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This is an archive article published on August 29, 2004

Family Values

Om Puri is surrounded by a gaggle of middle-aged women who are ticking him off for not attending the housing society’s dos.‘‘...

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Om Puri is surrounded by a gaggle of middle-aged women who are ticking him off for not attending the housing society’s dos.

‘‘The only time we see you is at some awards ceremony on TV or in a film,’’ one of them grumbles.

The actor, amused at the attention showered on him by a neighbour, turns to appease her in an exaggerated, comic manner. ‘‘Madam, I’m at your service,’’ he says, his hands extended and head tilted to indicate servitude. Fending off some more requests for his presence, he retreats into the lift and heaves

a sigh of relief.

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A series of interviews to promote his latest project, The King of Bollywood, has been on at a suburban hotel for the past two-and-a-half hours. Seated before a TV camera, Puri remains calm and friendly until he is asked for a sound bite on his plans for Independence Day.

His response is an agitated outburst. It begins with ‘‘the value of freedom and democracy’’ and goes on to dwell on underfed children begging on streets, suicides by farmers and the Satyendra Dubey case.

The actor appears disturbed as he recalls the fate of the slain engineer who exposed corruption in the Golden Quadrilateral Project. ‘‘Arrey saala, he wrote to the PMO saying ‘Please, don’t reveal my identity’…and he got killed. To hell with such independence,’’ he exclaims, before clamming up.

Puri’s stature as an internationally recognised artiste sits comfortably with his Everyman qualities. He may have joshed with Jack Nicholson and Patrick Swayze in a career spanning three continents, but if you are trying to place him, he is still at home in Seven Bungalows, north Mumbai.

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It’s a modestly furnished two-bedroom-hall-kitchen where he has lived for the past 20 years. ‘‘I moved in here after Ardh Satya,’’ he says, opening a door to show you the view from his son’s room. The Versova beach is a distant, greyish-blue shimmer hedged in by two buildings. ‘‘I didn’t even have all the money to purchase this flat. I needed four-and-a-half lakh, and Manmohan Shetty said, ‘Don’t worry, you are doing well. Buy it, we’ll help you, yaar.’ Later, I repaid with the money I made from three semi-commercial movies: Nasoor, Patthar, Adha Ram Adha Ravan.’’


Yes, there is no movement. Earlier, Shyam Benegal would make a film, then Govind Nihalani would soon start another. Now what I do is try and fill the vacuum with my work abroad

The emphasis on his humble origins can’t be missed as Puri recalls a peripatetic childhood in Punjab—‘‘My family didn’t even have an ancestral house’’—and how he worked as a school student to supplement the family’s income. ‘‘But I led an interesting and adventurous life. And all through I had friends who were in a position to help me.’’

Today, the actor uses the same honest-to-goodness perspective to make an assessment of his work. Shuttling among niche, mainstream and foreign films, Puri refuses to get even remotely sentimental over the demise of the New Wave movement that launched him. He prefers to look at opportunities created by innovative crossover films and the impact of the occasional home-grown gem. ‘‘I think new movies like Dhoop and Bollywood Calling will be remembered. I recently got a letter from a couple in Madras. It was very moving; it was on how Dhoop affected them.

But in the same breath, he admits that there aren’t enough good films to sustain his creative urge. ‘‘Yes, there is no movement. Earlier, Shyam Benegal would make a film; then when he finished, Govind Nihalani would start another. So now what I do is, I try to fill the vacuum with my work abroad.’’

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He’s made his peace with commercial cinema too. Not all of it though; Ramgopal Varma and Rajkumar Santoshi are the names that crop up in the conversation. He compares their work to the golden age of cinema when popular film-makers like Guru Dutt and Bimal Roy wove traditional forms into memorable films. ‘‘Even today, when I hear the song from Pyaasa—Jinhe Naaz Hain Hind Par Woh Kahan Hain—it brings tears to my eyes. That’s a song depicting a real situation, and it’s very effective.’’

Puri’s enthusiasm for popular and New Age films is almost a study in contrast to the disillusionment that has enveloped the other great actor of our time, Naseeruddin Shah. In The King of Bollywood, Puri’s latest venture, which takes a farcical look at the film industry, he plays an ageing superstar, a role that required him to don 17 wigs and romance British supermodel Sophie Dahl.

Admittedly, the willingness to embrace new trends stems from a desire to create a body of work that will be seen and appreciated by an ever-growing universe of film buffs. ‘‘That is my philosophy. Look at the works of Kurosawa, Fellini, Satyajit Ray, Govind Nihalani. They produced a lot of films, their values never changed. Extremely talented and hard-working people.’’

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