Starcast: Raj Kapoor, Randhir Kapoor, Rekha, Premnath, Dara Singh, Alka, Narendranath and Pinchoo Kapoor Direction: Randhir Kapoor Music: R ...
Direction: Randhir Kapoor
Music: R D Burman
Dharam Karam released on December 12, 1975 is one of those old-school
Bollywood flicks that just hits you with that classic masala vibe. Directed by
Randhir Kapoor in his second film behind the camera, and produced by his dad
Raj Kapoor, it's got this wild baby-switching plot that feels straight out of a
soap opera but somehow works in the '70s context. Randhir charms acting as the
swapped son, Dharam , while Premnath chews the scenery as the
rough-around-the-edges gangster Shankar, and Raj Kapoor brings his signature
warmth as the classy stage artist Ashok.
The story kicks off with Shankar, this hardcore
hoodlum living in a dingy slum with his pregnant wife, praying to Shivji for a
son who won't turn out like him—a life of crime and all that jazz. Boom, babies
are born the same night as Ashok's kid, and Shankar pulls a switcheroo,
thinking environment trumps genes. Fast-forward years: Dharam (Randhir) grows
up in the slums but dreams of singing, mentored secretly by Ashok, while Ranjit
(Narendranath) turns into a spoilt wastrel and gambler under Ashok's roof. Throw
in Rekha as Basanti, Dharam's love interest who's mostly there to look pretty
and dance, plus some shady boss JK (Pinchoo Kapoor) pulling strings. It all
explodes in a frenzy of fights, revelations, and daddy drama when everyone
figures out the truth—Shankar realizes nature beats nurture, Ranjit goes full
villain, and there's a bloody climax with hostages and gunshots.
What really saves this movie from being just
another formula potboiler is the music by RD Burman—pure gold. That iconic
track "Ek Din Bik Jayega Maati Ke Mol" with its haunting lyrics by
the inimitable Majrooh Sultanpuri still gives me chills; it's like the soul of
the film, belted out by the legendary Mukesh. Other bangers like "Tere
Humsafar Geet Hain Tere" and the fun "Tu Kahan Gayee Thi" keep
the energy up, with picturizations that scream '70s upbeat tempo mixed with emotional
ballads. The songs aren't just filler; they drive the plot, especially Dharam's
stage dreams.
Performances are a mixed bag, but in a fun way.
Randhir Kapoor as director keeps things moving at a snappy pace—no dull
moments, curiosity hooked till the end. As actor, he's decent as Dharam, he has
that earnest goofy charm, Narendranath as Ranjit is highly effective as your
typical sneering bad boy. Raj Kapoor shines as Ashok—finally playing his age
without the goofy tramp routine, his kind eyes and subtle heartbreak make you
root for him. Premnath overacts like crazy as Shankar, hamming it up with those
booming dialogues, but it fits the larger-than-life vibe. Rekha? Err, frankly,
she's underused, mostly eye candy, though she lights up the songs. Dara Singh
pops in for some wrestling action, and the supporting cast like Alka add to the
overall glamour.
Visually, it's peak '70s kitsch—slum sets feel
gritty, Ashok's world all glitzy stages and mansions, with fights that are more
theatrical than brutal. Randhir's direction borrows from his family's style:
emotional family sagas with social messages (here, on upbringing vs. blood).
Dialogues by Prayagraj are cheesy but memorable, like Shankar's redemption
rants. It was a box office hit back then, and watching now, it's
nostalgic—flawed, over-the-top, but entertaining as hell if you love that era's
drama.
Sure, it's predictable and stereotypical—good slum
kid vs. evil rich kid, big moral twist—but that's the charm. No deep
philosophy, just solid masala with heart-tugging moments and killer tunes. If
you're binging old Bollywood, queue this up on a lazy evening. Kudos to the
Kapoors for family teamwork that mostly delivers.
By Ayushmaan Mitra
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