"The passion for acting caught me late"

The last thing anyone was expecting from Salman Khan’s Kick was a 30 minute showcase by Nawazuddin Siddiqui in method acting. The lean and mean (thanks to his bad guy act) Nawazuddin turned on the acting heat. Calling his flawless histrionics the saving grace of the film might be pushing it too far, but his performance was certainly the silver lining to a not-so-grey cloud. Nawaz has now made a habit of stealing the show. He did it in Kahaani, then Talaash, then Bombay Talkies, then The Lunchbox and now Kick. He’s fast becoming a specialist but his unassuming nature is still intact. He says, “It was a Salman Khan film. I thought people might not even notice me. I never thought I’d be appreciated so much.” He is quick to point out that the Kick rah rahs will help his smaller-budget movies garner more attention.
Nawaz was happy making a brief entry in the second half. “A longer role would have spoilt the mystery. It would not be as much fun,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone. Next on Nawaz’s plate is Ketan Mehta’s biopic on a rural Indian legend called Manjhi The Mountain Man. As the legend goes, Dashrath Manjhi, a regular guy from Bihar, dug a tunnel through a mountain when his wife passed away because the road around the mountain was too long and he couldn’t get her to the nearby town’s medical centre in time. Playing such a larger-than-life character was an alien feeling for Nawaz. “My first reaction was that it’s impossible. But then you realise that this is part of history. Manjhi actually did all of this. He died only as recently as 2007. An ordinary man dug a tunnel with just a hammer and a pick for over 22 years. It’s phenomenal.  I was trembling.”

Like his acting, Nawaz’s belief in love is sublime. “Love is a connection. If a relationship lasts for a few days or months, it’s not love. It might be affection. You can’t fall out of true love. You can’t be logical and calculative in love. Love is an unspoken feeling. Love makes you feel good. But if you feel troubled by your love or relationship then that isn’t love at all. You’ve mistaken some other feeling for it.” He believes that sacrifice is part of the selflessness of love. “You don’t bargain in love. You can’t say things like what he/she gave me. It has to be unconditional. Pyaar ek ruhani cheez hai. It’s the most complete feeling in the world.”

Surprisingly, his philosophical nature extends to his fashion sense as well. Off late, Nawaz has been featured on a plethora of magazine covers. The fashion world has found a liking for him. But the actor isn’t looking for publicity. He’s merely enjoying the attention of being an actor. “I will do anything if it helps me in my acting. But I will never do something to prove myself to people. People will talk regardless of what I do or I don’t. The reason I am an actor is because I am comfortable in my skin. I don’t care what I wear or what people think about it. I’m not here to follow trends.” He sees himself as a free spirit. “I don’t have preconceived notions about life. I don’t believe in telling myself things like, ‘I am an actor. I won’t be part of the fashion world’ or ‘I won’t be part of television’. I do things that make me happy. I do things that I want to do. If tomorrow I feel like being a news reader, I will become one. Maybe just for a month or two,” he grins. “I work on instinct and I follow what my hearts tells me to do.”

He’s made a name at 40 and he doesn’t mind being called a late bloomer. “The passion for acting caught me late. But I guess it was meant to happen. After graduation
I started hunting for a job. I used to be a chief chemist in Baroda. I got bored so I quit. Then I took up a job as a watchman. I kept going through a series of jobs until one day someone took me along to watch a play. Back then I was clueless about what I wanted from life. I guess that’s why I was wandering from one opportunity to the other. But when I first saw this play unfold on stage, something clicked. I felt this was something I could do. It seemed like a good job. You didn’t need a recommendation. You didn’t need to ask for a favour. Once you were on the stage it was just you and the audience. You act well and people will like you. You don’t act well and people will dislike you. It seemed like a pure medium. I found this connection between an actor and the audience fascinating. I guess that was my calling.”
And he seems to have figured out his vocation. He lays great emphasis on avoiding multi-tasking. He stresses that an actor should just act. “My focus should be on my performance. I shouldn’t be bothered about whether the film will release or not. Releasing a film or promoting it is the producer’s responsibility. As an actor my job is to concentrate on the things I need to do in front of the camera. A good actor doesn’t distract himself with the several other chores of making a film.”

His passion to give his character everything is inspirational. With the simplest disposition he adds, “When I work on a scene, I have been given a fraction of a second to do the best with my art. I make sure I put my most honest efforts in portraying this character. I can’t let that chance go to waste. I can’t give a half-hearted attempt and let the character become something he’s not. I can’t falsify my performance. This is my limited world. I can’t think beyond this.”

Nawaz has continued to make a mark with smaller films like Miss Lovely and Shorts, filling the gaps between the big banner productions. And he admits there’s more work on offer than he cares for. “I’ve had more than 250 film offers to date. Now, on an average I’m offered five-six scripts each day. If I get down to signing films I guess I’ll get busy for the next 10 years. But I would also finish my career in two years. Food for thought,” he says with a sheepish grin.
    

He’s clearly not here to earn money. Considering the fact that he was struggling in the industry for eternity his disposition towards his lean phase is surprisingly positive. He states, “I don’t want to be compensated for my tough times. I can’t work on the logic that ‘Oh I’ve seen such struggle, let me now sign films for money’. I don’t see any logic there. Yes I slept hungry during my bad days. But that was a choice I made for myself. I chose a profession where I knew I would take time to make a mark. I suffered because I chose to walk that path. I don’t blame anyone for it. Not even myself.”


His simplicity seems limitless. His humility is a notch further. “I’m not the most intelligent man on earth. I am a person of average intelligence but that is enough for me to understand what films I should sign and what I shouldn’t. One of the first lessons I learnt in this industry was ‘what I shouldn’t be doing’.” And he’s certainly not afraid of failure. Without batting an eyelid he says, “I am used to a life of penance. I have lived it before, I can still live it and I won’t be afraid of living it in the future. Regardless, I will continue to do what I want.”


It’s puzzling that such a sorted individual would have a tiff with a senior colleague over the latter’s assertion of authority. But those were the reports not long ago. That co-stars from The Lunchbox, Irrfan and Nawaz didn’t see eye to eye any more is another rumour. With a slight change in tone he says, “Irrfan was the executive producer of The Lunchbox. He had every right to do anything in promoting the film. He’s my senior. He’s elder to me by a few years. He has more experience than me. I respect him.”  In his basic Yari Road apartment, a large Charlie Chaplin portrait hangs on a rather nondescript wall. He reveals, “I’ve had that portrait of Charlie Chaplin for 25 years. Chaplin used to do comedy but his reflections on life were powerful enough to make people cry. He had the ability to play with something as simple as staring at a mannequin and making expressions for more than 30 minutes. I am inspired to do that kind of comedy.” Sometimes, simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.