Satish Shah had a similar problem to Asrani, who passed two weeks before Shah, as they weren’t conventionally good looking, in fact they were odd looking, by Hindi movie standards
Illustration/Uday Mohite
The year was 1984, We had one TV channel — Doordarshan. DD had popped into our lives– for want of any alternative, we gorged on it, whatever fare was offered. Eighties British sitcoms like Yes Minister, Fawlty Towers and To the Manor Born, regaled us in the evenings — and our own homegrown Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi. Shafi Inamdar and Swaroop Sampat gave us the base, as a typical middle-class family in Bombay, dealing with everyday problems. But it was one Satish Shah, playing 55 different parts in the 55 episodes that the show ran, who gave us the gravy, the icing on the cake — different and varied finely etched characters in every episode. From a groom’s father to a goonda, from a priest to a police inspector -- he played every conceivable type of “common man”, floating into the lives of Shafi and Swaroop. He shifted seamlessly between accents and attire, to showcase Bombay’s vast communities, giving us the full array of his comedy of all kinds, broad, to subtle. Satish Shah could manage the length and breadth of comedy, the slapstick, the tomfoolery, the double take, the funny accents, the physical comedy. In a time of early sitcoms, and canned laughter, Satish flew close to the edge of stereotype, but his ability to embody that very stereotype with energy and empathy, gave us immortal characters.
Satish Shah had a similar problem to Asrani, who passed two weeks before Shah, as they weren’t conventionally good looking, in fact they were odd looking, by Hindi movie standards.
Satish Shah spoke of how when he graduated from FTII, in the 70s, his unconventional body type found him falling between the cracks of leading man, villain or “character actor”. In a pre-web series, OTT era, character actors had no “grey area” space — you were the broad stroked, supportive brother, the hero’s side-kick or the comedy goofball.
That a man could build a reputation, in three roles, including an Indu Sarabai and Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro’s corpse, speaks volumes.
And yet, I ask, why do we remember him, in his passing more than we do when he was alive. Did none of the scores of modern shows, series, streaming platforms and producers have any place for his unique brand of talent and timing.
The grief over Satish Shah’s passing just doesn’t seem to end — it doesn’t just seem to signal the end of a fine actor, the loss seems more personal, it goes far deeper. Satish reminds us, the Baby Boomer generation, of a time that was, in a non-social media age, where we knew nothing of a cine stars personal life to aid our curiosity or validate our voyeuristic, voracious vicious nature — what we saw is what they gave you… on the screen, purely their talent.
Satish Shah had nothing to offer except his versatility.
And we appreciate, remember, eulogise and finally, mourn the passing of these men both for the nostalgia, but also for the naturalness of their performance.
But finally we mourn a simpler time, and Satish Shah excelled in a simpler time — a pure talent just popping out of the idiot box, far from resorting to broad bawdiness. He revelled in giving us good old indigenous middle class stories, relatable and sometimes irreverent, in a non-social media non tik-tok, “let’s observe every tic” time. Satish Shah was unique, and oh yes, he had way more than just “thirty years of experience”.
Rest well, Commisioner D’Mello, Your acting will always be alive.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, filmmaker and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com
Subscribe today by clicking the link and stay updated with the latest news!" Click here!
