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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

Govt assures swift UCC implementation

Mumbai: Maharashtra government unequivocally declared its commitment to implementing the Uniform Civil Code across the state, assuring the legislative assembly that a comprehensive legal framework is already in the advanced stages of formulation. Minister of State for Home Yogesh Kadam categorically stated on the floor of the House on Tuesday that the ruling Mahayuti administration is entirely positive about the swift introduction of the Uniform Civil Code to standardize personal laws. To...

Govt assures swift UCC implementation

Mumbai: Maharashtra government unequivocally declared its commitment to implementing the Uniform Civil Code across the state, assuring the legislative assembly that a comprehensive legal framework is already in the advanced stages of formulation. Minister of State for Home Yogesh Kadam categorically stated on the floor of the House on Tuesday that the ruling Mahayuti administration is entirely positive about the swift introduction of the Uniform Civil Code to standardize personal laws. To facilitate this monumental legislative transition, the state government has formally sanctioned the constitution of a dedicated expert committee, which is being spearheaded by a retired High Court judge. This committee has been entrusted with the critical responsibility of meticulously preparing the draft bill for the Uniform Civil Code, which the government intends to enact immediately upon the submission of the final report. Emphasising the overarching objectives of the proposed legislation, Kadam noted that the Uniform Civil Code would universally apply to every citizen irrespective of their religious affiliations and would explicitly incorporate a stringent ban on the controversial practice of polygamy. The minister drew direct parallels with the legislative measures recently adopted by states like Uttarakhand, underscoring that the impending law in Maharashtra would similarly entail severe penal consequences, potentially including imprisonment for up to seven years for violations related to polygamy and illegal divorce practices. He firmly maintained that the government’s approach is fundamentally secular, harboring no animosity toward any specific religion, but is rather driven by the constitutional imperative to extend equal rights, legal protection, and comprehensive justice to women from all communities. This definitive policy assurance from the government was catalysed by a highly volatile calling attention motion initiated by BJP legislator Devyani Farande, which thrust the deeply sensitive issues of triple talaq and polygamy into the center of the assembly’s monsoon session. Farande brought the ongoing plight of Muslim women to the immediate attention of the House, asserting that despite the central government’s strict legislative prohibition, the illegal practice of instant divorce continues to flourish unabated.

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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