'Dadamoni: The Life and Times of Ashok Kumar' review: Biography of an accidental actor

Chronicles of a man who epitomised the idea of the quintessential hero for an entire generation of Indian audience
The book cover of 'Dadamoni: The Life and Times of Ashok Kumar'
The book cover of 'Dadamoni: The Life and Times of Ashok Kumar'

The 1936 Hindi film Jeevan Naiyya begins with a telephone conversation. This is not quite the mellifluous, effortless romance of a ‘Jalte hain jiske liye’—probably the most iconic telephone conversation on the Hindi silver screen—but it is, in its own way, a landmark scene.

Because this is the very first onscreen appearance of a reluctant young actor who went on to become one of Hindi cinema’s biggest stars: Ashok Kumar Ganguly, better known simply as Ashok Kumar.

Kumar had abandoned his law studies in early 1934 to seek a career in cinema. Not as an actor; he wanted to be a director. He approached his brother-in-law, Sashadhar Mukherjee (who would go on to be one of Hindi cinema’s great filmmakers), then working with The Bombay Talkies, the premier film studio established by Himanshu Rai and Devika Rani.

Filmmaker, writer and actor Nabendu Ghosh (who also wrote the screenplay of classics like Sujata, Bandini, Devdas and Parineeta), in his Dadamoni: The Life and Times of Ashok Kumar, chronicles the rise of the legendary actor, from his childhood through to this first role in Jeevan.

The narrative follows Dadamoni through the early years of the ‘talkies’ when playback singing had not yet become popular and Kumar was obliged to sing his own songs onscreen; the years when he studied the art and craft of acting in an attempt to create his own natural style; and beyond––the burgeoning popularity that saw the runaway success of films like Kismet (1943); the varied characters, and the occasional offbeat roles.

Past the years of being hero, when Kumar moved into character actor roles––comic, poignant, avuncular—he was always so natural, so believable as the character he was playing. Ghosh discusses, along with a brief synopsis, some of Ashok Kumar’s major films, how they were made, and what Dadamoni brought to them. Before that though, Ghosh provides some interesting insights into the Ganguly family’s history, and the home in which the brothers (Ashok, Anoop and Kishore) grew up.

There are equally interesting bits of trivia about Dadamoni’s initial foray into cinema; how his association with The Bombay Talkies changed over time; even how he got saddled with the epithet of ‘Dadamoni’, the affectionate yet respectful term his fans use to refer to the actor, even now long after his death in 2001.

The hobbies and talents that Kumar nurtured also find mention in Dadamoni. Some, like his proficiency in homeopathy, are not unknown; others, like his ease with languages (he knew at least eight languages) and his adeptness at concocting amusing rhymes, which he would rattle off, in conjunction with his obliging children, may be less common knowledge. Together, they serve to create a picture of the man beyond the actor. This is reinforced by the many entertaining anecdotes in the book.

From Dadamoni’s early bumblings (thanks to him, a fellow actor in Jeevan Naiyya broke a leg) to Himanshu Rai’s advice regarding female co-stars; from his confidence in his fans, revealed during a late night drive through a tense Muslim neighbourhood during Partition with Manto beside him, to his dedication to his work, as shown in a memorable behind-the-scenes moment from Humayun (1945)––all serve, in some way or the other, to delineate the character of the man, not just the actor.

Perhaps because Nabendu Ghosh was a scriptwriter, he chooses to use dialogue to narrate some of the episodes in this book.

While it’s not a technique that often works, Ghosh manages to pull it off and produce a charming, engrossing biography of Dadamoni. One wonders, though, if this is not completely unprejudiced: barring a fleeting mention of Kumar’s hot temper (a mention, too, which devolves into humour), there is nothing here about the actor’s failings.

Did he not have any, or is Ghosh looking at him through rose-tinted glasses?
The book is sandwiched between a foreword by Bharti Jaffrey (Ashok Kumar’s daughter) and an afterword by Ratnottama Sengupta (Nabendu Ghosh’s daughter).

Taking those, as well as the selected filmography at the end, into consideration, the complete length of Ghosh’s text is only about 125 pages: possibly inadequate for a detailed biography. But Ghosh still manages to cover a good deal of ground, and leave the reader with a satisfying enough glimpse of Ashok Kumar.

Equally, he is able to provide an interesting snapshot of film-making in the 30s and 40s, a period and a style very different from even what it was back in the 90s, when Ghosh initially wrote Dadamoni.

A very readable book about a very watchable actor.

Dadamoni: The Life and Times of Ashok Kumar

By: Nabendu Ghosh

Publisher: Speaking Tiger

Pages: 190

Price: Rs 499

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