Byomkesh Bakshy, Piku and other Bollywood Bengalis we love

Two trailers in the last two weeks, and both of them featuring Kolkata and Bengalis. Be still my beating heart! After all, in Bollywood – even though there are a few leading actresses who are Bengali - there is an absurd absence of any Bengali hero.

No, Mimoh Chakravarty, fruit of Mithun’s loins, does not count. And yes, while I’d like to co-opt the half Bong Abhishek Bachchan and Saif Ali Khan, I must admit it’s a bit of a cultural stretch.

Over the years, Bengal has been slowly but surely re-entering Bollywood with stories set in Kolkata popping up every now and then. Perhaps taking heart from the success of a film like Kahaani, YRF and Dibakar Banerjee bring us Detective Byomkesh Bakshy!, starring the very agile and fit Sushant Singh Rajput as Bakshy – with a Y.

This film’s trailer is one that all of us Bengali women should clasp closely to our bosoms. Because nowhere in Kolkata is there a man – on or off screen – who can do the calisthenics that Bakshy does without having an immediate cardiac arrest or getting a hernia.

We see Byomkesh shooting heroin, sucking in his cheeks, doing some snazzy martial arts moves and making eyes at a Bengali lass. A Bengali lass who stands for all things oposhonskriti-related (that means “uncultured” for are deprived of the wonders of Bangla). In the trailer, Byomkesh is seen consorting with an actress who routinely sheds her clothes in front of Byomkesh – an act which would render most Bengali men impotent with a combination of terror and desire. She smokes, bathes in a tub (with full makeup) while bantering with Byomkesh, and seems to be slated to be the detective’s downfall.

Basically, this Byomkesh is Bond in a dhoti – riding a tram instead of an Aston Martin. Even Bengalis deserve to indulge in some willing suspension of disbelief once in a while.

Thankfully Rajput doesn’t speak in a faux Bengali accent in the film, though in the process he does end up mangling his own character’s name. Bollywood’s notion of a Bengali accent is something I am in perpetual fear of ever since Jackie Shroff yodelled“Bawndhoo” instead of “bondhoo” in Devdas.

The other trailer to bring about a surge of Bengali pride is Piku by Shoojit Sircar. Right from the name, most of the details are correct. From the trailer, we can gather that Sircar’s film is about a bowel movement-challenged father and a daughter (no digestive issues in her case) who live in Delhi. They take a road trip to Kolkata and Irrfan Khan is thrown in for some romance. The Delhi home is filled with books, the old Kolkata buildings show filigreed balconies and rust coloured walls, there are yellow taxis – if anything is a slice of home, it is Piku’s trailer.

Amitabh Bachchan plays the father, an elderly gentleman who is obsessed with his “motions” and whether or not he’s taken a dump and the quality of aforementioned dump. This is actually quite normal dining table conversation or even small talk in Kolkata. Everyone likes talking about whether or not they have an upset stomach and the various causes and remedies for the same. Bengalis around the world will feel a little niggle of nostalgia when they hear Bachchan discussing and detailing his bowel movements in Piku.

Deepika Padukone plays Bachchan’s daughter and her pet name, or daak naam, is Piku, which is also spot on. In Bengal, we have a tradition of taking the finest of names and either butchering them or ignoring their existence, and instead giving children strange sounds as nicknames. Tunki, Bobai, Lontu, Tojo and, yes, even Piku. These names mean nothing but humiliation when you step out beyond Bengal and realise not everyone has a daak naam. But for reasons unfathomable, Bengalis take great pride in their gibberish nicknames and consequently, it’s perfectly normal for someone to be known only by their nickname. For instance, the actor Prosenjit is widely referred to by his nickname Boomba.

My exuberance at the Piku trailer is also because of the last few films that had Bengali characters or were based in Kolkata, made me feel like Bollywood has a vendetta against us Bongs and Bongland. There was Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey, which essentially pooped over a very important part of Bengal’s role in India’s struggle for independence. It did have the half-Bong Abhishek Bachchan playing a Bengali though, so hurrah for for that.

Before that there was Parineeta, with Sanjay Dutt playing a Bengali zamindar who does the dhunuchi naach during Durga Puja. This was only a little less believable than Dutt playing a Booker prize-winning author in Shabd. I don’t know of any self-respecting Bengali zamindar or zamindarni who would do something as plebeian as a dhunuchi naach – but who cares for factual accuracy when you have the power to make Sanjay Dutt dance?

Once again, Parineeta did have our other representative from Bengal – Saif Ali Khan, acting as a Bengali in it. So yay to that. Yet once again, it showed Khan displaying more muscle power than you’d get if you rounded up all the boys and men of North Kolkata and packed them into one room. In the climax of Parineeta, Khan actually picked up a birdbath and used it to break a wall down, thus confirming Bollywood is all about fiction that has no factual basis. In case there was any confusion, Manohar Aich is not the norm in Bengal.

Till now, the only Bengali characters that I can recall from Bollywood who have seemed authentic were the ones in Kahaani and the family in Vicky Donor. The latter’s disdain for physical exercise and for all things and people North Indian rang especially true. Come to think of it, this might offer a hint as to why there are no Bengali heroes in six-pack-obsessed Bollywood.

Keep in mind though that Bengali men have held their own in Bollywood in the past. Look at the Kumar brothers – Ashok, Kishore and Anoop. Ok, never mind Anoop, but there’s no doubting the star qualities of the enormously talented Ashok and Kishore Kumars. Then there was Mithun Chakravarty, National Award winner and a superhit with the audiences and his female co-stars. Poor Biswajeet tried, but the less said about his attempts at Hindi, the better. In the world of “character actors”, Bengal’s contribution is rich and diverse. From Utpal Dutt, with his outstanding ability to master everything from Shakespearean English to Banarasi Hindi, to Keshto Mukherjee whose only talent was that he could be a convincing drunkard – Bengali actors have traditionally covered quite a range.

In the last two decades, we’ve seen Bengali male directors, scriptwriters, musicians, singers – but not one Bengali actor in Bollywood. Ki holo? At least we can take solace from the fact that while there may be little Bengali male representation in Hindi cinema, Bollywood is being kind enough to not depict Bengali men as mama’s boys or wimpy, rotund intellectuals. And who knows? Maybe these rugged fake Bengali men like Rajput’s Byomkesh will make the real Bengali men rise.