Did anyone wonder why there was no biography of Sanjeev Kumar, despite his being one of our most enduring and natural actors? Was it the lack of that abstract quality called star power that made writing a book on him less attractive both to writers and publishers?
This book has been long overdue. Actors and fans would gain a lot from knowing how the man we know as Sanjeev Kumar managed to steep himself into every role, regardless of whether he was playing ardent lover or aged parent.
The title of the book offers a clue, that there are lessons to be learnt on being an actor’s actor. It’s a racy, easy read, right from page one. As the story of Harihar Jariwala rolls along from before his birth to the hard times his widowed mother faced as she fought Gujarati conventions to live, work and bring up her children in Bombay, one does get engrossed.
Her fierce determination and refusal to cow down to adversity shines bright through the first chapters and lights the way for our hero’s own path from student to actor. Early influences, small successes on stage interspersed with big disappointments weave the fabric of Sanjeev Kumar’s journey through the Gujarati stage to stunt films, B Grade films and finally the film that got him into the spotlight—Sunghursh (1968 release).
The authors also take pains to clear up misconceptions along the way. Quoting Dilip Kumar who is supposed to have asked Rahul Rawail, ‘where did you find this boy,’ after seeing how he handled the challenge of a face-off with him in Sunghursh, they add the context that the question was because the thespian knew the director had been hard-pressed to find an actor brave enough to star against the great Dilip Kumar. Nuggets such as these are valuable, they set the record straight. The careful reader will find quite a few such examples through the book.
Also in focus are Sanjeev Kumar’s emotional involvements with first, Nutan and later Hema Malini. The book goes into some detail, but avoids being voyeuristic. The family’s role in both cases is also highlighted. As is the reason why the actor finally chose to remain single.
It is half way through the book that the story takes a detour into some of the actor’s significant films. And it is here that the tone changes. Sadly, in chapter after chapter, as the book takes up films like Koshish, Sholay, Trishul, Pati Patni aur Woh, Namkeen, Silsila and Shatranj ke Khilari, among a few others, we do not get any insights into how the actor’s actor approached each role and made it his own.
Undoubtedly, in every film, viewers were right to believe that no one else could have essayed Sanjeev Kumar’s role better than he had done. Yet, except for one tiny example of how he brought into a scene of Shatranj ke Khilari improvisations in body language that added authenticity to his persona, there is nothing more than an assembly of trivia about the films themselves. And much of it from what has already been written about or exists in the public space.
Though the personal story picks up again, and also delves into his three heart attacks, the last being fatal, the reader looking for the actor behind the man will find him missing. Long passages on his acts of benevolence fail to hold interest beyond a point.
A word of praise for the foreword by Shatrughan Sinha. It comes from the heart, and rings true. It’s really a waste of an opportunity to write what could have been the seminal biography of a much-loved man and actor. And sadly, the content belies the title. We do get real glimpses of the man behind the star, but the actor himself seems to never have really got on to the stage, in this case. As often happened with him in real life, Sanjeev Kumar has been shortchanged.
An Actor’s Actor
By: Hanif Zaveri and Sumant Batra
Publisher: Penguin Random House India
Pages: 220
Price: Rs 599