Allahabad may have birthed him, Delhi and Nainital have educated him and Bengal can claim him as her son-in-law, but there is no doubt that it is Mumbai, which is Amitabh Bachchan’s crucible and karma, the ‘janmabhoomi’ which cradled his genius.
Ever since he set foot in the city six decades ago, as a struggling young actor with a lucky break in a KA Abbas movie, Bachchan and Mumbai have shared a unique symbiotic equation with each other.
To begin with, is there a corner in the city which does not carry his imprint?
Here is the parapet at the modest Juhu low -rise from which he was required to jump for his first film; these are the ribbon roads of Pali Hill on which he would cruise along with his dear friends Anwar Ali, Jalal Agha and Tinnu Anand, dropping in at various producers and directors looking for roles; there is the seaside hotel where the group would occasionally drop by to catch a bite and a cup of tea (if one of them was feeling flush that day); these suburban studios witnessed his mahurats and shoots and watched his brilliance unfold; this is the bench on Marine Drive where homeless for a couple of days, he is allegedly supposed to have slept for a night or two ; this is the hospital were he lay for months as a nation grieved, battling his near fatal wounds after his accident; this airport has seen him arrive and depart a million times on his journeys (but which never still never fails to erupt in to hysteria each and every time-time no matter how often he’s done so); these are the stadiums and stages where he has received his uncountable awards delivered his legendary dialogues and danced to his famous songs; that is the bungalow where he first planted his flag, home to his beloved parents, his growing family and the first flush of his success; across the road from it lies the bungalow of the producer friend which he’d walked to, to ask for work, after a series of debacles and setbacks; this is the industrialist’s home where he received words of encouragement and support when he was debt ridden and broken; not even a stones throw away lie the rugged dockyards which he immortalized in one of his unforgettable roles; here’s his spanking new mansion a magnet for the city’s most celebrated and successful over Diwali where the laughter and lights seem to sparkle all night; that’s the hotel gym which he toodles off to at the crack of dawn to work out in the morning ( even at eighty) ; and these are the highways, thoroughfares, bridges, colonies and neighbourhoods through which he traverses, stoically each day to report to work…come rain or shine, no matter what…
Indeed, every inch and corner of Mumbai in some way or the other is imbued with Bachchan ‘s larger than life presence, almost as if it were a mimeograph of his extraordinary life.
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But more than its geography, Bachchan’s predominance of Mumbai arises out of how much of the city’s unique DNA he shares.
Driven, motivated, hardworking? Check. Determined and undaunted? Check . Persevering and indefatigable with an enviable work ethic ? Check.
Like Mumbai, Bachchan has seen the heights of success and tasted the dregs and defeat of abject failure; like it, he has taken many blows, faced innumerable disappointments and challenges, but like it he still finds the courage to keep standing, never giving , up never saying die and most important of all – he shows up, like millions of others Mumbaiites, the next morning for another day of work. Like Mumbai his aura keeps growing, his mystique gets more compelling and his eminence expands.
As tall as the Rajabai Clock Tower, as iconic as the Gateway to India , as rugged as its promenades and beaches and as recognizable as its famous skyline, he is first amongst Mumbai’s citizens, foremost among its familiar faces his presence as perpetual and reassuring as the sea that cradles its shores, a liet motif and symbol for Mumbai itself.
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How does a person become a metaphor for a city? Dickens and London; Hemingway and Paris, Ray and Kolkata, Warhol and New York , Tagore and Shantiniketan. Could there be one without the other?
When did Amitabh Bachchan assume the mantle of the city of his residence? How did his face become its flag fluttering down at us from hoardings and bus stops and railway stations for over half a century? Why is his baritone the soundtrack of its dreams and aspirations? On Easter and Christmas we hum ‘My Name is Anthony Gonsalves’ on Holi we swing to ‘ Kaike Paan Banarasi wala ‘ on Diwali we sigh with awe and wonder at the procession of stars at his home. He marks his presence diligently at the city’s pre-eminent occasions, at its funerals and official functions, at its ceremonies and celebrations, its parties and premiers, his photographs ricocheting across the media like manna from heaven for his legion of fans and followers.
Always appropriate to the occasion, dignified and self contained. Familiar and recognizable but still so enigmatic and unknown….
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What would Mumbai have been like had Amitabh Bachchan not decided to make it his home? Who would its citizens emulate and admire? How may young men would not have grown their mutton chop sideburns and long locks and donned wide range bell bottoms the size of sailboats? Whose visage would the city’s barbershops display to advertise their services? Which song would rouse its denizens to let it all hang out on sundry holidays? Who would inspire its generations of actors to act better, work harder, be more punctual and well mannered? Who would light up our lives with his wildly original songs and dances and dialogue deliveries? Who would lead by example? When will we realize the full impact he’s had on our lives and the city?
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Eighty years ago, Pre-independence Mumbai was a very different city from what it is now. The world war ensured the presence of European troops in the station, the roads were sweeping and wide, the streets empty and clean and the architecture resplendent and imposing.
Eighty years ago, when Amitabh Bachchan was born, he was a very different entity: a shy dreamy child with brooding eyes and a gangly gait. Both have come a long way since then. In stature, affluence, experience and fame: symbiotic twins; reflections of each other; separated at birth, but forever- joined at the hip.