Why we still haven't fallen out of love with Zeenat Aman

To say that Zeenat Aman was in a league of her own would be a gross understatement. The first South Asian woman to win the Miss Asia Pacific in 1970, the actor was also a trailblazer when it came to introducing glamour in Hindi cinema. Some actors become unforgettable by being associated with an era, some become iconic by creating their own epoch, but a few like Zeenat manage to do both and then some more. Not only was she the first to bring the confluence of a Western and Indian look in Hindi cinema, but she also became the embodiment of the counterculture of the late 1960s that had swept the entire world. More than that Zeenat Aman perhaps single-handedly brought in an era for actress where one's on and off screen personas didn't have to be apologetically different to suit situations or mindsets.

Even before she transitioned into films following a successful stint as a model and beauty queen, Zeenat had a connection with Hindi cinema. She was the daughter of screenwriter Amanullah Khan, who used to write as "Aman" and was one of the wordsmiths associated with classics like Mughal-e-Azam (1960) and Pakeezah (1972). After her father's death when she was in her teens, Zeenat's mother married a German gentleman and shifted to Germany. Zeenat returned to study in India for a bit before leaving for the University of Southern California, which was bustling with energy in the late 1960s. USC Film at the time was one of the most sought after institutions for arts and some of the famous alumni at the time Zeenat was there included Walter Murch, George Lucas and John Milius. Zeenat didn't complete her graduation and came back to India where following a brief stint as a journalist she took up modeling assignments. Her film debut in OP Ralhan's Hulchul (1971) wasn't exactly a success and was followed by another flop, Hungama (1971). She had made up her mind to shift back to Germany when an offer from Dev Anand not only changed the course of her life but also, to some degree, the history of leading ladies in Hind cinema.

For someone who would have witnessed the counter-culture of the 1960s and perhaps even the summer of love firsthand in California, Zeenat was both familiar and adept at imbibing the hippie movement on celluloid. Her limited histrionics notwithstanding, Dev Anand's decision to cast her as his sister Jasbir aka Janice in Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1971) was nothing less than an inspired stroke of brilliance. The actor-filmmaker had cast Zaheeda, his co-star from Prem Pujari (1970) and Gambler (1971), as Jasbir but the actress didn't want to be cast as the romantic star's sister. Zeenat, of course, had no such misgivings and grabbed the role with both hands. With some help from RD Burman's outstanding tunes, especially the iconic "Dum maro dum" (Vocals: Asha Bhosle, Lyrics: Anand Bakshi), Zeenat's portrayal of the misguided young woman who takes to drugs in order to escape the sorrow that her parents' divorce laces her life with was lauded by critics as well as the audience. The role fetched her screen immortality and also a Filmfare for Best Supporting Actress.

Despite her alluring looks and a mesmerising screen presence, Zeenat was never considered a great actress and unlike many others who would have been bothered by such barbs, she couldn't care less. The roles that she picked suited her and in some way she made her characters exceptional. But, what made her stand apart from the others was her ability to play characters that were organic and believable without going overboard such as the hip urban gal in Yaadon Ki Baraat (1973), the young widow suspected of murdering her invalid husband with her lover in Dhund (1973), the immoral prostitute who happily sleeps with men other than the hero in Manoranjan (1974), or the woman who choses to marry a millionaire instead of her upright but poor lover in Roti, Kapda Aur Makaan (1974).

Many found Zeenat's acting capabilities to be a pale shadow of her persona and her beauty. This might be true to a great extent, but the fact remains that while her nuances were repetitive and her range limited, her characters were far from being listless. If looked closely, Zeenat, in fact, would be second only to Hema Malini when it comes to actresses recalled for being an everlasting memory of the 1970s' popular Hindi cinema. Of course, the Parallel Cinema movement and the arrival of Smita Patil and Shabana Azmi or the short run of Vidya Sinha as the numero uno of Middle Cinema would arguably pip Zeenat to the lower half of the list of all-time great actresses but even then she had a better stint than Neetu Singh and even Rekha in the decade. Towards the second half of the 1970s, Parveen Babi and Tina Munim became competition when it came to the glamour quotient but unlike the two Zeenat always inspired filmmakers to create roles with her in mind. Her progressive outlook is best reflected in the films that she did for Dev Anand. It was a clear case of "who else but Zeenat" when it came to exploring themes that transcended the traditional depiction of women in Hindi cinema - Heera Panna (1973), where she plays a woman in love with her dead sister's (Rakhee) lover (Dev Anand) and choses to die rather than living without him; or Prem Shastra (1974), where she falls in love with a much older man (Dev Anand) who turns out to be the estranged second husband of her mother (Bindu). The role of Nisha, the prostitute in Shammi Kapoor's Manoranjan, a film that explored flesh trade in a comic light; and Raj Kapoor's Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978), where her physicality was showcased by the filmmaker in the course exploring the theme of one's soul being more beautiful than the body would have appeared more skewed had it not been for Zeenat.

For someone who could singularly manifest the real life woman of her times on the screen, the industry felt short of using Zeenat to bring about a change in the way roles for women were written. Sample this - in a single year in 1980 Zeenat played the typical Hindi film heroine in Takkar (1980), a vivacious vixen that Bollywood archetypically imagines its heroines in Bombay 405 Miles (1980), Ram Balram (1980), Abdulah (1980), Alibaba Aur 40 Chor (1980), a night club singer who is attracted to a single father when her lover is imprisoned in Qurbani (1980), a woman willing to sleep with her lover's estranged friend to save him from the gallows in Dostana (1980) and balanced it with portraying a rape victim not willing to be shamed into not seeking justice in Insaaf Ka Tarazu (1980). Had she been lucky, Zeenat could have been seen in the same mold as a Faye Dunaway was in Hollywood but unlike the latter, Zeenat didn't get enough opportunities to evolve into playing strong mature characters. Perhaps the unfortunate incident in her personal life - the much-talked about altercation with alleged lover Sanjay Khan, whom she had secretly married during the making of Abdulah, and his first wife Zarine where the two supposedly physically attacked her - scarred her emotionally enough to maybe lose interest in work. She still had a successful run at the box-office with Lawaaris (1981), Ashanti (1982), Pukar (1983) and Soni Mahiwal (1984) but they did precious little for her. By the mid-1980s, Zeenat featured in multi-starrers and did some whacked out roles like Daku Hasina (1987) but it was only a matter of time before the curtains fell. Her last leading role was in the courtroom drama Gawaahi (1989) that co-starred Shekhar Kapur and was based on Ayn Rand's Night of January 16th.

The first Indian star to have a perfume named after her in 1990, Zeenat Aman still manages to make the heart skip a few beats every time she graces the screen even if it's as bizarre an outing as Boom (2003) that paired her with Amitabh Bachchan after eons. For this writer, Ms Aman has always held a special place. Decades ago, before the Internet or even satellite television had arrived in India, I was playing cricket in the neighbourhood on a hot summer afternoon. Being a Sunday, there was some film on Doordarshan and during my fielding I found out that it was called Aashiq Hoon Baharon Ka (1977), later when I was bowling I was told that it featured Rajesh Khanna and being an Amitabh Bachchan fan I couldn't care less. But hours later when it was my chance to bat I heard the name Zeenat Aman as the lady opposite Mr Khanna in the film and the next thing I knew I was racing back home to catch the film. At that time, I didn't know I'd end up writing a book on Rajesh Khanna and while researching the book when I called Ms Aman I was tongue-tied the minute she said "Hello…" We spoke a few times and I would find myself blushing and breathless… Her unmistakable style and her raspy voice made the constant rejections sound worthwhile. A few conversations later she agreed to speak about the actor that she had worked across three decades, but our meeting never took place. In a way, I'm glad that it didn't for Ms Aman would have had to endure the inability of the person sitting in front to engage with her. Something that she would have witnessed a million times especially at the hands of Hindi cinema that she had at hello.