Unlike his Guru, Raj was quite obsessed with pre-credit sequences. C.I.D has one-and-a-half minute of intrigue before the title sequence begins rolling. Bombai ka Babu has shots of our (anti?) hero ambling out of jail, being picked up by his pal and followed by the police, interspersed with exterior shots of Bombay roads (quite unusual for Hindi films of the period). This continues for a good minute and 16 seconds before the title appears.
Even for a romance like Solva Saal, the pre-credit sequence takes two-and-a-half minutes to set up the family that Laaj (Waheeda) is going to abandon. From this, Raj goes up to almost nine minutes – including an entire song – in Anita, and surpasses that in Nehle peh Dehlaa, which, in the tradition of 1970s revenge dramas, sets up the killing of a patriarch and separation of brothers before the title shows up.
Yet, it is quite possible that the pre-credit sequence of Woh Kaun Thi? might just be the most iconic opening scene not only in Raj Khosla’s oeuvre, but in all of Hindi cinema.
A car is braving its way through heavy rains on a country road. We find ourselves inside the car, the screeching of wipers loud and clear. Potholes and ditches are visible through the bumpy ride. Beyond the windshield, a white silhouette comes into view. It’s a woman, draped in white.
The driver slams on his brakes. He honks away, but she refuses to budge. The driver peeks out of window and says in the most velvety Manoj Kumar voice possible: ‘Sunaai nahi deta? Raaste se hato. Kaun ho tum? Can’t you hear? Move out of the way. Who are you?’ The woman in white (Sadhana), says she is no one. He asks again, ‘Kahan jaana hai? Where do you want to go?’ Nowhere, she says.
After a cryptic conversation, Kumar gives Sadhana a lift with the promise of no more questions. Kumar can’t see a thing through the sheets of water, but she can. He notices blood oozing out of her finger. ‘Mujhe khoon achha lagta hai. I like blood,’ she says. Eventually, she asks him to pull over next to a graveyard. As he wonders what business she could possibly have there, she reminds him of his promise. When she leaves the car, the wipers screech back into life. Kumar realizes that all this while, with the mysterious woman inside the car, the wipers had stopped moving.
Sadhana casually walks into the graveyard, as the gate creaks open by itself. There is a bloodcurdling scream, followed by the song ‘Naina barse rim jhim rim jhim’, and the title, Woh Kaun Thi?, splashes across the screen.
This opening sequence is one of the most effective buildups seen in mainstream Hindi films, giving the viewer a taste of what’s to come. It’s eerie and delivers just the right dose of chills without underscoring the theatrics. There is something unique about the pace. It’s not hurried, yet there is a sense of urgency, as if the events are unfolding at a rapid pace. It’s not easy to place your finger on it.
It finally clicked for me when Manoj Kumar explained. According to him, Woh Kaun Thi? was the first Hindi film that was ‘cut to cut’. ‘There were no fade-outs or fade-ins, no dissolves or wipes. Likhi hi aise gayi thi. It was written like that,’ the actor told me.
It was Raj Khosla’s adroit sense of filmmaking and inventive editing that gave Woh Kaun Thi? its feverish feel. He was helped by editor Dattaram Pai, an alumnus of Filmistan and Filmalaya. The editor was shadowed by a 32-year-old who was already being noticed for his skills in cutting film: Waman Bhonsle. Waman and Raj later collaborated on a number of films.
From the outset, Raj was certain that this film needed a specific atmosphere. To establish the chilling, sinister feel, he decided to film it in Shimla. This was the early 1960s and the hill station was yet to become the darling of filmmakers. Despite this, the idea was stuck in his head. It wasn’t cheap either, especially for a producer like N.N. Sippy, who was making his first film with A-list stars.
‘N.N. Sippy was making small, stunt films then,’ recalled Raj later, ‘and couldn’t afford to shoot in Shimla. Somehow, I persuaded him to raise funds, and we shot in the snows. This was very important to give that cold, eerie atmosphere to the film.’ Raj shot the film in one fell swoop, without any unnecessary retakes or reshoots. They couldn’t afford any.
Early on in Woh Kaun Thi?, Dr Anand receives a call to see a patient in a dilapidated mansion near Versova post office. As he approaches the house, the doors swing open, allowing the camera to roll in and expand our view of the interiors. Cobwebs are aplenty and you can distinctly hear – and eventually see – a bat. It is suggested that the good doctor pick up a candle and light it.
The man quietly complies and climbs up the rickety stairs to the patient’s room. To his horror, this patient is the same woman he had driven to the graveyard the other night. But this woman is dead. While on his way back from the misadventure, Dr Anand is waylaid by two cops who claim that the house he has just been to is in fact abandoned. The doctor protests and leads them back into the mansion, only to find it truly abandoned. The only things in common with his last visit are the cobwebs.
Raj littered the film with such spooks. Not only do you have bats, cobwebs, screeching doors and repeated shots of a grotesque man holding flowers, Raj found a way of emphasizing the unearthly ambience with the help of the filmmaking devices at his disposal.
After the somewhat shocking and untimely death of his girlfriend (Helen), Dr Anand’s mother compels him into a marriage of convenience. Bizarrely, the heartbroken doctor, still mourning the loss of his beloved, discovers on his wedding night that his bride (whom he hasn’t seen before) is the same mysterious woman he had dropped to the graveyard and also found dead in the abandoned mansion. To add to his woes, his new wife keeps breaking into the same song the woman in white sang as she disappeared into the graveyard: ‘Naina barse rim jhim rim jhim’.
As Dr Anand spies on his bride through a window, she begins to hum those lines. They sound faint at first, as if coming from a distance. As the camera – and the viewer – goes past the window and halts at the doorframe, the singing gets louder.
In another instance, Dr Anand walks out of his office into the hallway to investigate a noise. It is pitch dark and the camera follows him in a sluggish tracking shot as he ambles through the hallway, turning the lights on one by one. First. Second. Third. Fourth. As his hand inches to flick the fifth switch, a woman’s voice rips through the silence, asking him not to turn this last one on.
Almost instantly, a Venus de Milo appears in the frame. Dr Anand freezes, staring at it in disbelief as his wife emerges from behind the statue. Khosla employed such techniques throughout Woh Kaun Thi?, constantly inspiring the feel of a thriller.
Excerpted with permission from Raj Khosla The Authorised Biography, Amborish Roychoudhury with Anita Khosla & Uma Khosla Kapur, Hachette India.
