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Jessica Hines
Bloomsbury Publishers
Pages 286
Rs 385
Books on the life and work of Amitabh Bachchan have of late been flooding the market. And why ever not? Bachchan is after all a Bollywood living legend. Be it a temple in Kolkata where he is the reigning deity or be it the waxworks of Madame Tussaud, Amitabh seems to have caught the imagination of not only the celebrity-starved Indian public but also the international film fraternity. It is not surprising that the fascination for this ‘Uberstar’ has percolated into the academia resulting in a steady stream of written work attempting to take the measure of this Bollywood demi-god.
Jessica Hines in her book has made a valiant attempt to bring forth the ‘real’ man behind the larger-than-life persona of the Bollywood superstar. She begins her book on a premise that the Big B is "a cross between Clint Eastwood, Al Pacino, Elvis but with more than a hint of John Travolta". And then discards the premise with a simple "Nah, that doesn’t come close".
But the book is unable to keep its promise of unveiling the true-to-life persona of the ‘Angry Young Man’ of Zanjeer and Deewar or even of the present-day Gentleman Patriarch. A mention of Amitabh’s excitement in using a ticketing machine or his enjoyment of watching a film incognito in London does make him more real but hardly makes for an insightful study of a complex personality. Comments on the "Italianate leather shoes" or the "fragrant fellow" appear trivial. In fact, the narrative and content of the book is reminiscent of the gossip based on half-truths found in most film magazines. It is obvious that Hines has "absorbed-through-osmosis" so much of gossip that she is unable to objectively evaluate her subject. Hines is honest enough to admit to this error. She self-deprecatingly talks about how she had built her introductory chapter around a half-truth picked up in an interview. It was believed that after his accident, Amitabh, went to a farmhouse to find his "idealised self" by watching all his movies. In actual fact the visit to the farmhouse was to regain the old strong physical self. So, Amitabh, the egoist of gossip, in one stroke becomes a man who with the force of his will power negates adversity. Perhaps this is the one and only insight her book has to offer on the Big B.
To give Hines her due she does devotes all of a page to Amitabh’s childhood filled with well-remembered children’s games like ‘gili-danda’ and ‘kabadi’. She also talks about the accident on the sets of Coolie and the stupendous public grief and prayers it elicited. But again there are no new nuggets of information or gems of insight. Amitabh, the artist has received no ‘footage’ at all. That is not to say the book does not make for interesting reading. The narrative is free flowing and conversational with the writer’s asides woven in. The writer’s perception of India, Mumbai, Bollywood and Bachchan is colourful if not very perceptive. Though definitely not intellectually stimulating, the book makes for a pleasant ‘time pass’.
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