Singin' in the Rain

In the movies, the rains have always had a different romance attached to them.

It's that time of the year: the rains lash India's prime film city Mumbai, from June to August-end, causing floods, house collapses and miscellaneous calamities. Surprisingly, though, the movie trade remains unaffected and, in fact, witnesses a spurt in ticket sales at the multiplexes.
The belief is that despite the monsoons, people either find shelter from the lacerating rains in the comfort of an auditorium or make it somehow to the closest venue for film entertainment. Moreover, after Ramadan and the Eid celebrations, movie-goers return to cinema theatres in droves.
Quite a curious phenomenon this, I thought, till I had to duck into a screening of Bajrangi Bhaijaan to escape an intense cloudburst. Taxis had flagged down their metres, trains were cancelled, and the public bus services were running woefully late. No option but to bide time with Bajrangi.

The point is that movies, by their very content and the vagaries of the weather, offer escapism for three hours for the price of a ticket. In the summers, of course, air-conditioning is the prime attraction to flee from the humidity and mounting mercury. Expectedly, then, both tradewallahs and the audience have an affinity for the rains. Quite quaintly, it is even conjectured that a movie title with the word 'barsaat', ensures a whopper hit at the ticket window. Conversely, 'baarish' doesn't, and is identified essentially with film noir, which hardly finds place among the better accomplishments of its (original) hero Dev Anand.
Incidentally, besides 'barsaat', the three other lucky words are 'pyaar', 'dil' and 'dilwale'.
Over the decades, believe it or not, there have been half-a-dozen 'barsaat' movies. This kicked off with Raj Kapoor's trend-setting Barsaat (1949), followed by the qawwali-packed Madhubala-Bharat Bhushan romance Barsaat Ki Raat (1960), the Asha Parekh mystery suspense drama Bin Badal Barsaat (1963) and Barsaat Ki Ek Raat (1981), an oddity featuring Amitabh Bachchan and Raakhee.
The familiar B-word was back with the launching pad for Bobby Deol and Twinkle Khanna. For some undisclosed reason, the Deol's kept altering the title, starting with Jaan, Meri Jeet, Jeet before settling for the commercially viable Barsaat (1995).
Ten years later, producer-director Suneil Darshan cleverly (or craftily) opted for the elaborate Barsaat: A Sublime Love Story (2005), since film titles are under a copy-right. Its main selling points were rain-drenched song-and-dance sequences performed by the then upcoming Bipasha Basu and Priyanka Chopra. Howzzat for cinematic salesmanship!
Indeed, every heroine has been splashed in rain at some point in her career, for the wet and wild look. The late Smita Patil was horrified when she had to go through the watery treatment in the company of Amitabh Bachchan for the song Aaj rapat jaaye (in Namak Halaal), and had frankly stated that she was quite embarrassed when she saw the result on screen. However, other leading ladies, be it Sridevi (Mr India), Madhuri Dixit (Dil Toh Pagal Hain), Kajol (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Fanaa), Kareena Kapoor (Chameli, 3 Idiots, Gabbar is Back) and Katrina Kaif (De Dana Dan) have had no issues about singin' and dancin' in the rain. It's a traditional element in the B-town movies and so be it.
Shot indoors on studio sets, the crowd-pleasing dances are created by 'rain machines', which can be quite an expensive proposition. Mira Nair had to go easy, then, for the modestly scaled Monsoon Wedding, which appears to be bone dry in comparison to mainstream Bollywood extravaganzas.
By the way, for big budget movies, thunderbolts are 'dubbed' at sound studios. And flashes of lightning are created at the shoot by rubbing a couple of lightning rods, a hazardous exercise, to put it mildly.
Still, Raj Kapoor's Shri 420 - in which the song Pyaar hua ikraar hua was also shot in the studio - compels the viewer to forget what's going on behind the scenes. Without a doubt, the number composed by Shankar-Jaikishen is a cult classic. Tastefully conceived and romantic to the hilt, it's pure magic. Indeed, the black-and-white era is remarkable for its rain interludes. Just rewind to the Kishore Kumar saucy ditty Ek ladki bheegi bhaagi si (Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi) or the title song of Barsaat Ki Raat - both picturised on Madhubala - and you'll know what I mean.
To date, Bollywood's romance with the rains persist. But I'd say something's missing. You keep worrying: are the actors having a rough time at the shoot? Are they in the danger of catching pneumonia? How much precious water is being wasted? Unlike Nargis and Raj Kapoor, none of today's actors canoodle ever so innocently under an umbrella. More's the pity.