Peppered with heartfelt accounts and charming anecdotes, Urdu film magazines were in great favour with the public from the 1930s through the 1990s – a considerable period of seven decades. Unfortunately, as Urdu got progressively marginalised in later years, these magazines were not archived, for the most part; leading to their inevitable disappearance from popular imagination. Tracking down these lost publications, Yasir Abbasi followed leads – some futile, some fruitful – to obscure towns and people's homes in a last-ditch effort to save valuable records of Indian cinema. As challenging as it was to locate faded issues and original texts, he managed to uncover and translate many fabulous memoirs covering a wide gamut of our favourite old artistes at their candid best. A gloom-laced piece on Meena Kumari by Nargis, a rollicking description by Raja Mehdi Ali Khan of an eventful evening with Manto (not to mention a mysterious woman and a house on fire), Jaidev writing about his chequered career, Balraj Sahni introspecting about the relevance of Hindi and Urdu in films – it's a rich mix of engrossing narratives brought back from oblivion.

This book, with its focus on the dancing body, is the first of its kind within the larger context of dance in India. The Dancing Body is a body that exists, survives, inhabits and performs in multiple space and time, by moving, laboring, migrating and straddling across geographic, cultural and emotional borders, writing different cultural meanings at different moments of time. In India, discourses around the body in dance have long been trapped within hagiographic histories in and around dancers and their dance. During the last few decades, however, significant scholarly inroads were made into the domain of dance by shaking up the stereotypes, assertions and labels, shaped and moulded by patriarchy, class, caste and power. This book brings together emerging discourses around dance and the body that have become central in the Indian nation-state. Contemporary discourses around identity politics, moral policing, politics of exclusion, and neo-liberal dispossessions vis a vis sexual labour, means of survival, pleasure and agency of dancers have helped frame the focus around labour, leisure and livelihood concerning the everyday existence of the body in dance. This volume will be of great value to students, researchers and scholars in dance, gender studies, cultural studies, and performance studies, with a particular interest in Asian and South Asian Studies. The chapters in this book were originally published in a special issue of South Asian History and Culture. The chapters in this book were originally published in a special issue of South Asian History and Culture.

Yesterday’s Melodies Todays Memories is a rare collection of profiles of all important music-makers of the Hindi Film Industry between 1931 and 1970. It not only gives a biographical background of each music artiste, but it goes further to interview many of the surviving giants and completes the task by listing some of the best songs with which that person is associated. Here are singers that include the whole gamut from KL Saigal to Asha Bhosle, lyricists that include Sahir and Gulzar, music composers from Naushad to RD Burman, artistes that were part-time singers and full time actors like Ashok Kumar, melody queens like Noor Jahan and Lata Mangeshkar, gentlemen lyricists like Prem Dhawan and gentlemen singers like Manna Dey, mischief-makers like Kishore Kumar and rebels without pause like OP Nayyar and Majrooh Sultanpuri. In fact, this book is a house in which all these great talents live happily, each in a separate room, given space for self-expression. The serious research that has gone into this book is evident as you move from one chapter to another, opening layers after layers presented non-seriously. Over 100 music makers are presented this way and many more in a huge single chapter.

‘We are like the Corleones in The Godfather’—Randhir Kapoor There is no film family quite like the Kapoors. A family of professional actors and directors, they span almost eighty years of film-making in India, from the 1920s to the present. Each decade in the history of Hindi films has had at least one Kapoor—if not more—playing a large part in defining it. Never before have four generations of this family—or five, if you include Bashesharnath Kapoor, Prithviraj Kapoor’s father, who played the judge in Awara—been brought together in one book. The Kapoors details the professional careers and personal lives of each generation—box-office successes and failures, the ideologies that informed their work, the larger-than-life Kapoor weddings and Holi celebrations, their extraordinary romantic liaisons and family relationships, their love for food and their dark passages with alcohol. Based on extensive personal interviews conducted over seven years with family members and friends, Madhu Jain goes behind the façade of each member of the Kapoor clan to reveal what makes them tick. The Kapoors resembles the films that the great showman Raj Kapoor made: grand and sweeping, with moments of high drama and touching emotion. ‘Few books on Indian cinema have been written with such wit, clarity and sparkle’—Outlook ‘Jain writes in a language that is simple and pithy. . . it will keep alive public interest in the Kapoors who refuse to call it a day’—Telegraph ‘Immensely readable...will surely find a place in the Indian cineaste’s library’—Biblio

Udayer Pathe, Bimal Roy’s first film, revolutionized Indian cinema. Hailed as a pioneer by Satyajit Ray, he was perhaps the first to bring shades of grey to the black-and-white screen. Roy’s spare storytelling and nuanced understanding of the human condition are reflected in classics like Devdas, Sujata and Madhumati. His ability to illuminate ordinary characters like Shambhu in Do Bigha Zamin and Kalyani in Bandini, is attested to by their being a part of popular memory even to this day. The Man Who Spoke in Pictures is not just a eulogy to this great director, but also an insight into Roy, the man, the director and his art. The auteur’s little-known Bengal phase is chronicled by Mahasweta Devi and Amit Chaudhuri, as well as Tapan Sinha, Amit Bose and other greats of cinema who trace his journey from cinematographer to director. His Bombay years are recorded through a collection of analyses and anecdotes from leading literary and cinematic luminaries, including Nayantara Sahgal, Gulzar, Naseeruddin Shah and Khalid Mohammed. The final section examines Roy from the outsider’s perspective, with articles by Meghnad Desai, Rachel Dwyer and Paula Mayhew.