Why is Amitabh silent on Padmavati?
In the late summer of 1978, Amitabh Bachchan got a cousin and myself in trouble two nights in a row. I was in Delhi, from Bihar, to fly back to New York. We stayed at my granduncle’s place in South Delhi and wanted to see two new Amitabh Bachchan releases: Don and Trishul. But we had to travel to old Delhi and tickets were available only for the late show. I was 14 and didn’t think it was necessary to inform my granduncle or anybody in that house. Our absence led to panic because just a few days earlier, 17-year-old Geeta Chopra and her 14-year-old brother Sanjay had been kidnapped and murdered. (Geeta was raped.) Delhi was seized of this sensational crime. The culprits were unknown and the public feared for their children. My granduncle complained to my mother, who telephoned my father, so that when I landed in New York he twisted my ear.
The movies were thrilling. I was spellbound by Amitabh Bachchan’s trials and tribulations, and his dancing. Now, it seems like Amitabh Bachchan was the thread of my adolescence’s Hindi films. I parted my hair in the middle, as he did. My father and I often went out on Friday or Saturday nights for a new Amitabh Bachchan film: Sholay, Muqqadar ka Sikander, Amar Akbar Anthony are ones that readily spring to mind. Bachchan was the hero of heroes.
With time, he became a powerful man. He amassed wealth and when his adolescence-buddy Rajiv Gandhi became prime minister, he represented historic Allahabad in parliament. Even after he left politics, after Rajiv died, and after he grew estranged from Rajiv’s widow and children, Bachchan remained powerful. He became a powerful grandfather and hammed it up in a string of forgettable films (wearing a wig, unlike Tamil superstar Rajinikanth, who doesn’t hide his dishevelled and stringy hair even in public appearances). A few years back he hosted his 70th birthday party, and a senior Mumbai police officer whom I know was over the moon because he too was invited.
I lived in Mumbai then, and a Bollywood friend whispered to me: Amitabh Bachchan was so powerful that the industry had decided it would never allow anyone to become so powerful again. Shahrukh Khan tried to reach that pinnacle — he believed he could
Amitabh Bachchan could say a few words (about Padmavati) and tell the nutjobs to shut up.
when he became good friends with Congress President Sonia Gandhi’s daughter Priyanka but he could never be as big as the Big B himself.
Time wears the sheen off your childhood heroes, and Amitabh Bachchan was no exception, especially after his disastrous foray into politics. His wife Jaya assumed the political mantle, thanks to Amar Singh, who claims to have helped Amitabh Bachchan out of bankruptcy. But I never felt disdain for the Big B — even when global investigations revealed that he had parked money in tax havens (the Panama Papers) and that he hired a law firm notorious for tax evasion (the Paradise Papers). He used moral elasticity to hide his wealth, but it wasn’t something I lost faith over.
Recently, Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s unreleased Padmavati has gotten into trouble. It tells a fictional tale of Allaudin Khilji’s tryst with Rani Padmini of Chittor, the latter played by callipygian beauty Deepika Padukone. The lunatic fringe is up in arms. Amitabh Bachchan is no hero at all. Men have threatened to cut Deepika’s nose off; there’s a substantial bounty for her head. These men were unknown before the threats; they are now famous. Coincidentally, the ruling party currently faces a tough contest in next month’s Gujarat assembly election; neighbouring Rajasthan (Padmini’s birthplace) has an assembly election in a few months.
It is a shame because, for God’s sake, it’s just a movie. All artistes want to do is entertain cinema audiences and not lecture them on history. But they are severely threatened. Bachchan could, without effort or risk, say a few words and tell the nutjobs to shut up. He could say it’s just another fantasy that Bollywood is world-famous for. He could lead his industry in appealing to Prime Minister Narendra Modi against these horrid threats against a woman who is younger than his children.
Instead he is silent. He’s as bad as producer Boney Kapoor, who told a red-carpet journalist he had no opinions because it was not his film; or as bad as Anupam Kher, who just last year claimed to defend women’s liberties. It is this refusal to speak out on behalf of fellow artistes under siege that made me think, despite decades of devotion, that Amitabh Bachchan is no hero at all.
Aditya Sinha is a senior journalist based in India