Some forty-five odd kilometres from the sound and fury of the bustling administrative district of the Capital, nestled among endless stretches of wheat fields and mustard blossoms, stand the villages of Nangal Thakran and Dariyapur Kalan; two names that may mean little to the city crowds, but still hold an indelible influence on Indian cinema. It was here, nearly five decades ago, that the iconic Bollywood number Mere desh ki dharti – one that remains an anthem for the patriotic – for Manoj Kumar’s 1967 magnum opus Upkar was filmed. Bharat Kumar was the name that stuck; even decades after the film had receded from the mainstream, the actor-director Manoj Kumar, riding on his filmography of patriotic cinema, became eponymous with his character in Upkar. Ever since the news of the artiste’s passing at the age of 87 reached Nangal Thakran and Dariyapur Kalan on early Friday, the villages – located three kilometres from the Auchandi border separating Delhi and Haryana – are wrapped in mourning. However, a sense of warm nostalgia allays the grief, remembering the legacy of not only a luminary of Indian cinema but a man who once walked their fields, shared their meals and captured their spirit in his film.The Bharat Kumar of Upkar transcends physical boundaries of time and space, to become the singular representative of the Indian citizen – one who embodies both the jawan and kisaan. Written and directed by Kumar, the film follows a farmer who sacrifices his well-being for his family and fields, and the greater cause of the nation. Upkar was more than just a box office triumph. It was a cinematic reimagination of the Indian village in the historical backdrop of the Green Revolution which swept through rural India. The furrowed fields and golden harvest portrayed in Upkar are not just backdrops; they are real spaces, still tilled by the same families who had once hosted Manoj Kumar and his crew during the filming days.One such memory lives in the home of 47-year-old Neetu Sherawat of Dariyapur Kalan. His voice quivers as he flips through fading family photographs, his eyes searching for an image of his late father Ram Mehar who passed away in 2021.Ram Mehar had once enthusiatically participated in the production, offering his home and agricultural lands for the filming. He even hosted Manoj Kumar and co-star Pran during the shooting days. “My father would often tell us how the village had come alive in the 1960s,” Neetu said, his voice tinged with pride and loss.Neetu recalled his father saying that people would visit from nearby villages and even further off places to witness the ‘shooting party’; the villagers would bring ‘lassi’, ‘chai’, ‘roti-sabzi’, or whatever their meagre resources would allow, for the film crew. “My father used to tell me that while the male actors – Manoj ji and Pran ji – preferred staying at the ‘location’ in the village, Asha Parekh used to arrive in her Ambassador car from Delhi and would leave at the end of day’s shooting,” Neetu shared.He remembers how Kumar and Pran stayed at their modest rural home for two days during the filming of the songs – Mere desh ki dharti and Kasme waade pyar wafa. “Manoj ji even wanted to take my father with him to Bombay to work in films because of his ‘larger than life’ stature. He was a good six-and-a-half feet tall. His voice was no less than Amrish (Puri) ji’s. Manoj ji had told my father that he will get the role of Khalnayak,” Neetu said, smiling at the fond memories.“But my grandmother refused. She didn’t want her son to leave farming. She didn’t realise she was turning down a chance of a lifetime,” he adds.Today, the echoes of Upkar still linger in the air of Nangal Thakran and Dariyapur Kalan. Children sing verses from Mere desh ki dharti, perhaps not fully comprehending the weight of the words and the history that they inherit.Things have changed, though. The road leading to one of the houses where Kumar stayed during filming is now lined with has constructed houses; a pond in Daryapur where a serene afternoon scene was filmed has been transformed into an artificial lake with foraging fishes and migratory birds atop bathing buffalos. While the village which had only one canal (nahar) then, now has two, running adjacent to each other.Farmers still plough the lands with a quiet pride, even though the promised progress of the Green Revolution has not fully reached these hinterlands.Even to this day, the twin villages are largely dependent on agriculture; basic healthcare, good schools, and access to modern farming equipment seem distant. “We gave India a film that celebrated the farmer,” an elderly villager says; “But the farmer here is still waiting to celebrate.”The passing of Manoj Kumar has reopened a time capsule buried under decades of urban neglect. To many, he was Bharat, the symbol of selfless love for the country. But to the people of inhabiting these villages, he was a guest; one who arrived with “respect in his eyes for the remote farming community and left with a piece of their heart.”“He never made us feel like he was a ‘big star’; he never forgot the village. Whenever he was in Delhi, he would call my father, meet him when he could. Back then, there were only landline phones; there was one at our neighbour’s house the only connection nearby, he would call us there,” Neetu says.Locals here claim the film put their villages “on the map”; others admit that, for years, they hardly realise the deep cultural impact Upkar had on India. It was only later, when school books mentioned the Green Revolution and Doordarshan screened the film on Independence Day, that they truly recognised their brush with history.But time has hardly been as kind to the twin villages on the city border as it has been to Upkar. The lush green fields and golden harvest once depicted in the film now appear faded in the dusty afternoon.“Young people today are no longer interested in agricultural work,” Satyawan Sehrawat, another farmer from the same village, finds some resonance of the film’s message in the modern day; “It’s difficult to get our sons married if they are associated with farming. The youngsters do not want to continue with this profession any more. People want milk but they don’t want to pet cows,” Satyawan says ironically.Meanwhile Vansh, the 14-year-old son of Neetu Sehrawat, is obsessed with gaming. Studying in Class 9, he has never watched Upkar. ‘I would surely not become another farmer’ he says hastily when asked if he will continue his grandfather and father’s legacy.Satyawan also questioned why farmers are not granted the same respect as businessmen who sell cigarettes – ‘products that are harmful to health’, and yet earn crores. “We are left in the lurch, even though we provide food. Why can’t we earn a decent living? Farmers suffer losses every year, but who looks after them?” he asked.The village has become overcrowded and now struggles to accommodate the growing population. Water is scarce, and just like the days when Upkar was filmed, there are still no dispensaries even today.Perhaps the only piece of Indian cinema other than Mother India where farming was celebrated as a noble enterprise, Nangal Thakran and Dariya Pur Kalan came into the limelight with Upkar; however, even today, the two peripheral villages comprising of farmer families never got adequate government aid.Satywan Sehrawat says, “There is no doubt that agriculture nationwide got a boost after this film but farmers never got their due recognition from the government. No support, no subsidies from the government etc. We remember requesting Sheila Dikshit in 2008 to identify us as farmers; it would have come with certain benefits to help our livelihoods. But she ignored; the agricultural belt of Delhi was eventually removed from the list of agricultural areas in the country. After that the AAP came. Their government stayed for over 10 years but couldn’t help us in any way. Now, all we can do is hope that the new government will better our condition. Let’s see if the BJP will come forward to help us in any way.”“We proudly tell people that whatever earnings we have done is all because of farming here and going ahead taking initiatives and bringing in new farming technologies to the villages, installing Biogas plants and promoting organic farming. For organic farming, we have collaborated with PUSA – which is a hub for agricultural innovation, including organic farming, with initiatives like Pusa Krishi and Pusa Decomposer promoting sustainable practices and technologies,” Satyawan added.He also shared that the demand for organic farming and products is rising globally, driven by increased consumer awareness of health and environmental benefits, and the desire for chemical-free food. However he added, “Kisan ko ugana to aagaya hai, bechna nahi aaya…” (A farmer has learnt how to cultivate but not to sell).“Take an example of our highest production of rice. The best quality of rice which we sell for Rs 25-Rs 30 kg is sold for Rs 200-250 per kg in Delhi local markets. You will not find that quality anywhere. When you cook that rice at your home, five houses on your left and five on your right will get to know that some rice is cooked at your place. This is one reason the people who are manufacturing cigarettes, alcohol are filthy rich while the people who are behind the production of rice, wheat and milk continue to be poor, simply because of lack of government support,” added Satyawan.Echoing the similar opinion, Neetu Sehrawat said, “Farming is not business. It is just ‘Daal-roti’ for us. We cannot manage sending our children to schools and getting them married with this.”Taking a jibe at the government, Neetu also said, “It takes less than a month for the politicians to join hands in front of us asking for votes but after that we have to join our hands for the next five years requesting them to do our work.”However with the death of Manoj Kumar, the farmers who still feel connected with his movie, plan to build a small statue of Kumar somewhere in the village to commemorate the work done by the actor – the one who glorified farming.
Source link
