Starcast: Sunil Dutt, Nutan, Sudesh Kumar, Mumtaz, Om Prakash, Lalita Pawar, Manmohan Krishna and Pran Music: Ravi Direction: A Bhim Singh I...
Starcast: Sunil Dutt, Nutan, Sudesh Kumar, Mumtaz, Om Prakash, Lalita Pawar, Manmohan Krishna and Pran
Music: Ravi
Direction: A Bhim Singh
I was having one of those lazy Sunday afternoons last week, the kind
where you're knee-deep in chai and half-watching cricket highlights, when my Youtube feed decided to throw this 1965 gem at me. Directed by A. Bhimsingh,
it's this old-school Bollywood family drama that's equal parts heartwarming
soap opera and gut-punch reality check. It's the sort of film that makes you
nostalgic for joint family chaos. I hadn't revisited it since I was a kid
sneaking peeks at my dad's VHS collection, and surprisingly it holds up way
better than I remembered. Not perfect, but in that raw, unpolished '60s
Bollywood way its pretty good.
Picture this: A sprawling farmland in rural India, handed down after the family
head, Ramswaroop Lal, kicks the bucket. His two sons are left to pick up the
pieces—elder brother Jeevandas (Om Prakash) and his sharp-tongued wife
Bhagwanti (Lalita Pawar, who could glare a hole through steel), they're
childless and simmering with quiet resentment. Then there's the younger brother
Shankar (Manmohan Krishna, solid as ever) and his wife Parvati (Sulochana
Chatterjee), who've got two sons: the dutiful Govind (Sunil Dutt) and the
city-slicker Shyam (Sudesh Kumar). Govind's got this tragic backstory—an
electric shock accident that leaves his right hand paralyzed—which sets the
tone for all the emotional heavy lifting. Fast-forward a bit, and the family's
cracking at the seams over money woes, inheritance squabbles, and those
everyday grudges.
Enter the wildcard: Navrangi, played by Pran in full villain mode. This guy's
like that toxic friend-of-a-friend who crashes the wedding—suave, scheming, and
always three steps ahead with his shady circus schemes. (No spoilers, but if
you've seen enough masala flicks, you'll spot the elephant in the room... literally.)
The story bounces between tearful confrontations in the fields, stolen moments
of tenderness, and those big, dramatic monologues. It's all about loyalty,
sacrifice, and whether blood's thicker than water. Bhimsingh, who remade his
own Tamil hit for this, keeps things grounded—no over-the-top fantasy dances
here, just real-deal rural grit.
Now, the cast? This is where Khandan shines like a Diwali lamp. Sunil Dutt
as Govind is in straight-up career-best territory. Dutt has got this quiet
intensity—eyes that scream "I've carried this family on my bad arm for
years"—and you feel every ounce of his frustration when the world keeps
piling on. He got a well-deserved Filmfare Best Actor trophy for it, and
watching him now, you get why. Nutan as Radha, his devoted wife, is the
emotional glue. She's got that effortless grace, turning simple lines into
poetry, and their scenes together? The biggest highlight. Like, forget the
fireworks; this is the slow-burn romance that makes you root for the underdogs.
Om Prakash and Lalita Pawar are superb—Jeevandas and Bhagwanti bickering like
an old married couple who's forgotten how to laugh, but underneath it all,
there's this heartbreaking vulnerability. Pran's Navrangi is amazing; he's
slimy without being cartoonish, and you love hating him. Throw in Helen popping
up for a sassy cabaret number (because '60s Bollywood), Mumtaz as the feisty
Neelima adding some youthful spark, and you've got a ensemble that feels
lived-in.
And the music—Ravi's score is the cherry on top. He won the Filmfare award for
Best Music Director, and you can hear why. Lata Mangeshkar's "Tum Hi Meri
Mandir, Tum Hi Meri Pooja" is a soul-stirrer; I caught myself humming it
while stuck in traffic the next day. Then there's the peppy duets like "O
Ballo" with Asha Bhosle and Mohammed Rafi—fun, flirty, and perfectly timed
to cut the melodrama. "Badi der bhaye nandlala" is one of the best bhajans sung
by Rafi Saab and is still heard in temples. The lyrics by Rajinder Krishan are
simple but hit deep, all about devotion and family ties. It's that golden era
sound.
Bhimsingh's direction is no-frills but effective. He builds tension like a
pressure cooker—slow at first, then family secrets explode. The cinematography
(shoutout to V. Babasaheb) captures the dusty fields and cramped haveli
interiors with a gritty realism that's rare for the time. Pacing-wise, it drags
a tad in the middle with some repetitive arguments, and yeah, the melodrama can
feel dated. But that's the charm, right? It's unapologetically emotional,
preaching unity without preaching too hard.
Box-office wise, it was a smash hit—seventh highest grosser of '65. Critics
back then loved the performances, and looking at it now, it's a time capsule of
mid-'60s India: progressive enough to tackle disability and women's roles
head-on, but still wrapped in that traditional wrapper.
Flaws aside—and there are a few, like some plot conveniences that make you roll your eyes—Khandan nails what makes family dramas timeless: it hurts because it's true. If you're into classics like Mother India or Waqt, dive in. Skip if superhero flicks are your choices.
Final word: films like Khandan prove
that the best stories don't need CGI, just heart.
By Ayushmaan Mitra
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