Amol Palekar: Unafraid of being the lesser man

Amol Palekar in Chhoti Si Baat

In Basu Chaterji’s Apne Paraye (1980), Amol Palekar plays Chander, a gifted musician. Unlike his successful older brothers, Chander has found no luck on the professional front.

When due to some misunderstanding, Chander and his family are exiled to their ancestral village, the task of keeping the kitchen fires burning falls essentially on Chander’s wife, Sheela. An enterprising woman, she finds ways to make best of the situation the family has been cornered into.

Sheela and Chander’s relationship is easy, and that of genuine affection and respect. The wife realises her husband is not a man trained in the ways of the world and seen as a slacker, good-for-nothing by others. But there are no frustrated cries questioning his mardaangi (manhood) or insecurity over the wife being the decisive figure in the household.

To Sheela, Chander is a loving husband and father — a sensitive man who is unable to fit into the conventional mold of male authority and success. To Chander, Sheela is a capable woman whose dignified fortitude keeps their family afloat.

It’s rare representation in Hindi cinema — the stronghold of ‘heroes’ — charming, tough, and infallible. Throughout his career, Amol Palekar is lauded for his mild mannered, relatable, boy-next-door characters. In an era of angry Amitabh, dashing Dharmendra and romantic Rishi, Amol — the average Joe — was almost always a variation.

As the timid accountant, shy to approach the girl he loved in Chhoti Si Baat (1976), he could only imagine himself serenading his ladylove while watching Dharmendra on screen in the song Jaaneman jaaneman. In Rajnigandha (1974), he was a talkative white-collar worker who according to his girlfriend won her affections with only his “smiling face and jovial nature.” Even as the smart, JJ School of Arts educated Bombay boy in Baton Baton Mein (1979), his Tony Braganza needed some luck and assistance to strike up a conversation with the girl he fancies. None of these characters were heroic as far as mainstream cinema is concerned.

In Gharonda (1977), his Sudip mirrors the desperation of the middle-class in the most heartbreaking manner. Sudip and his girlfriend Chhaya’s dream of a life together is destroyed when the builder of the house they were saving up for runs away with their money. A house is perceived as the ultimate symbol of security for the Indian middle class and what kind of a man are you if you can’t promise this stability to the woman you love. As Sudip fails on this count, his inadequacies set him on a path of self-destruction, alienating Chhaya in the process.

Sudip’s character is a stark depiction of how consuming toxic masculinity can be. He goes from being a bright, motivated young man to an embittered lover refusing to move on. It’s a complex role, much like his Keshav Dalvi in Bhumika (1977) — the manipulative husband who has no qualms about basking in his actress wife’s reflective glory but resents her deep down.

At a time when discussions on normalisation of patriarchy and toxic masculinity are dominating the traditional and social media space — and rightly so — Bollywood, too, albeit slowly, is embracing the idea that men not necessarily be righteous and macho. In Death in the Gunj, Tumhari Sulu and Badhaai Ho more recently, we had male characters who are sensitive, vulnerable and failing.

The relevance of the characters played by Amol Palekar is now more than ever. Like the middle-of-the-road cinema he was a part of, Amol’s portrayals were the same — somewhere in between. As they are in life.

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