Farogh Jafri once told me in his shabby, tiny, book-lined room in Malegaon—“slightly bigger than a grave”, as he described it—that his life resembled Javed Akhtar’s; and yet, not quite. Like the famous screenwriter-poet-lyricist, Farogh was born in a progressive, intellectual family. His mother was a primary school teacher, father used to bring out an eveninger called Shaamnama. However, unlike Akhtar, Farogh could never find far-reaching appreciation and success for his writing.
Cynical Farogh was a diehard cinephile and scriptwriter of the wacky spoof films Malegaon Ke Sholay and Malegaon Ka Superman, which the small town in Maharashtra became synonymous with apart from infamous communal clashes. An artiste who dreamt of crossing over to Bollywood but never could, Farogh was frustrated by privation and lack of opportunities in his hometown which he referred to as a big hell.
He passed away on September 13, 2020, unknown, unsung and unable to bridge the 300-odd km that separated Malegaon from Mumbai, the yawning distance that he spoke about eloquently in impeccable Urdu in Faiza Khan’s outstanding 2008 documentary, Supermen of Malegaon, on the making of the local Superman.
It feels ironic that Farogh is set to posthumously get the spotlight he desperately craved for in life, with Vineet Kumar Singh of Mukkabaaz fame playing him in Reema Kagti’s forthcoming Superboys of Malegaon—a film backed by none other than Javed Akhtar’s children Farhan and Zoya. Its gala world premiere is set to happen exactly four years from Farogh’s death, this September 13, at the Toronto International Film Festival.
However, this is neither about Farogh nor Kagti’s film that chronicles the life of Farogh’s friend and collaborator Nasir Shaikh, often called the Dadasaheb Phalke of Malegaon’s homegrown film industry. It is an occasion to reflect on the spirit, creativity, resourcefulness and audacity of the self-made, subaltern, almost-zero-budget cinema that has now gone beyond Malegaon to occupy platforms like YouTube, TikTok and Instagram, fuelled by cheap and accessible technology and riding on the democratisation of the medium. Have a mobile, will make movies.
What drives this ‘of the people, by the people, for the people’ filmmaking beyond the urge for self-expression? It certainly goes beyond catering to the gaze and patronage of privileged viewers who get easily tickled by the rustic special effects or crude crane shots managed with cameras mounted on bullock carts. There are far more entrenched reasons for the centrality of this local, community cinema in lives less ordinary.
For the power-loom town of Malegaon, where workers toiled long hours for low wages, the signature spoofs were a way of escaping the drudgery to get nourished by some fun steeped in an idiom that was relatable. It was about the sheer joy of both making and consuming their own films, while also turning filmmaking into a viable career option and a business.
Locally-made, low-budget films had also been flourishing in north and west India, till video parlours and VCDs turned extinct. The owner of a confectionery shop in Ahmedabad’s Kuber Nagar, Chander Danwani produced original Sindhi films in partnership with 25 other small businessmen to preserve the language, identity and culture among the young. A Garhwali video film industry took roots in Dehradun for the same reason and Chhatisgarhi cinema or Chhollywood emerged out of the shadows of Bhojpuri cinema in Raipur. Together, they turned sub-regional or ‘dialect cinema’ into a genuine genre.
In some instances, hyperlocal film industries have been prompted to come into being by Bollywood’s own steady erosion of the marginalised from its narratives and their disregard as an audience. They have struck back by deciding to take the camera and filmmaking in their own hands to see themselves and their concerns reflected on screen.
In Bhopal, Turup, a full-length feature film on contemporary socio-political issues got made through collaborative efforts of blue-collar workers under the aegis of Ektara Collective with no single individual credited as director. In Orissa and Jharkhand, indigenous communities have been participating in filmmaking workshops to eventually make movies on the issues affecting them, be it environmental degradation, land-grab, deforestation or corporatisation. A case of filmmaking becoming an empowering tool for the dispossessed.
Unfortunately, the fate of this kind of grassroots filmmaking has also been bound by the vagaries of times, trends and technology. The last time I visited Malegaon almost a decade ago, many video parlour licenses had been revoked, Nasir had given up filmmaking and started selling readymade clothes, and the spoof wave had made way for horror flicks and original films borrowing titles from upcoming Salman Khan movies. The small industry Nasir founded has grown and mutated now into Khandeshi video channels on YouTube and newer faces have taken over the reins. The villain of the Superman spoof, Akram Khan, is starting a Malegaon celeb podcast called ‘Coffee With Khan’.
Similarly, there used to be a local film industry in West UP catering to viewers in the districts of Baghpat, Baraut, Muzaffarnagar, Meerut and Saharanpur. The superstar was called Uttar Kumar, the leading lady was Suman Negi, and the biggest hit was a film called Dhaakad Chhora (Cool Guy). That filmmaking set-up appears to have vanished without a trace.
As the nostalgic tribute to the Malegoan spoofs takes flight at TIFF, it’s also time for the sobering reality of the tenuousness of artistic chutzpah to sink in.
Namrata Joshi
Consulting Editor
Follow her on X @Namrata_Joshi