Sanjeev Kumar: In Memoriam

A set of essays by the great actor's relatives and associates offers interesting anecdotes about the man but not enough about his craft

Gulzar’s 'Angoor' (1982) is based on William Shakespeare’s 'The Comedy of Errors'. It has two Sanjeev Kumars and two Deven Vermas. As a kid I remember laughing a lot at the situations that arise as these two sets of separated twins get mixed up in their adult avatars. It was truly funny. What is not funny is getting a second Sanjeev Kumar book seven months after a somewhat disappointing first one. An Actor’s Actor, Kumar’s authorised biography by film writer Hanif Zaveri and lawyer Sumant Batra that came out earlier in January was a well-intentioned chronicle of his life, but it missed a good take on the craft of one of India’s finest actors.

That explains the cynicism with 'Sanjeev Kumar: The Actor We All Loved', by reviewer Reeta Ramamurthy Gupta and Kumar’s nephew Uday Jariwala, also labelled a biography. It begins well with Kumar’s untimely death in 1985, at the age of 47. The book then unfolds as a series of small essays written by various people who were part of his life – sister, sister-in-law, colleagues such as Gulzar, nephews et al.

It has some interesting nuggets such as Kumar’s struggle with depression, which hit him early on when his career was not taking off. He had won accolades for his performances in theatre and in films but the big break was yet to come. In 1961 he was cast opposite Meena Kumari in 'Aarti.' All of 23, he was thrilled. Two days later, he heard that he had been replaced by Pradeep Kumar. The usually affable actor, who came from poverty, was hit hard by the injustice and humiliation. He made a series of bad professional moves and was eventually hospitalised for a month for depression. In those days depression was simply not understood. His relatives in Surat reckoned “Hari has gone mad”.

The other nugget is about how his name changed from Harihar Jethalal Jariwala to Sanjeev Kumar. Filmmaker Saawan Kumar Tak had seen Hari in an IPTA (Indian People’s Theatre Association) play in the early sixties. He was impressed. Over tea with Kumar, Tak narrated the story of an orphan who believes he is related to (then) prime minister Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru and seeks to meet him. “I offered Naunihal (1967) to him. But I made it clear that the offer was not for the actor named Hari Jariwala. A majority of the successful actors of the day had Kumar as their surname – Raj Kumar, Pradeep Kumar, Rajendra Kumar, Manoj Kumar, Dilip Kumar, etc. So I suggested that Hari should also take on the name Kumar as his surname. And since my own name began with S, I gave him the name ‘Sanjay Kumar.’ But at that time another young actor, Sanjay Khan was making his presence felt… so we decided to go with Sanjeev Kumar.”  

Whether he is called Sanjeev Kumar or Harihar Jariwala, the fact remains that Kumar broke the mould in so many ways. He was completely at ease playing an old man long before his time, he loved wearing his kurta pyjamas, his alcohol and his food. He was a brilliant performer who simply became the character he played. In an era when Amitabh Bachchan and Rajesh Khanna had their distinct styles, which defined any role they did and brought them stardom, Kumar’s stardom came from his position as the everyman performer. He was Aarti Devi’s estranged husband in Gulzar’s Aandhi (1975) or Dr Amarnath who discovers his old flame’s daughter in a brothel in Mausam (1975) or the deaf-mute Haricharan in Gulzar’s Koshish (1972). The latter won him one of his two National Awards for best actor. The other was for Rajinder Singh Bedi’s directorial debut Dastak (1970).

That feel for Kumar’s cinema, the deep dive into his thinking, his approach to his work is what this book, too, misses completely. You could argue that looking for an actor’s inner thoughts, his approach more than 35 years after his death is silly. But the fact is what made Kumar famous and successful was his art. And while there are a lot of names thrown in, anecdotes about how a film was signed or did, there is very little on his cinema. This book simply goes down the path of a slew of recent books on stars from the bygone era – Dilip Kumar, Rajendra Kumar et al. You bung in interviews with a few people who knew the person, add the filmography, put the actor on the cover and serve it up. Just like me there are millions of Indians who have grown up watching Kumar’s films; the hope is they will pick up the book and indulge in a bit of nostalgia irrespective of the quality of the chronicle.

To be fair, with very sketchy material the book manages to be engaging. The essays are well put together and the editing is deft. It gets confusing after some time to remember who said what about him since it is not one linear story but several voices piping in to give you a kaleidoscopic view of Sanjeev Kumar the man and the star. Read it for the joy of knowing more about the man and a bit about his art.

BOOK DETAILS:

Title of the book: Sanjeev Kumar: The Actor We All Loved

Author: Reeta Ramamurthy Gupta & Uday Jariwala

Publisher: HarperCollins

Pages: 356

Price: Rs 599