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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.)

Reclaiming Identity

Updated: Oct 21, 2024

India’s ongoing project of renaming places reflects the country’s efforts to assert its national identity, cleanse itself of historical baggage, and reconnect with its civilizational roots. The latest move — the renaming of Port Blair to Sri Vijaya Puram — signals a broader intention to shed vestiges of foreign domination, both from the period of British imperialism and earlier Muslim invasions. The symbolism in these name changes is unmistakable, part of a wider cultural and political push to reassert India’s indigenous history, which many feel has been sidelined for centuries.

Names are not mere labels on maps; they carry the weight of history, legacy, and identity. When Indians traverse through streets, towns, and cities, many still encounter names that echo colonial or Islamic invader legacies. A substantial number of places in Delhi, the capital of modern India, are named after rulers of the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal dynasty, dynasties that came through conquest and imposed their authority on the land.

For many, these names represent more than just historical figures; they symbolize domination, violence, and a legacy that is at odds with India’s present aspirations as a confident, resurgent power. The act of renaming is thus seen as part of a broader cultural reclamation.

Renaming places is not merely an academic exercise in historical correction but a politically charged one. Advocates of renaming argue that India must celebrate its own heroes - like Chandragupta Maurya, Rana Pratap or Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj — leaders who resisted foreign domination and defended India’s sovereignty rather than glorifying invaders who sought to erase it.

Delhi is a stark example of this historical disconnect. Despite being the seat of modern India’s political power, few public spaces are named after Shivaji Maharaj, who defied Mughal authority, or Maharana Pratap, who stood against Akbar’s empire. The names of foreign conquerors dominate the urban landscape.

Critics of the renaming drive often accuse the government of pandering to a narrow, sectarian agenda. They argue that renaming places will not change history and risks inflaming communal tensions. But such criticism overlooks the fact that every nation has the right to shape its narrative. France does not honour the names of Napoleon’s enemies in its street names, nor does Britain name its landmarks after those who sought to subjugate it.

The challenge for India is to strike a balance between renaming that honours its indigenous history and avoiding erasure of its Islamic past. After all, the Mughal and Sultanate periods are integral to India’s complex history. In many cases, India can follow a path of dual recognition, acknowledging both the indigenous heritage and foreign influences by honouring people with a syncretic legacy. History is not monolithic, and India’s national identity is shaped by myriad influences. The renaming of streets and towns must not turn into a wholesale erasure of the past but should be a thoughtful reconsideration of which legacies are honoured in public spaces.

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