It was the seventies, the time when I was growing up, learning to read, write, and starting to understand worldly ways. It was also the time a certain Amitabh Bachchan was growing up, professionally. Amitabh turns 65 today and what a journey it has been. For him, and for me.
To cut a long story short, I, like most of that generation, grew up with Mr. Bachchan. Fridays that marked the release of a Bachchan starrer used to be big days for me. I would stand in line when plans opened and walk out in the afternoon with a ticket in hand. The world was my oyster then.
Life with Amitabh was exiting to say the least. The first real anti-hero taking on a corrupt system. An Indian Robin Hood of sorts who used the system to get at the system. I was sold. I laughed with the Shahenshah, cried with him, fought on his side, and mourned his onscreen death. I watched Sholay maybe 25 times, maybe more, every time expecting the ending to be different, expecting Jai to walk into the sunset with his lady love.
His onscreen death used to weigh me down for days. That after knowing very well that it was just cinema to me was the ultimate tribute to the man's talent. You left the theatre believing completely in make believe. He was a seller of dreams and continues to be one to this day.
There have been better actors than him, there will be in the future. But Amitabh is Amitabh. There is something very sophisticated about him, yet something very earthy. His sense of style, his famous baritone, his hair style, his shoes; he is in a league of his own.
How can I forget growing my hair over my ear and pushing it to the back of the ear in school and hoping that no one would spot it. Long hair was banned in school. Unfortunately, I used to be caught finally; I have had many a haircut at the school's expense. And believe me it used to be brutal. Then I used to feel one with Amitabh wanting to fight the system. When I look back I realize my enthusiasm was misplaced. But what the heck, aren't these episodes part of the joys of growing up?
The phenomenon of Amitabh spawned a whole generation of Bachchan clones, including your's truly. My father used to tear his hair out everytime I returned from an Amitabh movie and demanded new clothes, shoes and the works that would be in line with Bachchan's latest.
I watched in joy the transition of Amitabh the actor to Amitabh the mega star. I saw him carry movies with flimsy story lines, poor scripts, and funny songs purely on his talent. The cash registers were ringing non stop.
Then came 1982, the making of Coolie. Who can forget the accident, and the whole country was in mourning. I remember waking up everyday in the morning praying to God that newpapers did not carry the dreaded news. There was no 24x7 television then. I prayed for his health, rejoiced at every news of his getting better, and visited Siddhi Vinayak the day he walked out of hospital. I know many will call me a fool. To them I say, I am glad to be one.
In the nineties I saw him stutter a bit. But never did the thought occur that this could be the beginning of the end of a glorious career. And am I glad that that the thought never crossed Mr. Bachchan's mind either.
I agree that he is as human as any of us. He committed errors, but so what? So do we. And today when I am entering the third quarter of my life, I do so with great confidence. The confidence of having seen Mr. Bachchan fight and win. It's been a long journey and I too hope to emerge victorious too. Not in the manner that Mr. Bachchan has, but then I am not Mr. Bachchan.
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