru Dutt’s granddaughters recall his legacy: Would like to pay a tribute to him through our work

OUTLOOK ENTERTAINMENT DESK

Karuna and Gouri want to pay a tribute to their grandfather Guru Dutt through their work. They want to making films that “connect with people and have that resonance.”

Ahead of Guru Dutt’s birth centenary on July 9, his granddaughters Karuna and Gouri, has remembered the legendary filmmaker and actor, who gave classics, like Pyaasa, Kaagaz Ke Phool and Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, among others.

Gouri tells PTI they don’t tell people that they are related to Guru Dutt and later, when people come to know, they feel happy. Karuna says they would like to pay a tribute to their grandfather through their work. She feels the best tribute they could give to him would be by “making films that connect with people and have that resonance.”

For the uninitiated, Karuna, 40 and Gouri, 37, are daughters of Guru Dutt’s son Arun. Both were raised in Pune and later moved to Mumbai, to start their career in filmmaking. They worked with several filmmakers as assistant directors. 

Guru Dutt died in 1964 at the age 39, while his wife Geeta Dutt passed away in 1972 at the age of 41. Karuna and Gouri never met their grandparents, but they have heard many stories from their father, uncle Tarun, and their granduncle Devi Dutt and grandaunt Lalita Lajmi, Guru Dutt’s brother and sister.

From the stories they heard while growing up, Karuna reveals that Guru Dutt was a disciplinarian, and a very generous person.

Their grandaunt told that he was very fond of sweets. She also reveals Devi Dutt telling them that after pack up, Guru Dutt would bring sweets for his crew to celebrate the work of the day.

Gouri also reveals Guru Dutt’s love for animals and they have got the same passion from their granddad. She adds Dutt had a lot of animals.

Gouri and Karuna are skeptical about documenting Guru Dutt’s life through a biopic or a book.

“I don’t know if I’d be able to be objective about it because at the end of the day, he is my grandfather. To make a good biopic on somebody, you do need objectivity to be able to talk about a person’s life as a whole. I would love to help, be a part of that process, but not personally make it.

“In terms of books, there’s so much written about him. We never met him personally, I don’t know what new we would be able to bring or say about him, even if it has to come from his grandchildren’s perspective,” Karuna says.

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Guru Dutt: The tragic life of an Indian cinematic genius

by YASSER USMAN

Iconic Indian director and actor Guru Dutt was just 39 years old when he died in 1964 but he left behind a cinematic legacy that continues to resonate decades later.

Born on 9 July 1925 in the southern state of Karnataka, next week marks his birth centenary. But the man behind the camera, his emotional turmoil and mental health struggles remain largely unexplored.

Warning: This article contains details some readers may find distressing.

The maker of classic Hindi films such as Pyaasa and Kaagaz Ke Phool – film school staples for their timeless themes – Dutt forged a deeply personal, introspective style of filmmaking that was novel in the post-independence era.

His complex characters often reflected his personal struggles; his plots touched upon universal motifs, inviting the audience to confront uncomfortable realities through hauntingly beautiful cinema.

Dutt’s beginnings were humble and his childhood was marked by financial hardship and a turbulent family life. After his family shifted to Bengal in eastern India for work, a young Dutt became deeply inspired by the region’s culture and it would shape his cinematic vision later in life.

He dropped his surname – Padukone – after entering the Bombay film industry in the 1940s. He made his debut not as a director but as a choreographer, and also worked as a telephone operator to make ends meet. The turbulence and uncertainty of the decade – India’s independence struggle had intensified – impacted the aspiring filmmaker’s prospects.

It was during this phase that he penned Kashmakash, a story rooted in artistic frustration and social disillusionment, ideas that would later shape his cinematic masterpiece Pyaasa.

Dutt’s friendship with fellow struggler Dev Anand – who soon rose to fame as an actor – helped him get the chance to direct his first film in 1951. The noir thriller, Baazi, propelled him into the spotlight.

He soon found love with celebrated singer Geeta Roy, and by many accounts, these early years were his happiest.

After Dutt launched his own film company, he scored back-to-back hits with romantic comedies Aar-Paar and Mr & Mrs 55, both featuring him in lead roles. But yearning for artistic depth, he set out to make what would become his defining film – Pyaasa.

The hard-hitting, haunting film explored an artist’s struggle in a materialistic world and decades later, it would go on to be the only Hindi film in Time magazine’s list of the 20th Century’s 100 greatest movies.

Dutt’s late younger sister, Lalitha Lajmi, who collaborated with me when I wrote his biography, said that Pyaasa was her brother’s “dream project” and that “he wanted it to be perfect”.

As a director, Dutt was fond of ‘creating’ the film as it took shape on the sets, making a lot of changes in the script and dialogues and experimenting with camera techniques. While he was known for scrapping and reshooting scenes, this reached worrying levels during Pyaasa – for instance, he shot 104 takes of the now famous climax sequence.

He would shout and get bad-tempered when things did not go right, Lajmi said.

“Sleep evaded him. The misuse of and dependence on alcohol had begun. At his worst, he started experimenting with sleeping pills, mixing them in his whiskey. Guru Dutt gave his all to make Pyaasa – his sleep, his dreams, and his memories,” she said.

In 1956, as his dream project neared completion, 31-year-old Dutt attempted suicide.

“When the news came, we rushed to Pali Hill [where he lived],” Lajmi said. “I knew he was in turmoil. He often called me, saying we need to talk but wouldn’t say a word when I got there,” she added.

But following his discharge from hospital, no professional support was sought by the family.

Mental health was a “socially stigmatised” topic at the time, and with big money riding on Pyaasa, Lajmi said that the family tried to move on, without fully confronting the reasons behind her brother’s internal struggles.

Released in 1957, Pyaasa was a critical and commercial triumph that catapulted Dutt to stardom. But the filmmaker often expressed a sense of emptiness despite his success.

Pyaasa’s chief cinematographer VK Murthy recalled Dutt saying, “I wanted to be a director, an actor, make good films – I have achieved it all. I have money, I have everything, yet I have nothing.”

There was also a strange paradox between Dutt’s films and his personal life.

His films often portrayed strong, independent women but off screen, as Lajmi recalled, he expected his wife to embrace more traditional roles and wanted her to sing only in films produced by his company.

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100 years of Guru Dutt: His granddaughters reflect on the icon they never knew

PRESS TRUST OF INDIA

Dutt, regarded as one of the greatest filmmakers of Indian cinema, would have been 100 on July 9

They have grown up on stories of their grandfather, the fabled Guru Dutt, carry his name with pride and say the best tribute to him would be to work on films that connect with people.

Karuna and Gouri, daughters of Guru Dutt’s son Arun, are both in the film industry and have worked with several filmmakers as assistant directors. As grandchildren of the legendary Guru Dutt and Geeta Dutt, one an actor-filmmaker and the other a singer, the sisters say they don’t introduce themselves when they start a project.

“… We’re not like, ‘Oh, you know who I am’… in the end they’re like, ‘What? You did not tell us this’, and the reaction is happy and big,” Gouri, 37, told PTI.

As the cinema world celebrates the 100th anniversary of the filmmaker who gave Indian cinema a string of classics, including “Pyaasa”, “Kaagaz Ke Phool” and “Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam”, the sisters discuss his enduring legacy.

“I feel the best tribute we could give to him would be by making films that connect with people and have that resonance. We would like to pay a tribute to him through our work,” added Karuna, 40.

They have, of course, never met either grandparent. Guru Dutt died in 1964 when he was just 39. Geeta Dutt died in 1972 at the age of 41. But they have heard many stories from their father, uncle Tarun. And also from granduncle Devi Dutt and grandaunt Lalita Lajmi, Guru Dutt’s brother and sister.

“He (Guru Dutt) was a disciplinarian. Both the children (Arun and Tarun) were quite mischievous growing up. We also hear that he was very generous as a person,” Karuna said.

“Lalita ji used to tell us that he was very fond of sweets. I remember, Devi uncle once told us that after pack up, he would bring sweets for his crew to celebrate the work of the day. So these are these little things, the stories we’ve grown up with,” she said.

Gouri added that she admires the legacy of compassion that Guru Dutt instilled in the family, particularly their love for animals.

“His love for animals got passed down to us as well. Like, from our father and then to us, because he also loved animals. He had a lot of animals,” she said.

The two sisters, both aspiring filmmakers, have reservations about chronicling Guru Dutt’s life through a biopic or a book.

“I don’t know if I’d be able to be objective about it because at the end of the day, he is my grandfather. To make a good biopic on somebody, you do need objectivity to be able to talk about a person’s life as a whole. I would love to help, be a part of that process, but not personally make it.

“In terms of books, there’s so much written about him. We never met him personally, I don’t know what new we would be able to bring or say about him, even if it has to come from his grandchildren’s perspective,” Karuna said.

They said they didn’t know how much their legendary grandfather meant to people until they started engaging with the film community where he is a much revered figure.

“It’s heartening to see how well loved he is even today, and how many people are speaking about him and wanting to celebrate his birth and his contribution to cinema. As his family, it’s a matter of pride because there are so many artists who are so easily forgotten; it’s joyous to see how he’s being celebrated,” Karuna said.

“I feel like that is the legacy he has left behind… that even after so many years, his writing, his direction, his voice as a director is still relatable and has still found a place in people’s hearts,” she said.

Hundred years is a long time but it’s amazing that people remember his body of work as if it was 10 years ago, said Gouri.

The sisters, who were raised in Pune and later moved to Mumbai, recalled the impact Guru Dutt had on the filmmakers they have worked with.

Karuna, who has served as an AD on Anurag Kashyap’s films “Ugly”, “That Girl in Yellow Boots”, and “Gangs of Wasseypur”, said he was working on a screenplay for a biopic on her grandfather.

Kashyap visited her home in Pune to research Dutt’s life, went through family photographs and letters for a biopic that was to be directed by Shivendra Singh Dungarpur.

“On one of the days of the shoot, I remember him telling me how daunting he had found the task of trying to capture my grandfather’s life in a screenplay. For him, it also came from a moment of being such an ardent fan. ‘How do you do justice’? He had found the process quite difficult,” Karuna said.

Gouri, who has worked as an AD on films like “Victoria and Abdul”, “Tenet”, and “Girls Will Be Girls”, said she often hides her connection with Guru Dutt and finds it amusing when people discover it later.

“People who know him have a lot of curiosity, and they are like, ‘How was he like? What was his life? What do you know?’,” Gouri said.

Her favourite Guru Dutt movie is “Kaagaz Ke Phool”.

Karuna’s two personal favourites are “Pyaasa” and “Mr and Mrs 55”.

“‘Pyaasa’ because I feel as somebody in the creative field, you do understand that sense of disillusionment, you kind of connect to that from that perspective, which I feel like for a lot of filmmakers and writers, that’s the feeling for them as well. And ‘Mr and Mrs. 55’, I feel, because it’s a very rare opportunity to see a very lighthearted side of him, which most people don’t discuss very often. I feel like that is why that is one of my personal favourites.” Gouri said it is heartwarming to hear praise for her grandfather from those she works with.

“Last year, I worked with Sudhir Mishra sir, and he’s a huge, huge fan. He said his filmmaking affected by my grandfather’s films. It’s a lot of admiration. Everybody wants to share their side, their connection, how they connected to his work and how that has affected their work, be it a director or an actor or a musician or anyone.”

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“The reason for these military operations was, and still is, to tell the Israeli occupation that we defy it and are willing to resist and go anywhere to express our defiance.”

Imprisonment is one of the most violent and oppressive tools used by the zionist entity for dominating and oppressing Palestinian people. Over the seventy-seven-plus years of colonial occupation and apartheid, the zionist settler state has imprisoned hundreds of thousands of Palestinians in an attempt to humiliate, dehumanize, subdue, and annihilate the population, but also to undermine resistance. Since Operation Al Aqsa Flood on October 7, 2023, imprisonment has increased exponentially: there are currently 10,800 Palestinian political prisoners in zionist prisons; these numbers include 450 children and 49 women. And the zionist sadistic torture regime of prisoners continue with impunity.  

But where there is repression, there is always resistance. Fatima Bernawi was one of these Palestinians who dared to resist. An Afro-Palestinian born in 1939 and a victim of the 1948 al-Nakba, Bernawi understood clearly the unfair and inhuman treatment meted out to her people when her family was forced to become refugees in Jordan. Living under a dehumanizing occupation brought her into consciousness, especially as a Black Palestinian woman. Bernawi’s father, originally from Nigeria (her mother was Palestinian-Jordanian), participated in the 1936-1939 Palestinian revolution against the British colonizers, and in defense of Palestine during the al-Nakba. In the 1960s, she joined the Arab Nationalist Movement and was one of the early members of the Fateh Palestinian national liberation movement. In fact, she had a major role in establishing guerilla cells of the Fateh movement in the occupied territories.

Barnawi is considered the “the first prisoner of the contemporary Palestinian revolution.” She was the highest ranking female in the Fateh militia and the first woman to be arrested and imprisoned by zionist military forces after planting explosives in a theater that was to show a film celebrating the 1967 war.  Though the explosives were discovered before they detonated, Bernawi, her sister Ishan, and another member of Fateh were arrested. While the others were later released, Bernawi was sentenced to life imprisonment. Bernawi spent more than ten years in prison for her activism “against the nascent occupation and displacement in East Jerusalem, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip,” which began in June 1967. In the Ramle zionist prison, where Palestinian women resisters were sent, she suffered degradation and humiliation; but she and the other prisoners fiercely fought against their treatment.  

Berwani was released in 1977 after much international pressure and due to her deteriorating health. She was deported, but returned to Palestine in the early 1990s, becoming the head of the women’s wing of the Palestinian Police. Berwani passed away in Cairo, Egypt, in 2022 at the age of 83. She remains a powerful symbol both of Palestinian women and Palestinians of African descent in the resistance against white supremacist settler colonial occupation. 

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