bachchan begins - by subroto mukerji

8/9/2019 Bachchan Begins - by Subroto Mukerji

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Amitabh Bachchan Begins ~by Subroto Mukerji

India, 1869. Perched precariously on a hillside, highup in the Kumaon hills near Kaladhungi, which means, in thelocal dialect, black stones, a school called simply the

Diocesan Boys School came to life. It was started by a band ofEnglishmen serving in the United Provinces of British India, forthe purpose of providing quality education, on the Englishpattern, to their offspring. By virtue of its remote location, thesalubrious and sylvan surroundings, and the prospect ofscholarly success that solitude often brings in its wake, theschool prospered, patronized as it was by Englishadministrators and the wealthy merchants of the region. Sinceit offered education leading to a High School degree and evenbeyond, right up to the Intermediate level (which was then a

qualification that signified a fairly advanced level of scholasticachievement, and which was equivalent to having set foot in aninstitute of higher learning), the school was renamedSherwood College.

In the late eighties, however, a disastrous landslide,that caused immense loss of life and which carried half thehillside down into Naini Tal Lake far below, so damaged thebuildings that, in the interests of safety and future growth, theschool was re-established at a spot close to Ayarpatta.

Transplanted to land on a series of rolling hillocks below

Dorothys Seat, a minor promontory with a small memorial foran English lady who found it an ideal spot for her hauntingwater-colors of Kumaon, the school prospered even more. Therelocation turned out to be blessing in disguise. It was now farmore accessible from the town of Naini Tal, though still athousand feet above it, and the terrain made future expansionand the laying out of spacious playfields and swimming poolsa distinct possibility.

India, 1958. June 5th, the schools Founders Day, wasthe high point of the schools annual activities. And the

crowning event that everyone parents, distinguished guests,and students awaited with the keenest anticipation, was theAnnual Play. It is significant that, in a school dominated by theEnglish idiom and the pukka sahib atmosphere, there wereactually two plays that were presented, one in English and theother in Hindi. The school governing body, the Diocese ofLucknow, a Protestant organization with a liberal andprogressive outlook, moved with the times and Hindi was the

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wave of the future. Conspicuous by its absence at Sherwoodwas the scorn that many Christian-run outfits reserved for thenational language. It was a land of equal opportunity. Even theschool motto, Mereat Quisque PalmamMerit Goes toWhosoever Deserves Itreflected this philosophy.

The governing body, aware of the importance of alarge assembly hall-cum-stage to the social and cultural life ofthe community that comprised a residential school of sixhundred students, had designed and constructed Milman Hall,so christened after the then Principal who had pioneered theprogram. It could seat seven hundred people, and at the farend of it was a commodious stage with adjoining green rooms,a couple of rest rooms, utilities, and an elaborate sound controlcenter. The Hindi play that year of 1958, when I was in class 5,was a stage adaptation of an excerpt from Victor Hugos novel

Les MiserablesThe Bishops Candlesticks. Not many of ushad heard of this guy Victor Hugo, and demand for the bookwas high in the library.

We discovered that the book was about the indignitiesand injustices that the poor always face, especially as thoseprevailing in the post Reign of Terror Paris of 150 years ago.

The poor of Paris were a miserable, hunted lot, and nonepersonified this better than the main character, Jean Valjean.Having stolen a loaf of bread to feed his starving family,Valjean was forever stigmatized by a society that never forgave

crime, no matter how petty. It was a harsh and cruel timewhere the term extenuating circumstances was unknown to

judges.Always on the run after his release from jail, Valjean

finds to his horror that, no matter where he goes thereafter, heis stalked by the implacable, iron-souled Inspector Javert whohounds him constantly, hoping to catch him red-handed onceagain and put him behind bars for a long time. Desperate,embittered, the once-amiable and cheerful Valjean becomes ashadow of his former self, starting at the slightest sound and

expecting to find the heavy hand of the law on his shoulder atany moment. Paranoiac, his faith in humanity and Goddemolished, he is now little more than a fugitive, a huntedanimal pursued by demons he cannot hope to exorcise.

One evening, starving and penniless, Valjean is givensanctuary by a provincial bishop. The tall, calm man of Godtreats him with all the respect due to a fellow human being. Butto the cynical and distrustful Valjean, he is yet another beast in

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human form who will surely exploit him sooner or later. But asthe evening wears on, and the bishop invites him to share hishumble supper, the first stirrings of doubt arise in Valjeansmind. Is this man for real? Can it be that there still survives onthis planet a man who can be called human?

The bishop is the last of a line of aristocratic forebears,the last surviving scion of a once-proud family that had seenbetter days. Impoverished, a simple man of the cloth, thebishop shows Valjean his room for the night, pointing out themagnificent pair of silver candlesticks that are the last of theclerics once-proud heritage. They mean more to the bishopthan their intrinsic worth would indicate (for they are indeedvaluable); they are to him a symbol of a vanished glory ofwhich he, too, is a part, no matter how indigent andinsignificant. His eyes grow misty as he fondles them, the last

remnants of a fortune long consumed in the fires of Revolution.For the tall, dignified old man, they are a thread that links himto life itself, such as it isa reason to go on living.

The bishop retires for the night, but Valjean cannottear his eyes away from the gleaming silver; it is a fortunegathering dust on the mantelpiece. It is obvious that he is tornbetween his newly awakened respect and regard for a fellowman, and the need to secure his own future. He is alreadybranded as a thief; why not be one, then? But no, this man hastaken him in from the cold, dark night, has treated him like an

equal, given him a meal and a real bed to sleep in. He cannotbetray his trust. But what does the good bishop know about lifein the pitiless world outside this protected backwater of asuburban parish, a cruel world where the poor are criminalsbecause they have no money? The silver will make him, JeanValjean, rich. He will be secure; the bishop will not starve justbecause his silver candlesticks are gone: he cannot eat them.Valjean loses the battle with his conscience. Thrusting theheavy silver into a sack, he makes a hasty departure throughone of the French windows.

The last Act opens on the bishop entering the sparebedroom in the morning to greet his guest, to find he hasdeparted during the night with his precious candlesticks.Initially upset and dismayed, he comes to terms with his loss,rationalizing that the poor man needs them more than he does.As a true Christian, he feels he should rejoice in his brothersgood fortune. He kneels and prays to his God to deliver himfrom the bondage of ties to material possessions. It is the most

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moving part of the play, an old, defeated man surrendering tohis God, putting himself confidently in His hands, praying for ahigher perspective on life and the strength to sever all ties withthe contaminating human craving for mundane possessions.

There is urgent knocking at the door; it is Inspector

Javert, with Valjean and his booty in custody. He reveals thatthe bishops silver is too well known to be disposed of so easily,and asks that he press formal charges in writing. The bishoptakes pen and paper, and writes out a brief note. A disbelieving

Javert reads aloud that the silver candlesticks, hitherto inpossession of the Bishops family for generations, are now thelegal property of Jean Valjean, acquired by way of partcompensation for invaluable services rendered, services thatcannot quite be compensed in material terms. The silver is onlya token of his great esteem and personal regard. A frustrated

Inspector Javert, shaking his head and muttering to himself,takes his leave, while a stunned Valjean kneels contritely at thebishops feet, only to be pulled upright and hugged. Theindigent bishop, himself uplifted by his good deed, hastransformed Valjean from animal to man; it is obviously aturning point in both their lives.

Let us take a quick look at the two principal actors inthe drama onstage. The part of the convict Valjean is played bydarkly handsome, stockily muscular Ramesh Yadav, a final yearstudent with a talent for sports and a lethal uppercut in the

ring. His pride shattered, his confidence in humanity destroyedby circumstances, Valjean has become a fugitive, an animal ofthe shadows, merely existing, not daring to think that he willever live again. He has been thoroughly and quitesystematically dehumanized by society. Ramash Yadav bringsValjean magically to life.

The bishops rle has gone to Yadavs batch-mate, atall, slim youth with a quiet, pensive air and dreamy eyes. Thevoice is outstanding in its clarity and power, quite astonishingcoming as it does from that willowy frame. As the bishop, he is

utterly convincing, his poignant pride in the once-great familyname he bears contrasting sharply with the stark reality of hisobvious penury. Clinging to the last shreds of his sense ofidentity, he treasures the great silver candlesticks: they are thetangible link between him and the vanished glory that is all hehas inherited. They are the gleaming symbols of his sense ofself-worth, which is sinking day by day.

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His name, according to the hand-made programmesso eagerly sought today by souvenir hunters, is AmitabhBachchan. In a powerful portrayal of a proud man sinking everdeeper into the quagmire of poverty and helpless to doanything about it, he turns in a performance that stirs the

audience to tears. It is his obvious relief and exultation at beingunshackled from his false values, and his newfound vision of ahigher reality that drives home the point of the story. In hishumility and compassion for another, he does not realize hehas transformed his own life as well as that of another. A mosteffective supporting rle by Ramesh Yadav highlights AmitabhBachchans incredible talent. No one is surprised when thecoveted prize for the Best Actor goes to him.

Every phenomenon has to be born sometime,someplace. But what is unique about the birth of the Big B is

that it lay palpable in the air of Milman Hall long after the playwas overforyears afterwards, in fact, right till the time whenthe unknown advertising executive from Allahabad with theimpeccable bloodlines exploded onto the screen in Zanjeer,underscoring his arrival by playing a supporting role oppositethen reigning matine idol Rajesh Khanna in Anand, bringingyet another audience to its feet. It is still fresh in my memory,though I was but a boy of nine then, the play that was calledAur Subah Ho Gayee.

I had been one of the fortunate few who had

witnessed history in the making on that tiny stage in anobscure residential school tucked away in the Kumaon hills.Something very rare had unfolded before my eyes that summerevening in 1958. The memory returned afresh when I sawAmar, Akbar, Anthony: there was the bishop again, this timein a comic rle.

In due course, the shock waves of the explosion wouldspread far and wide as Amitabh Bachchan strode the globe likea colossus a phenomenon unique to Indian cinema.

Subroto Mukerji

Class of 64, Sherwood College, Nainital, India

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bachchan begins - by subroto mukerji

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