A BA, a cough: How Bollywood clichés can unlock our past

Scenario one: An old woman (or man), usually related to the hero or heroine, lies on a charpoy, coughing. The cough is an indicator of how seriously ill they are. In most cases, it doesn’t end well. Even as far back as the 1970s, we would wonder at this. Why was a cough a sign of severe illness, a harbinger of death? Why this fixation on khaansi?

Scenario two: A young man comes rushing home, waving a sheet of paper. “Maa, main pass ho gaya!” It turns out he’s passed his BA exam. The mother is beside herself with joy. She promptly does mooh-meetha. “Mera bachcha pass ho gaya!” And we think, what’s the big deal; he hasn’t even mentioned his passing grade?

The truth is, both these clichés have deep, evocative roots. The cough, I believe, was code for tuberculosis (TB), a disease that was fatal for decades. There was no real treatment until antibiotics for it were discovered in the mid-20th century. A sanatorium, preferably in the hills, with lots of fresh air and sunshine, was the way TB was treated until then. But there were barely any sanatoriums in India. People with TB dealt with it and died of it, coughing and emaciated, at home.

Memories of the scourge ran deep, haunting generations. You see it in Hindi literature too. In Krishna Sobti’s melancholy Badalon ke Ghere (Surrounded by Clouds; 1955), the narrator, Ravi, remembers Manno, a young woman he knew who was ill and fading away from the disease. She died, and now Ravi is also ailing with it, alone and lonely. The two protagonists of Yashpal’s story, Tumne Kyon Kaha Tha Main Sunder Hoon? (Why Did You Say I Was Beautiful?), are also stricken, seeking treatment for early-stage TB at a sanatorium. In Hindi films, a persistent cough became a symbol of fatal illness. When you heard it, you were meant to know that tragedy would follow.

Now to the “Main BA mein pass ho gaya!” When India became independent in 1947, it had all of 21 universities and the literacy rate was 12%. Five years after independence, the number of universities had gone up to 30 and literacy was at 18.3%, according to Census and union HRD ministry figures. Today, there are hundreds of universities and courses to choose from. But back then, just having a BA degree was a matter of great prestige.

In his short stories, for instance, Premchand often mentions the educational qualifications and literacy levels of the main characters. Subhadra Kumari Chauhan, freedom fighter, short story writer and poet (she wrote the famous poem that begins: Khoob ladi mardani woh toh Jhansi wali rani thi), does the same. In some of her stories, educational qualifications play a crucial role. For instance, in Pavitra Irshya (Pure Envy), the parents of the heroine decide to get her married to a young man only because he’s highly educated; he’s in the final year of his MA.

Today, the BA is considered a starter degree; there are newer, more desirable tags even at the BA and MA levels. But deep-rooted mores take a while to fade, which is why “Main college mein pass ho gaya!” lasted long after the words had lost all significance.