TEA WITH BS: Amitabh Bachchan

Locking answers, sans Computerji

Bosses have a way of getting in the last word. When one of my editors asked me to get the superstar host of Kaun Banega Crorepati for 'Lunch with BS', I insisted I was the wrong man for the job. Asked to elaborate, I explained that since I could qualify as Amitabh Bachchan's greatest fan - having grown up watching him make even incredulous scenes credible, and listening to his baritone voice threatening reel villains - I felt unsuited to the task of interviewing him.

My pleas fell on deaf ears and I was told that there was a job to be done and I should get on with it. That was two months ago, most of which time I spent dialing either Bachchan's residence in Mumbai or 'contacts' whom I thought were close to my superstar idol. That is when I was not getting up in the dead of night to try to get through to the KBC numbers so I could have a chance to participate on the quiz show.

Eventually, the unthinkable happened. No, I didn't get to be on the show but a call from a person close to Bachchan confirmed that the Big B had agreed to meet me. Not over lunch, alas, but at Mehboob Studio in Mumbai over a cup of tea. I floated into the city of dreams on cloud nine, arriving at the third floor studio in Bandra where he was shooting. And there he was, all six-foot-plus of him, clad in black, on location to shoot for Rakesh Mehra's Aksh. Sighting him, I started clapping so hard that unit hands had to tell me to either behave or make myself scarce.

Waiting to be ushered into Bachchan's presence, I rehearsed my lines. Should I echo his baritone from Deewar that "Mera baap chor hai" or "Rishte mein hum tumhare baap lagte hain, naam hain Anjan Mitra, oops, Shahenshah"? However, my opening line turned out to be far more banal. Arm outstretched to shake Bachchan's hand, I blurted out what was a question: "Mr Bachchan, what was your initial reaction when executives from Star TV came to you, the big superstar of the big screen, asking you to host a game show on TV?" "Certainly, the initial reaction was of apprehension," said Bachchan. "It (television) is a new medium... I thought it over for a while." In the background, rehearsals for a song sequence in which Bachchan was to feature began in earnest. As music blared, women dancers - 'extras' in filmi parlance — began to practice their gyrations. A spotboy fetched me tea; Bachchan asked for orange juice. I couldn't help but admire - so, okay, I was a start-struck fan - the ability of the superstar to 'switch on' and 'switch off’ in front of and away from the camera. Rehearsed questions forgotten, therefore, I attempted to see if I too could 'switch on' with an informal, impromptu tete-a-tete.

With KBC having become part of the national psyche since its debut on Star Plus in early July, various phrases from the game show have entered popular vocabulary. I wanted to lock in on the issue: Were the phrases handed to him by the scriptwriters or were they his inputs?

He smiled the smile that has had Bollywood actresses from Padma Khanna to Manisha Koirala swoon, and then drawled: "I think too much is attributed to me. The show has its own momentum and the computer has all the questions and answers. I really don't have to do much." If Bachchan could be modest, I could be persistent: "But people at Star TV tell me that terms like Computerji are your innovation." Behind the make-up, the face of the man who has been voted BBC's actor of the millennium lit up. "These are things which came by chance; they have just clicked - what can I say about them becoming part of the national lexicon?"

Another unit hand sauntered up to remind me that my tea had gone cold. Majestically, a la Bachchan, I waved him away as I threw my next question: "What's it like for a superstar of the big screen to make regular appearances on the small screen, also known as the idiot-box?" A hot glass of tea had landed by my side, but surprisingly Bachchan's request for orange juice had still not been met. "It’s another arm of the entertainment media, it's another arm of the medium we are all involved in, and I would like to look at it as another opportunity to express creativity," he shot back.

By now, I was sweating, as wet as if I'd been stuck under a shower. Mumbai's studios are not climate controlled against the heat and humidity. The Big B, looking cool as a cucumber, continued to explain his foray on the small-screen. "When this offer came, I took it up as a challenge because KBC is copyright (protected) material and almost everything is taken from the original show. Television's an interesting medium but a difficult one too. Let's see how it goes."

Another replacement for my second cup of cold tea arrived, though I didn't want it. An aide whispered something in Bachchan's ear, the distraction giving me the chance to change the stance of my questions. Putting on an apologetic look - perhaps my only shot at the Oscars - I asked: "Even while you are doing KBC for Star, reports suggest that Kerry Packer has been trying to lure you away for a programme on Doordarshan?" Without batting an eyelid, the man who is a living legend explained, "Both Kerry Packer and his son James are personal friends and if we see an opportunity to work together, then we may."

Attempting to shed my awe of the Big B and press home my advantage, I asked: "But what about the exclusivity factor with Star?" The actor was in his element now. Stretching out his long legs, he paused before replying, "The modalities (of extending the agreement with Star TV for KBC) are currently being worked out." So, he’ll remain with Star and KBC? Star insists he well may, but Bachchan was more cautious. Negotiations are on, he admitted, but nothing has been concretised yet.

The Packers are arch-rivals of Star-owner Rupert Murdoch. If Bachchan can pull off programmes with both, it will be quite a coup. "It's all in the realm of possibility," he said when asked specifically whether he had been sounded out by the Packers for the game show Greed, or other TV programmes for Doordarshan.

The director had finalised his shot, and was now anxiously hovering around us. My time with Bachchan was running out. Before he returned to his shooting, I tried some sharpshooting. Had the thought of retirement ever occured to him? "Creative people do not retire," Bachchan replied. Didn't he feel that in India, aging stars don't have roles written for them? That generally does not happen here," he admitted. How did he feel dancing with young girls in outlandish costumes in a bizarre environment (Aksh's song sequence for example)? "Don't go by this dream sequence shot," he explained, "it's part of a more complex set-up." I interpreted it to mean that Bollywood's directors weren't creative enough to exploit Bachchan's talents, and unlike Salim-Javed, the scriptwriters had proved inadequate to pen roles powerful enough for him.

As I trudged out of the studio and hailed a taxi, an Opel Astra coasted past with one of the 'extras' seated inside. While her dreams are being realised in the studios of Mumbai, my greatest dream had just come true. Only, I knew, with my three unconsumed glasses of studio tea, I'd hardly done justice to Bachchan's Tea with BS.