In Housefull 4, actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui plays an exorcist called Ramsay Baba. I watched the Akshay Kumar-starrer and realised just how much my maternal family바카라the Ramsays바카라has contributed to BolÂlywood.
Fear Of The Dark: Life As A Ramsay
Like many small businessmen in post-Partition India, Fatechand Uttamchand Ramsinghani was drawn to the film industry. And Ramsay Films was born.
The Ramsay name is synonymous with horror and the paranormal, and has frequently been mentioned across films. To be remembered over decades as the pioneers of horror in Bollywood is a testimony to the Ramsay achievements. The Ramsays have often been tagged as 바카라B-grade바카라 filmmakers, but theirs was a purposeful endeavour to make films for the masses and on a limited budget; they never claimed to be making classics. They wanted people to experience fear through their films, and they wanted to make money while doing this. When they started, they could not have imagined that their films would eventually gain such a cult following. Unfortunately, most of the brothers and their father passed away before they could see the renewed interest in their trademark genre바카라horror. The surviving ones have the same question on their lips, 바카라Why the interest in us now, after all these years?바카라바카라
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The answer to that question is fairly simple. As my mother proudly used to say, 바카라In Hollywood, horror was Hitchcock and in India, horror was the Ramsays.바카라 That statement holds true even today.
The Ramsays were unique in their approach and vision of films. In their early years of film-making, the whole family went on a holiday to Kashmir and lived on a houseboat for over three months. Under the strict supervision of F.U. Ramsay (hereafter, F.U.), the sons got a crash course in various aspects of filmmaking, a skill they taught themsÂeÂlves and furthered by studying The 5 C바카라s of CinÂeÂmÂatography by Joseph V. Mascelli. It was a rigorous exercise, but it paid off. Over time, depending on their interest, each brother was assigned an area of expertise by their father. That is how the 바카라RamÂsay Brothers바카라 were born.
While Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi did not do well, Shyam and Tulsi noticed the audience react positively to the scene where Prithviraj Kapoor wore a scary mask.
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My mother, Asha, is Fatechand Uttamchand Ramsay바카라s daughter, sister to the Ramsay Brothers. Their original surname바카라Ramsinghani바카라was shortened to the easier-to-pronounce 바카라Ramsay바카라 for the benefit of their British clientele. After ParÂtÂition, the family moved to Mumbai from Karachi and my grandfather, F.U. Ramsay, who was a radio engineer, continued dealing in electronics. My mother, then a little girl, would watch him work, soldering the pieces of a Murphy radio together. Sometimes, he would look up and tease her, play-Âacting like he was going to jab her with the solder. She would shriek in fear. That was a special game between the father and daughter.
The radio business was changing, so F.U. secured an agency from the Binny and Co. brand and begÂan selling fabric. It was a large household to run, with many mouths to feed바카라Kumar, Kamla, GanÂgu, Tulsi, Maya (known as Asha after marriage), Arjun, Keshu, Shyam and Karan. There were sevÂen brothers and two sisters. My mother, Asha, is the younger of the two. Then there was Gopal, another Ramsay brother, who was born after Gangu and passed away as a toddler. Sati, too, a sister born prior to Asha died within a week of birth. Like many small businessmen in those days, my grandfather was drawn to the film industry and wanted to make movies. The fervour of Partition was still in the air, which led to the patriotic ShaÂhid-E-Azam Bhagat Singh in 1954. This was follÂoÂwed by Rustom Sohrab in 1963, the result of KumÂar Ramsay바카라s fascination with the classic Persian legend. Both films clicked at the box office.
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The 1970 film Ek Nanhi Munni Ladki Thi becÂame the turning point in the Ramsay바카라s filmmaking business. While the movie did not do well, both Shyam and Tulsi noticed the audience바카라s positive reaction to the scene where Prithviraj Kapoor wore a scary mask. It was clear that being scared was a thrill for the audience. Based on this, the two brothers convinced their father to make a horÂror film. F.U. was ready to give up on the risky business of films but he gave in to the enthusiasm of his sons and supported their idea. Each one of them was trained in an aspect of filmmaking, making them a formidable and self-reliant unit.
The first attempt of the brothers was a Sindhi film called Naqli Shaan. A year later, in 1972, they made Do Gaz Zameen Ke Neeche, the production that finally steered them to their destined genre of horror. The rest is history.
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I am often asked, 바카라What was it like to be a grandchild of the Ramsays, where horror was my playgÂround?바카라 My mother used to take us to visit my nana and nani (grandparents) on Saturdays. My mamas, mamis (maternal uncles and aunts) and cousins lived together at Lamington Road in BomÂbay. My grandparents would be sitting on their individual beds, which were joined at the head in the narrow room. On seeing me, my graÂndmother would delightedly greet me with her characteristic hearty laugh and draw me into a warm hug. Then she would untie the knot at the end of her sari to give me some money from her hidden stash. I would bashfully refuse, even thoÂugh I secretly wanted to grab the notes. She would then squeeze the money in my eager palm. Later, I would jump onto my grandfather바카라s bed. He would ruffle my hair, planting an affectionate kiss on my cheek. As I grew older, the kiss was replaced by a gentle hug.
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With the money my grandmother had given me, I would buy a variety of sweÂets and wrap a mixture of them in papÂer. Along with my cousin sister, who was my parÂtÂner in crime, we would run down to the office and sell our version of 바카라paan바카라 to my indulgent uncles for one rupee a packet. They would look up smiling from their animated discussions and rumÂmage for change in their pockets. At the end, I always made a profit and went home with double the money. This was my ritual for years on end.
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Another memory I have of those days is being assigned the task of tearing open envelopes in the buzzing office at Lamington Road and arranging the contents neatly. The envelopes contained photographs and letters from aspiring actors and actresses wanting to be cast in a Ramsay film. My cousins and I would enjoy discussing the merits and demerits of the aspirants and their entreating requests. Most of them were from small towns, looking for their big break in Bollywood바카라youthful men with Rajesh Khanna-like haircuts striking a pose; young women wearing skimpy dresses, looÂking seductively at the camera in the hope of beiÂng a heroine or perhaps even a cadaver in the next Ramsay movie. It was a tad pitiful, because even to our immature minds, most of them would not make the cut. The elusive dreams of stardom were flippantly strewn across that desk.
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There was a portion of the office, which was alwÂays fascinating to me. It was the Ramsays바카라 darkroom, with trays in which negatives from films under production would be developed and the photos hung to dry. It was like a secret room away from the chatter of the outer office. The red lighting cast a surreal glow on the black-and-white stiÂlls of menacing monsters and their hapless vicÂtÂims. I would inevitably make my way there and bravely pore over each photograph, each scarier than the last. Alone, I could barely spend a few minutes there before darting back to the comfort of the soothing daylight and my uncles바카라 avid discussions of the ongoing or upcoming productions.
Actors and actresses would come in for their story sittings. Technicians, music directors and whomsoever was involved with the films frequÂeÂnted the office. Plates of boiled eggs garnished with salt and pepper were offered to visitors and a grated apple milk drink or watermelon juice served as the thirst quencher. These were in uniÂnterrupted supply because the vendors ran their business at the office doorstep. There were alwÂays some people hanging around outside, trying to catch a glimpse of the action taking place insÂide. I felt very privileged that I could walk in and out as I pleased and not be stuck in the sweltering heat like the curious bystanders were. As soon as I opened the office door, jostling onlookers would attempt to peek inside the mystery that was the Ramsays.
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Casually lying around were terrifying masks of ghouls, monsters and witches. I still remember the smell of the latex rubber as I tried them on and scampered around the office trying to spook everyone and being a pest. The one thing I can say about my maternal family is that they were unfailingly kind and gentle, amused at my antics. Finally, exhausted and hungry, I would make my way up the stairs to the family residence, where my grandmother waited with a big smothering hug, a paper dosa and sheera from the neighbouring Ramanjaneya restaurant.
My mother Asha, whom my father affectionately calls 바카라horror sister바카라, missed her calling. While narrating her experiences for this book, she would add elements of horror.
I also went for a couple of location shoots and saw the Ramsay monsters upfront, but I would barely bat an eyelid. Watching an actor turn into a fiend from scratch was not particularly frightening. When the film was ready, the Ramsay clan got to see it in all its gory finality. The same monsters, who were not so fearsome during the shoot, were so petrifying that I would have nightmares for days on end. That was the high! That hair-raising moment where you don바카라t want to look at the screen, but you can바카라t look away either.
The intoxicating rush of terror stayed with us, and so my mother and I devoured horror films over the years. That was our link to each other and to her family. In the course of our binge-watching, my mother and I suggested that her brothers watÂch a suspense film we had enjoyed. They did, and the story captured their imagination. An adaption followed바카라Telephone, one of the rare RamÂsay BroÂthers murder mystery movies. RegÂrÂeÂtÂfully, like my childhood, it all ended.
My grandparents passed away. Their beds touÂcÂhing each other lay empty. The brothers ultimatÂely went their separate ways. The overgrown sisal tree that my grandfather had planted now covers the naked desolation of the building at Lamington Road. Their films released and faded into oblivion. The office remains locked with the eroded Ramsay Films banner holding on to the past. That era of horror is over, and only the memories and movies remain.
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My mother, Asha, whom my father affectionately calls 바카라horror sister바카라, missed her calling. While narrating her supernatural experiences for this book, she would excÂiÂtedly add dramatic elements of horror: 바카라Why don바카라t you say that her nails were dripping blood?바카라 or 바카라Her eyeballs turned upwards!바카라 I would have to keep reminding her that I was writing true accounts of the experiences, not a Ramsay script. Even though she understood that the book is about staying authentic, old habits die hard. I had to be a strict taskmaster to keep her narratives from straying into fiction.
But in these moments, it struck me that horror was in my mother바카라s genes. She could create such scenes with a snap of her finger. Her eyes would shine as her imagination soared into the universe of horror. I credit my creativity to my maternal family, predominantly my mother바카라the original storyteller. The ability to create a world with words is my inheritance. Destiny has driven me from birth along many pit-stops to halt at the eventual destination of this book.
I was born at the precise moment my father was speeding past the Chandanwadi crematorium in south Mumbai, trying to get my mother to the hosÂpital in time. It was just over an hour past midnight when he jammed the brakes of his AmbasÂsÂaÂdor car, BMC 9931, on hearing my new-born cries emanating from the backseat, as I lay cradled in the folds of my paternal grandmother바카라s sari.
And so, the final resting place of people became my birthplace. While some are to the manor born, I was to the spirits born.
(Excerpted with permission from Alisha Kirpalani바카라s Ghosts in Our Backyard published by HarperCollins.)
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Alisha 바카라Priti바카라 Kirpalani is an author and granddaughter of F.U. Ramsay
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