The measure of a good memoir of a filmmaker is in how it gives its reader a strong urge to seek out their creations―if they are not yet familiar with them―or revisit them with a newfound appreciation engendered by the hitherto unknown behind-the-scenes information. In that regard, Subhash Ghai’s memoir (written with Suveen Sinha)―Karma’s Child: The Story of Indian Cinema’s Ultimate Showman―delivers in spades.
Ghai's life is as dramatic as any of his films. It is a delightful trip back to a far simpler time, painting a transportive portrait of one man's epic journey and the resilient attitude that kept him afloat all this while. It is also a glimpse into the Hindi film industry itself―conveyed vividly through Ghai's “viewfinder” that helped him maintain a fair distance between himself and the events happening around him, without letting them get to him. It is a quality essential to anyone operating in an industry that is often subjected to constant, harsh scrutiny by the public.
Some of the most successful careers are a cumulative outcome of events triggered by a deeply unpleasant episode. There was one in Ghai's case, too: an abusive father. One immediately thinks of the boy in Vikramaditya Motwane's Udaan, with whom Ghai's childhood seems to bear a strong resemblance. Ghai found a way to save himself despite this disconcerting situation that nearly drove him to self-destruction.
The book is replete with colourful anecdotes: The young man with an insatiable urge to be an actor losing out on an opportunity to future superstar Rajesh Khanna; forging a strong friendship with actor Shatrughan Sinha; getting his first break as director of Kalicharan; making Kalicharan with absolutely zero filmmaking experience; understanding the difference between a 'good story' and a 'hit'; writer and lyricist Javed Akhtar's tips on how to get a foot in the door; learning to visualise a story from filmmaker L.V. Prasad (the importance of appealing to the “collective morality” of the audience); and his second directorial Vishwanath becoming a relatively bigger box-office success despite little writing effort.
The ebbs and flows in Ghai's personal life carry enough details to appeal to those who may have experienced similar setbacks or personal tragedies. One of the most poignant passages in the book involves Ghai dealing with the loss of his newborn and then getting back on the set the very next day to ensure the uninterrupted shoot of a film―Gautam Govinda, his third directorial―that would later prove to be a flop. One cannot imagine what must have been going through Ghai's mind then.
The book is a treasure trove of information for any serious cinephile seeking to dig into a particular chapter of India's cinema history. While Ghai's sensibilities may not suit those who prefer their cinema with less melodrama and more subtlety and restraint, it goes without saying that the kind of escapism provided by Ghai and other successful filmmakers is second to none.
To sum it up, Karma's Child is undoubtedly one of the finest filmmaker memoirs ever written―a book whose subject tells you that trusting tadbeer (effort) would do you wonders than trusting taqdeer (fate) is a keeper.
KARMA’S CHILD: THE STORY OF INDIAN CINEMA’S ULTIMATE SHOWMAN
Authors: Subhash Ghai with Suveen Sinha
Publisher: HarperCollins India
Price: Rs 699; pages: 304