“Hey you chashmish, kya ghoor rayela hai?” he admonished a reporter who was
trying to clean the vapour off his first pair of numbered spectacles, and asked
point blank, “Have you come to my kholi
to write a sad story? Let me tell you, I don’t need your sympathy. Go, go away
from here chashmish.”
This was around the early ‘90s.
Bhagwan Dada was the unwelcoming host to his one matchbox-sized room in a tumbledown chawl of Mumbai’s Dadar neighbourhood. The Chashmish was me who couldn’t help but stare, while adjusting my bifocals to focus on the half-dozing actor-producer-director who had rocked the nation by his unique dance moves to the C Ramachandra-composed songs of Albela (1951), Shola jo bhadke... and Bholi soorat dil ke khote....
Those dance set pieces executed in tandem
with Geeta Bali, are pure classics, which continue to tote hits on YouTube in
the new age of derivative disco dhamakas.
At the time of the film’s release, the Albela songs were an invitation to
boogie in the aisles, whistle, clap and
shower coins on the screen. And as stories go, projectionists at scores of Cinema Paradisos would be forced
to halt and repeat the Shola jo bhadke
reel. Now, if that wasn’t paisa vasool for the price of a ticket,
what was?
I can’t help but return, then, to that Chashmish interview with Bhagwan Dada on his 103rd birth anniversary today (August 1). At the age of 88, the charpoy-ridden dance wonder had passed away in 2002.
Since his son had intervened, my interviewee had eased up. Whisking a quarter bottle of rum from under the mattress, eyes atwinkle, he had quizzed, “Four eyes, drink lega kya?” poured generous pegs into steel tumblers, added a few drops of water and laughed wryly, “Cheers! Cheers!”
After two hours spent in an Old Monk haze, I came away with quotes which explain his cautionary success to down on skid row story.
- Don’t go by my height and shape. I was a wrestler. I worked as a mazdoor, after all my father was a worker at a textile mill. Bahut solid tha main. Bombay film industry wants good lookers but no problem, I made it and produced stunt films which labour class people enjoyed.
- Raj Kapoor was fond of me, he advised me to make a romantic musical. Albela banaya aur phir kya. I became a lakhpati. I owned a studio, I bought seven imported cars for each day of the week. I became a sharabi kababi, gambled at cards and the race course. Drinks and women were my weakness. I was unfaithful to my wife, I had ignored my family. Maybe it was God’s way of punishing me. From a mazdoor millionaire I became a pauper.
- After Albela, I produced Jhamela and La Bela, on the same lines. They flopped. I had produced many films, I could have sold those to survive. Lekin some business partners cheated me of every rupee I had. Who knows whom the rights of Albela or any of my films belong to? Bas khel khatam, paisa hazam (the show’s over, the money’s digested).
- I am flattered that Amitabh Bachchan, Mithun Chakraborty and Govinda have said that they imitate my dance moves. Waah, unko thank you bolna. To keep this house going, I accept every role, even one scene. My only request is send me transport, a taxi will do. I’m exhausted at the end of the shooting. I return home, drink my navtaak (quart) and go to sleep. Whatever food is served at the studio, I have.
- None of the big stars has kept in touch except for three of the greatest ones. Raj Kapoor would always make inquiries about me till he was alive. So has Dadamoni (Ashok Kumar) who drops by with fruit and homeopathy medicine. Dilip Kumar also makes it a point to drive all the way from Bandra to Dadar. He calls me down to his car and takes me for a drive. No heroine has ever made a call , maybe because I’m too old. In any case, I don’t have a ‘phone anymore.
- No, I haven’t asked for monetary help from any of the film industry’s welfare associations. I’m too proud to do that.
- I regret the fact that I was resposible for Lalita Pawar’s facial paralysis. For a scene in one of our early films, I had slapped her so hard that her left eye was damaged. That is unforgivable.
- What use are interviews? Even if you write good things about me, it’s too late.
Bhagwan Dada was right. The published interview fetched its share of “How sad is that?” letters to the editor, but that’s it.
This year the Marathi biopic, Ekk Tha Albela, was completed, featuring Mangesh Desai and Vidya Balan. The Albela who started out in cinema’s silent era and went on to become a sensation, albeit for a brief spell, is a cult figure today.
For this Chasmish, Bhagwan Dada born Bhagwan Abhaji Palav in Sindhudurg, will always be the grand old man on a charpoy, a bottle of rum hidden under the mattress. Cheers, dada.
(The writer is a film critic, filmmaker, theatre director and a weekend painter)