Actor. Director. Painter. Theatre practitioner. Social activist. Feminist. Despite being so multi-faceted, Amol Palekar feels constricted by labels. The only tag he accepts wholeheartedly is that of a non-conformist. On the threshold of unveiling his next movie, the man who best portrayed the common man on screen shares his uncommon worldview with Rajashree Balaram

 
Amol Palekar is just back from the weeklong Mumbai International Film Festival when we meet him in his office in Pune’s Bhandarkar Road — a tastefully furnished ground-floor flat that opens into a sun-kissed courtyard adorned with bamboo, muted stone flooring, and a stone sculpture of a goddess bought from Hampi. His wife Sandhya Gokhale, a qualified lawyer and Yale University graduate, who also collaborates with him on his theatre and film productions, is supervising the household help as the latter mops the floor. “It was all dusty here when we reached this morning,” says Sandhya with a warm smile. Amol gazes at her lovingly as she speaks to us. “Stop staring at me,” she scolds him good-naturedly. It’s a charming domestic scene shorn of all trappings of glamour that one usually (and often unfairly) associates with the tinsel clan.

Palekar’s celebrity is subtle yet inescapable — sundry award statuettes stand like sentinels on the stairs leading to the floor above. The walls are adorned with a Navjot sculpture and a painting gifted by artist Jatin Das, a close friend from his days at Sir J J School of Arts from where he completed his Masters in Fine Arts. A large statue of Lord Ganapati sits in a corner of the room. The 64 year-old, though, is a self-confessed agnostic—not surprising for a man whose unique individuality and conviction in his radical beliefs mark everything that he does. Dressed in a deep blue cotton shirt and jeans, there is an aura of unflappable calm to him. He speaks softly but brooks no interruption when he is putting across his thoughts. Words don’t just roll off his tongue in an ungainly gush but slip out with full awareness of their weight and gait. Though he speaks openly about his divorce from first wife, actor and director Chitra, his voice is full of admiration for her talent and intelligence. His view on the indomitable emotional strength of women is evident in all his films. Typically, none of them are launched with a gaudy splash of publicity or flamboyant hype, yet almost all have made their way to film festivals across the globe. Daayra, a clutter-breaking film directed by him on the bond established between a sexually assaulted woman and a transvestite was selected by TIME magazine as one of the Top 10 films of the world in 1996. And Akriet (1981) was awarded a special jury award at the Three Continents Festival in Nantes, France.

For Palekar, though, the loud applause is a distant echo in his private space. He has lived in Pune for the past 10 years, far from the tungsten light of Mumbai. ‘Why?’ we ask him. “I like it that way.” The pithy reply best describes the man who follows no one but his own heart.

PLEASE TELL US ABOUT YOUR FORTHCOMING MOVIE.
My next movie, And Once Again, explores the dynamics of the man-woman relationship and subtly deals with the repercussions of violence on human life. It stars Rajat Kapoor, Rituparna Sengupta and Antara Mali.

YOU STRADDLED BOTH DIRECTION AND ACTING IN YOUR LAST FILM SAMANTAR. THAT MUST HAVE BEEN VERY CHALLENGING.
I first felt the burden of being an actor and director at the same time while doing Ankahee. I was constantly observing trolley movement, light, shadows, and my co-actor’s [Deepti Naval] performance and stance. When I did Samantar, I was fairly relaxed. It was also because my wife Sandhya was my co-writer and co-director on the film. When I read the script, I knew instinctively that this was something I had to do. It’s a love story between two people in the autumn of their lives. That excited me — the poise and uniqueness of the role.

MOST OF YOUR FILMS ARE STRONGLY SKEWED TOWARDS WOMEN. ARE YOU A FEMINIST?
I don’t call myself a feminist but, yes, I dislike male chauvinism. I believe totally in gender equality. Many times I have an all-woman production team. It’s not that I consciously choose or demand scripts that have women at the centre, but I find many layers in a woman’s personality very fascinating. The industry can be a very chauvinistic space. For instance, I seriously felt that director Zoya Akhtar’s debut film Luck by Chance needed more widespread praise but the industry did not find it so easy to do that because she is a woman.

IT MUST HAVE BEEN A TRULY WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE TO WORK WITH YOUR WIFE SANDHYA ON SAMANTAR.
Sandhya is a radical thinker, a strong activist and an avid reader. Having her as my spouse and partner in my creative process is highly enriching. She has this unique combination of being extremely rational and objective while being extremely creative. She is also passionate about the tiniest detail and has a keen understanding of the medium. All that put together with her non-compromising approach makes working with her a beautiful, creative experience. Even a glint of approval or admiration in her eyes makes my day.

YOU DEVIATED TOWARDS THE COMMERCIAL AND WHIMSICAL WITH PAHELI. WHY WAS THAT?
I have not heard anyone saying Paheli was whimsical. And I disagree with that viewpoint. It was a film that had all the mainstream idiom of filmmaking. And as it was a folktale, we could not apply the regular yardstick of realism. If you look closely, you will find it has the same honesty of all my other films. In the original story, on which the film is based, the woman acceptsher husband when he returns. In my interpretation, she makes it clear that she was aware that she was making love to a stranger — despite that she does not disown the choice she made. I am as proud of Paheli as I am of Dhyaas Parva.

NOT MANY KNOW THAT YOU WERE A WELL-KNOWN PAINTER BEFORE YOU JOINED THEATRE. DO YOU STILL PAINT?
Yes, I do, though not as regularly as I used to. Many of my paintings are part of private collections. I was fortunate to have grown up during the renaissance period in contemporary India. The 1970s and ’80s were indeed the renaissance period in India in every field — painting, theatre, literature or cinema. As a student at J J School of Arts, I was lucky to be trained by great masters like Shankar Palsikar, Baburao Sadwelkar, Sambaji Kadam and P A Dhond. For that matter, when I meet M F Husain even now, he always ask me if I still paint. Even my seniors, Jatin Das and Laxman Shrestha, were so inspiring. In fact, my first solo exhibition in 1967 would not have been possible without K H Ara. He gave up his booking at the Taj Art Gallery so I could host my show. Can you imagine such generosity today?

DO YOU STILL VISIT J J?
I go there sometimes, but it’s painful now. The electrifying atmosphere I grew up in is no longer there. Commercial concerns override idealism. Of course, time changes everything, so I cannot criticise people’s motivations. But I do feel that the kind of inspiration, time and attention that seniors back then offered to their juniors is something I don’t see happening today. Each person is an island. There is no fraternity anymore.

SO WHY DID YOU MAKE THE SHIFT TO THEATRE?
To be frank, I was not very active in theatre during my college days. My first tryst with theatre was in a one-act play staged at J J written by one of the greatest Marathi poet-playwrights C T Khanolkar. I met Satyadev Dubey only after I passed out from J J and I drifted from visual to performing arts. Even in theatre, I found the best mentors: Girish Karnad, Vijay Tendulkar, Shombu Mitra and Badal Sirkar.

WAS THE TRANSITION EASY?
When I started dabbling in theatre, all the artists looked down upon me for abandoning visual arts and moving into something ‘inferior’, according to them. That alienation has been something of a pattern through my life. From theatre, when I drifted into cinema, the theatre fraternity criticised me for selling out. In cinema, again, I was never fully welcome in mainstream cinema — for obvious reasons [laughs]. I guess they had to tolerate me as I was a successful actor in my own right. I never belonged to the ‘system’, so people from the industry were always slightly uneasy around me at times. None of it, however, makes me bitter. I have never felt I was denied what I deserved. If you are not part of the mainstream in whichever field you belong to, you will be marginalised.

DO YOU LIKE BEING THE REBEL?
I have always been a non-conformist. I like exploring my own path and seek new answers to perpetual questions. When I look back I feel happy that I had the courage and strength to be what I am, to be different, to have explored new themes. I had once given a statement that was not liked by people from the industry: “Success bores me.” Once you know that people like a certain style, you stop the exploration and abandon the uncertainty that gives a lovely edge to the creative process. You don’t know whether the answers you have found are the right ones. It’s like swimming against the stream, not knowing whether you will reach the shore. I am happy that today people love me because they know I have not succumbed; I still try and explore new avenues. And that gives me more courage.

WHY HAVE YOU DISTANCED YOURSELF FROM ACTING?
I do get four to five offers a month, but nothing that excites me enough to take up acting all over again. I am comfortable with who I am. I don’t get apprehensive about being a nonconformist. Nor do I get disturbed or overwhelmed with every film I make. Age has not deterred my approach towards life or my ability to take risks. When I look back I am happy that I did everything I wanted to do on my terms. And I am proud I did not fall into the trap of monotony.

ONCE IN A WHILE, DON’T YOU COME ACROSS A ROLE THAT TEMPTS YOU?
At the age and experience I have arrived at, I don’t think there’s much that can tempt me. Even at the peak of my career, I was known to reject nine out of 10 offers. I have never been scared of saying no. At the beginning of my career, when I took up Bhoomika after Rajnigandha, Choti Si Baat and Chitchor, people were horrified. Everyone wondered why I wanted to play a villain after doing a string of successful films as the hero. I chose to do Gharonda and Khamosh as I was attracted towards the grey roles. Today, there is a lot of hue and cry when an actor experiments with a new look for a film. But I never felt the need to have a public relations team to glorify my image.

HAVE YOU CONSCIOUSLY TRIED TO BE SO LOW-PROFILE?
I am not comfortable being in the news for the sake of being in the news. In the times we are living in, where everything is blown out of proportion, I feel totally out of place. Even at the peak of my acting career, I always managed to keep my space intact. I used to roam down the streets and hang out with friends at our favourite adda. One of the most cherished adda was a coffee house in South Mumbai.

IN OTHER WORDS, YOU DON’T FEEL THE NEED TO BE CONSTANTLY IN THE PUBLIC EYE, LIKE A LOT OF ACTORS DO.
I think the world of films has encroached upon the common man’s life more than what’s necessary. Why do we need an actor to inaugurate a college gathering or a school sports meet? Why can’t we have a sports star to inaugurate a sports meet or a doyen of literature to do the same for a literary event? I get many such offers, but I never entertain them.

YOU MUST RECEIVE MANY OFFERS FROM TELEVISION.
I have nothing against being on television but I am not excited by what I see on TV. Television is a powerful medium and I wish we realise its full potential. Even Doordarshan is not yet aware of its own strengths. It can be utilised to reach out to people more meaningfully instead of just bombarding them with a barrage of shallow promotions and regressive soaps. Last year, DD requested me to capture the literary classic in Hindi, titled Krishna Kali. I did the 18-episode serial because of the reach that DD offers.

WHAT DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE CURRENT AGGRESSIVE REVIVAL OF MARATHI CINEMA?
Marathi cinema will continue to suffer owing to its proximity to Bollywood. But I am proud that it’s regaining its momentum. When I made Bangarwadi there were only seven Marathi films made in 1995. For the past two years, over 100 Marathi films have been made each year. The experimentation in presentation and style as well as the variance in content explored by the young Marathi directors is commendable. I see Marathi cinema occupying the same space that Bengali and Malayalam films once did as the torchbearers of quality Indian cinema. And I am happy I am around to see that happen.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE PRESENT SCENARIO IN THE FILM INDUSTRY?
Today, the foremost requirement is to be successful. And once that happens you don’t take any risks with it. There is no space for an Amol Palekar today, probably because the kind of films I worked in are not made anymore. Actors and filmmakers today are savvy and well equipped. But most of the time, the glitter, glamour and item numbers are thrown in to conceal the paucity of originality. When you don’t have content, you resort to gimmicks. In mainstream Hindi cinema, I admire Vishal Bharadwaj and Ashutosh Gowarikar as they try to explore new subjects. As an actor, I enjoyed working with non-mainstream filmmakers such as Tapan Sinha, Balu Mahendra, Kumar Shahani, Biplab Rai Choudhury, Shyam Benegal or debutant directors like Bhimsain, Ismail Shroff, Rajat Rakshit, etc. At the same time, I was privileged to have worked with all the top filmmakers like Basu Chatterji, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Vidhu Vinod Chopra and Satyajit Ray.

DO YOU STILL MEET WITH CO-ACTORS FROM YOUR PAST?
I do keep in touch with my contemporaries and most of my leading ladies. Dinesh Thakur, Zarina Wahab, Vidya Sinha, Sharmila Tagore, Deepti Naval, Rekha…I enjoyed working with all of them. All my leading ladies were immensely sensitive actors. So ‘on-screen chemistry’ — which is the buzzword today — was easier. I had a great time working with Smita Patil in Bhoomika. Smita was a phenomenal actress and an even lovelier soul. Similarly, Shabana and I have been friends even before we joined films. And how can I forget Tina [Ambani]? Her warmth remains unchanged.

DON’T YOU, SOMETIMES, MISS BEING AWAY FROM MUMBAI?
I was lucky to get alarmed by the insanity of urban life — especially in Mumbai — that makes me restless and drains my creative energy. On the other hand, Pune has still maintained its tranquillity and cultural richness.

YOU HAVE BEEN ORGANISING A THEATRE FESTIVAL IN PUNE FOR SOME TIME NOW. WHAT’S THE FESTIVAL ALL ABOUT?
Yes, I did the festival for five years. As theatre is not archived in India, I feel the younger generation is oblivious to the stupendous contribution of yesteryear legends like Badal Sirkar, Mohan Rakesh and Vijay Tendulkar. People don’t get to enjoy those inspiring works anymore. The festival was my attempt to recreate the nostalgic ethos of Indian theatre.

LOOKING BACK, HOW DO YOU VIEW YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR EX-WIFE CHITRA?
Chitra and I parted with dignity. We both were honest enough to accept that we had reached a stage in which we were bound in a relationship that was not what we expected it to be. I think it takes courage to accept the flaws instead of dragging yourself through an inert equation. She wrote the script for two of my films — Dhyaas Parva and Thoda Sa Roomani Ho Jaye. She has made a significant contribution to my career and I respect that deeply.

YOU HAVE TWO DAUGHTERS. WHAT IS THE EQUATION YOU SHARE WITH THEM?
I am blessed to have two gems as my daughters. Shalmalee will turn 30 next year. She teaches post-colonial literature at the University of Perth. She is also a brilliant poet. My younger daughter Samiha is in Fergusson College in Pune. She is a free spirit who refuses to be bogged down by anyone. She loves playing rugby and football. And she has also assisted me in my last two films. She has this creative, independent mind. I see a lot of me in her.

Akriet (1981)

An internationally acclaimed film, Akriet is as much about superstition as the human capacity for brutality. The story probes the psyche of an unscrupulous man and his mistress who commit ritual sacrifice of young girls to appease evil spirits.

Ankahee (1984)

Do we create our own destiny? Can we predict our own fate? Or does the future unfold regardless of our actions to control it? Ankahee provokes many questions through the story of an astrologer who predicts the life of his son and hopes his predictions don’t turn into reality.

Banagarwadi (1995)

A schoolteacher overcomes the hostility of a small village and sets out to change the destiny of its inhabitants — only to learn a few lessons on simplicity, independence, and nature.

Daayraa (1996)

While it essentially focuses on rape, female oppression and transvestitism, Daayra struck a chord all over the world because of its unusual depiction of the resilience and strength of human spirit.

Kairee (2000)

Female bonding and self-sufficiency form the core of this simple story that won Palekar a National Award. In her effort to offer her orphaned niece a better life, a woman discovers the power to overturn her own plight.

Dhyaas Parva (2001)

Based on the life of Raghunath Karve, the man who pioneered the birth control movement in India, Dhyaas Parva won the National Award for best film on family welfare.

Paheli (2005)

On the same lines as Anahat, but without the minimalism that so characterises much of Palekar’s oeuvre, Paheli is a dramatic tale of a woman in rural India who refuses to be subjugated by social norms and confronts her sexuality without apologies.

Samantar (2009)

Palekar returned to acting with this mature love story that tenderly lays out the loneliness of the autumn years and the eternal human need for companionship.

Photo: Hemant Patil
Featured in Harmony – Celebrate Age Magazine
December 2009