Fatma Begum

As India’s first known female director and producer, Fatma Begum’s career was a bold challenge to the prevailing norms of her time, making her one of the most groundbreaking figures in Indian cinema. During her impactful career, which spanned from 1922 to 1937, she also worked as a film actress and screenwriter and owned her own production company called Fatma Film Company, later renamed Victoria Fatma Film Company. As a Muslim woman, her contributions to early Indian cinema also challenge dominant historiographical narratives that have traditionally focused on Hindu mythological and devotional films made primarily by upper caste Hindu males. Having been involved in over twenty films during the silent era, none of which are considered extant today, Begum thus stands as a significant yet spectral figure in the history of Indian cinema.

Limited information is available about Begum’s life prior to her entry into the film industry. Even the information available about her life after she began making films remains sparse. Like many other records regarding the early decades of Indian cinema, particularly concerning the work of women, little has been preserved. Although she was quite prolific during the fifteen years she worked in the industry, no personal written records about her entrance into the field and ensuing career are known to exist, even though she was English-educated and one of the few literate women of her time (only 2.9% of women knew how to read and write according to the 1921 Census of India) (Sawhney, “Fatma Begum” 21). Moreover, as with many early film industries worldwide, India has suffered significant material loss, particularly of film prints from the silent era, leaving behind a fragmented narrative of early Indian cinema and almost no textual or visual access to Begum’s contributions.

However, one can catch fleeting glimpses of Begum in biographies, newspapers, published film credits, and some historical records. For instance, we know that, in 1906, Ibrahim Mohammed Yakub Khan III Bahadur, the Nawab of Sachin (a princely state located in what is now the state of Gujarat), entered into matrimony with a woman named Fatima Sultana Jahan Begum Sahib (Sawhney, “Fatma Begum” 23). Wed at the age of fourteen, Begum was the first of three wives the prince would take, and bore him three daughters: Zubeida, Sultana, and Shehzadi (Kamare 1), all of whom later ventured into the film industry. However, the family records also state that Begum died in 1913, approximately ten years before her film career began. Film scholar Rashmi Sawhney suggests that it is “entirely imaginable that it may have been more convenient for Fatma to have been declared dead rather than for the [affluent and influential] Nawab’s family to face the public shame of having one of their clan join the film industry” (“Fatma Begum” 23). Indeed, during the early years of Indian cinema, the film industry was not seen as a place for respectable Hindu ladies. Many of the women who joined the industry, primarily as actors, were Muslims, Anglo-Indian, Jews, and Christians, who were regarded as “other” due to their religious and/or mixed ethnic background and already outside of the margins of the hegemonic cultural sphere. Several of them transitioned to screen acting from different performance backgrounds, including the theater, which was also looked down upon (Ganti 124; Majumdar 68).

In her exploration of Begum’s life, Sawhney proposes that, in the absence of definite evidence regarding her mysterious “death,” the year 1913 can be considered the reference point of Begum’s migration to Bombay and the start of her professional career (or at least her departure from Sachin). The year 1913 is already significant in the traditional narrative of Indian cinema history: that year, Dadasaheb Phalke, considered to be the “father” of Indian cinema, made Raja Harishchandra, the country’s first feature-length film. Since both Phalke and Begum left the industry in 1937-1938, Sawhney suggests that we see this twenty-five-year period (1913-1938) in early Indian cinema as one in which both its “mother” (Begum) and “father” (Phalke) made significant contributions to the cinematic landscape (“Fatma Begum” 24). Sawhney’s intervention is supported by the fact that in later press articles about her daughters—especially Sultana and Zubeida who became major film stars—their mother is often mentioned in relation to their careers (their father is notoriously absent). This further challenges the narrative that Begum died in 1913.

While Begum may have left her husband around 1913, it appears that she did not immediately go into the cinema, however. She reportedly started her professional career on the Urdu stage before becoming a film actress (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 95). Her first known film credit comes in 1922 when, at the age of thirty, she appeared in Manilal Joshi’s Veer Abhimanyu (1922), which was based on an episode from the Indian epic The Mahabharata. The epic narrates the events and aftermath of the Kurukshetra War between two groups of princely cousins, the Kauravas and the Pandavas (Narayan). The film itself covered only a portion of this epic, focusing on the story of Abhimanyu, a Pandava, who learns of the Kauravas’ Chakravyuh formation while still in the womb of his mother, Subhadra (played by Begum) (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 245). Promotion for the film in The Bombay Chronicle described its big budget, emphasizing the “expense of more than 100,000 rupees. More than 5,000 people have taken part in the production of this film” (qtd. in Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 245). Veer Abhimanyu was produced by Ardeshir Irani with whom Begum would collaborate for several years. 

In Veer Abhimanyu, Begum shared the screen with her eldest daughter Sultana. This collaboration set the stage for a unique familial contribution to Indian cinema, as all three of Begum’s daughters—Sultana, Shehazadi, and Zubeida—entered the industry as actresses alongside their mother. Their collaborative efforts spanned multiple films, with Begum not only acting alongside her daughters, but also directing and producing films featuring them. And after her appearance in India’s first sound film, Alam Ara (Ardeshir Irani, 1931), Zubeida would go on to become the first female Indian superstar of the sound period and one of the highest-paid actresses of her time, extending her family’s legacy into the next era. Film families are a common phenomenon in Hindi cinema, especially in the sound era. For example, there are the Kapoors, the Bachchans, the Roshans, and the Akhtars, to name a few. Certain dynasties hold significant influence both onscreen and behind the scenes, such as the Kapoor family. Often heralded as one of India’s first film families, the Kapoor family spans Prithviraj Kapoor in the 1930s, Raj Kapoor in the 1950s, Rishi Kapoor in the 1970s and 1980s, and now Ranbir Kapoor. Yet the all-female film family “the Begums” not only predate the Kapoor family; they also serve as a necessary challenge to this dominant patrilinear narrative where each male star begets the next generation’s hero. 

After Veer Abhimanyu, Begum appeared in Kajibhai Rathod’s Gul-e-Bakavali (1924) (which was also Zubeida’s first film). Gul-e-Bakavali, or The Flower of Bakavali, was a fantasy film that premiered in Bombay two months before the US release of Raoul Walsh’s fantasy-adventure The Thief of Bagdad starring Douglas Fairbanks. Gul-e-Bakavali and the Fairbanks-led film, which was shown in India from 1925 onward, emerged as two of the earliest blockbusters in Indian film history (Bhaumik 177). As film scholar Kaushik Bhaumik remarks, “the twin success of the films, one locally produced, the other imported, arguably alerted producers, directors and writers as to what clicked at the Indian box offices” (177). One could speculate, then, that this might be, at least in part, the reason why Fatma chose the fantasy genre for her directorial debut Bulbul-e-Paristan (1926).

However, before venturing into directing and producing, Begum acted in several more films after Gul-e-Bakavali. Kala Naag (Kanjibhai Rathod, 1924), also known as Black Snake or The Triumph of Justice, was a thriller inspired by the Champsi-Haridas murder case, with clear allusions to the scandals in Bombay during that period (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 245). Unfortunately, Begum’s role in this film remains unknown today. Later that year, in the historical fiction film Prithvi Vallabh (Manilal Joshi, 1924), she portrayed Minalvati, the sister of a man named Tailap. Tailap captures King Munja and orders his execution. But, during his captivity, Minalvati falls in love with Munja. In the climactic sequence, Tailap orders Munja to be trampled by elephants upon discovering his escape with Minalvati (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 245). 

Prithvi Vallabh was later remade in 1943 by Sohrab Modi. While the poster for the remake features actress Durga Khote (who played Minalvati), this image of Khote has been mistakenly attributed online to Begum. This is not the only instance when an image of another actress has been incorrectly labeled as a picture of Begum. For instance, the website for the Golden Globes, Feminism in India, and Homegrown all mistakenly use a photo of Anglo-Indian actress Patience Cooper instead of a picture of Begum in their profiles. Similarly, other online articles about Begum include images of her daughter Zubeida. These images are sometimes properly identified, but other times they are not. All these incorrectly labeled images have risen to the top of search engine results, and thus the misattribution keeps getting replicated. This points to a new challenge for media historians not only looking for sources but also contending with misinformation online.

B.D. Garga’s book Silent Cinema in India: A Pictorial Journey does include an actual photograph of Begum that corresponds to other images available online. Unfortunately, Garga does not include a source for the photograph or explain anything else about its origins other than captioning it “Fatima Begum. India’s first woman director” (Garga 118). Wikimedia Commons claims the image is likely from Mumbai ni Mohini  (also known as Social Pirates or The Night Side of Bombay) from 1925, but I have not yet found a second source confirming this. 

After Prithvi Vallabh, Begum also starred in Sati Sardarba (Nanubhai Desai, 1924) alongside her daughters. Although her role is unspecified, her daughter Zubeida is credited as the titular character, Sardarba, who faces moral dilemmas after being gambled away by her alcoholic brother (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 247). In Mumbai ni Mohini, directed by Nanubhai Desai,  Begum likely played the lead role of Mohini, embroiled in betrayal and deceit as she and her lover plot against her husband, only to meet a tragic end (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 248). Additionally, Begum appeared alongside Zubeida in Manilal Joshi’s costume drama Devadasi or The Bride of God (1925), although specific details about the plot remain uncertain today. On February 13, 1925, The Bombay Chronicle advertised it as a “love and intrigue romance” (“Devdasi”). Begum also acted in Naharsinh Daku (B.P. Mishra, 1925), Gaud Bangal (K.P. Bhave, 1925), and Indrajal (B.P. Mishra, 1926), but secondary sources do not specify the roles she played nor the plots of these films. Of Indrajal, we only know that it was a costume drama made under the banner of Royal Art Studio (“Indrajal”).

Begum may have also appeared in Khubsurat Bala (Kanjibhai Rathod, 1926) and Panna Ratna (Harshadrai Mehta, 1926). Although film historians Ashish Rajadhyaksha and Paul Willemen include both films in Begum’s filmography, there is still some uncertainty. For Khubsurat Bala, scholar Suresh Chabria credits a “Fatma Jr.,” and the Indian Cinema Heritage Foundation’s online platform, Cinemaazi, lists a “Fayma” (Chabria 191; “Khubsurat Bala”). For Panna Ratna, both Chabria and Cinemaazi mention a “Miss Fayma” (Chabria 191; “Panna Ratna”). I have not found conclusive evidence to determine whether the actress in question was indeed Fatma Begum or someone with a similar name. Given the multiple approaches to transliteration, such variations in spelling were not uncommon, such as, for instance, writing Jubeida instead of Zubeida. Further research is needed to arrive at a more definitive conclusion about these two films. 

In 1926, Begum made her directorial debut with Bulbul-e-Paristan, or The Nightingale of Fantasyland, which is considered to be the first Indian feature-length film directed by a woman. Sadly, little is known about its production. According to Rajadhyaksha and Willemen’s Encyclopedia of Indian Cinema, Begum served as the writer, director, and producer of the film, which was reportedly a big-budget endeavor (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 249). An advertisement for the film in The Bombay Chronicle on June 26, 1926, underscored its “beautiful and up-to-date stage dance” (“Bulbul-e-parastan”). The advertisement also highlighted the performances of Begum (credited as Miss Fatma in top billing) alongside those of her daughters Zubeida and Shehazadi, and actresses Madame Toska and Blanche Verne. Credit lists in secondary sources also mention Putli, Madanrai Vakil, and Athavale as part of the cast while the cinematography is attributed to Rustom and Ardeshir Irani, who potentially contributed to the film’s trick photography (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 249). While we know it was a fantasy film, there is no surviving reference to the film’s plot; rather, the extant promotional materials emphasize the film’s visual appeal, accentuating the sets and the dance. 

An article in The Bombay Chronicle indicates that Bulbul-e-Parastan premiered on June 26 and screened at the Krishna Cinema, formerly Dubash Theatre, on New Charni Road, in Bombay. It enjoyed a one-week theatrical run there before being succeeded by Sharda Production’s For Country’s Sake (1926) directed by Harihar Diwana (“Bulbul-e-parastan” [July 2, 1926]). Although the critical reception of Bulbul-e-Parastan remains unrecorded, its brief engagement, notably shorter than other contemporaneous films advertised for two or three weeks, suggests that it might have had limited success. However, a Times of India article published almost a year later, on May 14, 1927, reports on a one-week screening of the film at the Gaiety Theatre and describes it as “the well known drama Bulbul-e-Parastan” (“Bombay Amusements”). This suggests that while the film may not have been a commercial success it still had enough cultural impact or recognition to warrant a one-week screening one year after its initial release. 

Bulbul-e-Parastan marked the beginning of prolonged legal and financial difficulties for Begum and her film company. Less than ten days after the film ended its initial run at the Krishna Cinema, a court case between Begum and her three daughters (the plaintiffs) and A. Hussain of Royal Art Studio (the defendant) was reported (“News From the Courts”). According to the press, Hussain initially agreed to manufacture Bulbul-e-Parastan for Rs 9,000, with Sultana paying him Rs 4,000 upfront and promising the remaining Rs 5,000 at the end. Upon completion, Hussain demanded an additional Rs 5,000, citing a disputed debt from a prior project. Although this earlier amount had ostensibly been settled, he used a promissory note to pressure Begum’s family into deducting the new amount from their share of Bulbul-e-Parastan’s earnings, threatening to withhold the print despite its scheduled exhibition at Krishna Cinema. Begum and her daughters claimed they accepted these new terms under coercion and duress to avoid delays, while Hussain insisted the agreement was voluntary. The court denied the women’s motion to appoint a receiver (since by the time the case came to court they already had the film), invalidated the contested agreement, and ordered Begum and her daughters to pay legal costs, though the broader dispute appears to have remained unresolved. I have found no other records of this incident after this period, but this case previewed the legal and financial challenges Begum would continue to face in the following years, including repeated difficulties in securing payments for her films and accumulating substantial debts to various creditors.

After Bulbul-e-Paristan, Begum’s production company (as Victoria Fatma Film Company from 1928 onward) oversaw the creation of several films: Chandravali (1928); Heer Ranjha (1928); Kanakatara (1929); Milan Dinar (1929); Naseeb ni Devi (1929); Shahi Chor (1929); and Shakuntala (1929). Begum directed all of them except for Shahi Chor, or Wonderful Prince, a costume drama directed by the actor Janibabu for which she served as the screenwriter (Chabria 153). Begum appeared in every film produced by her company (and continued to act in films for other studios during this time).

Chandravali, which literally translates to The Moon One in English, is also known by its alternate titles Taje Neki and Crown of Virtue. It was a costume drama in which Sultana and Shehazadi appeared (Chabria 213). Available secondary sources offer no additional insight into the plot. Heer Ranjha was based on the seventeenth-century Punjabi folktale of the same name first written by Damodar Gulati. In this tragic tale, two star-crossed lovers, Heer and Ranjha, are forced apart due to circumstances beyond their control and ultimately meet a tragic end. Like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Heer-Ranjha has inspired countless adaptations. Begum’s version is likely the first feature-length adaptation of the tale, though it was not the only one produced around that time. A contemporaneous version of Heer Ranjha was made by Rama Shankar Choudhury, but it was released in 1929, a year after Begum’s version (Chabria 215, 232).

Chabria lists the next film Begum directed, Kanakatara, as a costume drama, but its plot remains unknown (234). Two subsequent films bearing the same title were released in Telugu: one in 1937, directed by H.V. Babu, and another in 1956, directed by Rajanikanth. Babu was a Telugu director known for his mythological films and, according to IMDb, Kanakatara is an adaptation of poet Chandala Kesava Das’s stage play of the same name, which tells the story of the Hindu god Krishna. It is possible that Begum’s film was also an adaptation of the Krishna story, but this connection raises some questions, since films about Hindu gods were typically classified as mythologicals, not costume dramas. Consulted secondary sources also mention that Begum’s three daughters acted in the film, but do not offer any further clarification on the plot or its connection to the play or the other homonymous films (Chabria 145; “Kanak Tara”; Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 241). The confusion surrounding the genre and plot of Kanaktara calls for further research. 

Following this film, Begum directed Milan Dinar, also known as Prem ni Kasoti, or Curse of Love, and Naseeb ni Devi, whose English title is Goddess of Luck. I have so far been unable to find plot descriptions for these two films. However, it is noted that Begum’s daughters played roles in both (Chabria 148; “Milan Dinar”; “Goddess of Luck”; Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 241). 

The last film that Begum directed, Shakuntala, was likely based on the ancient Sanskrit play “Abhijnanashakuntalam” (“The Recognition of Shakuntala”) by the ancient poet Kālidasa. The story follows the love between Shakuntala, the daughter of a hermit, and King Dushyanta. After a secret marriage, Dushyanta leaves, promising to return. But Shakuntala is cursed by a sage, causing Dushyanta to forget about her. The plot resolves when Dushyanta recovers a ring he gave Shakuntala and, with divine intervention, they are reunited. Their son, Bharata, is born, and his future as an ancestor of the Kuru dynasty plays an important role in The Mahabharata (Kālidasa).

It is unfortunate that all of the films that Begum directed, produced, and wrote are presumed lost today. As with the challenge of finding plot information for them, I have not yet been able to find newspaper mentions for them, save for Bulbul-e-Paristan. This has made it impossible to speak to their reception and circulation. 

Although 1929 was a very productive year for Begum and her film company, it was around this time that more financial and legal issues began to surface in the media in full force. Between 1929 and 1934, The Times of India extensively reported on alleged document forgery, financial disputes, breaches of trust, and collusion involving Begum and her company. Our ability to better understand Begum’s career during the first half of the 1930s is indebted to Sawhney’s meticulous archival research, which relied on The Times of India archive to shed light on the financial turmoil, legal entanglements, and property disputes surrounding Begum and her production company (“Fatma Begum”).  Two major cases stand out. The first involved Reliance Film Distributors suing Begum over an advance payment made to produce three films. Both sides accused the other of breaching the agreement, leading to allegations of cheating and the matter being taken to court. The second centered on an alleged forged mortgage deed, designed to thwart the claims of creditors who sought to attach Begum’s Bandra film studio for unpaid debts.

Certain discrepancies complicate our understanding of the case between Begum and Reliance Film Distributors. But the basic through-line is that Begum and Reliance came to an agreement for the making of three films and an advance of Rs 25,000 was given to her. The conflict revolved around alleged breaches of contract, specifically over money owed and who had rightful claim to the negative film prints (“Cinema Film Distributors”). However, the reporting does not make the exact details of the dispute entirely clear, starting from the titles of the films in question. Articles from September 4, 1931, and February 26, 1932, identify these films as The Goddess of Love, Shakuntala, and Romeo and Juliet (“Fatma Begum Case: Money Advanced For Film Production”; “Cinema Film Distributors”). But on September 26, 1934, the Times of India reported that the promised films were The Goddess of Luck, Shakuntala, and Romeo and Juliet (“Cinema Film Distributors”).  This court case is the only time that the film title The Goddess of Love is directly linked to Begum. (Indiancine.ma, which lists the release year as 1927, is the only secondary source to include it in its compiled filmography.) So, it may be that The Goddess of Love became The Goddess of Luck (or that this was a typographical error). Romeo and Juliet, which is not included in other filmographies, could have been reworked as Heer Ranjha, given its similarities to Shakespeare’s story, or even Milan Dinar, whose plot remains unknown. Shakuntala is listed in several Begum filmographies. Thus, it is reasonable to assume that the three films in Begum’s agreement with Reliance were indeed completed and released by 1929, even though the reporting is unclear about which titles were actually completed. 

Amidst the legal back and forth between Begum and Reliance regarding the delivery, completion, and ownership of the three films, The Times of India reported on a new related complication in the matter. According to “Fatma Begum Case: Adventures Of A Film Printing Machine,” it was agreed that during this arbitration a film printing machine acquired by Begum and her company from Krishna Film Company was supposed to be kept at her Bandra studio. However, Reliance Film Distributors learned that the machine was no longer at the studio, and the police became involved. The machine was eventually found in the possession of Begum’s daughter Sultana, and some machine parts were missing. This incident, reported alongside the film custody dispute, suggests that Reliance may have viewed the machine as either collateral or a company asset subject to the arbitration process. It also highlights Sultana’s close involvement in the management, or possible dubious dealings, of her mother’s company.

By the end of their dispute, “the plaintiffs [Reliance Film Distributors] agreed to pay to the defendant Rs 1,500 and to her attorneys Rs 1,100. The defendant agreed to transfer to the plaintiffs all her right[s], title, and interest in the three films” (“Cinema Film Distributors”).  Thus, while Begum received some financial compensation, she ultimately lost the rights to the three films under dispute.

The second significant legal battle that Begum found herself embroiled in between 1930 and 1934 was around an alleged forged mortgage deed. The forgery charge centered on a mortgage deed dated from May 17, 1929, which claimed that Begum had transferred her Bandra studio to her daughter Sultana. This document would have legally placed the studio outside Fatma’s ownership, preventing it from being seized by the law firm Messrs. Samant and Co., who had taken Begum to court for unpaid services.  

Messrs. Samant and Co. had represented Fatma during the late 1920s in numerous other legal battles and had racked up a sizable unpaid bill for their services. In order to recover their unpaid fees, sometime prior to March 1930, they filed a court application to seize Begum’s Bandra studio as payment. On March 26, 1930, the High Court ruled in favor of Messrs. Samant and Co. and the studio was to be seized by the end of that month (“Fatma Begum Case: Film Star On Charge Of Forgery”). However, on March 30, 1930, Sultana’s attorney sent a letter to Messrs. Samant and Co. stating that on May 17, 1929, Fatma had pledged the Bandra studio to their client in exchange of a sum of Rs 12,000 (“Fatma Begum Case: Sessions Trial”). As a result of this letter, Begum, Sultana, and several others were charged with forging the mortgage deed (“Alleged Forgery and Fabrication”).

To further complicate matters, on April 3, 1930, Sultana also filed a case against her mother in the Bombay High Court to recover the amount owed under the alleged mortgage deed (“Fatma Begum Case Sessions Trial”). It is probable that Sultana’s lawsuit was designed to strengthen Fatma’s claim that the studio was no longer hers, preventing it from being seized by Messrs. Samant and Co. This again suggests a collaboration between Begum and Sultana to keep the family business, albeit through dubious means.

Additional evidence supports this. For example, on October 16, 1931, The Times of India reported that in the 1930 High Court suit filed by Sultana against Begum regarding the mortgage deed, Sultana referred to Begum as her mother. Begum, before the complications with her creditors arose, had also previously acknowledged Sultana as her daughter. However, once they realized that admitting this relationship would create difficulties regarding the mortgage deed, they began to deny their familial connection (“Fatma Begum Case: Accused Calls Herself Jagirdar In Statement”). In a similarly crafty move, Fatma’s English literacy, or, in this case, lack thereof, was used as a counterargument to claim she could not have understood the documents she had signed giving Messrs. Samant & Co. the rights to her Bandra studio as collateral to cover what she owed them (“Attachment of Film Studio”). On October 16, 1931, The Times of India reported that in letters submitted to Messrs. Samant and Co., Fatma claimed she did not know English. However, Mr. Atahaide, a Special Police Prosecutor, found that these statements were baseless and had been fabricated merely to support her narrative that she did not understand her actions in court (“Fatma Begum Case: Accused Calls Herself Jagirdar In Statement”).

The final judgement in the case between Begum and Messrs. Samant and Co. sentenced Fatma and Sultana (along with K.V. Acharya, formerly Secretary of Mysore Pictures Corp. Ltd.) to one day imprisonment and a fine of Rs 500 each on the charges of perjury for swearing false affidavits in the High Court (“One Day’s Simple Imprisonment”). However, on the charge of forgery, the judge found all four accused—Fatma, Sultana, Acharya, and a fourth man, Syed Zaimul Abedin Syed Vaheuddin—not guilty (“One Day’s Simple Imprisonment”). The court ruled that while the mortgage deed was indeed fabricated, the prosecution had failed to prove that it had been intentionally forged by the accused, or that it had been created within the crucial window between March 26 and April 1, 1930. Without proof of who created it and when, a conviction for forgery could not stand. Begum and Sultana’s counsel, Mr. M. K. Azad, asked for leniency taking in consideration Sultana’s age (when all the legal embroils started in 1929, Sultana would have been nineteen years old). Begum and Sultana served their sentence in a room in the court building until the opening of the court the next day. And, after paying their Rs 500 fines, they left the court in their Rolls-Royce, according to the newspaper (“One Day’s Simple Imprisonment”).

What stands out about this court case is how it was reported, especially compared to incidents around other women in the spotlight at the time. It was not presented as a “woman’s scandal” concerning virtue and love affairs. It was not like other legal cases involving actresses such as Gulab, Ermeline, Sita Devi, and even Sultana herself (Garga 98). These cases revolved around unwanted advances, marriages, and their respectability and were covered as scandals. This supports the view of the early Indian film industry as “an unsavory place, especially for women” (Ganti 123), a label that would linger for decades and one the industry has yet to fully shed. But it also shows how women’s affairs were reported in the media. However, the sustained media coverage of Begum’s case—often reported on almost weekly, sometimes daily—shows not only the media’s fascination with the story but also hints that Begum’s situation was distinct from her fellow actors. Her case was about money. This was a far more pragmatic, business-oriented issue. It suggests that Begum was seen as an entrepreneur first and foremost, someone navigating the harsh realities of the film business, rather than being constrained by the traditional social conventions of feminine virtue.

It is worth reiterating that we know more about Begum in relation to her legal troubles and financial issues in the late 1920s and early 1930s than we do about the films she directed and produced. While we do not know the plot of, say, Milan Dinar, or its reception, we  know that she owed money to many people over the course of her career, including actors. For example, during this alleged forged mortgage deed case, a Mr. N.A. Sherwani (reportedly the Manager of Victoria Fatma Film Company and, in some sources, introduced as Begum’s second husband [e.g., Sawhney, “Fatma Begum,” 26]) described an incident in which actor Chota Sahib, wanting the money that was owed to him, jumped on the footboard of Sherwani’s moving car until it was stopped by one of Sahib’s companions (“Fatma Begum Case: Alleged Hold-Up of Car to Get Dues”).

After enduring these prolonged legal embroils, Begum continued her career as an actor during the sound era in other people’s films but she was much less visible than before. In 1934, she appeared in Nanubhai Vakil’s Seva Sadan, based on Premchand’s Hindustani 1919 novel of the same name. The novel was first published in Urdu under the title Bazaar-e-Husn (The Market of Beauty) and then in Hindi as Seva Sadan (The House of Service). The story follows an unhappy housewife who is lured away from her domestic life and becomes a courtesan. Later, she reforms and atones for her past by managing an orphanage for the young daughters of courtesans. Vakil’s 1934 adaptation was the first film adaptation of Premchand’s story. Begum’s last appearance on screen was in G. P. Pawar’s 1937 film Duniya Kya Hai (What is Life?), an adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s 1899 novel Resurrection. Her date of death remains unknown today. Although many online sources, including  Wikipedia, list it as 1983 (making her ninety-one years old), I have, so far, not found any primary evidence to corroborate this. 

As a Muslim woman directing and producing films in a variety of genres, Begum’s career challenges the established patriarchal and nationalistic account of Indian film history, which has traditionally focused on the noble endeavors of upper-caste Hindu men such as D.G. Phalke and V. Shantaram (Thomas 9; Sawhney, “Fatma Begum” 7). Begum’s legacy as India’s first female film director, an active (and scrutinized) producer, and the matriarch of an all-female film family serves as a powerful counterpoint to the conventional historical record, underscoring the necessity of reassessing India’s cinematic heritage in a more nuanced way. Begum’s work across genres like thrillers, costume dramas, and fantasy films also reconfirms the diversity of early Indian cinema production and, in the words of film historian Rosie Thomas, its “interconnectedness with world cinema and culture, not its exotic difference” (9). This perspective on Indian film history is all the more critical today, particularly in the context of rising right-wing Hindu nationalism, which seeks to erase the multifaceted nature of India’s history and suppress its rich cultural diversity. Fatma Begum’s trailblazing contributions are a reminder of the profound importance of preserving a cinema that embraces a plurality of voices, ensuring that the story of Indian cinema is one that honors its true complex history and rich diversity.