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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.)

Whitewashing Damascus

America’s Syrian gamble rewards brutality, betrays the Kurds and reveals how cheaply Donald Trump trades in memory.

In the space of two days, Syria’s map has been redrawn with a speed and savagery that would have seemed unthinkable just a year ago. Government forces, backed by tribal militias of dubious pedigree, have pushed the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) out of large parts of northern Syria they had controlled since the darkest days of the Islamic State. Raqqa, the former capital of ISIS’s grotesque caliphate, has fallen back under Damascus’s sway. So too has much of Syria’s oil wealth, lost to the state for over a decade.


Predictably, Washington’s response has been one of accommodation. Presiding over this moral contortion is Donald Trump, who has chosen to recognise Syrian strongman Ahmed al-Sharaa (better known by his nom de guerre, Abu Mohammad al-Jolani) - a man whose political evolution from al-Qaeda affiliate to interim president has been lubricated by expediency and violence.


His forces’ conduct in Rojava with horrific beheadings filmed on mobile phones, and women discussed as spoils of war, has been chillingly familiar. The SDF itself has said the executions were carried out “in the style of ISIS.” Yet, this is the man Trump has chosen to treat as a partner in counterterrorism.


America’s Kurdish allies have every reason to feel betrayed. For a decade, the SDF served as Washington’s most reliable boots on the ground against ISIS. Kurdish fighters bore the brunt of the war that ended the Caliphate’s territorial rule in 2019, guarding prisons packed with hardened jihadists and camps such as al-Hol, where the families of ISIS fighters still fester in radical limbo. Now Damascus is taking over those prisons, after clashes near facilities like al-Shaddadi and al-Aqtan left Kurdish fighters dead and wounded and ISIS detainees perilously close to escape.


This handover is being hailed as ‘progress’ in Washington, which says all about the cynical and amnesiac nature of American political memory.


Trump, meanwhile, has boasted of coordinating with Damascus to prevent ISIS prisoners from slipping away and speaks approvingly of Jolani’s assurances. His envoy, Tom Barrack, talks of a “pathway” for the Kurds into a unified Syrian state, complete with citizenship rights and cultural protections. Such language would be comforting if Syria’s recent history did not mock it so thoroughly.


But even American officials have admitted to being squeamish about the events unfolding on the ground. Retired officers warn that jihadists and takfiri extremists are embedded within government-aligned forces, raising doubts about Damascus’s ability or willingness to control them. Turkey, long hostile to Kurdish autonomy and eager to brand the SDF as an extension of the PKK, looks on approvingly.


The geopolitical irony is sharp. Trump rose to power railing against “radical Islamic terrorism” and imposing sweeping travel bans in the name of security. Yet he now embraces a man whose past would have once made him a poster child for Trumpian outrage. America has made the mistake before of arming jihadists in Afghanistan to humble the Soviets and indulging warlords in Iraq to suppress insurgents, of outsourcing stability to thugs and calling it ‘pragmatism.’ Each time, there has been a bloody reckoning.


Senator Lindsey Graham has threatened to resurrect “bone-crushing” Caesar Act sanctions if Syrian forces continue their advance, warning of permanent damage to relations. But such threats ring hollow when the White House has already conferred legitimacy. Recognition, after all, is a signal which tells every militia leader in the region that power, once seized and sanitised, can be rewarded no matter how stained its origins.


The tragedy of Syria is that its people have been subjected to every variety of foreign cynicism: Russian bombs, Iranian militias, Turkish interventions and American half-measures. Trump’s recognition of Jolani has added another layer to this ruinous pattern. It abandons allies who fought America’s enemies, launders the reputation of a jihadist in a suit, and mistakes the absence of ISIS flags for the presence of peace. Syria has seen this movie before. It never ends well.

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