By the early 1970s, when Hindi cinema was caught between the rising “angry young man” wave and the fading glow of the golden era, one filmma...
By the early 1970s, when Hindi cinema was caught between the rising “angry young man” wave and the fading glow of the golden era, one filmmaker was quietly crafting a different kind of crowd-pleaser — a delicious cocktail of crime, comedy, and chaos. His name was Brij Sadanah, and his films were as entertainingly twisted as they were infectiously fun.
A Director of Rogues and Riddles
Brij Sadanah never claimed to be an auteur, yet his signature is unmistakable. His cinema sparkles with mischief — a celebration of lovable crooks, elaborate heists, and human folly. Unlike the grim moral worlds of the 1970s action dramas, Brij’s films winked at the audience. His heroes were conmen with charm, his villains stylishly menacing, and his plots — oh, those plots — a tangle of coincidences, double-crosses, and happy accidents that somehow clicked perfectly in the end.
Three of his finest — Victoria No. 203 (1972), Chori Mera Kaam (1975), and Ek Se Badhkar Ek (1976) — form a delightful trilogy of tone and temperament. Each film dances on the edge of absurdity but lands gracefully in laughter, buoyed by sharp writing, ensemble energy, and Kalyanji–Anandji’s ever-vibrant music.
Victoria No. 203 (1972): The Heist with a Heart
In Victoria No. 203, the streets of Bombay become a playground of greed and coincidence. At its centre: stolen diamonds, a mysterious horse carriage (Victoria), and two aging petty crooks — played with irresistible flair by Ashok Kumar and Pran.
The genius of Brij Sadanah lies in how he makes these two scoundrels the moral compass of the film. They cheat, lie, and steal — but do it with a twinkle. Their partnership, half-sarcastic and half-affectionate, gives the film a rare warmth. Saira Banu and Navin Nischol add the glamour quotient, while Anwar Hussain’s sleek villainy provides the perfect counterpoint, with Ranjeet adding a significant support.
And then there’s the music — Kalyanji-Anandji’s score swings between jazz-inflected cool and pure Bollywood melody. “Do Bechare Bina Sahare” became an anthem for the film’s spirit: two rogues adrift, laughing at fate.
Even today, Victoria No. 203 feels like a time capsule of Bombay’s energy — its alleys, its humour, its chaos. It’s a thriller that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and therein lies its magic.
Chori Mera Kaam (1975): Crime, Comedy, and Controlled Chaos
With Chori Mera Kaam, Brij Sadanah turned his crime-comedy formula into a carnival. The title — “Thievery is my profession” — says it all. Here, he lets loose an ensemble of crooks, cops, and conmen in a swirling comedy of errors that still feels fresh in its timing.
Shashi Kapoor brings effortless charm, Zeenat Aman is luminous and quick-witted, and Deven Verma steals the show with his impeccable comic precision — winning a Filmfare Award in the process. Ashok Kumar and Pran, reprising their elder statesmen-of-crime act, add gravitas and gleam. Anwar Hussain’s villainy is filled with his trademark blend of wit and evil.
The film’s plot twists with gleeful abandon. Everyone is outsmarting everyone else — but the tone remains breezy, never cynical. Sadanah’s direction feels like a dance: rhythmic, confident, and cheekily aware of its own absurdity.
Kalyanji–Anandji, once again, lace the film with tunes that sparkle — playful, seductive, and perfectly in sync with the film’s fast-talking world.
Chori Mera Kaam works because it understands that comedy is not chaos — it’s controlled chaos. And Brij Sadanah controls it like a ringmaster.
Ek Se Badhkar Ek (1976): The Masala Caper Refined
By the time Ek Se Badhkar Ek arrived, Brij Sadanah was a brand. Audiences came expecting twists, laughs, and melody — and he delivered in spades.
Here, the story stretches further into the realm of adventure and action. Navin Nischol plays the dashing hero, Sharmila Tagore lends poise and glamour, while Raaj Kumar and Ashok Kumar (once again) anchors the film with his effortless comic mastery. Helen shimmies through the narrative with her trademark allure, and Anwar Hussain of course, supplies the villainy.
The film’s title — “One better than the other” — almost serves as Brij’s creative motto. Every scene tries to top the previous one in wit or spectacle. Yet, beneath the escalating madness lies his familiar compassion for the trickster — the man (or woman) trying to survive in a world of scams.
Kalyanji–Anandji’s music pulsates with energy — the title song by Runa Laila remains a standout, full of rhythm and mood.
If Victoria No. 203 was a caper, and Chori Mera Kaam a carnival, Ek Se Badhkar Ek is a full-blown masala opera. Brij Sadanah makes every twist an invitation to grin.
The Sadanah Signature
What ties these films together is more than genre — it’s spirit. Brij Sadanah’s cinema believes in fun. His worlds are populated by crooks who could easily be heroes, by crimes that lead to laughter, and by music that keeps pace with the narrative’s heartbeat.
His visual style isn’t flashy, but his sense of rhythm — in editing, dialogue, and performance — is impeccable. He turned the “chor-police” trope into an art form, where morality was elastic but entertainment was absolute.
And at the centre of his universe stands Ashok Kumar — reinvented in his 60s as a suave, silver-haired conman. It was Brij Sadanah who gave him this second innings of sly sophistication, and Hindi cinema was all the richer for it.
Why We Still Revisit Them
Half a century later, Victoria No. 203, Chori Mera Kaam, and Ek Se Badhkar Ek remain pure joys to rewatch. Their humor hasn’t aged, their twists still surprise, and their music still makes you tap your feet.
Perhaps that’s because Brij Sadanah understood something timeless about entertainment: that the audience loves to be fooled, but never bored. His films trick you, tease you, make you laugh — and leave you smiling at the sheer audacity of their fun.
In an age of grim thrillers and self-serious heroes, revisiting Brij’s work is like opening a time capsule of laughter and melody — where every con hides a grin, and every twist hums to a tune.
Brij Sadanah’s cinema reminds us that a truly entertaining film need not choose between intelligence and joy — it can be both, and in his hands, it always was.
By Pratik Majumdar (author 1975 The Year That Transformed Bollywood and Love Coffee Murder)
No comments