KAHIHI

Notwithstanding, my joy was double.

Having completed a day long hectic training, I made myself comfortable at the lounge of the hotel where I was accommodated. The lounge was aptly called “Unlock”.

A group of five young (younger than me) men occupied a table next to me. They were engaged in a conversation about movies, beers, girls, and politics, of course. No matter who they are and what we do, politics forms an inevitable part of our daily lives and discussions. You cannot ignore our politicians; you can simply hate them. With so much of dirt sprouting out from the numerous scams in the country the wrath is unavoidable.

Soon their discussion turned serious. Reality started to speak after few mugs of beer bloated their stomach. They expressed their anger, forms of punishment they would want to implement for the scamsters, the change they needed (Obamania perhaps), and that they would need to be a part of the system suddenly came like a revelation to them. Deep into their sub-conscious minds they might have remembered the appeals by the age old and young promotee politicians.

However, what I liked about the group was that they still remained intact to their topic of discussion, and now they were talking sense after they took several trips to the bathroom to empty. They had turned their attention to implement something that little easier than joining politics, possibly less expensive, and yet had a larger reach. “We will make movies, documentaries on political satire,” said one. The group seemed to be a movie enthusiast. So was I. And with their due permission, I joined them.

We discussed at length about the movies based on politics. Not many belonged to satirical genre. Most of them were serious – Hu Tu Tu, Gulaal, Rajneeti, Satta, Bombay, Aandhi, et al. None of them had a comical touchup. Nothing like “Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron” was ever made again. Serious movies often get restored on the superficial level of the memory while films like Jaane Bhi… go deep down into our memory – and that is one way to keep the political wrath kindled in us. Movies like Satta and Rajneeti tend to scare people making it look like an impossible preposition for people to enter politics.

While the whole day training may not have been that fruitful the evening session had lot many lessons to teach.

Back in my room, while browsing through the TV channels flooded with news about scams, I felt the strong urge to do something on political satire based movies. But are the satires seriously taken? A suspicion started piercining my brain. For a moment, I thought I should have been from Kerala or Bengal. Movies away from Bollywood and Tollywood are full of masala & make ups, Movies made in Kerala and Bengal have substance. It is because of the high literacy rate keeping ethnicity in tact, I presume.

Awareness about the social issues exhibited throught their life had made the likes of T. S. Pillai, M.T. Vasudevan Nair, V. M. Basheer and many others all the time great writers and periodical like Malayalam Manorama that has been the highest circulating periodical in regional space.

This literature gave us the director like Adoor Gopalkrishnan. He made serious movies based on serious literature.

His two movies out of eleven, I can quote in this space. Swayamwaram (1972) a debut movie written and directed by him based on middle class angst and transition of middle class of Kerala into a modernist society. It was an attempt to come to terms with the disillusionment in ideologies.

Mathillukal (1988) based on a novel by V.M. Basheer depicting an unsuccessful love story due to parting by a jail wall. When freed from jail Basheer asks, 'who needs freedom? Outside is an even bigger jail.'

And as the young boys were talking about the documentaries let me tell you that AG has made more than twenty documentaries and two short fiction films.

And Bengal has the legacy of Satyajit Ray.

Movies manufactured in Mumbai are more about dreams while those from Kerala factory are about reality. Adoor Gopalkrishnan followed the tradition of Ray to base his movies based on classical literature with social motifs. Of all the movies made in India, Malayalam movies have highlighted politics the most in terms of making issue based movies. Tamil and Hindi movies take politics as a subject only to showcase the hero’s valour of one-man-army fighting the system.

When sinking into the bed with drowsy eyes, I had a sense of hope squirting around my lips in form a smile. There is someone, and a younger generation, which is thinking about fighting the political mess in the country, to take the politicians to task, and bring shame to them. There is a wave of change that slowly erupting under the sea wherein everyone is frustrated with the chaos that politicians and power brokers of this country have created.

Not everyone needs to go the Gandhiji and Bhagat Singh to bring about a change. Few can take up what Tilak tried – gathering people through art and culture.

Hopefully that was what that young lot was trying to do.

KBC is about to end. The show had few lucky ones who won their fortune while handful had to taste bad luck. Amidst the serious competitors we all saw celebrity guests visiting the show to promote their respective films – all obviously wanting to play to show off their concern for social work and charity. There were actors from Action Replayy and Golmaal 3, and leading ladies of some lamenting television serials.

It doesn’t require any major rocket science that these special episodes are made up and scripted to entertain the audience and there is nothing “real” about that “reality” show. That all guests and host are experienced seasoned actors (though they may not necessarily know what acting is), they know how to fake, cohesively. That Akshay Kumar does not know about different types of paan is indigestible. And hence the rationale that everything is scripted.

Though people winning 50 Lacs and the one who has won 1 crore are certainly to be appreciated (nothing was dubious there), skepticism for this “for-charity” episode rises beyond horizon kissing the stratosphere of suspicion.

Surprisingly, that in all the Diwali special episodes that were shown, the prize money was dropped down to Rs. 50 lacs. Like Akshay, though he was not made to sit in the audience and forbade from participating any further, Arshad Warsi too goofed up on something very childish and the prize money was dropped to Rs. 50lacs. A buffalo like standup comedian from Comedy Circus could not answer about the only star in our solar system is ridiculous. Her slapstick moronic attitude was conveniently used to reduce 1 crore to 50 lacs. In Action Replayy team’s episode it was Neha Dhupia who goofed up, though it looked more genuine, hopefully.

It is true that social work does not attract glamour and material value, except a few NGO who flaunt their callous social work just to attract funds and be on colourful-glamful pages of newspapers and magazines. So then why would one care about all that charity and the decline in the prize money when host fees, appearance fees, etc have to run into crores. Somewhere some other costs have to come down. So while you audiences blinded by the glittery jazz keep wondering “kaun banega crorepati”, the show owners perhaps must be tickling and giggling, “chodd yaar, kaun baantega charity.”

Lately, Robot has been in news for shrieking Ra. One. However, his rendezvous with the ShivSena Boss left everyone stirred, including me, indeed with glee. The demigod of South Indian cinema, not just Tamil, met Balasaheb Thackeray at the latter’s residence in Bandra. And what a cherished fulfillment it was.

Both these great men, creative in their own ways, made the appointment even more artistic with their smiles, handshakes, pats, and hugs. Rajnikant has been a great admirer of Balasaheb, and so has Balasaheb been an ardent follower of Rajnikant and his movies. Balasaheb has often praised the superstar in Saamna and so has Rajnikant obliged Thackeray by visiting him every time he was in Mumbai – issues about language and state have never made things bitter between them.

While Rajnikant has delivered electric performances on screen, Balasaheb Thackeray has expressed his dexterity on paper – through startling articles and cartoons; both these resolute supremos have gained expertise in expression of art and captivating the masses for over decades. While one has strived to keep the history alive and the other creating history with every attempt, the Sexagenarian-Octogenarian encounter of yesterday can certainly be penned as one historic event.

Quite interestingly, Thackeray fancied smoking chiruts and experimenting with various kinds of cigars, though necessarily he may not be an addict, and Rajnikant shot to fame because of his peculiar style to smoke cigarettes – toss a cigarette in the air and clutch it precisely between the lips; this may have enticed Balasaheb. Smoking is certainly injurious to health but perchance has proved to be harmless to gain publicity.

Originally, Shivajirao Gaekwad, who also just recently played a role in Sivaji – The Boss, could also be a reason for Thackeray likes towards Rajnikant. Rajni, perhaps epitomizes the role of an ideal ruler crusading the failures, who Thackeray has idolized over years – the Great Maratha Warrior, Shivaji.

However, even if, for a while, we keep away the analogies and memories of past, yesterday’s present was like a delightful gift for me – it was packed with amicability, respect, fondness, satisfaction, and smiles, a confluence, indeed a visual delight.

He’s an octogenarian! You won’t believe. His ecstasy could shy you away. He talks about futuristic plans. Always! Not about the achieved (archived) past. He has spelled his charm for four generations. And he is ready for the fifth. He has uncountable honours and awards to his credit. He doesn’t think much about them.

The cubs in journalism ask him about his past. They don’t know enough. The generations know him though. They loved him. He is pensive to face such cubs. He doesn’t decry. Next moment he regains. He talks about his next film.

He has tasted success. He has digested tantamount flops. He never grieves though. He never gives in either.

He projects himself as a lower middle class white-collared lover. He deviates from this image at times. Rarely though. Like a jewel thief or a doctor or a vagabond at times; a sober one or a cinema ticket black marketer. Yet at the end he is sober. Not a bit more than a gentleman. Not less.

He sings on screen. He doesn’t show his expertise. In fact, he doesn’t know how to dance. Doesn’t mind. He jumps in any manner. Again sober. He runs after the heroines. He orbits around them. He never jostles them, however. Earlier he did not touch them even. He loved them at a distance of five feet.

Audience of four generations loves his actions. The camera loves him too. It’s a gift. He doesn’t have a left side molar. The smile seeps through the gap. He knows that. Audience knows that. They like that. He knows that. He allows the smile to ooze abundantly.

He is at ultimate ease. Never differentiates among audiences. A tycoon, a ruler, an artist or a general cinema-goer; all are same for him. He behaves in a friendly manner with every one. He is a showman making no show of him. Whatsoever.

His younger brother Vijay Anand alias Goldie knew his brother’s magnetic strength. He defined role for him. He suited into them like a jewel in the throne.

He would not act in a movie without songs. He refuses flatly movies sans a song for a hero i.e. him. Without a pause. Goldie wrote song for him, apart from writing screenplays and directing. Movies for Navketan, his production house. Songs, he made immortal on screen. His screen presence was numero uno. Camera gave full justice to his image. Songs he portrayed on screen have visual perception par excellence.

Watching his song rendering has a recurring value. One can watch them a thousand times in a single go. A couple of music channels sustain on this repetitive value of his songs.

In Kala Pani, Nalini Jaywant is dancing the immortal Mujra – “Najar Lagi Raja Tore Bangley Par”. He shouts, like say an unintelligible hitherto, ‘yaak’. The public catches the moment and shouts with him.

In Jewel Thief the incidence repeats. Vaijayantimala dances her unique cobra dance – “Hothon Mein Aisi Baat Main Dabaake Chali Aayi”. He enters the floor playing a dhol (drum). ‘E..e..h..Shalooooo…’ – he calls her in between the dance. This is Goldie’s brainwork. His rendering. The full theatre breathes in. Catches the exact moment. Joins him.

Theatre of delight! Any Indian orchestra’s most favourite song. Audience of hundreds in a closed hall or thousands on open ground. They chorus – ‘E..e..h..Shalooooo…’

Tere Mere Sapne. He and Mumtaj on bicycle. Double-seat. “Eh Maine Kasam Lee, Eh Tune Kasam Lee…” – song. His face covered under the hair spread of Mumtaj, in a daffodil field. Recreating a wish to watch thousand times. They sit on bicycle again. This time, Mumtaj on backside carrier. He sings a line, looks back, sings a line, looks back, sings a line…You gaze. What else.

‘Only Indian Face with International Features’ – is his introduction around world. All kind of spectators is another introduction.

Prakash alias Pakya is a hawaldar (police) in Lalbaag. Old SSC passed. Hawaldar because he never got a job. Not even through employment exchange. Jaihind talkies in Kalachowki near Lalbaag. Pakya is on duty there. Guide is the movie.

To cope the rush owner of Jaihind talkies adds one more show in the morning at seven. Pakya buys few tickets and distributes them to his friends. Often he does so for other movies of him. The public in the morning show come putting on striped lenga, brushing their teeth.

Radio talkies near Manish market around Crawford market. The owner loves him. So he shows only his movies. A movie is started. You are late. A group of four or so. You have missed the start. The operator notices the late comers. He stops the running reels. Reverses them. The movie is restarted. The early birds get a bonus. Title song once more.

Khodad Circe of Dadar. Starting point of the road to Tilak bridge passing over Dadar station. A boy stands every evening near the signal. Looks ditto him. Smiles too. Calls himself Sevanand. He removes his molar. Tries to transude smile through the gap. People appreciate. They waive hands to him. Sheer delightful scene.

Such a hero, such fans.

He is Dev Anand. Who else.

God’s own delight!

Peepli Live from the perfectionist's production house, already rumoured to have recovered its production cost, has been the matter of discussion for cine-lovers. It certainly seems to be a good movie, and apart from the Aamir Khan brand, talented actors, the media has acted as a catalyst, enoughto make the movie a success.

The movie deals with farmer suicides and the media galore coupled with motives of political mileage. and is a good satire, something comparable to the satire of "Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron".

Suicides and media direct to a more thoughful point about how the suicides of struggling and/or successful models become news of the decade, thus cultivating a stale publicity to the model.

Models necessarily enter the field to get famous and rich. The time span to do so is miniscule. However, who knows them individually, except the small world in which they work. No one else! Given that innumerable media channels have sprouted in the recent time, exposure is showered on these models.

Couple of them commit suicide, thus attracting more popularity than they did during their budding or blossomed times.

Excessive mental and physical pressure may be the reason. No great thinking is required to understand the reason behind the act of suicide. It's very superficial. Any thinking man with average intelligence can construe it.

Notwithstanding, when media chases such topic it assumes a demonic shape. In fact, media contributes effectively in making it contagious. “A model committed suicide. She might be under great mental trouble...” Media blows it out of proportion using the model's beautiful images.

However, what is disheartening is the cases of farmers who concern is more genuine than just flamboyancy. They don’t covet fame or chase excessive wealth. They just fancy life, they just want to live. Their living conditions are severe. They, primarily have to depend on the whim of nature, and in present days on the whims of political decision makers, through the local goons, the hoarders apart. Their cause of suicide has wide dimensions. However, media and we all turn a blind eye to them. When neither the rulers (of our land) nor the media cares for them, who is supposed to absolve them of their sorrows?