From Mother India to Indian mothers: Bollywood through the NRI lens
“Mere paas Maa hai,“ says Shashi Kapoor triumphantly in the 1975 hit Deewar, in response to Amitabh’s long list of riches.. houses, cars and untold wealth — apparently nothing that can compete with a mother’s approval for an Indian boy!
That would sum up the NRI response to Bollywood films — a warm fuzzy feeling that evokes memories of the motherland when everything around them is cold, clinical and cynical. It is the mother they left behind in search of material wealth but more precious than anything they found. It is the piece of India they carry around in their hearts as contact with the real India fades away into the realm of holidays and remittances. It is a romantic image that reminds doctors in Cleveland, Ohio of their student days in Maulana Azad; it is a sentimental journey to youthful escapades for IIT engineers trading commodities in London and worrying about Brexit. It is unreal and totally out of sync with their everyday lives but who cares… we live in a post-truth world don’t we? And Bollywood films discovered that long before Trump — Maa tujhe Salaam!
Yes, Bollywood films are an essential part of the NRI journey. People like me, brought up in westernised households in large metros like Delhi did not see Hindi films while we grew up in India. They were not part of our romantic vocabulary either. We danced to the songs of Madonna and George Michael in the 1980s. Posters of serious heroes like Che Guevara hung on our student room walls. Books by Levi Strauss and Jean Paul Sartre lined our bookshelves. Hindi films with their loud music, garish costumes and hypocritical romancing while dancing around trees did not play any role in our lives. Amitabh Bachchan was a big Bollywood star and while we may have watched the occasional Hindi film, we certainly did not wait for the next release and rush to see it. We shuddered at the masses that sought out movies ‘ First Day First Show’.
We loved cinema yes, but it had to be Fellini or Truffaut or Satyajit Ray and Ritwick Ghatak. I remembered the entire audio vocabulary of thunder in Meghe Dhaka Tara but not a single Rajesh Khanna song beyond the first line.
From then, to what I have become today is a transformation worthy of the miracles seen in Hindi films. Like the hand of God that emerges to pluck a child out of danger, I have been lifted out of my meaningless existence and supplanted into a world of twins (with identical birthmarks) being reunited, girls sending letters to their lovers via pigeon post, families opposing unsuitable alliances and then being brought round by family pets, mothers crying for long lost sons… yes mothers, always mothers! And I have enjoyed every sobbing, sentimental moment. I have danced in public to songs I would have never admitted to hearing even in private in an earlier life.. saara London thumakda, after all!
So what changed? For me and for many other NRIs, it was the simple fact of leaving India. Bollywood became a connect with a memory. A Friday night fiesta of music and dance that transported us to the country we loved and didn’t know how much we loved! For an outsider visiting India for the first time, I have heard it described as an assault on the senses. Everyone speaks louder than they should, more than they should; the streets are full of sights and smells. Yet nobody told me about how colourless and sanitised the world becomes when one leaves India. How one misses the colour and the noise of the street, the tinkling of bangles, the outpouring of emotion while saying everyday things, ‘Hai ram yeh koi aane ka vakht hai?’ the hissing of jalebis being fried, the ferocity of the monsoon; it just vanishes into the cold grey sky of the temperate country one migrates to. I found myself sentimentalising the simplest Indian things, trudging miles to attend Gandhi Jayanti celebrations at the Indian High Commission, seeking out friendly faces and making Indian friends. I could have gone the other way — if not in Fellini and Truffaut country, I was well within striking distance. Yet I found myself becoming more Indian than ever. I realised I missed India and Indians. And so it was only natural that Bollywood films filled the void. They were loud but so what… they were mine. They spoke in a language that I could understand and they took me back to a country I did not live in any longer, but clearly belonged to.
For me, through the nineties, Sooraj Barjatya’s family dramas were a timely reminder of Indian family values. My relatives in India would be constantly amazed at my decoding of Indian traditions in Hindi films. While they were busy copying Madhuri Dixit’s purple saree in Hum Aapke Hain Kaun — I would wax eloquent about family bonds in India being so strong. I was perhaps always wearing my NRI lens and contrasting them with western societies that I had been exposed to while the audiences in India were content to just enjoy the films. They certainly did not strip films apart the way I did!
As time went on, a new genre of film came to be made. Karan Johar with a canny eye on the large Indian market abroad, churned out a series of films with NRI characters in lead roles. Equally comfortable in the East or the West, they cavorted on the steps of the National Gallery in London instead of Film City in Mumbai. They lived in palatial mansions in Surrey or New York and took helicopters everywhere. They represented the global Indian — one who had one impeccable heeled foot in both India and abroad. Well dressed and good looking, they presented an image of India and Indians that I and other NRIs could be proud of. They were fun films and modern but the message was still irrevocably Indian — family is everything. I loved them and so did the entire NRI market! The coffers did not stop ringing as Kuch Kuch Hota Hai was followed by Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham and then Kal Ho Na Ho. The Indian market lapped up the films too because they were slick and modern looking and competently directed by young directors. What was there not to like? Yet they were very special to NRIs — for the first time, there were films with NRI characters in the main roles. Not just me, my children who were growing up, enjoyed the films too. These were people they could relate to. Suddenly, Bollywood films were not just a guilty pleasure, they were something I could share with the rest of the world. As Bollywood’s soft power spread through the world, India was suddenly a party the whole world wanted to come to!
For many NRI parents and their children, Bollywood films have been a relatable link to the motherland. While Mulayam Singh Yadav’s latest manoeuvres in UP may not be as scintillating to NRI children, A.R. Rahman’s latest song certainly is. I have known several NRI children amongst my friends, whose Hindi vocabulary is heavily influenced by films. I know a young girl who addresses her brother as ‘ Maa ka laadla’ and another who says ‘bade bade deshon mein aisi chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hain’ everytime something goes wrong. She lives in Dubai which is not a large country but hey, she is referring to India as we all know. I know a boy who can recite all the dialogues from Sholay — a film that was made even before he was born. Both his parents are South Indian and do not speak Hindi but they beam with pride. Films are an entertaining way for children to polish their Indian language skills and a useful metaphor for Indian traditions and culture. Once outside India, the lines between north and south tend to blur. His mother tells me proudly that Hindi films have always had top heroines from South India — from Vyjayanthimala to Hema Malini and Sridevi to Deepika Padukone — Bollywood has been in love with South Indian girls. True that!
Bollywood unites not just North and South Indians — it respects talent above all and does not let politics get in the way of sourcing the very best. Starting with Runa Laila from Bangladesh, Pakistani actors like Fawad Khan, Sri Lankan actresses like Jacqueline Fernandes and Pakistani singers like Rahat Ali Khan have all had careers in Bollywood. So it unites South Asian talent and this leads to larger audiences abroad.
As a whole generation of NRI children has grown up and got married, their parents have hosted lavish destination weddings in India and foreigners are amongst the most enthusiastic dancers. Getting an invitation to an Indian wedding seems to be the ticket these days. Desi girls mixing with Pardesi mundas to Bhangra beats in Kerala mangroves and Goa beaches — truly a Bollywood inspired cocktail of youth and romance.
The way Bollywood has evolved globally just in my lifetime makes me believe it is India’s secret weapon. What started as a window to India for NRIs all misty-eyed and sentimental, has now become a projection of India to the world: standing tall and proud. Bollywood films are unapologetically Indian and the world had better love us. As famously said, Pyar mein no thank you, no sorry!
The author is currently a 2022 DCI Fellow at Stanford University USA. She lives in London and is the author of East or West: An NRI mum’s manual on bringing up desi children overseas. vinati@stanford.edu
