As should be evident from the name, the series of books titled Filmi Alif Laila is simply magic. Essentially a collection of articles by senior journalist, scriptwriter and filmmaker Ali Sufyan Afaqi — who witnessed the growth of the Pakistan film industry, its rise and eventual downfall — the books are full of anecdotes that take one back in time. I bet no ‘student of history’ would be able to pass up on them after glancing through the contents.

Two of the three books in the series were available at the Karachi International Book Fair, held in December 2017. The first had been released during Afaqi’s lifetime; he passed away some years ago.

For those who feel they were born 20 years too late, the series acts as a time machine, taking one back to the golden days of the Pakistani film industry. Afaqi tells stories of how much top film star Santosh Kumar could command for a film, and what happened when he raised his fee to 15,000 rupees. He reveals how the news of Kumar’s marriage to actress Sabiha Khanum was received by the media, and recollects his meetings with nearly all the great actors who went on to become legends.

The posthumous publication of two additional volumes of Ali Sufyan Afaqi’s chronicles of Pakistan’s cinema industry is a treat for film historians

Watching old Pakistani films on NTM during the 1990s, I often had several questions, but there was no one to answer them. My uncle told me that one actor named Jamil, who tried his luck in Pakistan, was the father of Bollywood actresses Tabu and Farah Naz. I started loving director Khalil Kaiser’s work after watching his films Naagin, Shaheed and Firangi, and grieved his ‘unsolved’ murder in 1966 as though it had happened in 2016. I wanted to know who killed him. I remembered Musarrat Nazir as a singer of folk songs on PTV in the ’80s, but always wondered why the generation before my father’s had a soft corner for her. And how did someone such as Muhammad Ali, introduced in a negative role, become a hero? I got answers to all these questions in Volume II of Filmi Alif Laila. It felt as if it had been compiled keeping me in mind.

Afaqi shares his personal experience of producing films, including Saza and Kaneez. Saza is covered extensively in Volume II, while Kaneez takes up much of Volume III. As it was, Afaqi had nearly signed actor Nadeem for the lead in Saza in 1969, but a misunderstanding led him to recast the role with Jamil. The film turned out to be a hit, but Jamil failed in later films. It is interesting to learn from Afaqi that, in those days, a film could be made for 200,000-300,000 rupees, and the fee of the actor he mentions here, well, best not to mention it!

Having learned so much from Volume II, Volume III turned out to be even more exciting. Afaqi writes that rising singer Mehdi Hasan took a nominal fee of 1000 rupees to sing for films and the more established star, Naseem Begum, charged an extra 200 rupees as fuel allowance. On this note, he also shares how he found it difficult to decide who was the worse driver: Waheed Murad or Zeba.

In writing about Kaneez — which featured an ensemble cast of Kumar, Khanum, Murad, Ali, Zeba and Taalish — Afaqi notes that he wrote the film and co-produced it with director Hassan Tariq. Originally titled Majboor, the film was intended to star Kamal and Habib. Murad, who stepped in to replace Kamal, was cast at Khanum’s insistence. Afaqi makes particular mention of a song, ‘Donon Taraf Hai Aag Barabar’, sung by Ahmed Rushdie and filmed on Murad, which took six long months to shoot. I had seen the film years ago, but after reading about the difficulties in making it, I was compelled to watch it again.

It is interesting to learn from Afaqi that, in those days, a film could be made for 200,000-300,000 rupees.

Volume III of Filmi Alif Laila contains a detailed view of the Dhaka film industry and Afaqi’s failed attempt to recruit Shabnam for a West Pakistani film makes for an engaging anecdote; Shabnam would later appear in Aas and Jaagir, which were written, produced and directed by Afaqi.

Then there are the personal stories; the ‘other’ account of Ali and Zeba’s marriage, the lavish spending habits of Kamal, the two different personalities Murad embodied as an actor and a producer, and how a friendship with Ali saved Afaqi from dacoits on a road trip to Lahore, are tales to enthral fans of old Pakistani films. One story that brought me to tears was about singer Madam Noor Jehan’s trip to East Pakistan for a fundraising event in the early ’60s. Madam rarely performed at such functions, but somehow agreed this time. She loved the food at the hotel she was staying at, and the night before the show asked to meet the cook. The poor man asked if Madam could render a few songs for the staff after her performance. The wish was granted. The next day, Madam stood on a makeshift stage and sang until morning. She threw the ‘elite’ — who usually got their way in for free — out of the lobby and even refused to meet a political dignitary just so she could keep her promise made to the hotel staff.

I used to wonder why Pakistani stars never participated in healthy activities such as sports, but Afaqi sets the record straight with an account of a charity cricket match between West and East Pakistani film personalities. He also writes excellent profiles of his production staff, briefly mentions altercations with the bureaucracy, and shares the story of the rise of Runa Laila, one of the most brilliant singers to come from the subcontinent. The book concludes with Sultan Rahi, detailing how he rose from the ranks of an extra to become the mightiest star of all. It is eye-opening to read Afaqi’s description of Rahi as a witty, lively man, the exact opposite of his on-screen persona, who once showed up in Western attire and was hardly recognisable. The book, quite fittingly, ends with a piece on Rahi’s death in January 1996, which arguably brought the curtain down on Pakistani films as we knew them.

The reviewer loves old films and writes on Pakistani films and sports

Filmi Alif Laila, Volumes II and III
By A.S. Afaqi
Atlantis, Karachi
ISBN: 978-9696011699, 472pp.
ISBN: 978-9696011699, 429pp.

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, February 25th, 2018