Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis had been in the news for all the wrong sentiments. At last, he seems to have got his Narendra Modi right. After a series of political potholes—the sedition circular, the Christmas working day controversy, scrapping the Muslim education quota and others, Fadnavis used his own example while choosing his state’s brand ambassador for education. At a time when Salman Khan was named goodwill ambassador to Rio Olympics by the sports ministry, Fadnavis selected Somnath Giram, a 30-year-old Pune tea-seller, instead of the usual Bollywod or T20 celebrity. Giram, who left his village years ago because he didn’t have enough money to finish his studies, passed his chartered accountancy exams with 55 per cent marks, studying by night and sweating it out by day. The chief minister, once an obscurity in national politics, was redeeming the ordinary Indian.
Among the common population of India exist unsung heroes than fake ones who rescue damsels in distress, villages from rapacious landlords, and destroy corrupt ministers on the silver screen. But it is the three Khans—Aamir, Shah Rukh and Salman—Priyanka Chopra, Deepika Padukone and, of course, the face that stares out from thousands of screens and hoardings—Big B’s—who make crores a day for endorsing scores of brands. Corporations and ad agencies believe that the ticket to selling an apartment or a pain balm rests in the magical lure of celebrity power. To a great extent this is true, because the herd emulates their idols. But this trend may be changing in India. Aamir Khan was dropped by many sponsors and from numerous campaigns because of his laments on intolerance. A cloud of doubt, right or wrong, hangs over Amitabh Bachchan after his name appeared in the Panama papers.
Vapours of scandal surround most celebrities. Rape and casting couch controversies revealed the seamy side of Bollywood, the pantheon of autograph divinities. The morality of India’s Gods in Blue has been stained by spot-fixing and dirty money allegations. One willow-weilding millionaire made news for trying to evade tax on a gifted Ferrari. Rape allegations plagued hockey. An Olympian was involved in a drug scandal. But the enchantment of fame and money power didn’t prevent one from becoming an MP and some actors getting off rape cases.
It is the way of the world to worship celebrities. Their hairstyles, talking, walking and dressing idiosyncrasies of the worshipped are emulated, temples are built honouring them, and their memorabilia fetches big money at auctions. It is how the faceless multitude sublimates their dreams. Most celebrities become urban legends, but their dark side is exposed eventually, by the very lights that have been shining on them. Michael Jackson died a sordid death, a victim of his own celebrity and racial aspirations and drug abuse. John Lennon met a mediocre death on a sidewalk. Liz Taylor married her window washer. The pressure of being a celebrity cannot be borne by some, and they meet tragic ends like Robin Williams and Whitney Houston. But the underworld of the celebrated fascinates fans as much as their spotlit personas and PR-crafted sexapades.
Giram is an unexpected avatar, a real hero of India for the right reasons and seasons. In a nation, with 37 per cent of the global number of illiterates, this ordinary celebrity will bring Indians the truth—“Everyman, I will go with thee and be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side.” It’s tea time, folks.
ravi@newindianexpress.com