In the early months of 1977, one evening, I got a call from Basuda. “Amol, will you come and do a guest appearance in my film, as ‘Amol Palekar – the theatre actor’?”
Whenever Basuda asked me to do anything for him, I never refused nor asked for any further details. But this time, there was a genuine problem. I had directed a play in Marathi titled Juloos (written by Badal Sarkar in Bengali) and we were performing at several public places as an act of dissent against the Emergency. Because of these tireless performances, accommodating his date was a genuine problem. I did not want Basuda to feel even the slightest sense that I was evading his request. Eventually, we managed to finish the outdoor shooting of Jeena Yahan (with Shabana and Shekhar Kapoor in the lead) in Mumbai without talking about politics. To my surprise, though, he was aware of my anti-emergency activities. Before I left he said, “I also don’t like these times. But I am not as Left as you or the other Basu (Bhattacharya) are! You do take care, Amol.”
Basu Chatterjee. Photo: Twitter/Ashoke Pandit
This is the only time when I remember Basuda discussing anything remotely about politics. In hindsight, I realised that contrary to my own propensities, beyond the film at hand, I did not discuss anything much with Basuda. His reticence was the main reason, I think. His reluctance to talk at length was highlighted every time he would start narrating a new script or when he tried explaining any particular scene that was scheduled to be shot. Over the years, I had managed to have a wonderful tuning with him and managed to fulfil his expectations of me. I don’t recall him praising any actor after the shot was okayed. If he didn’t like the performance, he would immediately cut the shot and ask, “Kya kar rahe ho, bhai?” His irritation used to be very evident. Fortunately, I never got to face that irritation.
Since our very first film, Rajnigandha, I started observing him ‘direct’ a film. Whenever I was not in the shot, I would stare at Basu sitting right next to the cameraman chewing one tip of his handkerchief. As the shot would proceed, more and more portions of his handkerchief would be pushed inside his mouth. I wish I had taken pictures of Basu’s ballooned face when he would finally “cut” the shot.
The young actor in me always used to be curious about his assessment of my performance. Only once I got that opportunity. On the sets of Choti Si Baat, Dadamoni (Ashok Kumar) asked him who the young hero was. Basuda praised my theater pursuits and introduced me as his hero of Rajanigandha. When the shooting was over, Dadamoni complimented Basuda for choosing an actor who despite having a theater background could perform in a non-theatrical, under-toned manner. Their entire conversation used to be in Bengali. Neither of them knew that I was fluent in Bengali. I of course didn’t bother to clarify.
Basuda’s demeanour used to be calm, quiet, and composed – always. Only once did I witness him laugh out loud. That was on the sets of Chitchor. We were shooting the song ‘Gori tera gaon bada pyara…’ One of the production assistants came and asked Basuda, “When shall I bring peacocks at the location? Please give me a day’s notice.” We were clueless as to why we would we peacocks. Basuda realised that the lyrics had one line “Mor ke paon me payaliyan pahana du“, and hence the producer might have conveyed his generous offer. His laughter then was unusually loud.
It would not have been commensurate with his narrative style to show peacocks in the background and to give such a realistic visualisation to the lyrics. Having said that, he did ask to erect a small set of a bridge with a glowing moon in the sky in order to shoot the words ‘Chandani Raton me, Hath liye hatho me‘ (in the song ‘Tu jo milse sur mein’)! When I asked him about it, he had no particular explanation for that treatment. I did enjoy devouring the front light emanating from the moon though.
A scene from Chitchor, directed by Basu Chatterjee. Photo: YouTube screengrab
His sense of music was very good even though he had no classical training in music. Most of the time, I used to hear the final recorded versions of the songs at the time of the shoot. He, as a director, never involved actors in the process of song recording. In my first two films, I didn’t have lip sync songs except one stanza in Janeman Janeman. But in Chitchor, for my character Vinod, I necessarily had to have lip-syncing skills. Raj Barjatya, the producer, insisted on involving me during the song recordings. I was very comfortable singing the lines on the sets. Basuda was very happy because of my ease.
At the time of Baton Baton Mein, he involved me in casting for the characters. His love for theatre presented him with new talent while casting for his films. Pearl Padamsee and her son Ranjit Chowdhary were actors from English theatre. I also suggested Arvind Deshpande, a veteran actor-director of Marathi theatre, for the role of my father. My suggestion that Tony Bregenza would look more authentic with a Bulganin beard was promptly accepted by Basuda. I in fact used to tease Tina (Munim then, and now Ambani) that the only reason Basuda had made that family a Christian family was because of her anglicised pronunciation of Hindi. Himself being a cartoonist, and knowing me as a J.J. School of Art artist, Basuda conceived the idea of Tony sketching his girlfriend in a moving train.
I was truly blessed to have Basuda as my Guru who exposed me to various elements of filmmaking. I inherited his discipline, simplicity, and many other virtues directly and indirectly. When taking a muhurat shot was a big, religious moment of celebration throughout the Hindi film industry, Basuda never had one! As an atheist, I used to be relieved for not having to participate in such awkward celebrations.
Most of the time, he avoided big functions and filmy parties. I remember the gala premiere of Choti Si Baat in Chennai. Other than that, none of our firms had a major premiere. At the time of Choti Si Baat, I had received an invitation from Filmfare for its award function. I had no intention to attend. Basuda not only insisted and pushed me to go but also offered the suit stitched for my character for that evening. He was very happy when I succumbed to his insistence.
I can go on and on talking about how deeply indebted I am to Basuda. It’s a paradox in my life that when I was so intrigued by the complex characters sketched by Shakespeare and Dostoevsky, I got to play very simple characters devoid of multiple layers or coded subtext. I wished to play Raskolnikov, but got to play Sanjay, Arun, Tony, Vinod, et. al. But no regrets. It was while performing those characters that I learnt ‘subtle portraiture’ is the most challenging and nuanced art.
Thank you Basuda for all that you offered me in life. Truth is that I was not the real Chitchor, you were!
