Anand: In an Era of Fewer Connections, We Were More Connected

Weekends are usually the time when I try to catch up on movies or web series on OTT platforms. While browsing, I generally look for something new. After all, I don't want to miss out on office conversations when a new movie or web series becomes the topic of discussion.

Last weekend, however, while browsing through different OTT platforms, nothing really caught my interest. I eventually gave up and left the search to my son, Shourya.

When I returned to the hall, Shourya was watching Anand.

Unlike me, Shourya sometimes watches movies from the 1970s, and that brings back a lot of nostalgia for me. Perhaps one reason he watches movies from that era is my karaoke singing. Most of the songs I sing are from the 1970s, and if anyone happens to be in the room, unfortunately, they have no option but to tolerate my torture!

Shourya, being a modern commerce student who enjoys data and analysis, also likes to fact-check the claims I make about my favourite actor. And, of course, I am a huge Amitabh Bachchan fan. He keeps checking whether all my claims about the legendary actor are actually true.

Whatever the verdict of his research, one thing remains unchanged: Amitabh Bachchan continues to be my favourite actor, irrespective of the role he plays.

Anand: A Story About Life, But Also About People

Anand, released in 1971, was co-written and directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee. It stars Rajesh Khanna as Anand and Amitabh Bachchan as Dr. Bhaskar Banerjee.

The story is simple but profound.

Anand has been diagnosed with terminal intestinal cancer and has been given only a few months to live. Instead of spending his remaining days feeling sorry for himself, he chooses to live fully and spread happiness around him.

He comes into the life of Dr. Bhaskar Banerjee, a doctor who has become cynical because he sees suffering and death every day. Anand slowly changes him.

What begins as a doctor-patient relationship develops into a deep friendship. Anand touches the lives of people around him, not because he is trying to achieve something, gain visibility or build a network, but simply because that is who he is.

And perhaps that is what stayed with me after watching the movie.

It made me think not only about life and death, but about how we connect with people.

When We Had Fewer Ways to Connect

The world in which Anand was made was very different from ours.

There were no mobile phones, WhatsApp, Instagram, LinkedIn, email or social media. Even a landline telephone was not something every household had.

Writing a letter took time. Meeting someone meant physically going to their home or workplace. Communication was slow and sometimes inconvenient.

Yet, strangely, perhaps because connecting with someone required effort, the connection itself carried more meaning.

I remember those days when landlines were not common. We would simply visit friends or relatives without informing them in advance.

And something beautiful happened.

The person who arrived was happy to meet us.

The person whose house we had entered was equally happy to see us.

There was no calendar invitation to accept. No WhatsApp message asking, "Are you coming?" No concern that our unexpected visit might disrupt someone's carefully planned schedule.

Today, arriving at someone's house without notice may not be seen as a pleasant surprise. It may be seen as an intrusion.

We have gained convenience, but somewhere along the way, have we lost spontaneity?

“Zindagi Badi Honi Chahiye, Lambi Nahi”

One of the things that struck me most in Anand is the way Anand responds to his own mortality.

Dr. Bhaskar is disturbed because medical science cannot save Anand. He initially believes that Anand perhaps doesn't fully understand the seriousness of his illness.

But Anand knows exactly what is happening.

He knows that his life is numbered.

And yet, he chooses to live.

His philosophy is captured beautifully in the famous dialogue:

“Babumoshai, zindagi badi honi chahiye, lambi nahi.”

Life should be meaningful, not merely long.

Another dialogue captures his fearless attitude towards death:

“Maut ke dar se agar zinda rehna chhod diya, toh maut kise kehte hain, kyun dost?”

And perhaps the most powerful expression of his attitude:

“Jab tak zinda hoon tab tak mara nahi, jab mar gaya saala main hi nahi, toh dar kis baat ka?”

There is optimism in Anand, but there is also something deeper.

His positivity does not mean that he does not feel sadness.

Behind Every Smile, There May Be a Story

There is a moment when Dr. Bhaskar notices Anand's sadness.

Anand does not deny that sadness exists. He simply doesn't allow it to define him.

He says:

“Udaasi khoobsurat nahi hoti hai Babumoshai? Toh kya har hansi ke peeche sirf khushi rehti hai, Babumoshai?”

That dialogue stayed with me.

We often mistake someone's smile for happiness.

Perhaps Anand teaches us that positivity is not the absence of sadness. It is the ability to acknowledge sadness without allowing it to take away the value of the present.

Accepting What We Cannot Control

Another dialogue from the movie carries an entirely different kind of wisdom:

“Zindagi aur maut upar wale ke haath hai jahanpannah, usse na aap badal sakte hain aur na main. Hum sab rangmanch ki kathputliyan hain, jinki dor upar wale ki ungliyon mein bandhi hai. Kab, kaun, kaise uthega, koi nahi bata sakta.”

There are things in life that are simply beyond our control.

We spend enormous amounts of time worrying about tomorrow, imagining problems that may never happen and allowing the fear of a future event to spoil the happiness of today.

Anand puts it differently when Dr. Bhaskar becomes emotionally attached to him and begins to worry about losing him:

“Babumoshai, hamari mushkil maloom hai kya hai? Hum aane wale gham ko kheench-taan ke aaj ki khushi pe le aate hain aur us khushi mein zeher ghol dete hain.”

How true that is.

How often do we take tomorrow's sadness and bring it into today's happiness?

“Maut Tu Ek Kavita Hai”

One of the most beautiful moments in the film is when Dr. Bhaskar recites the poem Maut Tu Ek Kavita Hai at Anand's insistence.

“Maut tu ek kavita hai
Mujhse ek kavita ka vaada hai, milegi mujhko…”

The poem is not really about death alone.

It is about accepting the inevitable with dignity and finding meaning even at the edge of life.

That is what makes Anand different.

The movie doesn't need spectacle to make an impact. It uses conversations, silences, relationships, poetry and human emotions.

Would Anand Fit Into Today's World?

This is where the movie made me think beyond the story.

Imagine Anand in today's world.

An extrovert who suddenly arrives at someone's home, starts living with him, befriends strangers and interferes in someone's personal life — without WhatsApping first, without sending a calendar invite and without waiting for permission!

Today, we might call him mannerless.

We might say he doesn't understand personal boundaries.

We might even tell him that he needs to respect people's schedules.

And perhaps we would be right.

But something would also be missing.

His spontaneity.

His willingness to connect without an agenda.

His ability to enter someone's life without first asking, “What do I get out of this?”

We Are More Connected Than Ever, But Are We More Connected?

This is perhaps what Anand made me reflect upon.

The era in which the movie was made had very few ways of connecting with people.

Today, we have almost unlimited ways.

We can call someone instantly.

We can send a message across the world in seconds.

We can video call.

We can follow hundreds or thousands of people.

We can connect professionally through LinkedIn, socially through Instagram and personally through WhatsApp.

We are probably living in the most connected period in human history.

But are we necessarily more connected as human beings?

That is the question.

Earlier, if someone wrote you a letter, they had invested time in you.

If someone travelled across town to meet you, they had made an effort.

If someone visited you, perhaps they came simply because they wanted to see you.

Today, a connection can sometimes be reduced to a like, a comment, a forward, a networking request or a message sent with an expectation attached to it.

We sometimes connect not because we genuinely want to connect, but because the connection may provide visibility, information, influence, business or some other benefit.

The number of connections has increased.

But has the depth of connection increased proportionately?

From Community to “Me First”

Perhaps the bigger change is not technology itself.

Technology is only a tool.

The real change may be within us.

Somewhere along the way, our approach has increasingly moved from “we” to “me.”

What works for me?

What benefits me?

What is my advantage?

What do I get from this relationship?

What is my visibility?

What is my next opportunity?

Of course, this doesn't mean that everyone today is selfish or that everything about the past was better. There are wonderful people, meaningful relationships and genuinely good movies being made even today.

But perhaps the environment around us has encouraged us to become more individualistic.

We have become extremely efficient at communicating.

But perhaps we need to remind ourselves how to connect.

Have I Also Failed to Move With the Times?

And then comes the uncomfortable question, am I any different?

Probably not.

I have adapted to technology. I use smartphones, OTT platforms, WhatsApp and all the conveniences that today's world offers.

But perhaps, apart from adapting to new technology, I haven't really moved with the times in the way I thought I had.

Or perhaps the truth is somewhere in between.

While technology has changed the way I communicate, I may also have slowly adopted the “me first” approach that has become so normal around us.

Watching Anand made me realise that perhaps moving with the times should not only mean learning to use new technology.

It should also mean learning to preserve what was good about the old times while embracing what is good about the new.

We don't have to give up technology.

We don't have to stop using WhatsApp, LinkedIn or social media.

But perhaps we can bring back a little of Anand into our lives.

A little more spontaneity.

A little more empathy.

A little more genuine friendship.

A little less calculation.

And perhaps, most importantly, a little more “we” and a little less “me.”

After all, we may have more ways than ever to reach each other.

But the real question is:

Are we still reaching each other's hearts?