Reviewed: Jessica Hines' search to find Amitabh Bachchan and Bollywood
30th March, 2007
by Narinder Purba
"There is no reason on God's good earth why Amitabh and I should appear in the same sentence," notes Jessica Hines as she endeavours to write a biography of India's most famous film star.
Quite. From a parochial vantage point, the notion of a burgeoning friendship between Amitabh Bachchan and an English writer from Cornwall would appear to be an eccentricity at the best of times, an absurdity even.
However, upon considering that life is often stranger than fiction and that the routinely accepted demarcation that separates celebrities from everyone else isn't as clearly defined as we'd like to assume, you can begin to grasp that such companionships can exist in the real world.
Jessica grew up on the Lizard in Cornwall and went to clown school in Toronto. She returned to study Comparative Religion at SOAS and do a M.A. in film at the BFI. She spent most of her 20s "inhaling pollution in Bombay", ending up with this as her debut book.
The unlikely tale of Hines and Amitabh begins with the author in her student days. Having fell in love with Indian films, Hines starts to actively manoeuvre her degree to encompass this growing fervour. While researching for a paper, she writes to Amitabh in the vain hope that he'll reply, but not really expecting anything of it.
Surprisingly he does and an interview is arranged. They meet, they chat - she: nervous and completely besotted, he: cool, calm, and collected - and soon establish a witty rapport that leads them to agreeing on her writing a book.
"After that I went home," she writes, "and got myself a shit-hot agent, who got me a shit-hot contract, with shit-hot publisher, and here I am."
Only the biography never quite happens. Because Amitabh is so ridiculously busy, Hines is never afforded the appropriate opportunity to spend some quality time with her muse and is consequently forced to write an amusing and loquacious account of her odyssey in attempting to do so.
Although an enjoyable and light-hearted read, this is neither the book we expect nor want. The central character of the story hardly makes an appearance, and when he does, it is transient and pithy. For the most part Hines simply documents missed chances with the star, his absence all too evident. Thus instead of his story, we get her story, which includes such yarns as her elation in revisiting home or thoughts on the remedial benefits of yoga.
She also interviews the crème of the Bollywood elite; people like Shobhaa De, Shashi Kapoor, Shabana Azmi, and Yash Chopra, but the conversations between them offer little in regards to Amitabh.
There is a great deal of frustration in her various deviations from the fundamental narrative as she irritatingly includes superfluous details like how she is a Star Trek fan or how she and her Mumbai pals Amin and Charlotte ate pizza on a rooftop, or how she and Amitabh along with actress Manisha Koirala discussed the length of her hair:
"I had just cut my hair extremely short, and in the presence of Manisha's stunning beauty and femininity, I felt like a rad seventies butch dyke. Amitabh did his little introduction and to both our amazement Manisha just said, 'I love your hair. I would love to have my hair like that. It's so cool.'"
This passage is exemplary of much of the writing style of Hines. It is chic-lit style, very Bridget Jones with lots of self-depreciating comments, naïve observations, and a plethora of self-indulgent moaning.
For example, there is this passage: "There was a pause, a brief pause; it felt like social death. 'Say something! I scream at myself, 'Carpe that bloody diem Hines, carpe forchrissake carpe!'"
And...
"My joke falls flat like a belly-flopping fat kid, making me wince as it hits the carpet."
At times it is enough to make one wince.
Another curious peculiarity is her persistent use of popular Hindi words in the voice of her text. Although apparently capable of speaking Hindi, it doesn't seem palatable that Hines would use this multi-cultural fusion of language, common among first and second generation British Asians, in her everyday dialogue.
One finds it extremely difficult to envisage Hines uttering such sentences as "no problem baas", "the whole tamasha", and "to-bit filmi-admi", inside her Indian hub, let alone in the real world.
This is essentially a travel-book memoir and anyone expecting a serious and engaging biography on Amitabh will be let down.
Of course there are interesting anecdotes, brief glimpses into the brooding personality of Amitabh, and some amusing episodes, but we are left wanting. Hines is charming enough, but it's not her life that we're interested in, but that of the iconic Amitabh.
Instead it is an interesting portrait of a westerner's experience of India - especially that of Mumbai and Bollywood - and for that, to be courteous, it may be applauded.
-----------------------------------
Narinder is a freelance writer
nspurba@gmail.com
"There is no reason on God's good earth why Amitabh and I should appear in the same sentence," notes Jessica Hines as she endeavours to write a biography of India's most famous film star.Quite. From a parochial vantage point, the notion of a burgeoning friendship between Amitabh Bachchan and an English writer from Cornwall would appear to be an eccentricity at the best of times, an absurdity even.
However, upon considering that life is often stranger than fiction and that the routinely accepted demarcation that separates celebrities from everyone else isn't as clearly defined as we'd like to assume, you can begin to grasp that such companionships can exist in the real world.
Jessica grew up on the Lizard in Cornwall and went to clown school in Toronto. She returned to study Comparative Religion at SOAS and do a M.A. in film at the BFI. She spent most of her 20s "inhaling pollution in Bombay", ending up with this as her debut book.
The unlikely tale of Hines and Amitabh begins with the author in her student days. Having fell in love with Indian films, Hines starts to actively manoeuvre her degree to encompass this growing fervour. While researching for a paper, she writes to Amitabh in the vain hope that he'll reply, but not really expecting anything of it.
Surprisingly he does and an interview is arranged. They meet, they chat - she: nervous and completely besotted, he: cool, calm, and collected - and soon establish a witty rapport that leads them to agreeing on her writing a book.
"After that I went home," she writes, "and got myself a shit-hot agent, who got me a shit-hot contract, with shit-hot publisher, and here I am."
Only the biography never quite happens. Because Amitabh is so ridiculously busy, Hines is never afforded the appropriate opportunity to spend some quality time with her muse and is consequently forced to write an amusing and loquacious account of her odyssey in attempting to do so.
Although an enjoyable and light-hearted read, this is neither the book we expect nor want. The central character of the story hardly makes an appearance, and when he does, it is transient and pithy. For the most part Hines simply documents missed chances with the star, his absence all too evident. Thus instead of his story, we get her story, which includes such yarns as her elation in revisiting home or thoughts on the remedial benefits of yoga.
She also interviews the crème of the Bollywood elite; people like Shobhaa De, Shashi Kapoor, Shabana Azmi, and Yash Chopra, but the conversations between them offer little in regards to Amitabh.
There is a great deal of frustration in her various deviations from the fundamental narrative as she irritatingly includes superfluous details like how she is a Star Trek fan or how she and her Mumbai pals Amin and Charlotte ate pizza on a rooftop, or how she and Amitabh along with actress Manisha Koirala discussed the length of her hair:
"I had just cut my hair extremely short, and in the presence of Manisha's stunning beauty and femininity, I felt like a rad seventies butch dyke. Amitabh did his little introduction and to both our amazement Manisha just said, 'I love your hair. I would love to have my hair like that. It's so cool.'"
This passage is exemplary of much of the writing style of Hines. It is chic-lit style, very Bridget Jones with lots of self-depreciating comments, naïve observations, and a plethora of self-indulgent moaning.
For example, there is this passage: "There was a pause, a brief pause; it felt like social death. 'Say something! I scream at myself, 'Carpe that bloody diem Hines, carpe forchrissake carpe!'"
And...
"My joke falls flat like a belly-flopping fat kid, making me wince as it hits the carpet."
At times it is enough to make one wince.
Another curious peculiarity is her persistent use of popular Hindi words in the voice of her text. Although apparently capable of speaking Hindi, it doesn't seem palatable that Hines would use this multi-cultural fusion of language, common among first and second generation British Asians, in her everyday dialogue.
One finds it extremely difficult to envisage Hines uttering such sentences as "no problem baas", "the whole tamasha", and "to-bit filmi-admi", inside her Indian hub, let alone in the real world.
This is essentially a travel-book memoir and anyone expecting a serious and engaging biography on Amitabh will be let down.
Of course there are interesting anecdotes, brief glimpses into the brooding personality of Amitabh, and some amusing episodes, but we are left wanting. Hines is charming enough, but it's not her life that we're interested in, but that of the iconic Amitabh.
Instead it is an interesting portrait of a westerner's experience of India - especially that of Mumbai and Bollywood - and for that, to be courteous, it may be applauded.
-----------------------------------
Narinder is a freelance writer
nspurba@gmail.com
