top of page

By:

Rajeev Puri

24 October 2024 at 5:11:37 am

Before Sholay, there was Mera Gaon Mera Desh

When the comedian and television host Kapil Sharma recently welcomed the veteran screenwriter Salim Khan onto his show, he made a striking claim. India, he joked, has a national bird and a national animal; it ought also to have a national film. That film, he suggested, would surely be Sholay. Few would quarrel with the sentiment. Released in 1975 and directed by Ramesh Sippy,  Sholay  has long been treated as the Everest of Hindi popular cinema -quoted endlessly, revisited by generations and...

Before Sholay, there was Mera Gaon Mera Desh

When the comedian and television host Kapil Sharma recently welcomed the veteran screenwriter Salim Khan onto his show, he made a striking claim. India, he joked, has a national bird and a national animal; it ought also to have a national film. That film, he suggested, would surely be Sholay. Few would quarrel with the sentiment. Released in 1975 and directed by Ramesh Sippy,  Sholay  has long been treated as the Everest of Hindi popular cinema -quoted endlessly, revisited by generations and dissected by critics. In 2025, the film marked its 50th anniversary, and the release of a digitally restored, uncut version introduced the classic to a new generation of viewers who discovered that its mixture of revenge drama, western pastiche and buddy comedy remains curiously durable. The film’s influences have been debated almost as much as its dialogues – from scenes taken by the Spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone, particularly ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ (1968) or to the narrative architecture of ‘Seven Samurai’ (1954) by Akira Kurosawa. Others note echoes of earlier Hindi films about bandits and frontier justice, such as ‘Khotey Sikke’ (1973) starring Feroz Khan. Yet, rewatching ‘Mera Gaon Mera Desh,’ directed by Raj Khosla, one cannot help noticing how many of the narrative bones of  Sholay  appear to have been assembled there first. Released in 1971,  Mera Gaon Mera Desh  was a major hit at the box office, notable for holding its own in a year dominated by the near-hysterical popularity of Rajesh Khanna. The thematic framework of the two films is strikingly similar. In  Sholay , the retired policeman Thakur Baldev Singh recruits two petty criminals - Jai and Veeru - to help him avenge the terror inflicted upon his village by the bandit Gabbar Singh. In  Mera Gaon Mera Desh , the set-up is not very different. A retired soldier, Jaswant Singh, seeks to protect his village from a ruthless dacoit and enlists the help of a small-time crook named Ajit. Even the villain’s name seems to echo across the two films. In Khosla’s drama, the marauding bandit played by Vinod Khanna is scene-stealing performance is called Jabbar Singh. In  Sholay , the outlaw who would become one of Indian cinema’s most memorable antagonists was Gabbar Singh. There is an additional irony in the casting. In  Mera Gaon Mera Desh , the retired soldier Jaswant Singh is played by Jayant - the real-life father of Amjad Khan, who would later immortalise Gabbar Singh in  Sholay . The connective tissue between the two films becomes even clearer in the presence of Dharmendra. In Khosla’s film he plays Ajit, a charming rogue who gradually redeems himself while defending the village. Four years later, Dharmendra returned in  Sholay  as Veeru, a similarly exuberant petty criminal whose courage and irrepressible humour make him one half of Hindi cinema’s most beloved buddy duo alongside Amitabh Bachchan as Jai. Certain visual motifs also appear to have travelled intact. In Khosla’s film, Ajit finds himself bound in ropes in the bandit’s den during a dramatic musical sequence. A similar image appears in  Sholay , where Veeru is tied up before Gabbar Singh while Basanti performs the now famous song ‘Jab Tak Hai Jaan.’ Other echoes are subtler but just as suggestive. Ajit’s pursuit of the village belle Anju, played by Asha Parekh, anticipates Veeru’s boisterous attempts to woo Basanti, portrayed by Hema Malini. Scenes in which Ajit teaches Anju to shoot recall the flirtatious gun-training sequence between Veeru and Basanti that became one of  Sholay ’s most cherished moments. Even the famous coin motif has a precedent. Ajit frequently tosses a coin to make decisions - a flourish that would later appear in  Sholay , where Jai’s coin toss becomes a running gag. Perhaps most intriguingly, the endings of the two films converge in their original form. In  Mera Gaon Mera Desh , the villain is ultimately killed by the hero. The uncut version of  Sholay  reportedly ended in a similar fashion, with Gabbar Singh meeting his death at the hands of Thakur Baldev Singh. However, censors altered the climax before the film’s 1975 release, requiring that Gabbar be handed over to the police instead. All this does not diminish  Sholay . Rather, it highlights the alchemy through which cinema evolves. The scriptwriting duo Salim–Javed took familiar ingredients and expanded them into a grander narrative populated by unforgettable characters and stylised action. On the 55 th  anniversary of  Mera Gaon Mera Desh , Raj Khosla’s rugged western deserves a renewed glance as the sturdy foundation on which a legend called  Sholay  was built. (The author is a political commentator and a global affairs observer. Views personal.)

Oil Siege

Washington’s oil squeeze of Venezuela risks collective punishment without significant political gain.

US President Donald Trump’s declaration of a “total and complete blockade” of Venezuelan oil shipments marks a sharp escalation in America’s long-running campaign against Nicolás Maduro. Framed as an enforcement action against sanctioned tankers and ‘ghost ships,’ the move in effect threatens the single remaining artery of Venezuela’s economy. Oil, besides being Venezuela’s principal export, is the state’s last functioning source of cash, patronage and political survival. Choking it further may deepen the country’s misery but it is far from clear that it will loosen Maduro’s grip on power.


Venezuela has been living under American oil sanctions for six years. In that time, Caracas has perfected the art of evasion. Crude has been sold quietly at heavy discounts, mostly to China, via a shadow fleet of ageing tankers, frequent ship-to-ship transfers and creative paperwork. The proceeds have been meagre, but sufficient to keep the lights on in the presidential palace. Trump’s blockade aims to disrupt this system by raising the risks and costs of moving Venezuelan oil at all.


The economic consequences could be severe. Venezuela produces roughly one million barrels a day - just 2 percent of global output but almost all of its export earnings. Analysts warn that exports could fall by as much as half if sanctioned tankers are seized regularly or deterred from docking. Storage capacity is limited. If oil cannot be shipped, production will have to be shut in, potentially slashing output by hundreds of thousands of barrels a day. For a country already hollowed out by hyperinflation, mass emigration and institutional decay, the shock would be brutal.


This would not be Venezuela’s first oil collapse. Production once exceeded three million barrels a day in the early 2000s. Years of corruption, underinvestment and political purges at PDVSA, the state oil company, drove output to a nadir of 350,000 barrels a day by 2020. A modest recovery followed, helped by sanctions-busting exports and a limited easing of American restrictions. The blockade now threatens to reverse even that fragile rebound.


The pain will be felt unevenly. Chevron, operating under a special American licence, continues to ship oil to the United States and accounts for about a tenth of Venezuela’s production. But even this arrangement starves Caracas of cash: Chevron pays taxes and royalties in crude, not dollars. The real blow will fall on exports to Asia, particularly China, which takes around 80 percent of Venezuelan crude. Discounted barrels will grow cheaper still, if buyers are willing to risk them at all. Billions of dollars in annual revenue could vanish.


Trump has accused Maduro of using oil income to fund ‘drug terrorism’ and criminality, and casts America’s growing naval presence in the Caribbean as an extension of its war on narcotics. Yet the optics are awkward. Since September, American forces have seized dozens of vessels and killed at least 95 people, including fishermen. For Caracas, the blockade fits neatly into a familiar narrative of imperial aggression and resource theft.


The deeper problem is strategic. Sanctions have undeniably impoverished Venezuela. They have not, however, produced political change. Maduro has survived by shrinking the economy, dollarising informally, tolerating pockets of private enterprise and relying on loyal security forces. As the state’s revenues fall, the burden shifts to ordinary Venezuelans, not the ruling elite. A sharper oil squeeze may accelerate emigration, not democratisation.


Any sudden loss of Venezuelan barrels nudges oil prices upward, as markets already hinted after the blockade was announced. China, meanwhile, will weigh how much it is willing to antagonise Washington to secure discounted crude.


A blockade that halves Venezuela’s exports will not dislodge its authoritarian ruler. It will merely crush an economy already on life support, pushing ordinary Venezuelans deeper into penury while the political elite insulates itself, as it always has. Oil has long been Venezuela’s curse as well as its blessing. By turning it into a chokehold, Washington may deepen the tragedy without resolving it. Siege economics can break states but they rarely reform them. 


Comments

bottom of page