Amitabh I Know

The last of the ‘exclusives

Is there anyone in the whole wide world who really, really knows Amitabh Bachchan? I doubt it so surely that I’m ready to wager my favourite Steffi Graf and Uma Thurman pin-ups on it. I don’t think that anyone other than AB himself knows the inner workings of the atoms, the neurons and the nucleus that makes him go tick tock like the explosive T-bomb (the ‘T’ is for talent) of histrionics he is. Maybe those near and dear to him, like wife Jaya; and the children Abhishek and Shweta, do know him a lot more than those outside of the Bachchan citadel. But of course. Maybe the inner circle of friends and supporters a little less. But does anyone really really know the man? The superstar? The person? The thinker? I really, really doubt it.

Okay! So what are we writing about here? The Amitabh I know? Let’s just say ‘the little I know about Amitabh’. Maybe it’s still a little more than you poor souls out there. So match notes already.

To borrow a famous quote from the subject here, and alter it to suit my situation, ‘I stepped into the cesspool (uh! huh?) of film journalism almost thirteen tears ago. In the October of 1986, as a Levis-clad, Wrigley-chewing, ‘cool’ teen of the South Bombay snob brigade. I like to believe that I brought a new trend to the stereotypal film journos of the time. For me it was fun. I always prided myself on my fabulous flair for writing and my romance with the English language. Being editor of my college magazine had helped. Becoming Editor of a leading film glossy was another reinforcement of my multifarious talents. After over twelve years there, to the sixth largest newspaper -- The Times Of India -- group in the world; as Editor of ‘Filmfare Online’, I had finally come abreast with the medium and the technology of the future. It matched my snazzy pace, right?

Through it all I met a lot of stars. Of all shapes, sizes and neon wattages. Some fused early on, some grew in illumination. And some, like Amitabh Bachchan, well, they shone on more fiercely than ever. This is not to say that the man has not had ‘downs’ in his explosive and enigmatic career. He’s had his flops, his bad films. More than his fair share of criticism and his disastrous decisions. But all of it has, in no way, watered down the legend of the Indian Braveheart. The recent BBC-Online poll voting him the star of the Millennium, ahead of such greats as Marlon Brando and Sir Laurence Olivier, only smashes the point home.

Okay, so he’s had his huge setbacks, his financial losses, his corporate defeats -- but it only makes him more human in his ‘fallibility’. And for a ‘mere’ human to achieve unfading icon status in the hearts of the fickle, tinsel worshippers, is remarkable indeed.

When I began as a cub reporter, Amitabh was still in his long imposed exile from the Press. Especially a couple of magazines were out of bounds for him. But I always felt that the deewar could be shattered between the two. It came from an inner knowledge of the inner circle of AB.

One of my closest friends, right through school and college upto adulthood, was closely connected to Bachchan’s films. His father, the late G.L. Navani, was a hugely respected figure in film distribution. His banner, Radio Films and his partnerships with Prudent Films as well as Amit Films (formed by Ajitabh Bachchan) ensured that he was in touch with all the big makers. Most notable being the late Manmohan Desai. Manji as he was affectionately called, depended heavily on the expert advice of Mr. Navani (respectfully known as Lal saab in the film world and in Naaz building, the nucleus of all film distribution) as to the ‘merits’ of any new film. Especially that of the Big B. Mr. Navani, by virtue of releasing most of his movies at Bombay’s famous Maratha Mandir and Gaiety-Galaxy-Gemini group of theaters, also got to know Exhibitors Manoj Desai and Nazir Ahmed very well. It were these two die hard fans of the great AB, who, with the senior guidance of Mr. Navani, went on to form the ‘Amitabh Bachchan Fan Club’ at the peak of the anti-Amitabh wave -- post his disastrous tryst with politics and the infamous Bofors scandal. The first ever exposure to the Club was given by me when I did a one page story with Manoj and Nazir talking on it. It didn’t escape the eagle eye of Amitabh. He was furious and happy in turn. Happy, because it was a positive bit of exposure. And angry because it came in a magazine he didn’t share a dialogue with. He is known to have let Manoj and Nazir know exactly how he felt. But I do believe it was one more degree of temperature raising warmth that led to the final thawing of Mr. AB.

Anyway, during that period, I got to see advance previews of every movie distributed by the wonderful Navani family. And the fascination of my friend with probably India’s greatest performer was not entirely unjustified. He made it a point to see all AB movies (he still does) several times over. And he remains, to this day, not only Amitabh’s biggest fan but also his most vociferous critic. It was at the premiere of ‘Shahenshah’ -- Amit’s comeback, after three years, to his best-known world after the shark-invested waters of world politics -- that I saw an incredible sight. The theater (Maratha Mandir) was besieged by hordes of Amitabh fans as well as anti-Amit demonstrators who had gathered there to protest. The fans wanted to get in to see the movie. The demonstrators, simply to get seen and heard. And even as they tried to break in, in a riotous manner they were confronted by a human wall. Consisting of Manoj and Nazir, not allowing anyone in without. Even resorting to punches and bodily beating of the protesters daring to attempt a break in. It reminded me of two Capo Regimes, straight out of ‘Godfather’, protecting their ‘Don’. It left a lasting impression on me.

Of course, Amitabh, not one to forget a favour (or a slight for that matter) rewarded them hundredfold over by including them in his rare Inner Circle and even doing ‘Khuda Gawah’ produced by them later. It gave them, instant recognition in the world of Hindi films. And Amitabh, as usual, had won over trusted loyalists.

The first time I came face to face with the big man was at the mahurat launch of ‘Jaadugar’. It was rare for the Press to be invited for either the shooting or any function where the reclusive AB would lead the show, so the media was there in large numbers. After the first shot was canned the usual group photos were being taken. While most of the crew focussed their cheesy smiles on the surging mobs of photographers, Amitabh Bachchan was giving the once-over to the Press. Intense, intelligent eyes darting over the sea of the Fourth Estate taking in the new faces, raking in the old. Wishing the jaadugar could actually make them disappear, I’m sure. Not missing a thing. I actually imagined that I could see the little computer locking all the details for a later recall. He and I locked gazes for a second as well. I couldn’t help it. After all, I stood out like the jean-clad collegian I was, among all the war veterans dressed in their best. The intensity of his ‘star presence’ was tremendous.

Later, I used the services of Manoj to meet the magic-man outside his make-up room. He came out and greeted me with warmth. polite and civil, inspite of the fact that he didn’t then see eye to eye with the publication I wrote for. It only brought home the grace of the man. Of course, he just as politely declined to do an interview.

It was soon after that he made up with the Press during the making of ‘Ajooba’. Gracefully stating that it was he who had been in the wrong and even went to the extent of apologizing to the media. It made the media feel very small indeed and soon everyone was falling over backwards to write only good things about the Super B.

I met him again as he shot for ‘Akayla’ on the streets of Juhu. He had just returned from easily the most successful live stage show ever in the UK and the US. The large Wembley stadium in London had sold out weeks in advance, and yet millions of Asians had landed up to see the superstar in action for the ‘Jumma Chumma’ shows. Amitabh was visibly excited as he insisted on showing me and a colleague, a video of the shows, over and over and over in his huge, custom-designed luxury van. It was freezing inside and his long and accurate descriptions of every step and song made me want to scream and run out. But no! even when he went out to give a shot, he kept us imprisoned inside -- until he had packed up from that day of shooting.

Later it was at a party at China Garden, post the premiere of ‘Jumma Chumma’ released as a feature film, that I actually got to talk to him at length. It means that I got to say a few things in the conversation as well, earlier I was the silent partner in the conversations with this man with the awesome voice and the tremendous control over the English language. I also got to see the charming grace of the hostess, Jaya Bachchan. since the party had been hosted jointly by the Bachchans and by the publication I worked for, I had got to work with Mrs. Bachchan in deciding the seating arrangements of the stars at the premiere. During that period, I had discovered a discreet but visible sense of humour in the lady. Even later, at the launch of the ABCL Acting Academy get-together to introduce the new ABCL stars to the Press, it was a pleasure to hear her speak and interact. This was a power-couple all right, it was obvious at the party.

For my first interview with the superstar, I came armed with a long questionnaire, a Dictaphone, two pens, and three notepads. We met in the den of ‘Prateeksha’ outside where crowds gather still for a darshan of their legend. I was on time, he came ten minutes late from his bedroom upstairs, in a spotless crispy white churidar kurta. The ten minutes had given me enough time to take in the LDs lying around, the huge TV screen, the LD player and the elaborate home theater system scattered all around.

"Sorry I’m late!" That baritone was unmistakable. "I was up late watching some movies. Just can’t get myself to sleep early." I had noticed.

But before the interview, he did some questioning of his own. And as thorough as one can get. ‘Where are you from?...Which school, which college did you attend?... Have you been a Bombayite all along?... What do you do?...’ The questions were crisp, concise and to the point -- but probing nevertheless. It was obvious he was sizing me up. And he soon came to the conclusion that most people do after a similar line of questioning -- that I was a South Bombay snob. Not much into reflected glamour of anyone else but my own.

He then took a shot at something which I found incredulous, though for the Big B, it must’ve been routine. "Okay, so how does this thing work? Do you show me the interview after it’s written? Is that the done thing? I really don’t know." He was pretty casual about it. But I was stunned. For me to compromise on my proud journalistic principles seemed impossible to me. And the idealism of youth only fuelled the fires of ethics. I made as if I was gathering up my papers and my Dictaphone. ‘I’m sorry Mr. Bachchan, but that is something I have never done and will never do. You will just have to trust me on that score. I am far too fixed in my ideology, however that might be. Do you still want to do the interview?’ I must’ve looked positively howlarious in my indignation. But all the man did was smile broadly and say, "Of course, I just wanted to se your reaction. Shoot!" And the interview went on with such diverse questions as his personal life, his link-ups, his work, etc. And he answered all.

Later, when the interview was published, he -- courtesy personified that he is -- called to tell me how wonderfully it was written. He did that each time I interviewed him, along with his formal notes of propah courtesy. But I never took them seriously. It was the terrific upbringing and protocol of a well groomed man; so it was probably just manners, I thought. Until once when I’d gone to visit him at the Breach Candy hospital when his father, the famous Dr. Harvanshrai Bachchan, was ailing. it was a courtesy call on my part as well, but Amitabh was touched. he made it a point to come all the way out to see me off, irrespective of the teeming fans gathered there. I went back to my office and did an emotional two-pager on the trauma that a son was going through. When that issue came out, Amit called up my publisher to tell him this time, what a terrific writer I was and how the article had really touched him. That’s the one time I believed him, for the worth of the ‘complimentary’ note that followed.

As for what his star status is worth, well, there is not just one incident to describe it, but I will mention just one.

For a marathon photo shoot for an Annual issue, I’d got rather ambitious and asked him to do a session called ‘Amitabh On The Streets’ where I wanted him to do five shots. One, feeding the pigeons at the Gateway of India. Two, walking the promenade with an umbrella at Marine Drive. Three, having chai in a glass with bun-maska and reading the morning papers at Colaba’s famous Leopold Cafe. Four, sitting on the steps of Sterling Cinema with a ‘Housefull’ sign in the background. And five, an announced visit to Bombay’s most famous girl’s college, ‘Sophia’s College’. Probably all things he’d done at sometime in the past. To my delight, he agreed and was as excited about the feature as I was. It was an early morning shoot and I had made the necessary security arrangements. But what followed was chaos and madness. The channawala at the Gateway ‘upped’ his price by 100% (lucky kabutars--now we know where Sunjay Dutt got his song), the movie at sterling really became Housefull, the restaurant did booming breakfast business, marine drive came to a standstill, and all the lectures at the college were ‘bunked’. And the cops went crazy trying to control the situation while AB calmly read a book in his van and munched on his bun-maska. Star power? You bet.

There were plenty of other moments too, with the last of the legends of Indian Cinema, his holi bashes, his responses, his reactions, but to list them all would take a volume. And I say ‘moments’ simply because, no one really knows the Big B, howmuchever they may claim or be led to believe. And he likes it that way.

This is ‘As close as it gets’ to the man behind the ‘tinsel’ deewar. The last of the ‘exclusives’. That’s what sets a star apart. Of the Millennium or no Millennium.