On May 1, Labour Day was observed worldwide. This International Workers’ Day commemorates the struggle of labourers in Chicago in 1886, when they went on strike to demand an eight-hour workday. This movement ignited a global awakening, galvanising working classes across continents.

Its reverberations have endured beyond history, finding lasting expression in cinema. Nearly 140 years later, from Hollywood to Bollywood, the question of workers’ rights persists as a powerful and recurring theme. Pakistani cinema too has dealt with this theme, depicting the working class through various lenses — at times charged with revolutionary zeal, at others woven into romantic storylines and occasionally framed within a moralistic discourse.

The period from the industry’s early years to the mid-1970s is often regarded as its formative and creatively vibrant phase. Although Pakistani cinema was still in the process of establishing its identity, films centred on labour and class struggles and not only reflected social realities but also earned critical recognition.

Anwar Kamal Pasha’s Inteqaam (Revenge, 1955) stands out as one of the earliest Pakistani films to foreground the divide between mill owners and workers, bringing class tensions to the cinematic forefront. In that era, films typically featured Sabiha Khanum and Santosh Kumar as the lead pair, with M. Ismail as the authoritative industrial patriarch, Alauddin as the villain, and Asif Jah providing comic relief.

Revisiting blue-collar, worker-centric films is not just an exercise in nostalgia, but a reminder of how Pakistani cinema once successfully engaged with class struggle, labour rights and social inequality

Inteqaam had one difference, which cost it heavily. Alauddin, famous for villainous roles, was eager for a song of his own. After listening to ‘Dugduggi bajaa ke zara mela laga ke’, he traded his scheming manager’s role for Asif Jah’s role as a street entertainer who sang the song. Eventually, neither could do justice to their parts, and the film fell flat.

In M.A. Rasheed’s Aas Paas (Nearby, 1957), Alauddin delivered a breakthrough performance in a positive, socially conscious role, portraying a man who stands up to an unjust system. The famous courtroom scene in which Alauddin proclaims, “Mere saath bhook ko bhi phaansi pe latkaa do, ya insaan ko uss duniya mein bhej do jahaan anaaj nahin ugta, bhook nahin lagti!” [Let hunger also be sent to the gallows with me, or let man be sent to a world where wheat doesn’t grow and hunger is non-existent!] says it all.

Subsequent films such as Hasrat (Desire, 1958), Aadmi (Man, 1958), Sasural (In-Laws, 1961) and Mehtab (1962) saw Alauddin comfortably embodying the persona of an “awami” (people’s) hero and landing the song ‘Gol gappay wala aaya’ in Mehtab. Alauddin reigned throughout the mid-’60s, until Mohammad Ali rose to prominence.

Jago Hua Savera (1959), also known as The Day Shall Dawn, brought global recognition to Pakistan. Rooted in the lives and struggles of fishermen, it culminates when a fisherman, overwhelmed by emotion after completing his boat, dies. This landmark film — Pakistan’s official submission to the Academy Awards in the Best Foreign Language Film category — was directed by A.J. Kardar, with the screenplay by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Although the film began production during a democratic period, it was released during the era of Ayub Khan, when the country was moving into the American camp, and there was little space for anything perceived as ‘communist’.

In West Pakistan, the divide between the capitalist and the worker was clearly depicted in director Hasan Tariq’s debut film Neend (Sleep, 1959). Starring Noor Jehan, the film told the story of a servant exploited by her employer. Neend was among the early works of the renowned dialogue writer Riaz Shahid, whose literary sensibilities were deeply shaped by Faiz, who recognised the sharpness in his prose and advised him to try writing for films. Thus, Riaz Shahid brought a distinctly progressive voice into cinema.

Neend also marked the first time that the popular hero Aslam Pervez appeared as a villain — a mill owner — while Noor Jehan portrayed Sanwari, a poor coal picker. Her vulnerability becomes the reason she is trapped by a wealthy man. However, when she wakes up for her rights, no one can stop her.

Although 1966 belonged to Waheed Murad’s Armaan [Longing], it was Iqbal Shehzad’s Badnaam [Notorious] that left a lasting impact and immortalised Saadat Hasan Manto’s short story Jhumkay [Earrings]in celluloid history. Badnaam follows Deeno (Alauddin), a tonga driver who works tirelessly to be able to purchase a pair of earrings for his wife Hameeda (Nabeela) — only to find out she already has them. Suspecting infidelity, he confronts her with the iconic line, “Kahaan se aaye hain yeh jhumkay? [Where have these earrings come from?]”, before casting her out.

Years later, he faces the same dilemma when his daughter accepts similar earrings from a man, while Hameeda’s return as a fallen woman brings the conflict to a tragic end. A striking moment comes when Deeno addresses the globe he bought for his daughter’s education, turning it into a symbol of the wider world as he demands accountability: “Ae dunya aur dunya mein rehnay waalon, meri aankhon mein aankhein daal kar jawab do! [O’ this world and its inhabitants, look me in the eye and answer me!]” — a searing question directed not just at his circumstances, but at society at large. Riaz Shahid’s dialogues were crisp, poetic and hard-hitting.

Waheed Murad’s Samandar (Sea, 1968), portrayed the struggles of a working-class fishing community rising against a corrupt leadership. Its use of a boat race invites comparison with the tonga-versus-lorry race in Naya Daur (New Era, 1957), starring Dilip Kumar. Unlike Naya Daur, Samandar culminates in the tyrant’s fall and the reassertion of collective agency.

In 1969, Nadeem set out to produce Mitti Ke Putlay [Clay Puppets], and invited Faiz to its launch. However, its production only gained momentum after Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto announced a new labour policy in February 1972, following widespread nationalisation.

While the policy promised worker benefits, it also cautioned against unrest — promises that soon rang hollow. Disillusionment grew and, in June 1972, a sit-in at Karachi’s Feroz Textile Mills ended in police firing and the death of mill workers. Director Ehtesham drew on these events, shaped by his left-leaning sensibilities. Production delays, including his heart attack, pushed Mitti Ke Putlay’s release to February 1974, by which time the political fervour had subsided. Though it failed commercially, Mitti Ke Putlay earned recognition with a labour award at the Tashkent Film Festival.

Around the same time, actor Tariq Aziz announced a film initially titled Jiye Bhutto [Long Live Bhutto], later renamed Kala Sooraj [Black Sun], and it was eventually released in 1975 as Sajan Rang Rangeela [The Merry Lover]. Completed in 1973, the film faced censorship delays and was released late, leading to its failure. Tariq Aziz played a labour leader opposite Deeba, while Rangeela played a double role: an investor and his son. The film was a huge flop, and Tariq Aziz subsequently moved to Karachi for work. Had it clicked, he would never have worked on the popular Neelam Ghar, which became his lifelong identity.

After Gen Ziaul Haq came to power, Urdu films declined while Punjabi films became more prominent, with the focus shifting from industrialists and workers to feudal lords and peasants. Following the decline of the communist system, filmmakers no longer considered this theme suitable, and what had once been a powerful subject gradually became a thing of the past in Pakistan’s film industry.

Revisiting these films today is not merely an exercise in nostalgia; it is a reminder of cinema’s potential as a medium of social reflection and critique. In an era where economic disparities continue to widen globally, Pakistani cinema has an opportunity to rediscover and reimagine these narratives for a new generation — bringing the voice of the worker back into focus, where it has always belonged.

The writer is a vintage cinema enthusiast.

He can be reached at suhaybalavi@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, May 10th, 2026