Celebrities are a source of life. They are a bunch of emotional rescuers with magical impact on people’s lives. They have the ability to ensure happiness amidst a pall of gloom.
Uttam Mohanty was no different. He was a source of happiness not only inside the theatres but had the great fan following even in the remotest parts of the state since his arrival on the celluloid canvas. He grew as a representative of the post-Emergency Indian youth who seldom hesitated to take on a fight for the right cause. His well-built body and modern attire was a perfect transition from the dhoti-clad and soft spoken Sarat Pujari or the Akshay Mohanty (Kashyap) of the 60s.
The good-bad boy characters that Uttam played perfectly matched the changing notions of Odia identity of the 70s. He sourced his romantic strength and social reforms agenda from the essentially righteous characters that carried traits of ‘bad’ or ‘negative’ on standards defined by a traditional Odia society then.
Till Uttam arrived in the cinematic space by the mid-70s, being ‘direct’ was considered ‘disrespectful’ by the conservative Odia society. The elders had a right to be wrong and it was morally improper for the younger ones to challenge. If they did, they were silenced by a very popular line, ‘muhan re jabab dauchu?’ This was a line that the old patriarch in Odia cinema always used to silence familial disagreements. Uttam introduced a culture of respectful deviance.
The characters that Uttam portrayed weaved an element of straightforwardness and fearlessness while remaining ethically correct - a trait that his lady-loves greatly approved of and prioritised over timidity. Deviance carried a moral and ethical justification.
As evident from mythical scriptures like Mahabharata, for a greater good, smaller vices are acceptable. Uttam stood at a threshold where the notions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’, especially within the youth, was fast changing. The bad was not necessarily bad as it had an ethically correct goal to achieve.
This world view is reflected in a famous song in one of his blockbuster hits, ‘E duniya (world) ta danga (boat) hele kaata (oar) mora thenga (stick)’. A stick can be an oar that helps cross a river, and also a tool to set things right.
During the 80s, such was his flamboyance and star value that Uttam’s absence in a film meant disaster. As the biggest money-spinner, a multi-starrer could not be conceived without Uttam where he always had the lion’s share. Because his romance was real and punches were harder than the rest. Uttam invested in his looks and physical fitness to take a distinct departure from the effeminate images that heroes had in the 60s.
Some say Uttam was standing in the right place at the right time amidst right people. But Uttam was also born in a lesser known celluloid city like Baripada and emerged as a hero at a time when opportunities were less and skewed.
He had no godfather in the industry and had no links in Cuttack, the filmmaking hub of Odisha then. He only had his skills to fall back upon. His rise to stardom was exemplary and pathbreaking. He certainly had his share of luck but his hard work and commitment to his profession was nonpareil, something that the succeeding generations need to learn and profess.
Uttam is no more, but will remain ‘uttam’ in all senses.
(The author is a writer and filmmaker)