My dad rarely enjoyed Bollywood movies, especially since his youth was around Rajesh Khanna, Dilip Kumar, and other very mushy kinds of heroes. He was a comedy, thriller, mystery and action guy, which is why Hollywood was more attractive to him than any Indian film industry, although he was partial to Tamil films, but again only the action ones. I suppose he passed this feeling to my brother and me too since it was much later in life that I found my connection with Bollywood.
My dad avoided drama like the plague, in all languages. His famous joke on melodrama was, “Why should I pay money, travel to a theatre to cry and feel sad when it was freely available in my real life?”
Obviously, my dad hadn’t read Aristotle’s Poetics to know the concept of catharsis while watching tragedy and drama. But knowing my dad, he would’ve agreed to disagree with Aristotle and kept avoiding drama and tragedy.
I told the comedy genre came right on top for dad, right? I think that has something to do with the Tamil film industry, where comedy has a very strong foundation from the start.
N S Krishnan, Thangavelu, Balayya, Manorama, a rare female comedian way ahead of her time, and of course, the inimitable Nagesh influenced my dad a lot. He felt that, except for a few, most Bollywood actors couldn’t manage comedy the way South Indians did. Maybe that partiality came from his deep Tamizh roots, even though he lived in Mumbai for many years.
My dad opined that after years of mushiness, came the angry young man, Amitabh Bachchan and his heart turned. He adored AB’s Zanjeer and passed love and admiration for the actor on to my brother and me.
The peak of love for AB happened with Sholay, that legendary film that combined comedy and action. Yes, a bit of drama too. But Dad was more than happy to accept it when his beloved genres were the primary ones. Dad knew and told us too that Sholay is loosely based on “The Magnificent Seven” but done really well (high praise from him, believe me) from an Indian perspective.
That the Hollywood version itself was a remake of Akira Kurosawa’s “The Seven Samurai” is something he didn’t know then. He would have known it now, as I do.
Asrani became a family favourite with Sholay. His “angrezi ke zamaane ke jailor” was, is, and will continue to be hilarious for my brother and me. Asrani rattling down those three steps, missing them every time, and exactly in the same way, gave us a giggling fit every time! My brother and I laughed till our stomachs hurt. Then came the legendary dialogue, “aadhe is taraf, adhe us taraf! Baaki mere peeche.”
Dad would always ask, “ Where is the miccham?” And laugh uproariously. Miccham in Tamizh is baaki. We would laugh at that too, like it was the first time we heard that line. What innocent, happy days! It was so easy to laugh and be happy.
After Dad’s passing, the first time we watched Sholay together was about a month after that unforgettably painful day. That day, my brother and I watched this scene unfold again on our TV screen. Tears streamed down our faces, even as we smiled, remembering my dad laughing, hoping he could watch this movie again and again, wherever he was.
Sholay still clutches our hearts even now. Asrani’s passing a few months back brought fresh tears to my eyes. For Asrani and for our Dad. In fact, I watched that rather abominable Akshay Kumar movie, “Bhoot Bangla,” as a salute to Asrani, the Bollywood comedian my dad loved with all his heart.
Author’s Note:
“This post is a part of ‘Pass The Popcorn Blog Hop’ hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed and sponsored by Jaico Publishing House under #EveryConversationMatters blog hop series” powered by authors Sourabh Mukherjee and Puja Mukherjee Khattri.
This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2.0.
I also love watching Asrani (his best, in my opinion) in Sholay. In Abhimaan, he plays a more serious role—a heartfelt post on Asrani and your father.
I agree that Bhoot Bangla was terrible! But Asrani was a blast as usual. I think India can never forget Sholay. It had everything right, the dacoits, the village, the saviours, the thakur and even Basanti. The dialogues and the delivery were a world apart. Little wonder, your dad loved this so much. It’s such a great movie along with Chupke Chupke. I loved mausi chakki peesing, basanti tumhara naam kya hai… and of course, baaki mere peeche. Your dad would have loved this tribute. And now I know Tamil comedians, thanks to you.
You’re so right, Ambica. Sholay set the stage for a paradigm shift in Bollywood, and how they made movies. Thank you for your comments.
I think this the first time I visit your blog. Your mention about Nagesh, Balaya, Manorama and Thangavelu brought me a smile. Loved this post. All the best.
Thank you for your kind words. These comedians made are some of my favorites too. Hope you read my other stories.
Your blog is making me think. I watched Hindi movies with mom and dad while English with my friends. I love the way you made a tribute to your dad. I cannot remember which movies my dad liked. Music was always on for him. He sang too so music i know but cannot remember him pointing out his favourite movie 🙃
I get you, Harjeet. There are aspects of our parents we don’t know at all. But with dad, movies were his first love, and actually, mom’s too. That’s why my brother and I are very attached to movies, especially comedy and thrillers, just like dad
Asrani had this thing about him; people of all ages and generations can admire him, much like our Manorama of Tamizh movies. While this post was about Bollywood, you also brought in how it connected everyone in your family. That’s the power of movies, I guess. It binds people across generations.
Asrani was an effortless actor. Sholay was definitely a masterpiece. Your Dad’s feelings about drama resonated with me. I too can’t watch movies that are too real or too sad because I don’t want to end a movie feeling too heavy.
I agree that most Bollywood actors couldn’t manage comedy the way South Indians did! There are only a few in bollywood whose comic timings are good. I admire your dad’s life philosophy and towards the end your post made me sentimental. Sholay must be a very special movie for so many more reasons.
Asrani brought life to screen and timing yo humor, there isn’t anyone like him. Just yesterday I saw an upcoming movie trailer that had his name attached to the word Late and my heart skipped a beat.
Your post took me down memory lane. Sholay and Asrani remain a memory of a happy childhood. I’m not very familiar with South Indian movies from yesteryear, but I enjoy them now, thanks to subtitles. The best part of your post was the tribute and the way you are keeping the memory of your late father alive through the magic of cinema.
Ratna, this was such a heartfelt post on your father and Asrani. The latter was a man with perfect comic timing. I have also always believed that South Indian heroes are blessed with a comic gene. Nagesh and Manorama were rib ticklers. I can imagine how watching Sholay after your father moved on must have affected you. That is the magic of Sholay!
Such a lovely mix of Sholay nostalgia and family memories. Some movies become even more special because of the people and moments we associate with them. Really enjoyed this read.