How Foreign Locations In Bollywood Revealed India's Socio-political Aspirations And Anxieties

Before shooting Silsila (1981), Yash Chopra ran into a problem. No, not the controversial cast바카라�comprising Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bachchan, and Rekha바카라�this trouble had a poetic lilt. The second part of the song바카라�바카라�Dekha ek khwaab toh ek silsile hue/Door tak nighaaon mein hai gul khile hue바카라� (As far as I can see, I can only see flowers)바카라�tripped him. Where in this world would he find such a place? He asked Amitabh. The actor showed him a clip on his mini-projector: a garden awash in tulips. As far as Chopra could see, he could, indeed, just see flowers. He flew to the Keukenhof Gardens in Amsterdam, setting a trend synonymous with Hindi cinema: romantic songs shot in foreign locations.

Even though Chopra first travelled to the Netherlands, a country down south became his adoptive home: Switzerland. That바카라�s where he shot his next, Faasle (1985), then Chandni (1989), then Darr (1993). (He set his 1991 drama, Lamhe, in London.) In the first two decades of his career, in fact, Chopra hadn바카라�t left India. 바카라�Initially I used to shoot my films in Kashmir or Shimla,바카라� he recalled in an interview, 바카라�but with the terrorism threat in Kashmir and the lack of adequate infrastructure in Shimla, I had to find an alternative.바카라� His wife, Pam, elaborated: 바카라�You hardly needed permissions in Switzerland. But in India, if you had to shoot in a train, you had to start the paperwork six months in advance.바카라�

So for an aesthetic-driven motive, a foreign locale meant geographical beauty바카라�something literally unseen바카라�a place to parachute in and out from. That바카라�s why Silsila, otherwise set in Delhi, used Amsterdam as a backdrop, much like the LED walls in virtual production. And even though Chandni and Darr weaved locations as part of their narratives바카라�it바카라�s where the lead couples celebrate their honeymoons바카라�the foreign countries, and their people, didn바카라�t affect the stories in any memorable way. That바카라�d change two years later, with the release of another Yash Raj production, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995, DDLJ), where the setting would itself become a character.

A drama that used the foreign to spotlight the native: seeing others became a way to see one바카라�s self바카라�what they are, what we are not; what we protect, what they flaunt. Take its first scene, where an immigrant, Baldev Singh (Amrish Puri), in London바카라�s Trafalgar Square, draws a remarkable parallel between himself and the pigeons he바카라�s feeding: 바카라�They are just like me바카라�they also don바카라�t have a country.바카라� When his daughter, Simran (Kajol), wakes up hungover in a hotel room in Switzerland, fearing she바카라�s lost her virginity, the hero, Raj (Shah Rukh Khan), assuages her anxiety, saying he understands and respects the 바카라�izzat바카라� of a 바카라�Hindustani ladki바카라�. Earlier in the film, he waves off the pestering cops on a highway, saying, 바카라�Bye-o, bye-o! Al Pacino! I바카라�m a kutto, I바카라�m a kamino, I바카라�m a saalo!바카라�바카라�an inside joke shared between the actor and the Indian audiences, for it is delivered in Hindi, excluding the foreigners, contriving an excuse to assert 바카라�Indian superiority바카라�, a pattern that바카라�d devolve into ridicule, popping most crassly in Salaam Namaste (2005) and Jab Harry Met Sejal (2017).

DDLJ바카라�s director, Aditya Chopra, had unwittingly turned the clock backwards, as Bollywood films in the 1960s had also travelled around the world to absorb the essence of home. This story even had poetic circularity because his idol, Raj Kapoor, had pioneered the trend by setting Sangam (1964) in London, Paris and Geneva. The 60s, a decade doused in political subtext: a young country itching to assert itself on the global stage; a country whose political masters used cinema for 바카라�nation building바카라�; a country wrecked by unemployment, illiteracy, and foreign threats.

So it made perfect sense that Sangam바카라�s overseas portion opened to the shot of an Indian tricolour above an apartment complex, which cut to Radha (Vyjayanthimala) and Sundar (Kapoor), an Indian Air Force officer wearing a uniform, under it. Even the identities of the camera and the characters merge: both tourists, both voyeurs. Many scenes unfold via wide and long shots, capturing the considerable expanse of the foreign land. The camera adopts a tourist바카라�s gaze, panning from the top to the bottom while exploring monuments. Such language informs several Hindi dramas after Sangam, devoting increased screen time to foreign locales, such as Love in Tokyo (1966) and An Evening in Paris (1967). 바카라�The protagonist in these films is like a 바카라�tourist바카라�,바카라� writes Madhuja Mukherjee in Travels of Bollywood Cinema (2014), 바카라�gathering mementos and photos without interacting with the locals.바카라�

Sometimes the excitement spills, as Sundar describes to his best friend: 바카라�By the time you read this [letter], we바카라�ll be on top of the Eiffel Tower, Gopal!바카라� In another sequence, a luxury store allures Radha, who keeps admiring a gorgeous handbag바카라�as if she바카라�s a version of future India, both in real-life and cinema, a bottomless receptacle of capitalist consumerism. Sundar, on the other hand, caresses a glass window, fixating on a bagpipe. Cash-strapped, they break into an argument about what to buy. 바카라�There are only two beautiful things in this world,바카라� he tells her, 바카라�one, a woman, the other, a bagpipe. Since eternity, men have suffered hardships, given sacrifices. I바카라�m a man as well바카라�바카라�he slaps a wad of notes on the table바카라�바카라�take this, go, buy your purse.바카라� (It바카라�s not tough to guess which item is ultimately bought.) Such blatant emasculation바카라�a sense of persecution바카라�parallels these characters바카라� insecure national identities, evident in many films in the decade.

In Love in Tokyo (1966), Ashok (Joy Mukherjee) keeps requesting his nephew, born to an Indian father and a Japanese mother, to return to India, only to get rebuffed. The plea continues for many scenes, denting Ashok바카라�s pride, setting up a constant competition between India and Japan, culminating in him saying, 바카라�We바카라�ve Taj Mahal!바카라� The movie fetishises the country바카라�s bodies바카라�whether it바카라�s buildings or women바카라�marked by a distinct 바카라�oriental바카라� gaze.

Indian directors also used the foreign to assert their culture and differences. In Sangam, while admiring the panoramic Paris from the Eiffel Tower, Sundar and Radha see a foreign couple kiss. He, too, leans towards Radha, but she turns and covers her head with a saree. It makes two old women clap and ask, 바카라�India? India?바카라� In An Evening in Paris (1967), Roopa (Sharmila Tagore) refuses to kiss Sam (Shammi Kapoor), saying, 바카라�I바카라�m an Indian girl and according to Indian custom, that 바카라� that바카라�s only after marriage.바카라� Such scenes, writes Madhava Prasad in Ideology of the Hindi Film, 바카라�highlight the uniqueness of the national culture and the responsibility of the characters to uphold it.바카라�

Its most extreme example appeared in Purab Aur Paschim (1970), set in London. The hero, Bharat (Manoj Kumar), constantly asserts his identity and pride바카라�often in front of a woman, Preeti (Saira Banu), who smokes, drinks and wears skimpy clothes. But the drama does something else, too: ridiculing and relishing the West. In many scenes, the camera focuses on foreign women바카라�s bare legs for uncomfortably long durations, filming them from their heels upwards. The movie wears its sincerity and insecurity so hard and so often that it borders on the comical and the absurd, heightened in a song that recounts the country바카라�s past achievements to counter the West scaling the moon.

It also hammers a remarkable assertion: the immorality of Non-Resident Indians (NRIs). Several characters in London바카라�played by Banu, Pran and Prem Chopra바카라�insult, or remain ignorant of, India. Preeti has never heard of Uddham Singh, Jallianwala Bagh or Amritsar (바카라�which is in Bharat,바카라� puppy-eyed Kumar informs her. 바카라�Now don바카라�t ask where Bharat is.바카라�). Prem바카라�s OP is so sleazy, and Western morals so lax, that on a dance floor he moves from kissing one woman to the other, as if they바카라�re interchangeable objects. And it바카라�s Pran바카라�s rant바카라�바카라�India바카라�s contribution is zero, zero and zero바카라�바카라�that prompts the nationalist song hinged on, well, zero.

The NRIs, though, would cut a very different picture in the post-DDLJ movies: affluent, cosmopolitan, sanskaari. Remember the 바카라�Hindustani ladki ki izzat바카라� dialogue? They could now have the best of both worlds바카라�the material comforts of the West and the cultural superiority of the East바카라�making them come home in ways they never had. At the end of DDLJ, Raj and Simran don바카라�t stay in Punjab, but return to London, marking the happy climax. It바카라�s no surprise then that the NRIs championed these films in unprecedented numbers. The real love story all along, it seemed, was not between the likes of Raj and Simran but the Indian directors and the diasporic audiences, opening new markets, forging new ties, redefining Indianness.

As economic liberalisation swept across the country바카라�making the Indian elite shrink and solidify their cocoons바카라�Bollywood directors redefined the very meanings of wealth and wealthy (marking another sharp departure from not just Purab Aur Paschim but also Angry Young Man movies). As Javed Akhtar told Yogendra Yadav a few years ago on TV, 바카라�The villains of the 1970s바카라�바카라�the rich industrialists바카라�바카라�became the heroes of the 1990s.바카라� And it had to be Bachchan, truly an actor of all seasons, who embodied its most extreme ethos in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001, K3G), playing a businessman so rich that India literally fell short for him바카라�his mansion, supposed to be in Delhi, is actually Waddesdon Manor, a country home in Buckinghamshire, England.

As the rich got richer, and income inequality widened, Bollywood directors resolved 바카라�the-masses-and-the-classes바카라� contradiction through a simple solution: the systematic erasure of the working-class from mainstream cinema, aided by the NRI dramas, as only those Indians could move abroad who had access to caste, economic and cultural capital. This valorisation of wealth바카라�or Western capitalism바카라�peaked in K3G, a film inspired by The Ramayana. A crucial scene in it riffs on Bharat Milap바카라�here the mother (Jaya Bachchan) and her exiled son (Khan) meet after a long time바카라�and where does it all take place, a scene weaving Hindu mythology, affluent Indians, and familial bond? In a바카라� London mall.

NRI movies also featured a disproportionate majority of Hindu characters and customs (most notably, Karva Chauth and Sangeet) steeped deep in Punjabi culture, make an India the India. 바카라�The intersection of neoliberal economic rhetoric with the rise of cultural nationalist politics signified by the Hindu nationalist and pro-business Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) helped shift attitudes toward filmmaking and the Hindi film industry,바카라� writes professor Tejaswini Ganti in Producing Bollywood. 바카라�It was no accident that a BJP-led government granted industry status to filmmaking바카라�바카라�on May 10, 1998바카라�바카라�since its support base is heavily drawn from the small business owner and entrepreneurial class who also comprise the vast distribution, exhibition, and finance apparatus for Hindi filmmaking.바카라�

If DDLJ was the first inflection point in Bollywood movies shot abroad post-liberalisation, then K3G was the second. A formulaic and safe family drama, it sharpens its edge in London바카라�especially in scenes that exist outside the narrative, furthering a message for the sake of a message. In its first scene in the city, where Rohan (Hrithik Roshan) has come to find his elder brother (Shah Rukh Khan), the aerial shots of London unfold against Vande Mataram. As the camera cuts to different luxury stores바카라�Giorgio Armani, Dolce & Gabbana, Gianni Versace바카라�the song continues to play, showing an easy (and inevitable) mix of capitalism and nationalism. This hero, though, is nothing like the Indian of Sangam who stares at goods standing outside the showrooms바카라�he바카라�s so affluent that he walks past them without dropping a glance. When Rohan unearths his brother바카라�s address on FindAFriend.com, the instrumental version of Saare Jahan Se Accha completes the sequence. The national song has segued into the national anthem, and Bharat has found his Ram.

But its most potent mouthpiece is Kajol바카라�s character who, always dressed in sarees, represents the ideal Indian woman, a devout Hindu and nationalist. This role, in fact, seems to be her only role in the movie: inviting Rohan, a stranger, to live in her home because 바카라�woh Bharat se aaya hai [he바카라�s arrived from India]바카라�; worrying about her son바카라�s sanskaar; implying his school is racist because it always assigns her family back seats in the annual function; flinging racist jibes; chuffing with pride as her son sings the national anthem at the same function; calling his classmate바카라�s mother, a British woman, 바카라�jhoothi바카라� and 바카라�kamini바카라�. In less than six years, DDLJ바카라�s 바카라�I바카라�m a kamino바카라� became 바카라�tu kamini바카라�. It makes sense: if patriotism trudges on the stairs, then jingoism leaps on escalators. Karan Johar also tames the Indian feminine sexuality via Poo (Kareena Kapoor) who, as the movie gathers melodramatic steam, moves from wearing short skirts to flowing salwars.

Kal Ho Na Ho (2003), written by Johar, contrives a subplot where the heroine바카라�s family revamps their Indian restaurant in New York to the tune of Lagaan바카라�s Chale Chalo, stretching to 바카라�defeat바카라� the neighbouring Chinese. Namaste London (2007) features a fiery female lead (Katrina Kaif)바카라�born and bred in London, fond of guzzling vodka, looking for a 바카라�British, classy, and smart바카라� man바카라�who, by the climax, realises the true colours of the uncultured Brits. It바카라�s most remembered, though, for a monologue by Akshay Kumar who, shutting up a racist foreigner, recounts his country바카라�s achievements that reads like an insecure Wikipedia entry. 바카라�If you want to learn more,바카라� he says, 바카라�I can send you the DVD of Purab Aur Paschim.바카라�

It is, indeed, the Purab Aur Paschim trick all over again바카라�admiring and deriding the West (most evident in Poo바카라�s character, who must be Western enough to accommodate a song in a London night club)바카라�showing how, even decades later, Bollywood blockbusters have retained their emasculated, nationalist and bullying ethos. So Western countries바카라�only those with a dominant white population, though, exemplars of Western capitalism바카라�became playgrounds to park the 바카라�India Shining바카라� flag. 바카라�It바카라�s our moral responsibility to depict India at its best,바카라� said Yash Chopra in his 2003 address to Pravasi Bharatiya Divas, a government-sponsored conclave for the Indian diaspora. 바카라�We바카라�re the historians of India (바카라�). The Indian diaspora must maintain its identity, its roots.바카라�

Equally preoccupied with glitz and gloss as they were with peddling a cultural and 바카라�civilisational바카라� agenda, these movies also punished those who didn바카라�t toe the patriotic line. Take the sleazy landlord (Javed Jaffrey) in Salaam Namaste, a romcom set in Melbourne, who says in his first scene that, 바카라�I was the Indian ... was.바카라� A truly remarkable character바카라�again, almost existing outside the narrative바카라�he fulfils three key purposes: his exaggerated ridicule of India allows the movie to ridicule him (as if warning other wayward NRIs), his misogyny prods the viewers to laugh at a foreign woman (his girlfriend keeps saying 바카라�sorry?바카라�; he replies, 바카라�Eggjacktly바카라�), and, finally, his real home alienates him further (he바카라�s, after all, an uncouth migrant from Bihar).

These films, emerging as box-office blockbusters, became immensely influential. There바카라�s a clear through-line between the Riverdale-type college in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and Zoya Akhtar바카라�s Archies that released last week. A drama produced by Raj Kapoor바카라�s studio, Aa Ab Laut Chalein (1999), did spotlight the dark world of the Indian diaspora바카라�immigration troubles, 바카라�green card marriages바카라�, economic hardships바카라�but it was too mediocre to challenge the trend.

Over the past 15 years, though, Bollywood films set abroad have continued to dwindle. Now a different geographical site, small-town India, dominates our screens. A trend, again, started by a Yash Raj production, Bunty Aur Babli (2005), which, as if challenging the false promises of liberalisation (and its own NRI dramas), follows two young Indians who, posing as polished suave elites, defeat the rich people at their own game. In the next decade, many movies and web series focusing on the violent, untrammelled side of the Indian hinterland바카라�such as, among other notables, Gangs of Wasseypur (2012), Mirzapur (2018), and Paatal Lok (2020)바카라�have gotten popular, making mainstream cinema more raw. So much so that another Yash Raj film바카라�Jayeshbhai Jordaar (2021), set in a feudal, patriarchal village바카라�had a scene featuring a lush mustard field, much like the one in DDLJ, but with a twist: this time, not with the possibility of a romance but murder.

The world tour is long over; now is the time to pay the dues.

(This appeared in the print as 'Foreign Exchange')