Sanjeev Kumar: A tribute

Towards the end of Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s ‘Alaap’ (1977), Sanjeev Kumar enters a scene as an old man. Raja Bahadur, the aged, devoted patron of Sarju Bai — a celebrated courtesan of her time – has arrived to be by her side in her final moments. It’s a touching moment of melancholic nostalgia. Raja’s quiet, assuring voice keeps Sarju company as she peacefully passes on surrounded by her loved ones. There’s a wisdom and weariness of a man in his autumn years that Sanjeev Kumar so naturally conveys with his tone, gait, facial expressions and body language. It’s difficult to imagine the actor behind the old person’s guise wasn’t even 40. Film industry lore often points to Kumar’s inclination to play grey-haired characters stemming from a belief that he wouldn’t live long to experience old age. The actor died of a cardiac arrest at 47.

It’s been close to four decades since his demise. Generations of Bollywood stars have ruled the silver screen thereafter. Yet Sanjeev Kumar has a unique hold on cinegoers’ consciousness. Many of his colleagues and predecessors, popular stars of their era, look dated in retrospect. Some have faded away from public memory. Kumar, on the other hand, is consistently discussed, revered, and written about. Considered among the all-time greats, the actor’s versatility and natural style of acting — devoid of any strict mannerisms — has kept his work relevant to new generations of audience.

Haribhai’s (as Kumar was known in his circle) background in theatre and his commitment for the craft didn’t let him limit himself in the conventional film hero image. He was a successful leading man who could easily slip into supporting roles. He was a charming mainstream star who understood the grammar of arthouse cinema; a co-star who was as convincing being the romantic interest as he was playing a patriarch to his heroines; an actor whose filmography ranged from B-grade stunt movies (‘Nishan’, 1965; ‘Smuggler’, ‘66), kitschy fares (‘Chehre Pe Chehra’, 1981) to A-list multi-starrers (‘Sholay’, 1975; ‘Silsila’, ’81, ‘Vidhaata’, ’82), National Award winning films (‘Dastak’, 1970; ‘Anubhav’, ’71), masala potboilers (‘Jaani Dushman’, 1979) and regional cinema — ‘Ramat Ramade Ram’, ‘Kalapi’ etc. in Gujarati.

Kumar holds an envious roster of iconic performances: the grieving, vengeful Thakur of ‘Sholay’, the deaf-mute hero of ‘Koshish’ (1972) who navigates life with dignity and empathy, ‘Trishul’’s (1978) shrewd businessman, ‘Aandhi’’s (1975) estranged husband who reconnects with his successful politician wife after years, the chess-obsessed aristocrat of ‘Shatranj Ke Khilari’ (1977) and ‘Naya Din Nayi Raat’’s (1974) legendary ‘nine roles in one film’ to name a few. The only other artist one can imagine possessing a similar level of versatility, even a notch higher, would be Irrfan. Like Kumar, Irrfan too left before his time.

Sanjeev Kumar was also among the busiest actors of his era. In the two decades that he was active in, the actor experimented across movie genres, worked with industry stalwarts — Satyajit Ray, BR and Yash Chopra, and built a rapport with fresh voices like Ramesh Sippy and Gulzar who broke new cinematic ground. If Sippy gave him the two biggest hits of his career — ‘Sholay’ and ‘Seeta Aur Geeta’ (1972), Gulzar was instrumental in some of Kumar’s most definitive works — ‘Koshish’, ‘Parichay’ (1972), ‘Aandhi’, ‘Mausam’ (’75), ‘Namkeen’ (’82), and ‘Angoor’ (’82). From breezy parts like the husband-on-hire in ‘Manchali’ (1973), ‘Seeta Aur Geeta’’s smitten lover or the dashing rebel poet advocating “Apne liye jiye toh kya jiye” in Aspi Irani’s swashbuckling drama ‘Badal’ (1966), Kumar could effortlessly switch to emotionally complex characters. Take for instance, the middle-aged doctor of Mausam who struggles with regret and redemption. The actor beautifully balances his character’s wistfulness and desire to hope. His portrayal of a thoughtful husband whose constant battle with a disreputable situation turns him into a distrusting aggressor towards his wife in Rajinder Singh Bedi’s ‘Dastak’ is nothing short of exquisite.

In his supporting turns too, Kumar would give a delicious touch of depth and insight to his parts without overshadowing the central players. ‘Namkeen’ is a bittersweet tale of sisterhood seen through the eyes of an outsider. Kumar plays Gerulal, a migrant truck driver who develops a bond with the members of an all-women household where he takes up temporary tenancy. The three sisters take care of each other and their senile mother without any man’s support. Geru’s gradual involvement in their lives and the women welcoming him into their world remains one of the warmest depictions of human relations in Hindi cinema. Steered by a fabulous ensemble cast — Waheeda Rehman, Sharmila Tagore, Shabana Azmi and Kiran Vairale — Namkeen greatly benefits from an actor of Kumar’s calibre and generosity who understands his place in the story and doesn’t overstep or overreach. Just like his character.

Then there’s Bapu’s ‘Hum Paanch’ (1980) — an audacious take on Mahabharat set in an Indian village and ruled by an oppressive zamindaar. Kumar appears as the zamindaar’s estranged younger brother. A kind and honourable man, he becomes a Krishna-like figure to five young men who spark an uprising against the atrocities of his brother and his ilk. Kumar’s character drives the narrative through songs that speak of injustice, despair, and ultimately an awakening. If the songs don’t seem like an excess and segue into the story, it’s Kumar’s powerful screen presence and mastery over song picturisation that need to be acknowledged. Again, the actor is eminently watchable in Subhash Ghai’s Hero (1983) where he stars as the heroine’s brother — a mild-mannered, disguise-loving cop with a sense of humour that often lands him in trouble. The film wonderfully utilises Kumar’s comedic flair with funny situations, wisecracks, and some silly antics; the actor on his part breezes through it.

Any discussion about Sanjeev Kumar as a comedic force is incomplete without ‘Angoor’, one of Hindi cinema’s most beloved comedies. Kumar and Deven Verma play two sets of identical twins — separated in babyhood, they end up in one town oblivious to each other’s existence. The hilarious misadventures their mistaken identities lead to makes for the rest of the film. Nudged by the gentle wit of Gulzar’s words and his own impeccable comic timing, Kumar is a hoot in the double role of a miffed husband and a paranoid, detective-novel obsessed bachelor. The brothers’ reunion scene where they exchange notes about their similarities and differences alone is worth the price of admission. His flawless camaraderie with Verma and the effortlessness in juggling a gamut of expressions — suspicion, bewilderment, exasperation and panic — while dealing with a bunch of eclectic characters in this situational comedy makes for a dazzling performance whose appeal lives on.

Interestingly, the actor has also been associated with some seriously middling cinema. ‘Haathkadi’ (1982), ‘Waqt Ki Deewar’ (1981), ‘Do Waqt Ki Roti’ (1988) — the cookie-clutter action flicks of the ‘80s, shoddy offerings like ‘Bad Aur Badnam’ (1984) and ‘Chehre Pe Chehra’ — the latter turning into a glorious camp classic, and the actor’s final posthumous release ‘Professor Ki Padosan’ (1993) which frankly is excruciating to watch. These misfires, however, remain a blip in the gifted actor-star’s remarkable career. Had Sanjeev Kumar lived on, one wonders the course his life would have taken. Would he have carried on his journey as an actor like his friend and colleague Amitabh Bachchan and continue to excel at it or would he have lost relevance? Would he have dabbled in new interests like his co-star Waheeda Rehman or retreated from the arc lights like his Aandhi heroine Suchitra Sen? Who knows?