Pindi Wal (1976)
Cast: Sultan Rahi, Neelo, Adeeb, Mustafa Qureshi, Bahar, Anita, Parveen Boby, Aurangzeb, Saiqa, Rangeela, Naureen, Shahnawaz, Chakori
Director: Zahoor Hussain
Synopsis: Infamous and delightful Lollywood epic has loads of sleaze and a jaw-dropping porno tota!
Reviewed by: Omar Khan

Pindi Wal is one of those films spoken of in hushed tones back in the day, and though every video shop usually had more than one copy, they were typically handed over to customers in a brown paper bag.

I recall Billy of Famous Video in Tooting, chuckling away, nudgenudge-wink-wink style, as he handed it over rather sheepishly. He was well acquainted with my fetish for sleaze. The film was made in the permissive ‘70s, when Punjabi movies challenged the censor code and frequently escaped the easily bribed censors with some heavy-duty smut and gore.

Sultan Rahi stars in the title role in and as Pindi Wal, and a powerhouse star cast supports him. Neelo previously retired from movies, but the untimely death of Riaz Shahid, her renowned producer-director husband, had forced her back to the studio to support her family. The film also stars Mustafa Qureshi, Bahar, Parveen Boby, Anita, Naureen and especially Chakori to provide the saucy pyrotechnics. However, the real find of the movie is a fabulously sleazy tart who performs a breathtaking number to Naheed Akhter’s sizzling Kadh le number. (Translated: take it out! Take it out! Take it out! What you have inserted!). This song was originally from Ajj Da Badmash but spliced into Pindi Wal for a little extra oomph. We have not discovered her name in years of trying, but the effort continues earnestly, and from what we have been able to ascertain, she could be either Rubina, Aashi or Saba.

Pindi Wal was not initially banned as was suggested, but scraped a couple of weeks in cinemas, finding little interest. The Kadh le number is the primary reason the censor never renewed Ajj Da Badmash‘s censor certificate later. Shady distributors spliced in the infamous tota, and cinema owners reckoned such tactics might boost ticket sales.

Pindi Wal has its moments; there is a kinetic energy to some of the opening scenes. The stark black-and-white cinematography, weird Wild West music and oddly disorienting camera angles lend a compelling, edgy feel to proceedings. The film got into serious hot water and was soon denied a certificate due to the lewd and vulgar dance numbers, of which, thankfully, there are plenty. The producers then tried to compensate for the excised songs by inserting some real porn near the interval break of the film, a plan that backfired with the film being withdrawn from screens and banned. The film ran for just a week or two before the authorities trashed it into the dungeons of sleaze, along with Malik Zada, which remains one of the most soughtafter films of the era and has never seen the light of day since its initial release.

The action begins with Pindi Wal (Sultan Rahi) being incarcerated and convicted in a court, where he proclaims, “never to have done a single good deed in his life!” Pindi Wal’s ruggedness and brawn deeply affect a bodybuilding Pehlwaan with weird urges for the new fish. The oddly puny Pehlwaan (Adeeb) arranges a job for Pindi Wal upon release at his notorious den of vice, the “New Star Club”.

Pindi Wal

The booze doesn’t stop flowing in this seedy joint, and the girls dance up some incredible heat, exhibiting rare talent. Zino (Neelo) is Pehlwaan’s shapely assistant who handles the supply of smuggled goods and keeps an eye on the fresh collection of flesh (girls). She advises Pindi Wal, “Life is to enjveye, naat to be bore!” - A woman of unsound ‘moral’ grounding!

Pehlwaan turns out to be a mercenary character, who even sells the services of his devoted assistant to the highest bidder, resulting in Neelo fleeing the club with Pindi Wal. The fugitive couple seeks refuge in kindly Bahar’s house, where Pindi Wal realises she is his longlost mother and the cop tailing him like a madman is his younger brother.

Meanwhile, Mustafa Qureshi is desperate to crack Pehlwaan’s underworld racket. He even agrees to send his daughter on a hugely dangerous undercover assignment to infiltrate the New Star Club as a dancer.

Will Pindi Wal be able to clear his name with the law and prove his framing by the cops as a young tot and reunite with his family? Will he continue to be a fugitive not only from the police but also from the goons he is trying to expose? All are soon tantalisingly revealed as the plot unfolds.

Sultan Rahi plays the title role with conviction, and the supporting cast is also in top form. Neelo provides a classy club dance or two fluttering her enormous eyelids and wiggling her curvaceous bum to perfection. Bahar did well in her brief appearance, but Mustafa Qureshi deserved a meatier role than the earnest DSP.

There is a mouthwatering bevy of expert club-dancing babes, led by the saucy Perveen Boby and Queen of Hearts, Anita, followed by the highly talented Naureen, Mizla and the stunning Mussarat Shaheen. As if that wasn’t enough, the breathtaking Kadh le girl raises the roof with her deliciously sleazy dance number. Then, there is the twominute “tota” containing a slice of smut with much jiggling flesh, a male bum bobbing up and down into the camera, and a nude woman having a wash and powdering her privates in full view. The film producers must not have had too much confidence in the marketability of their product, considering they felt the need to include the seedy “tota” to get ticket buyers interested.

Though most of the film is a sorry mess regarding continuity and plot, it has its plus points. There is a fabulous background score, reminiscent of Faster Pussycat Kill Kill, and the club dances are wonderfully crude and vulgar.

The film also contains some expert editing which lends the film strange, psychotic energy. The songs are almost all brilliant. Nahid Akhter’s toe-tapping Kadh Le is probably the best, but Mala’s Golden Night and Four Twenty and a sultry duet with Ahmed Rushdie are all vying for top honours. In Aankhon Mein by Mala and Ahmed Rushdie is so interestingly composed and unconventional that it could be mistaken for an O.P Nayyar (of Bollywood) composition.

Ultimately, Pindi Wal is an indispensable slice of expertly executed Lollywood sleaze, and it remains the perfect example of the sub-genre known as the “Saxy Type” movie. The film will also remain

Pindi Wal memorable for the delectably tasteless tota that pops out of the blue— no Pun Intended.

Pindi Wal ranks as one of the most infamous films from Lollywood and a promising start to director Zahoor Hussain’s career. Sadly, though mentioned in the cast, Lollywood’s premiere siren, Chakori, fails to materialize. It could well be that the censors chopped off her part, as was frequent when things got a little too spicy for the Anita Bryant brigade of moral guardians.