The society that set up the husband as a god chained the wife to external service. The land continued to serve him profitably as it had done for centuries. Thus, oblivious to all else in the heady pleasures of liquor, dance, music and women - a classy prostitute was a sign of manhood - the men of the Chowdhury clan never suspected that if they weren't vigilant the land would one day dry up. And the wives wandered in the dark interior of the haveli, breaking and making ornaments and dressing themselves in rich silks. Chhdti Bahu's pride will not let her suffer such humiliating neglect. She flings herself on her husband's feet begging him not to go away. So the contradictions grow till at last, while on her way to a holy man with Bhootnath to find a cure for her dying husband, her brother-in-law sets murderers upon her to kill her. Her crime is infidelity. Guru Dutt uses every cinematic element with skill and understanding to underline the contradictions inherent in this character. When Bhootnath sees Chhoti Bahu for the first time, his shy eyes will not rise above her feet. When they are pulled irresistably upwards, and the camera travels with them, Chhoti Bahu seems to come down upon the earth like a goddess. Her speech has a pace which gives it the' quality of poetry and music. Her chamber is dimly lit. In that semi-darkness her ornaments and goldencrusted saris glitter. Tiny points of light tremble on the cascade of her long dark hair. Every shade on the palette from dark despair to iridiscent sensuous-ness colours her songs. Her gestures are neither realistically casual nor falsely dramatic. They are choreographed to a certain rhythm. All this brings to every high point in her portrayal an intense significance that is rarely found in melodrama. There are overtones of rape in the scene where she drinks or is forced to drink for the first time. Eisenstein has shown how great directors often use a solution opposite to that which was expected. After the rape, Chhoti Bahu does not cry. She laughs uncontrollably. Into her laughter mingles that of Ghadibabu. Ghadibabu is the chorus for the tragedy of the haveli. The images tlhat portray the decay of the haveli are as powerful as those that Journal of Arts and Ideas 63