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For the second time in just under 25 years, Amitabh
Bachchan's health is a subject of national concern. Although
decidedly less serious and not life-threatening unlike his
1982 injury caused while shooting an action sequence for
Coolie, Amitabh's hospitalization this time too has kept the
country on tenterhooks. This being an age of intrusive
24-hour news channels his medical condition, real and
speculative, is being broadcast worldwide minute-to-minute.
The outpouring of concern, however, is genuine. We have got
so used to Amitabh's presence in our lives that even a minor
ailment threatens to disturb our comfort level. To begin
with, there are worries about the TV blockbuster Kaun Banega
Crorepati 'Dwitiya'.
It has now been clarified the program will not be impacted
till December 23, but what if he is not fit enough to record
by then? At least a dozen films will be held up if the
megastar is advised prolonged rest. Since he is present in
almost every second TV commercial, Amitabh's hospitalization
could also disrupt shooting schedules for forthcoming ads.
But these are not the only reasons for widespread public
anxiety. Amitabh Bachchan's is a larger-than-life persona;
we can't imagine contemporary India without his towering,
overwhelming presence. I have no doubt that he will emerge
at the top of any poll to identify India's most popular
personality. He has held Indians in thrall across three
generations, at least since 1973 when Zanjeer smashed
box-office records heralding the birth of a star and Deewar
redefined the idiom of Hindi cinema.
Personally, there is deep irony in his sudden indisposition
at this time. Just last week, on November 24 to be precise,
I was in Mumbai to interview the producer of KBC II,
Siddhartha Basu and his charming wife Anita for our sister
publication, Darpan. We shot pictures on the empty sets of
KBC in Mumbai's Film City.
My crowning glory came when it was suggested I could sit on
Amitabh's chair with Siddhartha and Anita perched across,
posing as quizmaster and contestants respectively. Amitabh's
persona is so awe-inspiring that merely sitting on a chair
usually occupied by him gave me goose pimples; and this
despite the fact that, starting 1984, I have interacted with
him umpteen times. I felt overwhelmed being on the sets,
sitting on his chair, touching his Computerji and pretending
to be Amitabh Bachchan! Childlike, no doubt, but then,
that's what he does to you.
He will soon be back on KBC's seat and many other sets for
he is not just a workaholic but also a man who never breaks
a commitment. His current ailment, I am sure, will be no
more than a minor digression in a career that has scaled
success after success barring occasional troughs of
depression. The whole nation is with him.
Things have hardly changed since 1982 when I remember
getting frightfully excited over a page one capsule in The
Times of London captioned "Indians pray for ailing actor."
Bollywood wasn't so big then; India's multi-billion
entertainment industry could hardly be called global. But
The Times pointed out that all across Britain persons of
Indian origin were seen visiting shrines to offer prayers
for the speedy recovery of "A Hindi film actor who commands
an incredible fan following."
The short report gave a summary of his medical condition,
pointing out he had injured his stomach enacting a sequence
for an under-production film while jostling with "villain"
Puneet Issar - probably the only occasion when the "baddie"
got mentioned by an top-ranking international publication. I
remember feeling rather proud that Amitabh Bachchan had
taken India to page one of the venerable Times, although it
wasn't a cheerful situation. Probably because of the
response this item generated, the paper thereafter followed
his recovery on a daily basis.
In the pre-satellite TV, pre-internet era, that is how I got
to know Amitabh had overcome his ailment and was back at
work. In retrospect, it was perhaps the first
acknowledgement of the growing importance of India's
entertainment industry in the West and also a measure of the
burgeoning clout of the Indian diaspora.
Apart from his own will power, Amitabh was helped in his
recovery by the collective will of millions of admirers. I
think his stature became iconic in the aftermath of that
incident for it revealed the extent of the reverence he
commanded.
Till then he was a superstar. Thereafter he became an icon.
Not everybody, however, was too pleased when he was
persuaded by his friend Rajiv Gandhi to plunge into politics
and contest the 1984 election from his ancestral hometown,
Allahabad. As he later admitted, it was a mistake for he
wasn't cut out for a political role.
Not every film actor can be a Sunil Dutt or Vinod Khanna.
But Amitabh's decision to contest gave me the opportunity of
a lifetime to cover his campaign. I had entered the
profession earlier that year, which made it all the more
exciting. Seeing the adulation of the crowd, there was no
doubt he would romp home against veteran Hemvati Nandan
Bahuguna. He did so by a margin of nearly three lakh votes.
Amitabh joined politics too soon; people had not become as
cynical about politicians as they are now. Just because he
described politics as a cesspool, he was hounded out of it;
nowadays, people get away with much worse. His career too
suffered a dent.
He compounded his professional mistakes by setting up a
business venture, ABCL, whose accumulated debts brought him
to a point where even his Juhu bungalow was slated to fall
to an auctioneer's hammer. Whatever people may say about his
overt indebtedness to Amar Singh, he may not have survived
that financial crisis without the UP politician's help.
When he recovers from his present bout of indisposition he
will certainly be told by doctors to slow down. And he must.
Being a rarest of rare professional, he exerts himself much
more than his age and health permit. Siddhartha Basu told me
Amitabh spends a couple of hours before every KBC II shoot
familiarizing himself with the questions and background of
the options listed so that he can improvise his observations
in response to the answers.
Basu recalled having produced hundreds of TV programs
without coming a more meticulous anchor. "Just imagine, at
this age, having faced the camera for 33 years, he still
treats a shoot as a rookie getting his first break would. He
is the best professional I know," Siddhartha, himself a
veteran quizmaster, remarked.
The one thing Amitabh hates is disorder. Apparently when he
went to London to watch the recording of "Who wants to be a
millionaire?" he told his sponsors he would anchor the show
if the same discipline was reproduced on Indian sets,
expressing skepticism about the prospect. I can vouch for
this. During a break while interviewing him for Darpan in
2003 on the sets of Armaan in Mussoorie, Amitabh went to
shoot a sequence.
There was no dialogue he had to deliver. Yet, he lost his
temper when somebody in the crowd said something. "Who said
that," he angrily turned to ask at the top of his baritone.
The petrified crowd almost melted away. To watch curious,
tamashbeen onlookers jostling him as he exited a hospital
the other day, therefore, was a sorry spectacle. The
disciplinarian in him must have felt his dignity disrobed. I
hope people leave him alone as he recuperates. We will
deeply miss him till he does. And pray for him till then.
(Chandan Mitra is the Chief Editor af The Pioneer, India.
He was also nominated to the Rajya Sabha to take the place
of veteran journalist Kuldip Nayar)
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