Raju Korti
People in the showbiz are by and large conceited, publicity-oriented and diplomatic. Whatever the undercurrents between them, they are never vocal about them and jealously guard their professional affiliations. 77-year-old Vikram Gokhale who left a stamp of his own on the Marathi theatre and cinema, was an exception. He was brutally honest and did not mince words even if it meant losing out on work that comes from maintaining good PR in the industry.
My meeting with the handsome and resolute actor happened perchance in 1991 in Nagpur. Rather it was Gokhale who bumped into me perchance. He was there along with his co-actor Swati Chitnis to perform as lead actors for a show of the three-act play 'Sanket Milanacha'. The show was slated for the next day but apparently the troupe ran into some issues with the theater that put a question mark on whether it would go ahead as scheduled. The tickets had already been sold out on the singular charisma of Gokhale.
A desperate and restive Gokhale was at his wit's ends and didn't know anyone who could thrash out the issue with the management of Dhanwate Rang Mandir, where the show was to be held. He decided to approach the Press, and as luck would have it, he saw me among a few others of my ilk. Dressed in a Salwar-Kurta, his hands folded in a theatrical Namaste, he said he wanted help. The first to catch onto his presence, I asked him to take a seat and also offered him the tapri chai which at that time of the night would smell of kerosene, mud and everything else except tea.
He drank the tea without any fuss, thanked us and came to the point straight away. "My show is being staged tomorrow evening, the tickets have been sold out but there is some misunderstanding with the theater management. Can you please use your good offices and bail me out?" I stood up immediately and said I would give it a try. There were no cell phones then and I asked one of my colleagues to connect with the management of the theater on land line. With some discussion and cajoling, the issue was sorted out. "There!, I told him. You can go ahead with the show."
In the 15 minutes or so that he was there, I briefly spoke about 'Barrister' among his acknowledged plays and a teleserial 'Shwetambara' which I had watched in bits and pieces on Doordarshan in the late 70s and early 80s. His worried face creased into a smile and he thanked all of us for helping him in what then appeared to be a hopeless situation . As he started walking out, he abruptly turned and held my hand in a tight grip. "Be my guest tomorrow. Meet me backstage. I will ensure a front row seat for you".
Although I took interest in Marathi theater, I wasn't a hardened buff. I went to the show casually with zero interest in watching the play just to see if he would keep his word. Keep he did and what's more, he had alerted the organisers to let me in and meet him backstage. "Thanks, you were a godsend. I have very little time to talk to you right now but let's catch up tomorrow," he said hurriedly and introduced me to Swati Chitnis. The two were put up at a family acquaintance. I assured him, I would, watched the play bored and walked out half way through.
The next afternoon, I was surprised to receive a message from the organisers that Gokhale wanted to meet me. I decided to go because my better half was/is his admirer and wanted to tag along. In any case that was not a professional assignment, so I conceded. Most of the talk centered around the current status of the Marathi theater. When he realized he was doing all the talking and I was just a listener, he sported an apologetic smile and asked me if I had any question. My knowledge of the Marathi theater wasn't in-depth. Not wanting to end up looking an ass with a silly question, I asked something that came to my mind in the spur of the moment.
"You are a consummate actor yourself. A live show in the theater leaves you with no margin of error unlike the cinema which enables cuts and retakes. How do you react when in the midst of a play some actor changes his/her dialogue and gesticulations in the name of improvisation?" He was so thrilled he stood up and said loudly for all of them around to hear: "That's a wonderful question." He then rattled off how this was becoming a new trend in the theater and unless an actor showed rare presence of mind, he/she was certain to falter as everything happens on cue. It is reasons like these that a good actor always finds theater much more challenging than cinema." He bluntly trashed the cinema in general and lamented that Marathi writers were running out of good ideas. "But why blame others? I did similar, acting in a lot of rotten movies for the sake of money."
"Since you have helped me thus far, I will shamelessly ask for some more. Swati wants to meet Mahesh Elkunchwar (renowned Marathi playwright), If you know him, will you escort her to his house? I agreed since I knew Elkunchwar from way back and later in the evening, dropped her off to Elkunchwar's place on a motor-cycle. Once again he thanked me profusely and insisted I must meet him in Mumbai.
I never met him thereafter. The last I saw him was three months back on Doordarshan when it aired an old show of an interview with fellow Marathi actor Pradeep Patwardhan on his chat show 'Dusri Bajoo' (the other side). Patwardhan was already a memory then. Gokhale is united with him in history.
