In Search of ‘Real India’ with Chetan Bhagat

The piece appeared in Mumbai Mirror among other publications- Jul 2013.

‘’ Sir, Chetan is changing the schedule constantly. So we have no idea where he will go next’’, say the organizers.

I am readying myself on a five day road trip with the novelist Chetan Bhagat who is the subject of ‘MyEndeavour alterrain’ a 5 part adventure series for the National Geographic.

He is to drive the SUV Ford Endeavour Alterrain in Gujarat’s hinterland meeting interesting people earmarked for him along the way. Already in the cans are the drive bys of filmmaker Nagesh Kukunoor, pugilist Vijender Singh, actors Gul Panag and Rajeev Khandelwal.

When I arrive in Ahmedabad, I am told Chetan and the crew haven’t arrived and would now reach only the next day and I am free do what I want with my time.

The next morning, I try to get to the shoot location but no one is certain about the crew’s whereabouts. They were at radio station before then at a university campus but no one could say where they are headed next.

‘’We might tell you something right now but what if Chetan changes the program tomorrow’’, the organizers tell me ominously.

But when I finally meet Chetan, I meet a malleable, agreeable fellow. Easy of manners, casual in spirit, breaking into the colloquial to become one with the crew; he is as affable a celebrity you can find. The blame for all the last minute changes had all quite unfairly been put on him.

He is the star of the show but is just as uncertain about what’s next , where we are heading and how we are going about this whistle stop tour of rural Gujarat. This is his first major shoot of this nature and he is just beginning to understand what goes on to making a documentary. ‘’ I have usually been behind the camera but this is an eye opener. Now I can appreciate the kind of hard work involved in putting a shoot together’’, he says.

Like the rest of us, he is dragged half- asleep out of his bed at about six every morning no matter how deep into the night the shoot lasts the previous day.

Running the show that involves more than a dozen crew members (including a line producer, makeup girl, two camera men, their assistants, sound engineer, assistant directors ) is of course the director.

Dressed up fashionably in a frilly summer attire and a wide brimmed hat and dark glasses firmly in place, Bindiya Murgai, the Director exudes absolute authority and cracks the whip on everyone including Bhagat.

As a director she has to make quick decisions and is hardly found wanting. For example at the kite flying grounds in Ahmedabad where after few rehearsals with Bhagat she abruptly orders a ‘pack up’ when the breeze fails to lift any of the gorgeous kites.

She also has to battle the cumbersome Gujarati officialdom. Permissions long granted for the shoot have to be endorsed, some are summarily rejected others delayed, belying the baritone message of hospitality relayed by its mascot Amitabh Bachchan exhorting us to visit the ‘vibrant’ state in those adverts.

Chetan Bhagat chose to drive in Gujrat. ‘’My book ‘Three Mistakes of My Life’ is based in Ahmedabad so Gujrat was an obvious choice’’, he says. But who he should meet and the story line is decided by Bindiya and her Blue Mango Films production house in consultations with Nat Geo.

‘’I want to see the real India. Its important to see these people living at the grassroot level’’, Chetan tells me. But accustomed to dishing out homilies though his columns and tweets, Chetan is clearly out of his depth when it comes to asking questions about other people’s lives.

‘’ Yes I face the same criticism when I try to do something good’’, says Chetan to an elderly Siddi woman in a Siddi village in Junagarh when she begins to speak of her travails.

The director has to intervene and remind Chetan that the lady’s story is not coming through. She then supplies Chetan the right questions and the cameras rolls again.

Chetan has come to see the ‘real’ India but he clearly cannot get enough of the India he has left behind. Between shots, in the jeep, even between conversations with the locals, he twiddles briskly on his blackberry.

This surprises me. I had known writers to be like sponges. They observe, they take note, they pay attention. But then there are story-tellers and there are writers. Bhagat is a story teller but certainly not a writer. A storyteller can spin a good yarn and find an eager audience to lap it up. And indeed, from pubescent collegians to bored housewives, Bhagat has built a huge constituency for himself . But writers ask questions. They probe the status quo, upset the applecart and sometimes hurt sentiments. Bhagat meanwhile has flourished on political correctness and mushy banalities. In the age of mediocrity the formula works.

Chetan’s first port of call in rural Gujrat is Wankaner where Prajapati Mansukhlal made a name for himself making refrigerators out of clay. Mitti Cool, his company, makes not only fridges but also water dispensers and pressure cookers, and all sorts of pots and pans. They not only are affordable but also provide employment to vast number of Wankaner inhabitants.

Bindiya has an esoteric reason in naming her production house Blue Mango Films. ‘’Blue is the throat chakra and Mango is sweet’’, she explains. But this unusual name results only in hilarious consequences in rural Gujarat.

At Mansukhlal’s workshop a clay water dispenser for the crew is marked ‘mango Blue Films’. Even in Rajot the skittish hotel receptionist looking for my name in the list beams ‘’ Sir you from Blue Films no?’’.

It is a long drive to Junagarh from Wankaner where in Sasan Gir’s buffer area, Chetan is taken through the rigmarole of the Maldhari’s tribal way of life. He is made to walk among the wood- gathers in the forests, climb an old village tree , talk to children and the pretty Maldhari women – all in an effort to make his rural investigations look authentic.

‘’I liked the Siddhi dance the best’’, says Chetan reminiscing on the trip later. ‘’It was amazing to see the ethnic African tribe here in Gujarat’’, he says.

In fact a local mela of sorts is organized at Sasan Gir village for the sake of the shoot ,where in a choreographed sequence, the author is made to stumble on the Siddi village and is welcomed by the dancers.

The racially African Siddis whose ancestors were brought to India from Africa almost 500 years ago, put up quite an act for the cameras with their wild African dance and fire breathing. They eventually haul the reluctant Bhagat on their bare backs and prance him around the village square.

But it is Ankit Ahuja the associate director, who with his thick mop of wild, shaggy hair, makes an impression on the rural folk everywhere. ( I can’t help thinking ; he probably has more strands on one lock of hair than I on my entire scalp.) Everyone wants a photograph with him, even as Bhagat wanders by busy as usual on his blackberry.

It is only in the main towns and in the airport lounges where Chetan Bhagat reclaims his celebrity; where his readers finally seek him out and urge him for an autograph.

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