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Showbiz in Kargil

Ashok Banker

You can't escape Bollywood even when you're 2,000 km away from Bombay.

Speaking to jawans, senior officers, Kashmiris, Ladakhis and even some militant activists in war-torn Jammu & Kashmir, I came face to face with some harsh realities about Hindi cinema.

One of the most ridiculous rumours I had heard when leaving Bombay was the one about Nana Patekar fighting in Kargil.

"Arre, you know? He used to be in the army before, so when the war started he immediately left all his shootings and dubbings and rushed to Kargil. Now, he's fighting alongside the jawans on the mountains. Can you imagine? A sachh muchh ka hero!"

This was told to me by a person on the fringes of the film industry; one of those countless Bombayites who believe that just because they live within spitting distance of the stars, they know them as intimately as their own family.

The truth was slightly different.

Nana Patekar's war record

Nana Patekar was never enrolled in the armed forces. During the preparation for Prahaar, the script required him to familiarise himself with the details of an army training course. The simplest way was to practise at an actual army camp, which he did.

His dedication to this research was so intense that he was conferred an honorary title. This is something that's routinely done to celebrities, politicians, dignitaries and filmstars. It doesn't mean you're fit to go into combat, it's just a mark of respect, like an honorary degree from a university.

It's true that when the Kargil conflict began in May this year, Patekar did call his army contacts and offer his services in any capacity. But the army didn't immediately send him off to the frontline to battle Pakistani intruders, as some people mistakenly think.

Instead, he received a special permit to visit the army camps there, to meet the units on active duty and to bunk with them. This was a special privilege and, obviously, the army granted it because it wouldn't hurt the morale of the jawans to have a major star staying with them.

Although, as one bright major put it, "We would have been maha khush if Sonali Bendre stayed with us!"

But at least Patekar's intentions were genuine and heartfelt. The fact that he arrived there without a photographer in tow and was willing to rough it out with the jawans earned him a great deal of respect.

And respect is something the army and civilians in J&K don't usually feel for the film industry.

Posing pretty before Bofors guns

One reason is that they're sick of film personalities arriving in helicopters, press entourages in tow, posing for pictures with Bofors guns in the background or battle-weary men all around them, and then whizzing off under maximum security to the minister's dak bungalow or circuit house for a round of parties and interviews.

"They came, they saw, they conquered the press," said a colonel, who had been given the dubious responsibility of caring for several such starry visitors during the war. "What disgusted me was not the fact that they came... but if they were really sincere about boosting the morale of our boys, they could have left all the bloody photographers behind."

A military doctor in charge at an army hospital in Kargil district grinned at the memory of the visiting stars: "One big film producer-director came in and started boasting about how he would make a film that would capture all the glory and the sacrifice of these brave men. One of the wounded men, a havaldar who had lost both his legs, asked him if there would be naach-gaana in the film, if he would have group dancers prancing on mountain-tops like they usually do.

"The bigshot put his arm around the havaldar and promised him that he would have not just one but half-a-dozen such set-ups. He even added that he would invite the havaldar and other wounded veterans to be a part of the song picturisation! Then the havaldar asked him what kind of war film would it be, if it had all the usual masala of a Hindi film? The producer-director didn't know what answer to give him. After five minutes, he left in his chauffeur-driven car."

Talking big, acting small

This kind of filmi arrogance is common. The army is almost inured to Bollywood's big and brash personalities breezing through the region, praising the natural scenic beauty, praising the sacrifice and courage of the army, boasting about their patriotism and then breezing out, never to be seen again.

A month later, they see the personality splashed across half a dozen magazines, giving interviews with the authority of someone who is himself a veteran of a dozen wars!

"What's really disgusting," said another colonel at the brigade HQ in Kargil, "is the fact that these buggers are the ones who go on to make these so-called war films. And the common public sees these films and believes that what's being shown is what really happens. If these people were to see actual combat operations, they wouldn't know how to even start capturing the reality. They live in their own fantasy world."

One of the few film makers who does command respect in the armed forces is J P Dutta. "His Border was the best war film to show how it really is in the fauj," said a veteran of two battles in the recent Kargil conflict. "The others are all big liars exploiting our achievements for their own profit. They should be shot dead."

One Kashmiri politician who attracts a great deal of derision today is Dr Farooq Abdullah. One reason cited for his insincerity to his cause is the way he openly travels around with visiting film stars. "Woh heroine ke saath ghumte rehta hai," said one Kashmiri journalist to me. "Kaun ussko vote dega?"

The contempt for Bollywood is higher in the higher ranks. The common jawan has mixed feelings. While they resent the inaccurate way in which they and their actions are portrayed, exploited and glamorised in films, they also depend on Hindi films as a prime source of entertainment.

No escaping Bollywood

Even in remote, inaccessible Ladakhi towns beyond Kargil, you can find stacks of videotapes of the latest Hindi films in the stores. With no film theatres for hundreds of kilometres, and with the harsh winter making even a short distance impossible to travel, people have their own television sets and VCRs and rent out videos of Hindi movies.

Television is there of course, but cable connections are difficult to manage because of the heavy snowing and sub-zero temperatures. A few people have their own dish antennas but digital channels like the Star network are non-existent. For most people it's Zee and Sony and, even on those channels, it's the Hindi films that they watch, not the serials.

Of course, the favourite stars here are still the old stalwarts. "Humko Amitabh Bachchan aur Hema Malini accha lagta hai, saab (I like Amitabh Bachchan and Hema Malini)," confessed a Ladakhi taxi driver.

It's the younger generation who are more aware of the new set of stars, but these younger people are more eager to join the army and fight for their country than waste their time watching Baadshah or Taal.

"How can we sit home and see films when our country is being invaded by the enemy?" asked one college-educated young teacher.

The fact that shelling was a part of everyday life also made it difficult to relax and enjoy idle entertainment. In Kargil town, or Kargil 'city' as the locals call it, shells used to fall daily, often crashing into shops, homes, schools. Every family has known death or harm, either themselves or in their immediate circle.

While I was visiting, I passed by a store with a large stock of video cassettes. I told myself I would visit the store on my way back from an interview with a minister. When I returned, two hours later, the store had been flattened by a shell, one person injured, perhaps fatally.

Yet, just two days later, the owner's son had set up a make-shift display on the street outside the ruins of the store, selling some videotapes and other items he had salvaged.

Even in the midst of war and death, people still need entertainment. And in the distant, strife-torn border regions of Ladakh, as in the rest of the country, Bollywood still remains the only real entertainment option.

For better or worse.