Govinda Ala ki Gela?

The 80’s were a crazy decade. Rajeev Gandhi had a vision for an India in the 21st Century, two decades too soon. Even as he declared, “Humein dekhna hai…” we simply couldn’t see where it was going. There was nothing to see, practically. India’s stars were fading fast.

A generation had lost its angry young man. There were no replacements. Just empty promises of a Deesco Dancer, trite PT dance with potful of props and southern filim sensibilities. Balloon baggies were only an elitist privilege. Fashion was changing, bizarre was in. Intelligence on silver screen was a lost art. Dumbing down of audiences desperately needed an apt representative. It was in such bleakest of times we were introduced to “O Miss, De De Kiss, aya hai 86…” and everyone sat up to take notice. Govinda had come, promising the dawn of a novel, innocent inanity.

Govinda Ala Re

What was it about Govinda that made everyone suddenly chant his name in ‘kirtanesque’ smoky trance? Whoever owned a VCP or a VCR invariably had a video cassette of this new God of street dance – an ossified blend of break dance and Bollywood jhatkas. I’d kind of missed the train to Govindadom. Everyone was singing the Miss Kiss song, except I. A helpful soul enlightened me. He made me sit through a tutorial on who Govinda was, like two sneaky school boys who rented out a porn video to watch when parents were gone long and for good. Heck, the videos looked half porn. I learned that Govinda was the new Krishna, the deity of 80’s love and dance, and everything street. Another Cinderella story of how a boy from Virar, traveling in local trains, made it big in the city of a million broken dreams.

Govinda rose like the blazing sun over Hindi cinema, bringing audiences back to theaters. But his desperation on the humble road to stardom led him to pick up roles without much thought. This only worked against his career as one sub-standard release after another ensured he stuck to the B-list of Bollywood heroes. Many of his single hero ventures were duds, and usually it was the multi-star cast movies that brought a sporadic hit his way. Yet, he slowly danced his way up the star ladder, occasionally displaying thespian brilliance in movies like Hatya. Otherwise it was mostly formula-number-one-and-only-one movies such as Khudgarz, Jaisi Karni Waisi Bharni, Marte Dum Tak that gave a younger face to the 70’s and early 80’s socialist vs. capitalist, good-son-gone-bad-to-avenge-wrong theme.

Hero No. One of the Masses and the Classes

The ‘80’s were over. The 90’s were in. Cable TV was quickly replacing VCRs. Rajeev Gandhi’s dream of 21st Century brutally went up in RDX. But Govinda was still plowing on, a star of the masses in his own right. During the early part of the 90’s, Govinda remained aam janata ka hero, the tapori king of Hindi belt’s equivalent of a rowdy. The upper class urbane still cringed at the mention of anything Govinda. Chichi was a chhee chhee in many households that upheld the stiff elitist, Indian nose of refinement, sophistication, and diplomacy. Govinda was aware of his standing, and when Hum was released in 1991, with him alongside Amitabh Bachchan, he managed to keep his own corner in this superstar revival of the latter.

Then David Dhawan and Shola aur Shabnam happened. Govinda was no longer just the dancer and the fighter; he was now a comic too. Shola aur Shabnam, albeit tacky and slapstick, brought in a new phase in Bollywood comedies. Govinda was the brand ambassador. A year later, David Dhawan and Govinda paired up again to give us Ankhen, taking tacky to the highest order. Lyrics were getting risqué, and censors were working overtime to cut out malevolent influence of the west brought in by nudity on cable TV.

Govinda’s dance moves had moved away from his street dance steps to the more earthy, slowpoke thrusts of the pelvis. Even more colourful was his wardrobe – daring yellows and oranges to the flashiest shirts and “chamkeela” pants.

Suddenly, the youth found its rebel, someone with street smart sensibilities, and the ability to take on the Mai Baaps of an erstwhile generation with double sass, and quadruple pizzazz. There was certain likeability about Govinda, that cheeky grin which many found endearing. His innocent magnetism overshadowed any vulgarity on screen, unlike actors like Shakti Kapoor who were considered downright obscene. He was the Rajnikant of North, not the angst ridden anti-establishment hero, but not missing an opportunity to have a go at it in his inimitable humour either. Govinda’s wackiness was instantly devoured by audiences that willingly chose to keep their thinking hats aside, and simply enjoy the non-stop nonsense. The country’s political health was tender; we never wanted to get into that. Anything to take our minds off the grimness outside. It was his live-and-let-live approach to his characters that connected with the current mood of the times. For him, his comic timing worked, and so did the timing of mindless mind-boggling movies. One of his biggest hits, Hero No. 1 spawned a multitude of No. 1 movies, Coolie No. 1, Jodi No. 1, Beti No. 1, and even Aunty No. 1, which was David Dhawan’s tawdry adaptation of Mrs. Doubtfire. Yet Govinda pulled it off with his raunchy drag act.

If Govinda of the 80’s was forgettable, the 90’s Govinda became synonymous with bindaas – college students everywhere wanted to be like Govinda – funny, confident, and carefree. Our wardrobes had to have a Govinda item – any incongruent piece of clothing that stood blaringly out in bright sunshine. A celebration meant Govinda songs, and us joining in with our versions of his freestyle dances.

While Govinda was basking in the glory, being his fan took on a new meaning. It was cool to wear one’s pedestrianism on one’s sleeve. Bollywood nymphets wanted a slice of the pie. Govinda became the first choice of every starlet’s dream road to success. David Dhawan’s below-the-belt humour, Govinda’s comic timing, and Anu Malik’s ridiculous music ensured hit after hit through most of the 90’s. That was till Priyadarshan entered the scene.

It was at this point that the classes too though that it was no longer infra-dig to dig Govinda. Rather, appreciating Govinda was like appreciating The Idiot. Mucho entertaining. Suddenly, it was hatke to adore Govinda. If you liked Govinda, you were different, a connoisseur of the absurd, the quixotic.

Hero No One

So, by this time Govinda was the man of the moment. Loved by the masses, and now even accepted by the classes, his popularity was at the zenith. Could he pull of a Rajnikanth, a bizarre style icon, but icon nevertheless? For a while it did look like it was going to happen. But, it didn't. For, he did not have the one thing Rajnikanth have: A rock-solid, completely loyal fan base.

The popularity he enjoyed with the classes proved to be a fad. They were bored with this "Idiot" and were on the lookout for other hatke diversions to fawn upon. He lost the elitist audience because he never really had them in the first place.

Like any joke that has been told and retold many times over, David Dhawan’s jaded portrayal of linear characters for Govinda started to pall. Priyadarshan’s Hera Pheri was a death blow to the trademark low-brow comedy of Govinda. Hera Pheri, with tons of situational humour and brilliant one-liners, was a far cry from Govinda’s mad cap style. Some of the rebellion of the 90’s was waning as India opened its gates to the world, and the earlier angst was replaced with a more quiescent, better mannered urban junta, who were born to prosperity. This lot had by now moved on to bilingual NRI flicks as Hyderabad Blues, and Bombay Boys ushered in tongue-in-cheek, satirical realism of Indian idiosyncrasies. Intelligent, dark humour was in. Govinda was quickly forgotten.

Govinda was also losing his grip on his traditional audience. Even as Govinda tried to break free from his comic hero image, the die hard fans of Govinda would not accept him in any role other than a Raja Babu or a Bunnu. Govinda’s attempts at trying on different genres were rejected. Shikari, where he played a character with shades of grey, came and went without as much as a twitch of the nose. While the same thing happened to Rajnikanth, he was lucky enough to have directors who were quick to catch on the audience resistance to any deviation from Rajnikanth's style. They made movies that were written only for Rajnikanth banking on that style.

But, here in Bollywood, there was no one other than David Dhawan who understood the possibilities of extending the Govinda franchise. But, there was only so much he could do.

A Star is Torn

So after a the abrupt halt to his career, 0Govinda, true to the tradition of sticking to formula in Bollywood, did the same with his sagging career. He joined politics, after hordes of his predecessors had talked the walk, and failed miserably. Could he be any different, time would tell. Meanwhile, his fans did not let him down in his new venture. Winning hands down over his rivals, Govinda was elected into Lok Sabha in 2004 as the Congress candidate from Mumbai.

Govinda’s agenda, full of promises of housing, health, education and better transportation, soon came under tight scrutiny as Govinda chose to sit tightly over funds allocated to him as MP. The man of onscreen action sprung into action only when controversy over his candidature as MP put ubiquitous question marks over his motives. He was the most politically incorrect politician of his times. His support for Shakti Kapoor during the casting couch scandal, his opposition to a ban on dance bars in Mumbai had his fellow congressmen clenching their teeth in anger over his stance.

Accusations of Govinda estranging himself from his promises were rife, and his lack of involvement during the deluge of July 26, 2005. His popularity as a people’s representative was at an all time low, especially with his colleagues from Congress refuting his claims of getting funds for flood relief.

Time’s verdict was out. Within two years of his political career, it was largely clear that Govinda had trod the beaten track, in much the same way many actors had – unsuccessfully.

The Show Goes On

People watched as Govinda made one mistake after another in an attempt to revive his lost glory. Being the family man he always was, he turned to his kin to help resuscitate his dead star status. This move could well be considered the last nail in his career’s coffin. His home production Ssukh suffered from lack of a convincing plot, and the fact that it was directed by his hugely incapable brother Kirti Ahuja, who failed to take advantage of Govinda’s forte at comedy. Then came his 19 year old nephew Dumpy who directed Jahan Jayega Humein Payega. Though Govinda claimed he had supervised most of the film’s production, the director’s inexperience was enough to kill any remaining credibility Govinda had held as an actor.

Govinda became a recluse, and was hardly in the news for anything. His political stint was a huge blot on his reputation. His acting career was done with, or so it seemed. He let himself go and ran to fat. Even the memory of his cheesy stardom was relegated to a Zee Cinema rerun of Deewana Mastana. That was till Salaam-e-Ishq came his way. He stood out from the rest of the cast as the big hearted taxi driver with a heart of gold. This was a much restrained, mellower Govinda, and for the first time in over a decade, people were talking about his acting, and not his antics.

Govinda seems to have come a full circle. Gone is his garish get up. His demeanour is gentler. Recently, in a television talent show, Govinda’s humility shone through as he thanked Salman Khan for his faith in the failing star. Everyone deserves a second chance, so they say. In Govinda’s case, will this bittersweet coming of age prove any good? Something tells me, he’s not done yet. Somewhere, there’s a final pelvic thrust with an I-know-I-did-it-but-I-don’t-care smirk, waiting to jolt us out of our seats again. But it is very unlikely that he will hit paydirt again, for if he is no Rajnikanth, he is no Amitabh Bachchan either. He is an earnest, natural actor but not a very determined one, unlike Bachchan. Govinda would be content with a few stray roles and place in the limelight. Never again would he be Hero No.1; he wouldn't even bid for that slot.