How my 30-year pratiksha to enter Pratiksha ended?

In one of my earlier posts I had written about how inane it sounds when someone asks you ‘So how was it meeting so-and-so celebrity?’ That was in the context of getting a picture or a selfie clicked, showing it around and then be subjected to questions like you have been bum-chums with the celebrity all along!

Thanks to the profession I chose as a career, I have been fortunate to have witnessed some of the biggest names in the Hindi film industry at work.

I have also had the good fortune of having worked with some fine actors, directors, music directors, cinematographers when they were going all out to make their mark in the industry then, and who have now gone on to become big names over the years.

I have seen the professionalism with which they approach their work.

I have seen the patience that is needed to go through the process of takes and retakes, multiple set-ups, mishaps, delays, etc.

I have sat through music sessions where the various layers of a track are all meticulously woven together to make a melody.

I have sat through colour correction sessions, offline edits, online edits, VFX and CGI ... essentially the entire process behind the making of an ad film.

Do all ‘suits’ get to experience this? Yes.

Do all ‘suits’ actually experience this? Mostly, no.

Reason being that bringing an ad to life is a creative process. And the creative folk don’t necessarily appreciate the presence of a ‘suit’ in the process as they feel it hampers the freewheeling nature of the process, since their common perception about ‘suits’ is they only look after the interests of the client, they only parrot things without actually applying their mind, etc etc.

If you haven’t figured out by now what a ‘suit’ is then let me enlighten you - suit is a four letter word for account management – the function within advertising that I cut my teeth in before graduating to becoming a business head that made my life largely about submerging myself in excel sheets of P&L, revenue targets, tracking numbers, quarterly revisions, etc … basically the boring, business part of advertising.

I would like to believe, however, that I was a suit with a difference. Someone with a slightly more creative bent of mind. Someone who would offer ‘creative’ suggestions. Someone who would partner the creative folk in the true sense of the word. Someone who would give them company while they stared into nothingness late into the night while conjuring up ideas for campaigns. Someone who would appreciate both sides (client and agency) involved and endeavour to arrive at a common ground – a bit like … to borrow the sign-off line of a campaign ‘mummy/client bhi khush, tummy/creative bhi khush’. The creative folk became my best allies as they knew that my involvement in the creative process didn’t come from a space of having any vested interest or any agenda. It just came from a space of thoroughly enjoying the process of advertising. And not wanting to be left out of it. You can call it FOMO, but it was something that helped me thoroughly enjoy what I did. And along the way I became as much a part of the ‘creative’ part of advertising as also the ‘board-room’ part of it.

Reason for going deep into this explanation was that it was thanks to this approach of mine towards every campaign that creative teams would insist on me being part of the process rather than wanting to keep me out – a treatment most suits are subjected to.

That came in good stead when we were working on a campaign that had Mr. Amitabh Bachchan starring in it. It would be my first ever campaign with the only star that I had always been in awe of. No way was I going to miss out on being in the same room as him when scripts would be discussed a day prior to the day of the shoot. Little did I know that that meeting, and where it was conducted would help me fulfill my lifelong wait and wonderment around the original (OG as defined by Gen-Z’s) most famous address in the country.

Like I said, I have been fortunate. Fortunate to have spent some time in the company of a couple of celebrities – one being Aditya Chopra on whom I have written extensively in one of my earlier posts; and the other being Mr. Amitabh Bachchan, my God. And with both of them there is no photographic evidence of it. It just didn’t seem appropriate to ask for a photo-op when the sheer experience of being in the same room with these greats for an extended period of time was way more valuable for me than a hurriedly taken selfie can ever be. After all a picture would have only resided in an overcrowded album on the phone, whereas the experiences have been indelibly etched in a special corner of the mind.

I had written a short piece titled ‘My Half Hour Pilgrimage’ the same day I had my meeting with God, which I am reproducing below. In pre-Substack days and when WhatsApp too was not the de-facto means of communication I had circulated it on email to a few of my close friends.

If you are a Bachchan fan you will not ask why I have chosen to publish it today. If you aren’t one (is that even possible?), then it would be good for you to know that my God turned 81 today – how cool is that, that my fortnightly date of publishing my post coincides with His birthday!

Happy 81^st Mr. Bachchan!

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My Half Hour Pilgrimage

February 11, 2011

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Circa 1979 or thereabouts

At about 8 pm or so, an 8-9 year old has gone to Juhu beach with his cousins and then ends up walking for quite some time just so that he is able to stand outside a bungalow with really BIG wood gates in Juhu. And he wonders what it must be like inside and beyond the gates. 

Circa 1994

The same 8-9 year old is now doing his MBA course and has just managed to get himself invited to the famed Holi celebrations that happens in the bungalow in Juhu with the BIG wood gates. But destiny had other plans as the friend whom he was going to tag along with decides to opt out at the last minute, but still tells me that she has informed the people there about me attending. He decides against going alone and opts out too, thinking he didn’t want to be like the proverbial ‘begaani shaadi mein Abdullah deewana’.

Cut to ...

The 8-9 year old is now a 40 year old. And this time he is standing beyond the BIG wood gates of the same bungalow in Juhu. Yes, my friends ... yours truly went for a pilgrimage today morning to the hallowed precincts of Pratiksha and had a 30 min meeting with God. It was destined that I meet him at his erstwhile place of residence and not at his office in another elegant bungalow which is also in the vicinity. We (there were 5 of us - our National Creative Director, Executive Creative Director, the Director, the Producer and myself) had a narration meeting for four scripts that we would be shooting tomorrow morning in Film City.

We landed at Pratiksha at 10 mins to 10 for a meeting at 10 am. We settled in the drawing room. Beyond the French windows one could see a lush green lawn and a carefully manicured garden – the location of a shoot that famed photographer Gautam Rajadhyaksha had shot the entire Bachchan family in. The door to the drawing room has a sliding door with glass panelling. I have a good look around in the big room. There are lots of frames of different Gods adorning the walls, some family photos, nicely comfortable sofas on which we plonked ourselves, a big centre table with six bowls that had munchies like almonds, pistachios, cashews and assorted biscuits, etc. The room, and the overall atmosphere, of the bungalow had a distinct feel of not being occupied on a regular basis. It is not swank by any stretch of imagination ... in fact it’s got a little bit of an 80s feel to it ... in a nice sort of way. A well-appointed, uniformed staff member appears and asks us for tea-coffee. Another man walks in with tray full of water glasses.

And then suddenly we see a hunched figure with an Armani beanie and a loose Nike sweat-suit standing outside the door of the room peering inside with a look of wonderment at seeing so many of us. And then HE walks in ... dot at 10 am, 3 phones in hand and barefeet.

"Arre itne saare? Ek ad keliye?" are His first words.

So His manager says cheekily, "Amitji, ek nahi … chaar ads hain."

So He says, tongue-firmly-in-cheek "Achcha chaar ads keliye chaar log, haiin?"

Then He says "Kaun, kaun hai bhai?" And He stretches out His hand towards me ...

I am the first in the line, while I am eventually going to be the farthest from Him where He eventually settles down. I am going all knock-kneed seeing God in flesh and person. I am shaking in my pants and hoping that my hands don’t shake in case He decides to offer to shake hands. Which He does. I manage to get back some composure. I shake hands, introduce myself, there is the briefest of pauses while He sizes me up, with me getting even more tense and not knowing what else to do in those microseconds that seem like an eternity, I add Lowe Lintas as a suffix to my name. And He says "Amitabh Bachchan". Like I never would have known otherwise!! He shakes hands with everyone there. Then settles down.

The first question He asks is "Has tea-coffee been organized?" We all mumble our collective yes'es. His business manager tells the reason we are there. He says to my NCD, "Toh sunaiye phir". The narration happens. He listens intently. Gives His suggestions. Jokes around a while. I will not get into the details here. But rest assured that His mind is as sharp and as visual as can be expected of a creative person. He needs to know all the details, exactly. So as a director, one better be prepared to answer any specific questions. 40 years of doing the same thing day in and day out shows. And how! He showed jhalaks of His famed dry humour. Then we discussed costumes, and His hair-pieces and His spectacles. He went over the scripts again to once again get a sense of what was expected from Him. Then enquired about the location and call time. And said ‘See you tomorrow’. He came to see us out till the door of the room. And then we left. It all went by in a blur.

So how is God in real life, in person? He is frail. He has a slouch when He sits and when He stands. He looks haggard, almost. The loose sweatsuit He was wearing too added to the dissonance in his appearance which was at odds to the imposing, ramrod straight, long striding version that we have all grown up on. The toll the body has taken with multiple ailments and surgeries is pretty much evident - especially in the eyes ... they look quite tired actually. One can see the effort that He must be putting in to pull Himself up and put on an act every day at the age of 70. He has a very small face. Really. Nothing like the long one that one is used to seeing on screen - just goes to show how much the camera fools us. The head-hugging beanie He was wearing made His head look smaller than one would have imagined ... probably the reason why He insists on wearing a hair piece that tries to recreate the hairstyle that had guys from my generation trying to ape it, largely unsuccessfully. But the baritone is very much in place … and it has the power to silence a room even without Him having to raise His voice. The piercing eyes that, though tired, are always sizing you up, that have an unsettling effect on you ... almost saying mockingly "Are you really worth your salt that you are talking to me?" And yet there is a natural humility. No airs. Absolutely. And in spite of being who He is, and though we were in His house in an official capacity there is a warmth around in the house and in the way He makes someone very comfortable. Neither the house nor its famous resident overpower you or your senses.

You enter a house ... a home rather, and you leave having met the maalik of the house. You don't get the feeling of being inside the country's erstwhile most famous address. And you don't get a feeling of being a lowly nobody in front of the biggest star of the millennium. To me that is the sign of a great temple and a greater God. Tomorrow is the day when I will see Him again...but this time as THE star, not as the maalik of Pratiksha.

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Be braver. Be kinder.

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For Keep Watching this time I am sharing the review of a fairly recent Bachchan release called Jhund. The movie wasn’t great as my review will tell. The reason for choosing is very different. It’s to do with the effect the man and his aura has on others. If He could have an effect of me shaking in my pants seeing him up close, then I can imagine the director Nagraj Manjule too must have been shaking in his pants faced with the daunting task of directing God. Fortunately for me, the effect was not for all to see. No such luck for Mr. Manjule, though.

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Based on the true story of a professor who has a eureka moment of making football the tool and catalyst for uplifting the squalid lives of slum kids, Jhund aptly uses the metaphor of a wall to highlight the struggles of the underprivileged - as a divider, a tall challenge to be taken head on, and a border that has to be crossed for a better life. The first half is about the putting together of a team and the joy of winning a match, the second half is about the struggles of the underprivileged and the euphoria of overcoming life’s challenges. The director seems to be at home in depicting the squalor of the kids, but struggles to seamlessly integrate the presence of a superstar into the narrative. The outcome is a sloppily edited series of life moments, sports movie tropes, relationship cliches, and a lot of tick marks that include a Bachchan monologue, the musical language (vakda-tikda will be the new jhingaat, but did one need to reduce Ambedkar to a procession cutout, rather than use him as inspiration), but also the characters from Sairaat who stick out from the rest of the cast since they are the ‘actors’ amongst naturals. The result is an awkward Bachchan who never really manages to enmesh himself into the proceedings. And that is a pity as this turns out to be the tallest wall that the director is not able to climb his way out to the top. The movie thus remains a ‘jhund’ of half baked ideas and moments that never coalesces into a team that’ll stir you up.