Over conversations held between 2012 and 2005, starting with the one held most recently on the sets of KBC, and ending with the time when Amitabh Bachchan had just been discharged from Mumbai’s Lilavati hospital, having recovered from a massive illness, we explore the ticking mind and world-view of Indian cinema’s longest serving super-star.
By Mayank Shekhar
At a time when popular discourse on television is centred on it being a dumb-down medium, the highest rated show on TV, Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC), is still a quiz programme. That’s remarkable, isn’t it?
I think we first got over the initial criticism of the fact that this was a quiz show but with lure of money. I think it’s more a reward for someone having the knowledge to be able to answer questions. Had there been resentment towards it, the show wouldn’t have lasted this long – it’s now in its twelfth year. I have been on it for eleven years. When we first did the show, we did almost 300 episodes non-stop, which is another kind of record altogether. It plays in several other countries, as you know, almost 80 other countries.
What number of the KBC did you shoot right before this interview?
Gosh, close to 500!
A lot’s been spoken of how the show’s been a life-changer of sorts for its contestants. Given when you took it up in 2000, your life completely changed professionally through the show too, would you agree?
Professionally, you have to equate it with (the fact) that you came out to be an actor in films, but other forms of entertainment developed as you went along – no harm in being part of them as well. So I look upon it as an exercise that, for me, is an extension of what I was doing earlier. A lot of people start the other way around – they start with television or theatre, and then go up towards films. But I don’t see any harm in doing television after doing cinema. Obviously there was the initial cynicism about reducing yourself from 70 mm to a 25 inch screen. Metaphorically that was terrible because you’re reducing your size.
But the strength of television, its penetration powers are enormous. For me personally it was also a chance to interact with so many people and learn about their lives and problems. We know that they (the people and their problems) exist, but when you come close to them personally, you get to know the gravity of their situation.
I have always taken opportunities to meet fans, but here you get to know their character, how they’re going to react to vast sums of money, what their psychological build-up is before they attempt it. The person I was with before this (interview), Vivek Kumar, he hadn’t seen a cheque of Rs 1,60,000, or Sushil Kumar (who eventually won Rs 5 crore), every time I’d give him a cheque, he’d start counting. I’d ask, what are you doing. He’d say, “I’ve never seen that many zeroes all my life.” He came to earn Rs 20,000 — Rs 10,000 he needed to repair the roof of his house that had broken. Rs 10,000, is the loan he’d taken as loan to make phone calls to KBC. Some of these stories are so inspiring.
Over 500 episodes, you must have met a huge number of people. It’s a question that can be asked of you outside of KBC as wll, how do you keep count and remember who these people are, who remains in your memory, who doesn’t?
Things have become a lot easier since the social media, because you’re reacting with them every day. I’m on the blog, on twitter, Facebook and VOG, which is a voice blog. It’s now been 1,611 days since I have been blogging every day, non-stop. Then you get comments. I asked my team to design an application where I not only get to see the comments but even reply to them. That makes it very personal. I write what I have to, but it’s important to be able to know what they’re commenting on. Some of their comments are absolutely brilliant, the writing is tremendous. They’re not all complimentary – some are abusive, critical… But you may never have encountered these things, had you been aloof.
Now I get an average of 400 comments every day. I’ve switched from Reliance to Tumblr, which enables me to talk, which means I write a blog and before I close, I do an audio recording. That gets about a 1,000 hits every day. Initially, when I started getting four or five comments, I felt I must respond to them. And then I called them my “extended family”, my EF. This EF has become a huge group. They’re all over the world. They actually believe this is a family. None of them know each other. But they’ve come to know each other by being on this blog. Now they’ve starting interacting with each other. They share their personal space, tell me it’s their birthday, or that their husband’s not well, or the son’s got hurt…. I respond to them personally.
This must be taking a huge toll on your day, right?
No. Before going to bed at night, while I am writing my blog, I do that. But what has happened is that wherever I travel, if there’s a group of people who are part of the EF, they come to know beforehand and come to meet me personally. I had a performance at Champs Elysee in Paris. They came to know about it three or four months before, because I happened to have mentioned it. Now they’re not of very good means, but they collected money, and about 25 to 50 them travelled to Paris. None of them had seen or spoken to each other. Their only platform had been this blog. They all gathered in Paris at one place, stayed in the same hotel, came together to my event… All they wanted was to come backstage and meet, and then they left. They’ve become so close.
Today in the audience (on KBC’s set), I had about 10 people from the EF. They write to me, say they wish to be part of the audience, and they come from different parts of the country, and from abroad. When they come to Mumbai, they contact the EF that is Mumbai-based, and even stay in each other’s homes. Some EF members came from South Africa to meet me. They had to catch a flight via Dubai, and some of the members fell sick. They didn’t know what to do. Suddenly one of them remembered an EF member in Dubai, who left everything and came to the airport, picked them up, took them to a hospital, bore the entire cost for 2 to 3 days that they were there…
Now the EF, at my insistence, has formed groups to do social work – they hold blood donation camps, look after children’s education…. It’s just a lovely feeling. I’ve been meeting fans over the past 28 years every Sunday outside my house. But this is different.
There’s just no way for you to remember all their faces, right?
Sometimes they pre-warn you. I may not know their faces, but I know the EF members by their name.
You actually remember their names?
Yes. It’s like a repeat every evening (on the blog), they chat with each other, wait, and if I am late, they go, “Jaldi aao sir….”
And you do handle the social media yourself?
Yes, because if I don’t write it myself, I won’t feel comfortable. There is a technical team that looks after the browser and other stuff. But I take my own photographs, downsize them…. On Facebook, the technical team told me they love it when I do my photography, or record things, so I do that myself too.
What about memories from KBC, do you remember particular participants that you began to empathise, especially when they lost?
Ya, you feel bad. I felt bad about Vivek Kumar (participant on the episode he’d just shot), who went up to 12.5 lakh, he said it’d take him 12 to 15 years to save that amount, and he went ahead stupidly and lost.
Maybe if you knew the answer to the question, would you consciously or sub-consciously feel like helping him out in some way?
I want him to play intelligently, and that is what the host is supposed to do on the show, which is mandatory. He has to repeatedly spell out where the contestant is, what he’s doing, what the outcome of his decision is going to be, what risk is he taking…. I work within that framework.
And you don’t know the answers, mostly?
I’m not supposed to, unless you do know it anyway, but you can’t make obvious gestures or conversation which give an impression that the participant could be making a mistake.
Have you tried, sub-consciously perhaps?
No.
The international versions of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire are not hosted by super-stars. The hosts are famous, yes, but by virtue of the show itself. When the participant comes on to KBC, are they already overwhelmed by the fact that they’re sitting opposite Amitabh Bachchan, and that might make them nervous to start with?
You can’t ask me this question. A lot of them say that, it’s a point to note. The whole business of stars from films on TV began with KBC, now we have everyone, Salman, Aamir, Madhuri, Akshay….
In that sense, even in contemporary Indian show-business, you seem to be the first one to do a lot of things. You were also the first to embrace the Internet through blogs every day. Do you have a great team of advisors, or are you just always looking ahead….
I just look around me, and say “Hey, what is this, maybe I should do it?” And I ask few people around. Or I ask my EF, they give me solutions to my problems sometimes. I had written a post of 1,000 to 1,500 words the other day, and it completely disappeared, gone, I was fretting. Surely you’ve faced this. It’s the most frustrating moment. Within seconds, from my EF, I hear, “Sir, I found it, here it is!” They’re all technical wizards. I just got a Samsung Galaxy S3, it’s a really complicated machine. Hundred solutions pour in from the EF on it now.
In 2005, you had to get out of KBC owing to illness. The general perception was that you were overworked, and you’d said no. Though when you explained your day’s routine, it started at 5.30 am, and you finished at 2 am, every day.
It still does (laughs).
It still does?
I just got off a plane yesterday from Chicago to London, and here I am. I don’t know why people wonder about this so much. If you have the desire to do something, you just go ahead and do them. Yes, there will be some moments of tiredness….
But sleeping at 2 am, waking up at 5.30 am, every day….
That is a very conservative estimate by the way (laughs). Sometimes I go up to 4 o’ clock in the morning, and again at 6 am, I’m in the gym.
What about sleep?
In between I take a short 15 minutes’ nap. It’s not just KBC or blogs, there are quite a few other things also, recording a song, ad shoots can go on for a while… I feel the moment you change your vocational activity, start doing something new or different, you lose the monotony and tiredness that sets in.
You become curious again?
Yes. So if I am working all day on KBC, and if I have a song to sing at night, then I go. There’s Aadesh Shrivastav’s studio, we just sit and faff…. I feel it’s a great relaxant, at the same time you’re doing something different from what you did the whole day. The moment you start doing something different, you rejuvenate yourself.
While you’re looking great, you are 70, after all?
Yes, 70 (laughs).
There is such a thing as age, and that you would get tired now perhaps than say 30 or 20 years ago?
I won’t be able to gauge that, because I didn’t have television (work) at that time. You need to push your body, yes, and we never really know what our capacity is, until we push. I keep saying that apparently humans use 33 per cent of our brains. I am just trying to use 34 per cent (laughs).
When you started with KBC, in 2000, you’ve said this before, that was a low patch in your career. You went over to Yash Chopra’s house for a role (which resulted in Mohabbatein). KBC is really what turned things around for you, isn’t it?
It happened on its own. I didn’t know about it. Sameer Nair from Star came to me. I looked at the opportunity, they showed me tapes, took me to the UK to watch (Who Wants To Be A Milionaire host) Chris Tarrant recording live. I told them if you can give me the same kind of management, I’d be happy to do it, and to their credit, they gave me all that. But yes, there was huge anxiety.
Did you think it’d become this big?
I still don’t believe it is big. Because I don’t know what these ratings are. If they are repeating me, then obviously someone likes it.
The show also transformed your image completely – once the Angry Young Man, now a fatherly figure who people warm up to on television….
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire has just the concept of questions and the answers. It doesn’t have some of the other frills that we added on. The whole thing about a semi-moral kind of prelude to the game show was what I suggested we should do. I felt that if it’s 9 o’ clock at night, it’s the time when you’ve had dinner with your family, and you sit around. We used to listen to elders and get our gyan during those moments. I thought it’d be nice if we could talk about some issues which have a moral or social basis. Now we have a prelude, an ending that is humorous, visuals from contestant’s lives…. This doesn’t just build a good story; it also provokes lots of people to empathise with what’s on screen. You feel good when someone wins this life-changing amount of money.
Any gyan that you’ve given on the show that you feel especially close to?
These are basic things that I pick up from everywhere – from a book, a newspaper or an editorial…. If I find something interesting, I take notes.
Is it wholly scripted by you?
There’s a team of people. I select and correct, and give ideas on what they must write on. We have huge paucity of time. The moment you leave, I’ll get a 10-day writing schedule that I’ll go through, make suggestions….
Your public image perennially has been one of reserve and humility. This is very different from latter day movie stars known for public displays of brashness; announcing gargantuan ambitions; showing off wealth; taking on colleagues with tongue-in-cheek remarks on who’s no. 1 and who’s not… This isn’t true for Shah Rukh Khan alone. It represents pretty much an entire pantheon. Do you think that’s how a post-90s urban confident India wanted to see its icons later?
I am so glad that you ask this question; for, in the last few months it is a matter that has consumed my thoughts as well. My immediate response would perhaps be a little conventional – my upbringing does not permit me to behave in any other way. This is the way my parents brought me up, this is what they taught me, and this is what we respect, to date. The argument this would generate is what makes this query interesting.
Are we trying to say then, that the upbringing of today’s generation is at fault? Or, is the parenting of today not sufficiently adequate and disciplined? For I am assuming that the difference in attitudes is causing concern to purists?
Let me address my own acceptable credentials first, and say I am not prepared to be lured into the noticeable change, nor am I willing to accept my immediate progeny to be a victim of it. I would leave the generation after this generation of mine, to their own guidelines, or those set up by their elders.
Later-day movie stars, or the later-day generation, to generalise, will function on what they feel and observe and respect. Why it is different, I will not be able to fathom or comment on. I expect tradition to be maintained, they may not. And who knows, they may be right. I grew up with certain principles and teachings. I passed them on to my children and am proud that they follow it. Their own may not and may have relevant reasons (for it).
Children pick up from the environment they are in. I fear today’s generation is exposed to an aggressive, go-getter, driven by extreme success (sort of) passion, to not really be in a situation to pay heed to perceived niceties. Their look, their gait, their speech, their attitude, could be the result of prevailing circumstances. In their mind and thought, it represents the guy who’s ‘cool’ – a word so eloquent in its brevity, we wonder why our lot never thought of it. But whoever said ‘cool’ was detrimental to social acceptance.
It has become the symbol of a nation, hitherto constitutionalised by socialist thought, to envelope itself and thrive in its recent economic freedom and liberty. Economics has changed our mind, thought and deed. It has freed us from dependence. It has liberated us into independent thought. And the independent thought of today ‘looks’ and ‘feels’ irreverent. We have not started reading another book. We have turned the page to another chapter.
“I have never been a superstar, and never believed in it” – these are your words. Yet, if you were to define the word ‘star’ or ‘stardom’ (even if not your own), how would you?
The dictionary defines ‘star’ as a celestial body usually visible as a small bright point of light in the night sky. The explanation, I believe, quickly became the representation of actors illuminating the credits of a film. I would imagine since most actors connected with any film would appear and be visible only on the night of its premiere, they started being referred to as stars. A small bright light in the night sky, doing deeds and acts on a larger than life screen, would, I imagine, give them celestial status.
It is very difficult, if not impossible, to explain success or failure in a field such as yours, and both come in disproportionately huge measures. You can never predict with certainty who’d make it, and who won’t. Does that make one believe even more in the power of destiny or fate (or faith, as it were)?
Yes. Sometimes the greatest of actors working with the greatest set-ups fail and vice versa. It is easily manifested therefore that fate or destiny is guiding us. The existence of so many unexplainable facets of life has coerced mankind toward religion and the Almighty. We are just in the modest profession of making films. We should be allowed our beliefs.
The film industry itself though is reputably one of the most superstitious places to work in, where people change their names, release-dates, crucial decisions, and so much else on an astrologer or a numerologist’s advice.
I would not beg to differ, but beg your pardon instead! Professionals in any walk or sphere of life are no different. Businessmen select sites, offices and names of business after due consultation. Politicians virtually never take a decision or step without astrological assistance.
Public acceptance or credibility of Indian politicians has been at an all-time low for years now. They can’t draw crowds anymore as many once did. A film-star like you probably invites more love and awe than several public figures. Is it not hard to remain apolitical then? The politicians, by persuasion or pressure, would naturally push you into selling their politics among the masses, or penalize you if you don’t?
I cannot firmly comment on that, but yes there is some merit in what you assert. The film star may have the power of the people, but it does not necessarily convert to the power of governance, some rare cases aside, such as the southern regions of our land. Governance implements the law under constitutional authority. That authority to implement is the politician’s or the bureaucrat’s. People make mistakes, errors abound, it’s human nature, and nobody is perfect. The law takes over and casts its decision. There is punishment – this is all very simple, and sorted out.
But what if the error committed needs to be overlooked, put aside, overrun. Assistance is garnered through those in authority. If authority exhibits rectitude, no assistance will be forthcoming. As it should rightly be. But, politicians could see an opportunity of an association beneficial to them, in the future, and they maybe in a position to circumvent the law or read around it. A relationship develops, which as you rightly say could, through persuasion and pressure, push or penalize one into submission.
To remain apolitical in this complicated quagmire is a challenge. Some succumb to it. Some fight it. Have you had to resist too much?
The outside world has often answered this question for me in the affirmative. I have personally not contributed to it, or in instances when I have, I have withdrawn, even if it has been detrimental to me.
The popular association of film stars is essentially with glamour: beautiful women as fans and co-stars; a dream world, as it were. How hard is it for someone constantly in the middle of it to maintain a sense of reality?
I think all of us, if I can speak for all, are fairly accomplished in gauging the reality. Our world may be make-belief but we do understand the facts. And the fact is that once the make-up comes off, and the cameras stop rolling, we become ordinary, normal mortals, with ordinary faults and shortcomings just like any other.
For instance, how hard is it been for you as a male-star to fall in love with a beautiful woman on screen, and then forget about her altogether when you’re off the camera? You are human after all!
Why just the beautiful co-star. Why not the mother or father or a near relative that lies dying in your arm and the emotion that is required of you in those circumstances. In real life, that emotion would be required just once. In cinema, we may have to go through it several times. And when God forbid, we were to lose our parents or loved ones in real life, do we not have to fear that that emotion may have been played out before? It’s a terrible human dilemma.
Thank God for the mechanism that actors live with and their great ability to shut off and on at a command that saves us both physically and mentally in these tests. It is a tough call, but seasoned artists never seem to have a problem with it.
I once asked Kay Kay Menon, a thinking actor, as it were, to describe (or distinguish) between you and Naseeruddin Shah’s approach to acting in films. He’s worked with both. He remembered noticing you in the make-up van alone, rehearsing in umpteen ways, to get a shot right during Sarkar. Whereas, he says, Naseer believes that with each retake a moment is lost, and he prefers to deliver the same shot differently each time. Would that be a fair assessment? That you believe in the preciseness of the expression and craft before you face the camera?
Naseer is a great and accomplished actor, I admire him immensely, but I am not aware of his technique or whether it is right or not. I would not go by what Kay Kay observed of me. It could just have been a moment he witnessed of me trying to learn my lines than preparing how the shot needed to be delivered. But yes, spontaneity is a desired acumen, and most would prefer that, but it could also be planned. And many actors do. I am uncertain of what I do right before the camera rolls. I would find it hard to explain.
You once said about Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Black, “(For once) there’s nothing in that film I’d done before – not a single scene, or shot…” That admission is quite interesting coming after 36 years of acting. What is the most repetitive thing you think you’ve had to do before the camera?
The song and dance routine, and the constant smile that is desired to accompany it! And incidentally it’s been 40 years in the business!
After spending that many years acting, and in several films that may not be too different from the last, can you begin to put numbers or tags to your emotions, and fish them out instantly on a director’s demand?
No, never. I would be unfaithful and dishonest to my craft, if at all I possess any, if I did that.
What is the wilfully inanest film (according to you) that you’ve ever done? I don’t refer here to a judgment on the film itself; but stuff you were made to do on the set where you wondered how this would ever shape up into a movie.
Every ManMohan Desai film that I ever worked in! We never believed that our wilful ‘innaneness’ would ever attain any of the successes that they did, leave alone the cult status that they eventually achieved.
By association, perhaps spoken of it by your parents, what is your earliest memory of wanting to become an actor?
I have been an actor all my life. Right from kindergarten to senior school to College and University, to my years in my first job, down to present time. The smell of the stage and the studio has been an addiction.
The anecdote about you having spent a couple of days on Marine Drive benches with some of the largest rats you’d seen in your life is fairly well-known. This was part of your struggles in Bombay. You came to the city with a driver’s license; that if you didn’t make it as an actor, you would ply taxis. What is this strange lure of acting that drives someone to do such a thing? You were from a well-to-do family otherwise….
The desire to express yourself in different circumstances. To represent that which you are not. To put your creation up for judgment, and to perhaps relish recognition.
Isn’t the compelling force also fame or money? Which one satisfies you more?
Neither. Some of my most creative efforts have been the ones that brought me no money, or hardly, and damaging to my very limited and meagre fame.
You’ve said before, “I have never really been confident about my career at any stage.” Does it follow from a dictum that only the paranoid survive. Or that if you begin to take your success for granted; you will lose what you’ve achieved for sure, if not stop to grow?
I was unaware that paranoia has been the dictum for survival! I should start getting paranoid this instant! (laughs)
How much do insecurities produce the finest results in any profession?
I am continuously insecure. But whether it produces the finest results is doubtful, at least for me. It provokes you to better work. But the results still remain with the Almighty!
At the time you joined films, especially in the ‘70s, movie-stars were notorious for their casual attitude towards work, or at least their punctuality. There are stories galore of delayed films, standing sets… Is that one of the reasons you are so sensitive towards never being late.
I feel that if I am being paid to act, the least that I can do is to respect the producer’s desired time of work. Not that I am capable of doing much more but… It’s a disciplining that was ingrained into us as a family by our parents and one that I expect other members of my family to pursue as well. I feel so guilty and uncomfortable when I cannot keep time and it haunts me for days if I have erred. Guess I am built like that.
In fact one can set a clock by your entry, and the invitation time to a place. Is there an interesting anecdote or a particular advice from an elder that’s made you this way?
Well, of late, the clocks have had to be re-adjusted, I’m afraid! The traffic snarls have been so unpredictable that at times the safest precautions on the drive to location have been exasperating and tinged with ‘unpunctuality’.When I was in school and would go out to play with my friends in the evening, the dictat was ‘you must be back before the street lights come on’. How excitedly we would have acknowledged power cuts in those days!
Punctuality is in itself a very un-Indian quality, if I may put it so. Have other late-comers’ attitude bothered you in the past?
Not really. It’s getting used to it that takes time! Once you know that there will be a delay, you plan other activities. Most of Mr Natwarlal was made between 7 am and 10 am, because the artist working with me on the project in a 7 am – 2 pm shift (we worked in two shifts those days, 7 – 2 and then 2 – 10 ) would not come before 10 am! Peculiarly, both of us were working together in the same two films on the same day – one on a morning shift, and the other in the afternoon. We would finish our morning shift by 2 pm, and we would drive to the next studio to catch the next shift, and he would still arrive a couple of hours late on the second one!
Another thing well known about you is your inclination to do a lot of things in your professional life purely as a favour for an old colleague or an old friend. For instance, you’ve starred or made cameo appearances in more films than anyone else. Do you feel arm-twisted at some points for commitments you have to keep as personal favours? They keep mounting?
It is difficult at times to say no to a friend or a colleague. There are other compulsions too. But we live and work in a fraternity where I believe we have all cared for each other, cared for the others’ well being, and have been unstinting in our support for someone in trouble or need. There is no arm-twisting as such, but yes, sometimes it has been a very emotional compel.
Do you feel as a person easy to be arm-twisted in such ways?
I have never looked at it that way. The emotion of the deed would lose its worth if it were so.
One public figure, besides your father of course (and not necessarily from films), that you’ve always admired the most when growing up, or even now?
I have not been able to look beyond my father!
You’re on your fifth decade as a leading man of films. In that span, while mainstream movies have changed, so has India. By association you’ve been an active participant in the latter process as well. What do you find has really changed about this country over the years, and that gets reflected in its mass culture (or commercial movies) as well.
In one word: liberalisation. Liberalisation of the economy drew this country out from the clutches of ‘license raj’. With economic boom came opportunity. The middle class became richer. If the figure of 350 million is correct, then it represents the entire population of the USA. The euphoric rush to catch up (with the West) was reminiscent of, ironically, the Gold Rush of America in its early years of discovery.
The rich became richer. The poor went further down. Political attempts are being made to bridge that gap. One wishes for its success. But the lure of better financial profiles drew many an interior and small town inhabitant to the metros to enhance living conditions.
Cinema the world over has reflected the state of the nation. Purists will scoff at this assumption, but I have my arguments. Study the cinema of the ‘40s and ‘50s and even the ‘60s. There was ‘thehrao’ in the substance being projected. Characters took time to express feelings and written lines. There was space and time to listen to elegance of the written word, lyricism of poetry in songs, and musical notes. There was emphasis on that trolley shot that moved within that slow, quiet space of time. There was time for it. Today there is no time. Speed has become the password for normalcy. Your window on the laptop, if not open within a nano-second of the depression of a key, will result in a change of the machine. Your weeklong wait for an international call to New York booked through an operator is completed within seconds by your own hands, driving in some remote region of the country.
TV shows and films release simultaneously the world over. Your TV is virtually free. You go to the theatre to see the latest film expecting it to outdo what you may have just seen for free at home, lounging on your bedroom sofa. The ticket price, travel, popcorn for that evening could bill up to Rs 2,500 – 3,000 — annual earning for some of the poor in the country.
To match the finesse and technology of the West, the Indian filmmaker is pumping in large money, and wants to recover it in the first week. This is possible only in the (affluent) metros. The B and C centres do not matter to him so much. I have on occasion heard prominent filmmakers express disinterest in the collections of their film from UP and Bihar, because those are not regions they expect will bring back their investments. Metros, overseas and ‘satellite’ (television rights) done, huge grosses collected: time to head to the Marriott to party on the Monday of the very first week!
In the ‘70s and ‘80s, we waited for silver, golden and platinum weeks to register, before the order for trophies could be made!
Issues have gone through a metamorphosis as well. Where have the dacoit and the ‘Thakur’ films gone? Where is the story of the untouchable and deprived classes, glorification of the minority and secular-balance that our Constitution promulgates? Where has all the action gone – the defiance and standing up against deprecated values and systems? You get to see more of it on the Parliament Channel, inside the august houses of peoples’ representatives!
With horrors of terrorism and street violence screened before us every second of 400 TV channels’ ‘breaking news’, we really do not want to spend Rs 2,500 to see it enacted by our popular and leading stars of the world of illusion. With all due respect, others are doing it better. And it’s live! So, “escapism” rules. We were accused of this term throughout our career of 35-40 years. Now we are ‘escaping’ from the rigours of reality TV to whet our appetite with laughter, romance and frivolous deliberations: “I don’t want to wrack my brains, trying to solve problems and issues that trouble society. If I feel strongly about it, I have my own voice now. I’ll Tweet!” says the common man.
Just as your reflex action towards time has changed, so too the reaction time for cinema: film on release; get on to the Internet; read review; speak to a few friends… “Ok, avoid. Not going.” Six weeks later, browsing, come across same film on the idiot box… “Arre yaar! Achhchi film thi! (It was a good film!)”
Marketing and promotional acts have introduced new business practices to get that first week’s full house, recover money, and move on. We remember even the interlude music of the songs from the ‘50s and ‘60s. We do not remember the songs of today’s films. Or maybe they do! Maybe the younger generations do! Maybe this generation registers what it chooses to, and moves on. Maybe we have gone irritably slow. This generation talks and thinks faster. My grandson of 8 teaches me how to install my BlackBerry and my iPad. Maybe I am the wrong person to be answering a question (on change). Who knows!
Is there a way you can succinctly describe the decades and what they’ve meant for India through its films – ‘70s, ‘80s, ‘90s, and the 2000s.
I’d be inadequate in generalising particular decades. But if you were to read between the lines, a fair assessment would be visible thus. The ‘70s were dominated by ‘anger’ against the system among the youth. The oppressive ‘Emergency’ stifled all that a free democracy had stood and fought for. A lone warrior or vigilante seemed to be the toast of the nation’s psyche. The good looking romantic hero was giving way to a tough demeanour: no-holds-barred leading man, who did not necessarily have to sing his way into the audiences’ hearts. Yes, the romantic (hero) was there too and he fared well alongside, but the other guy, the underdog, was getting admired more.
This trend continued right up to the mid ‘80s and beginning of the ‘90s. Then liberalisation took over. Establishment, the wronged, the oppressed, seemed to have been played out. The audience wanted to be happy, fall in love again, and not get drawn into mundane social ailments. From then on, youth, energy, beauty, laughter took over. The ethics and culture never left us. They shifted base, came closer to us in our drawing rooms through TV, where Ramayan, Mahabharat and the ‘saas-bahu’ socials dominated.
Want fun and romance and joy and excitement, and a stroll through the mall ending up with popcorn and soda? Get to the multiplex. Want your daily lesson in culture, epics, and a good cry? Stick at home in front of the telly.
I think stars have been followed from time immemorial. But along with them in the earlier years, the makers, writers, composers were equally, if not greatly remembered. I believe stars are followed still. Perhaps the writer and maker and composer has somewhat been left behind as a fallout. There are exceptions, but few and far (between).
Are there instances where you felt a film of yours (from any decade) had made an impact on the viewer beyond what you may have obviously imagined, something that truly surprised you.
Our only barometer is the box office. This may not quite be the desired standard for ‘impact’ but there it is. A box office success indicates the audience was impressed enough to see the film. It would not be incorrect to assume that ‘impression’ for ‘impact’. Tough argument, but one that the entire world has paid heed to. Masses are Gods, they are never wrong – in film, in politics, in any walk of life that demands public endorsement. Whether this is correct is debatable. Much like that oft repeated adage, ‘Each country deserves the politician it elects!’
Having said that, I remember an incident that could perhaps funnily demonstrate ‘impact’. It was the late ‘70s or very early ‘80s, driving home from work, I was stuck in a traffic jam near Andheri; traffic jams were a phenomena even then. After half an hour, restless drivers started to get out of their vehicles to see what the problem was. One such gentleman, having peered through my tinted glass window discovered that it was indeed ‘I’, sitting inside! I asked him what the problem was, which he described and then expounded with extreme sincerity — “Arre sir, aap yahan baithe hain! Aap bahar ja ke ek lafa mariye, sala abhi 2 second mein traffic jam ok ho jaiyega! (Get out and whack them, the jam will clear up in two seconds!).” Role impact on audience?
A common observation made about current films mourns both the loss of language, and the dialogue itself. People can quote lines from films (even lyrics of songs) from back in the day, but hardly any from the recent past….
As I said earlier, speed, communication, issues – their relevance was different then, different now. Each generation thinks theirs was the best. This generation will look obsolete in a few years. Who knows! Count the number of editing cuts for a film of the ‘50’s; compare it with that of a film of 2010. The cuts will be three times more – 100 then, 300 now. “Ok we got the point now move on, stop dwelling on it” – it’s the TV centric philosophy that teaches us that remaining with a visual for more than a couple of seconds is committing harakiri for a programme producer.
You’re yourself son of a famous writer. Are there any instances where you’ve made writing suggestions in a film: a scene, situation, dialogue, anything that you can recall from your movies.
Professionally I have never ever attempted to change a single comma, once the script is with me and I have signed on the dotted line. That is beyond my professional ethics. I had no reason to doubt, being in the company of such great writers as Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Khawaja Ahmed Abbas, Salim-Javed, Prakash Mehra, Kadar Khan, Prayag Raj, Shukla, Gulzar, and many other renowned personalities. What they wrote remained final. What I get today also remains final – my professional conditions prevail.
But there have been two recent occasions when I have sought help in structuring a dialogue that I felt was most essential to the final outcome of a film. One was the final speech of Baghbaan and the other the final speech for Teen Patti. In both cases the respective directors first came up with the issue that they were somehow not entirely happy with the content. We sat down jointly to address it.
For Baghbaan we went to the trusted and ever helpful Javed saheb (Javed Akhtar) and even though he does not enter into such intrusions unless he is writing an entire film, he did a personal favour and gave suggestions. The final outcome is a mix of his inputs, the official writer’s, and some stuff that I suggested. For Teen Patti too we had several discussions on the last speech and Leena Yadav (the director) and I sat for days working on the final outcome. Some suggestions of mine were incorporated.
Another common observation about our popular films relates to the changing architecture of the hero’s body. In the ‘70s, you were a lanky figure, sometimes even unkempt, who could flatten several at one go. Audiences didn’t question it. The hero now must necessarily go in for a super-fit body, six-pack abs, muscular biceps, shaven chest…. He could even take his shirt off. What does this culturally say about us?
I thank the Almighty that the audience never expected me to take my shirt off in my films, where valour and strength were to be exhibited. But seriously, in the films of yore or my time, strong situations were created through the story’s screenplay and dialogue. These were sufficient to project valour, strength, muscle, without actually showing them. Today’s stories do not require that kind of presentation.
Body-beautiful is part of a beautiful actor’s personality. Audiences like to see a shaped up human, not necessarily to smack someone, but merely to admire as asset. The famous statue of David by Michaelangelo that represents the perfect form for a male was made, I would presume, for just that reason – to appreciate the perfect male form, not to depict its value as an instrument for battle.
I also believe that audiences today desire to ‘see’ and not be discreet or quiet about this aspect. Maybe audiences of the past had wished or desired it too, but felt socially or morally indiscreet to talk about it publicly!
One cannot ignore the interest, I am certain, that must have been aroused in seeing Sunil Dutt saheb ‘bare-torsoed’ in Mother India, or that famous Dharam ji bare torso scene in Phool Aur Patthar when he approaches a sleeping Meena Kumari. Not to forget of course all of Dara Singh ji’s films and his immense muscular frame.
Most super fit bodies, six-pack abs, strong muscular biceps, shaven chests of today are not there to flatten several baddies. They are there more as Michaelangelo’s David — pictures of the perfect male form.
A facet also unique to our pop-culture is reference to leading men as ‘Shahenshah’, ‘Baadshah’, ‘King’… What exactly is this kingdom? Do you think these references come from a society’s feudal obsessions with monarchy, or idol-worshipping mythology?
All these glorious epithets that you speak of are the creations of the media. None of the artists actually believe in them, at least I don’t. Maybe the media is obsessed with feudal monarchies. You would be able to answer this better. Giving titles and constructing interesting headlines is one of media’s greatest accomplishments. It makes for good copy and attracts immediate attention, an attribute that I’d imagine any media conglomerate would employ. And no, I do not think it comes from a society’s idol-worshipping mythology syndrome. Though I must admit that mythology does incorporate itself in other forms in our social milieu.
Ram, Lakshman, Sita, Krishna, Arjun, Hanuman, Ganesh, Shiv have all been incorporated in our (film) names to individuals – Ram Prasad, Krishna Kumar, Sita Devi Verma, Arjun Singh, Hanuman Prasad, Ganesh Rao, Shiv Sharma …. We have not often heard of a Shahenshah Prasad!
An area where a hero’s contribution cannot be contested is in style and popular fads. Your longish hair, parted from the centre, side-burns meeting the ears in a unique triangle… Millions over generations have sported this haircut at some point. You’ve never quite changed yours. Where does it come from? Is there a story, given there were no professional stylists back in the day?
I never deliberately designed anything, it’s just something I discovered through trial and error and then went to my hairdresser Hakim and he did the needful. I never changed it because nothing else ever suited me according to my own assessment. My shape and my physical configurations are somewhat different from most others, and so I have remained with it, always strengthened by that story about the greatest American hero, John Wayne – He never got off his horse in any film throughout his career!
Your return as leading figure of pop-culture in the 2000s is often attributed to the television show Kaun Banega Crorepati. This is when you appeared in the grey goatee, and instead of fighting it, were seen to be embracing age as a badge of honour and gravitas. Would you consider this a conscious transition where most heroes before, faded out still romancing nubile women on screen.
I can only speak for myself, and yes this is what I felt suited me in the 2000 era and afterwards. I have stuck with it. I like it and that’s what matters. I do not mind the grey and neither do I mind disclosing my age because that is what it is. ManMohan Desai, when criticised for making the same stories again and again on the lost and found brothers, would comment, “ Meri gaadi patri par achchi chal rahi hai. Mai apni gaadi ki patri kyun badloon? (My train’s on the right track. Why should I change the track?)”
As for romancing nubile women on screen, I have no choice. I must play roles commensurate with my age. There have been exceptions. KANK (Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna) had me playing a happy, fun-loving lothario; Nishabd was about a disturbing relationship. Ironically, the only time I have been kissed on screen, note, I have been kissed, not of my own desire, has been in two films that I did in my 60-plus years – Black and Nishabd!
What baffles the travelling Indian is the incredible reach of Hindi films across the world. The words Amitabh Bachchan greet him everywhere. It’s something that’s traditionally happened over years, without any marketing to support it….
It is astounding, in West Asia, Far East, Central Europe, East and North Africa, Nigeria, even down to South Africa… This reach has always been there, we’re only learning about it now. My second largest fan-base is actually from Israel!
The first time I went to Russia in the ‘80s, I was stunned by young girls at the airport, them learning Hindi to understand our films. With Russia of course (USSR then), we had a barter trade agreement, which never got accounted for in the film financials. This influence spread later into satellite countries of the Soviet. And we never really thought about these things back then. It’s only now, with systems in place, that we’ve begun to reap benefits of a market that always existed. People across the world have always been attracted to the content of our films.
This following appears quite bafflingly organic. What do you think attracts these people to our films?
When my dad was unwell, we often watched my films together. I’d ask him the same question. He’d say, “Poetic justice in three hours — something you and I don’t get in a lifetime!” Also I think they’re attracted to the importance of relationships that our films stress upon. It’s fast dissolving around them.
Another set that gathers around film personalities in particular are politicians, even bureaucrats, who like to link themselves to the world of glamour, as it were. What do you make of it?
Celebrities from the world of films and glamour are automated magnets for the masses. People collection, mob hysteria, crowds, attention… come naturally to them, wherever they go. Their profiles that cause this attention are created by their creativity, their products, their films, which the masses endorse.
Any element that can attract such phenomena is greatly valued by the politician. Numbers for a politician mean power, his strength, his following, his belief, and his votes in a democratic set-up to win elections. It is natural therefore that the politician will get attracted to such individuals. For the celebrity too, the association with power of governance is an asset he would love to possess. And why a celebrity, any individual would. There is therefore a natural coming together.
Numbers count and the presence of a celeb at events (rallies or public addresses) add to the hysteria. Whether or not it brings the votes is another matter. We see many examples of politicians deploying a celebrity for their election rallies. We have seen politicians realising the importance of their presence too.
Who can forget the well-documented incident of Pt Jawaharlal Nehru’s famous presence at (Mumbai’s) Chowpatty for a rally and the audience, in the middle of the speech, getting attracted to Dilip Kumar, who was passing by! They left the rally and rushed towards him. The ever-gracious Panditji came down from his platform towards Dilip saheb to invite him up on to the podium, winning over hearts of millions!
Showbiz figures also then become more susceptible to being vilified by the state, and political authorities: they can serve up as soft targets for publicity’s sake. Do you think political contacts then become important for protection from such occurrences or nuisances?
I would not like to believe that a politician or a bureaucrat would deliberately go out to ‘get at’ a celebrity, even though I myself have on occasion perhaps talked about it, only to discover later that it was not entirely correct. But yes, we are vulnerable.
A celebrity at fault makes big news and that comes with the territory – get accustomed to it. In a socialist, democratic republic, the rich and the famous will always be looked upon with suspicion. Have an accident on the road? Be prepared to be lynched by crowds. Reasons and legalese will come later.
I have come to understand certain basics of this business. If you have done wrong, no one will be able to save you, irrespective of which high powered politician you may know. And if you have done no wrong, nothing in the world will be able to touch you. There will be speculations, press headlines castigating you, negative talk, accusations…. Bear it, go to court, and clear the accusation. Because no amount of personal clarification is going to work. From Bofors to Barabanki, that is what I have done: got my legal clearance, and moved on.
Also, never defend (yourself) publicly, or through media. They will never listen to your story or believe you. And most importantly, once cleared by the honourable courts, do not gloat over it. Remain quiet, and live your life. A very wise common man that I once made acquaintance with quite by accident advised me this, almost 30 years ago. I give the same advice to my children.
One of the pains of being an entertainer perhaps is no matter how sick you feel from within, or what’s going on in your personal or professional life, you still have to go out there, smile, talk to fans, give autographs, or perform to a paying public. Can that get to you after a while?
No, it has never gotten to me! I consider it my obligation to do so, and I like doing it. I write a blog, read through all responses every day. I answer as well as I can. I tweet and I respond to as many as I can that follow me. I try. It is impossible to answer all, for many of them only show up after some weird computations on the site. I acknowledge fans on the street and attempt to give that photo opportunity or that autograph. Sometimes it is not possible to attend to each one of them. It would be a statistical nightmare. But if stationed at a location, the (autograph) books are brought to me, and I attend to them within the confines of my private room.
For 28 years, every Sunday, crowds have gathered outside my residence in the evenings. If I am in town, I go out and meet them, wave, shake hands, give photographs. There are some situations however when I desist. I do not respond (to fans), for instance, when at a funeral. I do not give any (sound) bytes or meet press. I think it is inconsiderate and insensitive of the media to accost me on such occasions, or for me to talk about the moment. Also on set, in the middle of the concentration required for a shot, I discourage such actions.
Yes, as an entertainer you must expect that you will be asked to deliver irrespective of what your own personal conditions maybe. There may be a tragedy in your house, but you have a comic or song situation to enact – that will have to be contended with.
Did you at any point consider a more relaxed, retired, been-there-done-that life: gardening, grandchildren…. Do you consider it still?
I tried it once and took a sabbatical (in the ‘90s). It was a mistake. I should never have done that. I would like to continue doing what I am doing as long as I can. I’m still insecure about my work, my talent, and what my future holds for me. I worry about what work I will get or not tomorrow. I still canvas for it, and seek opportunities that could enhance my creativity and position. My greatest relaxation is when I am on the set. If you were to ask any other artiste this, they would say the same.
Yes, my grandchildren are the apples of my eye, as are my family and children, and my wife. I take time out with them whenever I can, or they wish I can. And yes, I can say with a certain amount of pride that I tend my own garden in Prateeksha (bungalow in Juhu, Mumbai) among all the other things that I involve myself in today. And that it is perhaps the largest and most secured piece of green in the entire JVPD Scheme, where I reside!
Your mother, it may not be as widely known, was also an actor. She performed on stage, and in fact had thought of being in films herself. Did she in any way shape your earliest influences as a performer?
My mother encouraged me to do what I felt I wanted to. She was only too happy to see me wanting to pursue a career in films just as much as she was happy when I got my first job as an executive in Kolkata. She was a critic of my work and films, and always encouraged me to take interest in the arts and crafts. She would take me to art exhibitions, music festivals, stage performances and we would discuss many aspects of creativity in whatever we observed. Obviously the early influences remain ingrained in humans. I certainly gained from mine.
What’s your earliest memory of being enchanted by a film?
Charlie Chaplin’s Limelight: It kept me awake for several nights, because of its music and pathos. Later, Guru Dutt’s Kaagaz Ke Phool.
A question I’ve always wanted to ask: that exclamation of yours, ‘Aayein’, with a unique intonation at the end, is something all mimics pick up when they imitate Amitabh Bachchan. Where did you pick it up from?
It’s nothing unusual and neither is it a unique intonation. Everyone from my part of birthplace – UP, Bihar and the North – grow up with it as normal part of conversation. It’s colloquial, like any other Indian intonation. I do not see why so much is made of it. It’s just an expression that denotes so many impressions and expressions; like “What?” or “What!” or “Really!” or “Really?” or “Oh, I see!” or “What are you saying!” as in a confirmation, or “Do you agree?” as surprise… The examples are just endless.
Your movies, countless of them, play on television at any given time of the day. Do you ever go back to your old works?
When my father was alive, almost as a ritual, he’d watch one film of mine every evening — so we’d all sit and watch it with him. Well, I catch those films sometimes now, watching TV, like everybody else. I get embarrassed quite often, contemplating how I could have treated certain scenes differently! Basically cinema has evolved over the years.
What about books? Do you read a lot?
I’d like to, but I never get the time. Basically you start one, then you immediately move on to the other…
Any books that you consider close?
Though I read them many years ago, they would have to be autobiographies of Mohamed Ali (The Soul Of A Butterfly) and Richard Nixon (The Memoirs of Richard Nixon). Nixon wrote two personal accounts, the first one of which delved in detail with dynamics of global problems and politics. It was extremely informative.
Right after you fell sick this time (in 2005), the instant reaction from your well-wishers was, “You must slow down. You’re overworked.”
I think it’s quite unfounded. What I do physically had nothing to do with my ailment at all. It’s something that can happen to anybody. It’s just that it happened it to me — unrelated to work, or stress.
What exactly is a regular working day in the life of Amitabh Bachchan, when he is well?
I get up early, and go to the gym for around two hours at around 5.30, come back and leave for location at around 9 am and work there till 9 pm. Then, because it’s sometimes difficult to fit in a commercial shoot, I sometimes give them 2 to 3 hours post 9. You give your schedules out years in advance, but you may have endorsed a product last month, but because they have a season on and need to put out a commercial urgently, you have to shoot for it almost immediately, while there aren’t any stipulated dates for it. So you give them 3 to 4 hours after you’ve finished your regular shoots. So that finishes at around 12, and then I come back for a meal and to be with the family for a while. And then just before going off to sleep, I need to finish the office paper work. So, by around 1 or 2 o’clock I am done.
Many from the younger generation who’ve worked with you recently, talk about how, as a professional, you get immensely impatient when any time gets wasted on the sets, or otherwise. Do you live with a body-clock that informs you there’s a lot to be done, and no moment to be frittered away?
I think that the time given for a particular activity should be used to its maximum capacity, as against sitting around idle. And if we can work at a particular pace and be able to achieve that, we must. I feel that you can always do something faster. Maybe people are either taking it easy or whatever may be the issue, I can’t see. So as an actor I may say, “Come on (let’s hurry up)…” But lighting is going to take time, the trolley is going to take time, other artistes need to get ready and so forth. Sometimes there is a knowledge that I have to finish a certain job, because after 9, I have to do some other work. So (if) I get delayed on one end, then I’ll delay getting home, number of hours of (my) sleep will get affected, and I must be back with the formalities of the next day, which goes out of tune.
A famous anecdote, not sure if it’s true, relates to how Dilip Kumar, in his prime, was shattered when GD Birla, sitting next to him in a flight did not recognise him. Several star-actors (Shah Rukh being an example) have spoken about the fear of anonymity. It’s apparently a very strong scare. Did you ever feel it?
I am not bothered by it, because I know that sooner or later, it will happen to all of us. It’s just taken long in my case. Our recognition is dependent upon whether you’re seen on screen or not. If you’re not, then people will forget you. When you enter a public arena, and you happen to do it with a Shah Rukh Khan or Hrithik Roshan, the louder screams will be for them, and not for you. If you enter a restaurant for instance, the heads will not turn as abruptly, or with as much awe as they would have, if you were in your prime. But these are things you have to contend with, and I have no problems doing that.
Are you really that methodical and stoic about everything?
No. These are just facts of life and to be quite honest, I’ve had the opportunity to actually be there, and then not be there. I started out as a non-entity, nobody knew me. Then I worked in films, and got some recognition. When my films were not working, the recognition became almost negligible. Again, when some films worked, people started to recognise me.
Dharmendra, once a contemporary of yours, writes a touching poem about being outside Fame (a multiplex) where no one knows who he is.
I think it’s very honest and remarkable for him to be able to recognise that and express it. It’s difficult to do that.
When you look around at your former colleagues, say Rajesh Khanna (alive at the time of the interview), who still calls up journalists announcing his return, what do you think separated you from your past contemporaries?
I can’t analyse this. It’s unfair to ask me that question. I’d leave that to people like you who are watching trends and commenting on it. I just know that if I do something right and people like it, I’ll get recognition. If people do not like it, I won’t get the recognition.
Is public adulation a protein that can defy physical age or ailments? I’m just trying to get at what drives you.
Public adulation is an endorsement. We’re happy that it’s there because it’s a great feeling, a great force. But it’s not everything. If my body is capable of working, what else do I do? I can’t just sit at home and do nothing. I enjoy acting, being in front of the camera, playing different roles, seeing different scripts and ideas, camera-work, how my co-artistes act and behave… If my body can take it, I’ll do it.
You’re basically enchanted by cinema per se.
I like the profession of acting. I’m very bad at deciphering what is good cinema, and what’s not. If you put me on a jury, I’ll be hopeless. If you ask me to write a critique of a film, I’d be terrible. When I read them, I sometimes go, “Oh Gosh, I didn’t see that at all” — whether it concerns a script, a story, or my acting. There are times I feel I’ve given my best, but certain points are brought out by critics that make me sit up and say, “True, I didn’t notice that at all.”
Most of us work secure in corporations where no one is indispensable. You’ve been a one-man industry forever. Your body and mind are the only assets you can capitalise on, and you’re indispensable for every job offered. Does that create strong insecurities especially in matters of health?
Yes, this is a very salient feature of our work environment. Our bodies are our fortune. If something goes wrong with it, we go out of business. It is essential to look after it and keep it presentable for as long as it’s possible. Never in my life had I kept a healthy, exercise regimen. I was shooting for Khakee. On the first day, shooting in Lokhandwala, I remember, I had to wear a uniform, the cap etc. The next day I saw the stills and I saw my body. I felt it was atrocious – how was I looking? With a paunch, jowls… Keeping in mind my character in the film, an aged, depleted, way-past-his-prime police officer, it worked very well. But for the first time I began to go regularly to a gymnasium. Then my wife took me to a trainer. I used to feel self-conscious by the fact that I’d have a trainer! But I said, “To hell with it. I have to do it.”
The other time I became particularly conscious was when I started doing KBC. I was contracted for a certain sum of money and for around two and half years. And I knew that if something went wrong with me physically, I would lose the opportunity of earning this money, which I was going to use to pay back my creditors. So I was on tenterhooks all the time. I guess now it can be told. My entire two years of KBC were done with some of my most medically complicated shortcomings. I suddenly developed severe back and neck problems.
This was partially due to an old injury that I’d received while I was doing a stunt and there was a crack and compression in one of the L4/L5, or whatever they call it. But it got accentuated. I’d suddenly get up and feel very weak in the mornings. Certain dark shadows were discovered at the base of my spine. They discovered some lumps everywhere and the doctors said, “We suspect cancer.” Of course it’s horrifying as news to know that you are suffering from that disease. But also, I was destroyed thinking about what would happen (to my commitments).
That I won’t be able to perform and earn the (KBC) money to pay back people… The entire KBC 2 was done under this. And they discovered over 10 days of several tests that cancer could be ruled out. It was an affluent form of tuberculosis instead, which people get when they lead too guarded a life – AC room to AC car to AC studio, not enough sunlight or fresh-air – you develop these patches that are known as, well, an affluent tuberculosis. It’s a terrible word! For a year and half, you have be under medication that knocks you out, because the medicine can affect your liver, and several other organs. But I had to keep going. That kind of intensifies your desire to do things that keep you healthy. It’s horrible to feel that you can collapse any minute!
This body, and I say this with huge amount of sincerity and experience, is a remarkable piece of machinery.
Do the physical insecurities make you more religious too?
The amount of things I’ve been through and the remarkable ways in which the body has reacted is just phenomenal. No wonder we become religious, because you don’t know why something’s happening to you and you don’t know how you bounced back.
After my ’82 accident (nearly fatal injury on the sets of Coolie), I had two surgeries and 16 holes (in my body) to drain out impurities… Now I have another one, which happened last month! But I am sitting here and thank the Lord, I am able to talk to you. And I am alive. The year after the ’82 episode, I got what is called myesthema gravis. I was walking up the stairs in a shoot and I just dropped. My knees gave way and I didn’t know what was happening. So I went into medication for 7 to 8 years — you can’t pucker up your lips, or shut your eyes completely, can’t brush your hair, can’t shave continuously, because your hands drop, out of muscle fatigue. Happily that went away. So you thank the Lord again.
The year after that, a bomb exploded in my hand and everything went — my fist was a meat-ball, nothing else. Over years, everything came back – all the lines, the fingers straightened out, even my web (of the fist) is slightly melted, it doesn’t completely open, but it’s functional. I lost the use of my arm. The entire film Sharaabi, I did with my hands in the pocket, everyone said, “Ah, some style!” But I was actually hiding my hand.
People lose their limbs. I saw a picture of a cab-driver in the newspaper who has no hands, and he drives with his feet. I am much better off than him and I must thank the lord that everything of mine came back. I guess everyone has faith in some unknown force. We respect that unknown force.
Those who work in showbiz often say they primarily do it for recognition as against money. When does money stop mattering to you?
I think it would be incorrect for anyone to say that if there is a job that’s showing a prospect of wealth, much more than you may have been making at a certain point of time, you’re not attracted to it. I was working at a managing agency house in Calcutta, making Rs 500 a month. With tax cuts and other expenditures, I used to get Rs 300 in my hand. Then I read an ad that promised Rs 2,500 a month, were I to be selected in the contest. The attraction of the sudden jump in my salary and that I would do something that I enjoyed as an extra-curricular activity (acting) was tempting, of course.
From Rs 500, you jumped to Rs 2,500 and now into crores.
Money is not the most important thing. Yet, it has its value. One does get tempted by material things in life. You want to get a better standard of living – it’s a normal human instinct. For some reason, if I was unable to get it, I’d be satisfied and happy with whatever I have. I always tell my children and close friends that yes, God has been kind to me. But I was born in a little, private doctor’s clinic in an area called Katra (in Allahabad), which is like, well, there aren’t any comparisons in Mumbai that I can cite (to give you an idea). You have to be in a small town to understand it. Katra is like, perhaps Chandni Chowk or Karol Bagh in Delhi – even smaller than that. I was brought home in a tanga (horse-carriage) wrapped in a ‘gudari’. How do I explain gudari – it’s the cloth you make sacks from. If I go below that, I’d be worried! So in the worst case scenario, I am a ‘gudari ka lal’ so I don’t mind going back to the situation.
Did your peers or parents ever think you’d make it so big, as it were?
I don’t think they were looking at the size of the popularity the profession could bring me. Like all parents, they were just anxious to know whether through the work I am doing, I will (be able to) achieve a certain amount of success. Creativity needs success to survive. I don’t attach too much to the hoopla around success per se. These are yardsticks prepared by the media, and I don’t contribute to it.
Over four decades of being under a constant public gaze: Has there been a time when you’ve felt that you’ve had enough; that you wish the tree outside your house or your tax files were not a national concern? Or that you could walk around like the ordinary guy and just have pani puri on the streets whenever you felt like it?
I can do that now. If I want to go out and have pani puri, I can. I drive my own car. I drop my kids to the airport like I did this morning. So it’s not all that bad. Through public gaze you gauge how you’re doing in your profession. I’d perhaps be forlorn if it weren’t there. When people wave at you or smile when they see you, you feel good for the fact that you’re doing something that’s being appreciated. There are times when you get hit, people throw bricks, and abuse you too.
People have abused you on your face, like how?
Well there’ve been embarrassing moments, especially with your parents around, when someone comes up to you and says, “How can you call yourself an actor?” using extremely abusive language in Hindi. But obviously, this is the public. They pay to see you, and if they’re unhappy, they have a right to comment.
What about being judged for every action?
That’s part of public life. If you become a celebrity, there are certain codes and ethics that at least I would like to follow. Nobody’s born without errors. I have several faults, and I hope that if I make mistakes, I will be apologetic about them, and rectify them, by being penalised for them.
Also, after decades of public frenzy, fans going wild across the country, being surrounded by yes-men…. As a fallible human being, where do you get your reality-check from?
I genuinely believe that I am no different from anyone else. Popularity is not real, it is entirely due to the medium, to which I am thankful. If you remove the medium, everything will disappear. I have never contributed towards yes-men or people who boost your ego every two minutes. So I am alright so far as that’s concerned. I know who my friends are. I have few of them, but I have them in a very sincere capacity, and I trust them. If I am unable to understand a certain situation, I like to be ‘knowledged’ about it – whether it’s my attitude, or mundane things like how to dress, design my house, or the laws of the land, income tax…
I started learning about financial matters much later. It’s never too late to learn still. I had a finance department, and so I would remain care-free about such matters. The philosophy there was that one should not crowd a creative mind with worldly chores. But along with everything else, you have to be conscious about aspects that are important.
Pardon us for saying so, but I think you are annoyingly modest.
What would you want me to say? There is nothing to say, really. There are beliefs and there are facts. What am I, if not a normal human being? I haven’t gone through any (artificial) changes, my face is the same….Yes, I have been through six major surgeries and so on and so forth. I just follow a profession, which catapults me into a region which is make-believe, and where you get admired by hundreds of viewers.
Has there been no time, perhaps in the early years of your career, after having shot for Zanjeer, say, when you’ve looked yourself in the mirror, and said, “Now, no one can touch me with a 9 feet barge pole.” It’s human to feel the high, and express it.
I have never done that, and I don’t believe in it. The high is actually quite scary because if you do achieve big success, then you have to ensure the next one is as big, or even bigger. The fear is that now that you’ve got something, you don’t want to lose it.
But actors are known to be narcissistic, by the sheer nature of their profession.
Of course, we’re all narcissists. But we’re narcissists when the camera is on. Then we assume all kinds of dimensions of a character, which I may not, when sitting next to you. We get the adrenaline going to jump off a roof, pull out a gun, kick someone in the face, say explosive lines…. But that’s what the profession is – the greatest act of narcissism. It’s wonderful how artistes can switch into that mode with the word “Action”, and then cut themselves off, almost become feeble and weak once the director says, “Cut”. That’s the magic of cinema.
Another aspect of being at the top for too long, in any profession, with its consequent insecurities is relational. Is making friends very hard for you?
Well, I have been a little reticent out of my own inadequacies, not any kind of arrogance. I don’t have the acumen to get along easily. Jaya (my wife) on the other hand has a great number of sincere friends, so does Abhishek (my son). I don’t have too many friends. But even if those that I have weren’t there in my life, I would not miss anything.
Do you miss any particular friends – who are either no more, or not your friends any longer?
Friends are important, yes, but I am usually quite happy by myself, doing my own thing.
Do you miss Rajiv Gandhi?
Yes, certainly.
Will the purported feud between the Gandhi family, particularly Sonia, and you, forever remain a matter of public speculation?
These are really personal matters and I do not wish to talk about them. But far too much is made out of it. And far too much importance and print is devoted to it, when it should really be left alone.
You’ve been the subject of media attention for the longest. How do you perceive its present, lively, paparazzi avatar? Do you think that what the public may be interested in has become more important than public-interest?
I don’t know. There are hundreds of TV channels and there must be at least 10 or 12 really important and standard newspapers. Is it physically possible for somebody to go through each one of them? So what happens then is that you question, what is it that you can do to attract eye-balls? So you have interesting news items on TV, you make your newspapers colourful with attractive headlines that perhaps can sensationalise and attract your attention. The 6-column stories need not necessarily contain what the headline states. But at least you read them and move on. And if you bought the paper for those reasons, then it’s a success too. So it really works both ways.
There is a paper like Chennai’s The Hindu, for example, that maintains a certain ethics-oriented dignity, reserve and a contemporary flavour. And there are some that sensationalise, but it’s a media policy. It’s much like artistes. I choose to work in a film like Black, and I (also) choose to work in something frivolous like Bade Miya Chote Miya – that’s my personal decision. Naseeruddin Shah, by far one of the best actors we have, chooses to work in a Sparsh or much more meaningful cinema – that’s his personal choice.
What is really exciting is that the younger generation is taking over. The average age of people working on a film set, for example, is about 21. It’s absolutely unimaginable. And girls – we never saw them on film sets in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Suddenly the balance is equal. They all treat each other like equals – backslapping, talking the same language… The phrase ‘man to man’ doesn’t exist anymore.
We know you abhor the term ‘Bollywood’, its connotation being ‘B-grade Hollywood’. But how do you feel when you have to watch, say Denzel Washington, in an English film (Man On Fire), and being told to play the same role for a Hindi film (Ek Ajnabee). Do you sense a poverty of original ideas?
Yes, of course, we should not become a victim of that. But let’s look at it the other way – how challenging can it be if I have seen something and I try to present exactly the same thing differently, or portray it in a different manner. That’s something quite innovative too. I believe director Apoorva Lakhia did that for Ek Ajnabee, though he had the opportunity to replicate the (Hollywood) original. How wonderful is it to appreciate the difference between The Magnificent Seven and Seven Samurai… Or Devdas, for instance, and see how Sanjay Leela Bhansali made it so operatic and full of colours, and did not succumb to the Bimal Roy version – much to the consternation of the purists.
Since Amitabh Bachchan’s ‘Angry Young Man’ in the ‘70s/’80s, it is said there has not been a single super-star, whose persona has attracted both the urban and semi-rural India. Shah Rukh Khan for years has been be a prime draw in overseas and metropolitan movie theatres – his films were unlikely to even open in theatres in small towns of Bihar or UP. Likewise, say, a really popular actor like Sunny Deol would hardly make a dent among the urban elite. Are the two Indias too fragmented now for a common screen image to appeal to the entire nation’s aspirations?
Hindi cinema’s execution is very tough, because it is the only cinema in the country that has to cater to every part – unlike regional cinema that gets its patronage from Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Bengal, Gujarat and so on. We have so much diversity. How do you cater to it? Also, there is no single universal cause that’s been identified in people’s minds. Before, there was the freedom struggle; or frustration over failure of the ‘system’ as Salim Saab and Javed Saab have spoken about. The Angry Young Man is certainly not novel or new, and certainly not identifiable with me. Sunil Dutt was an angry young man in Mother India. Look how powerful that role was. Much before that, there was a great actor called Ullas, who was an angry young man. I was just fortunate enough to be standing at a bus-stop and climbing on to a bus that passed by. So if I were to go along with your argument, look what happened to Mrityudaata! The actor and the character was the same. But times had changed. People didn’t identify with it anymore. They wanted someone fun-loving, with a guitar, mustard fields, pretty women around, dance, colours…
If you were to deliver a 5-minute master class on acting, given a lifetime’s experience on the subject, what’s the one lesson you would certainly impart to your students?
The one lesson I would give would be to tell the student to learn the language of his creativity. If one is working in a Hindi film, learn the language. Once the comfort of speaking the language is achieved, it takes care of, in my opinion, 80 per cent of your performance. Learn the tone and graph of a language – the performance will come on its own.
And listen to your colleague in a shot in film as though you are hearing them for the first time, even though you may have rehearsed the lines a hundred times. That’s the quality of a good actor. I would judge an actor’s performance by these very simple yet effective guidelines.
And as a public figure who’s seen several ups and downs, and ups again, what’s the one personal life lesson you’d share for subsequent generations to benefit from.
A lesson I learnt from my father when still in school – ‘Man ka ho toh achcha. Man ka na ho toh zyada achcha (If it goes your way, good. If not, even better).” Why zyada achcha (even better)? Because when man ka na ho, then it is the ‘man’ of the Almighty (When it doesn’t go your way, it goes the Almighty’s). And He/She will always think for your betterment. The will of the Almighty will always be the best for you. Which is why ‘zyada achcha’ (even better)! And in life, never give up. Keep trying, even if you have to start from the bottom again.