Jab Tak Suraj Chand Rahega: 10 Politicians Bollywood rarely goes beyond

Name: Bolly Book
Author: Diptakirti Chaudhuri
Publisher: Penguin Books India

Bollywood rarely goes beyond fisticuffs to solve problems. Televised debate is just not its thing. 

Two maharathis are more adept at picking up swords than a megaphone. Though occasionally there has been the appearance of khadi and the Gandhi topi—both uniforms of the favourite whipping boy of Indian cinema. But while politicians have been all over the place, they have essentially been effete or villainous caricatures, always at the receiving end of bombastic speeches or severe beatings by the hero or heroine. The nitty-gritties of political strategy and the real hurly-burly of political action have been in the limelight fewer times.

Aandhi still remains an iconic film depicting Indian elections in partly realistic, partly airbrushed glory. With the streak of white in her black hair, Suchitra Sen will always be the on-screen Indira Gandhi despite hectic clarifications that the character was based on nobody in particular. An initially Bohemian daughter of an established and overbearing politician fell in love and married a hotelier. Unable to take the twin pressures of her father’s political ambitions and being a wife, she walked out of the marriage and the town. She came back several years later to fight an election (under the symbol of a bird) and rediscovered her love for the estranged husband. All hell broke loose as her rivals started to dig up skeletons and scandals around this ‘affair’. People tend to remember this film only for the absolutely stupendous soundtrack (probably the greatest of the Gulzar–RD collaborations), but the entire electoral process was reasonably well sketched—including a satirical song on politicians returning to constituencies every five years. What a pity it was the weakest song in the album.

You cannot talk about elections in films without Coolie and Inquilaab—and they are obviously connected. Needless to say, these were the most unrealistic films of the lot. But then, if you want reality, you may as well go and watch Bigg Boss. Also, the elections were only a small part of the overall package of the two films, in the true tradition of all Amitabh films of the early ’80s (where everything, except Amitabh himself, was a small part of the overall package). Given the topicality of Amitabh’s entry into politics around that time and that the political subplots in both films were so unconnected to the initial storylines, they might well have been written halfway through the shooting. Or maybe, on the morning of the shoot. In Coolie, Iqbal went from being a porter to a trade unionist (for other porters) to an organizer of strikes to an election candidate—who then got blackmailed into almost withdrawing by villains (who had kidnapped his mother). In Inquilaab, the transformation was even more dramatic. Amarnath started off as a black marketeer of tickets. He became a police officer. He was promoted to ACP. He killed a dreaded smuggler—Khoya Khoya Attachi—after which he was made the leader of Garibon Ki Party. He won the elections in a landslide and became the chief minister. What he did at his first cabinet meeting is something I dare not repeat, lest some Young Turks get ideas.

Aaj Ka MLA Ram Avtar proved anybody—absolutely anybody—could become an elected political representative. Even your friendly neighbourhood barber called—you guessed it—Ram Avtar. Rajesh Khanna played the barber to the minister who got pole-vaulted into politics when his minister’s party ran out of candidates. The genial shaver entered the fray with the good wishes and votes of his many supporters who expected the simple do-gooder to push their case. But Ram Avtar transformed into one slimy politician once he got the MLA stamp next to his name. To paraphrase a famous line, since he did not die a hero, he lived long enough to become a villain. But the good thing about Bollywood is that redemption is just a climax away.

It may have been the elections for only a village cooperative, but Shyam Benegal infused it with all the emotion that is normally associated with the general elections in India. Manthan saw the sarpanch (Kulbhushan Kharbanda) being pitted against lower-caste candidate Bhola (Naseeruddin Shah) in an election to manage their milk cooperative. This unequal battle was catalysed by the modern-thinking Dr Rao (Girish Karnad, playing a role based on Dr Verghese Kurien’s life). Given the social churning that was brought about, the sarpanch, who was used to winning elections unopposed, lost this first election he contested.

One of the most politically charged films in recent times has been Yuva. Set against the volatile politics of Bengal, the countryside, the rural elections, the strong-arm tactics of the ruling party and the idealism of college politics were brought out vividly. After a maze of machinations by the villains and some depressing violence, the three young men—led by Ajay Devgn—managed to win their first elections and walked into the Assembly to become three spots of blue denim in a sea of white dhoti–kurtas. You couldn’t help but feel a frisson of happiness at even this obviously unrealistic situation. When you see the film, you wonder, why was it set in Calcutta? But then, where else?

In Anurag Kashyap’s edgy Gulaal, a college election assumed epic proportions. Hanging in the balance were not just the lakhs that could be siphoned off from the college festival fund but how the winner would impact the separatist movement for Rajputana. Pitting the volatile Ransa (Abhimanyu Singh in a short but brilliant role) against the steely Kiran (Ayesha Mohan), the entire build-up to and conduct of the election was played at a hurtling pace. The campaigning, the abrupt and brutal murder of a candidate, the emergence of a replacement and the subtle rigging to swing the results were paced breathtakingly and filmed in a jagged, realistic style.

Political satires are few and far between in Bollywood. After all the intensity and unrealism of the previous films, we have Chintuji—with Rishi Kapoor in the title role. Ostensibly playing himself, the film star landed up in his (semi-manufactured) village of birth with a PR manager in tow to contest an election, and promptly got embroiled in many complications. The film took a caustic look at two of India’s most visible careerists—film stars and politicians—borrowing extensively from real-life characters and creating a hilarious mockumentary at the end of it.

Ram Gopal Varma’s Rann viewed elections and politics through a different prism. It examined how the media looks at politics, how it becomes part of it even without wanting to. Or, how it wants to. With Paresh Rawal as the unscrupulous PM-in-waiting, Mohan Pandey, the film followed the fortunes and dilemmas of idealistic media baron Harsh Vardhan Malik (played with his usual aplomb by Amitabh Bachchan). The two were supported by a very talented ensemble cast as the film did a reasonable recce of politics in the times of 24x7 news cameras.

Sting operations, orchestrated riots, moles in the media, the business of politics and the politics of business made for a realistic film that was an almost unceasingly cynical take on our times.

And that was probably best brought out by an acidic reprise of our national anthem that was considered too explosive for public consumption and not passed for cinematic release. Sigh—a ban on a film on the media.

Probably the most definitive film on contemporary politics is Prakash Jha’s Raajneeti. Here, we got to see the whole gamut of dirty politics that included but was not restricted to sex, money and power. The plot was a condensed version of the Mahabharata for politics, anyway—packed into the campaigning process for a state’s election. Brothers of all kinds—full, half-, step-, illegitimate—lived and died as dynastic politics kicked in at its ugliest. The film climaxed with the entry of Katrina Kaif in the political arena, playing the young widow of the scion of a political family. She went hoarse trying to explain that the role was not based on the life of Sonia Gandhi, but her point would have been a little easier to believe if she hadn’t worn those cotton sarees and styled her hair a little differently. And yes—her accent wasn’t similar. Wait, why did she have an accent in the film? Well, she has an accent in every film.

Excerpted with permission from Penguin Books India.