Asokamitran (1931-2017),
a Tamil writer, recounts his years at Gemini Studios in
his book My Years with Boss
which talks of the influence of movies on every
aspect of life in India. The Gemini Studios, located in Chennai, was set up
in 1940. It was one of the most influential film-producing organisations of
India in the early days of Indian film-making. Its founder was S.S. Vasan. The
duty of Asokamitran in Gemini Studios was to cut out newspaper clippings on a
wide variety of subjects and store them in files. Many of these had to be
written out by hand. Although he performed an insignificant function he was the
most well-informed of all the members of the Gemini family. The following is an
excerpt from his book My Years with Boss.
6 Poets and Pancakes
Pancake was the brand name of the make-up material that Gemini Studios bought in
truck-loads. Greta Garbo1 must have used it, Miss Gohar must have used it,
Vyjayantimala2 must also have used it but Rati Agnihotri may not have even
heard of it. The make-up department of the Gemini Studios was in the upstairs of
a building that was believed to have been Robert Clive’s stables. A dozen other
buildings in the city are said to have been his residence. For his brief life
and an even briefer stay in Madras, Robert Clive seems to have done a lot of
moving, besides fighting some impossible battles in remote corners of India and
marrying a maiden in St. Mary’s Church in Fort St. George in Madras.
The make-up room had the look of a hair-cutting salon with lights at all angles
around half a dozen large mirrors. They were all incandescent lights, so you can
imagine the fiery misery of those subjected to make-up. The make-up department
was first headed by a Bengali who became too big for a studio and left. He was
succeeded by a Maharashtrian who was assisted by a Dharwar Kannadiga, an Andhra,
a Madras Indian Christian, an Anglo-Burmese and the usual local Tamils. All this
shows that there was a great deal of national integration long before A.I.R. and
Doordarshan began broadcasting programmes on national integration. This gang of
nationally integrated make-up men could turn any decent-looking person into a
hideous crimson hued monster with the help of truck-loads of pancake and a
number of other locally made potions and lotions. Those were the days of mainly
indoor shooting, and only five per cent of the film was shot outdoors. I suppose
the sets and studio lights needed the girls and boys to be made to look ugly in
order to look presentable in the movie. A strict hierarchy was maintained in the
make-up department. The chief make-up man made the chief actors and actresses
ugly, his senior assistant the ‘second’ hero and heroine, the junior assistant
the main comedian, and so forth. The players who played the crowd were the
responsibility of the office boy. (Even the make-up department of the Gemini
Studio had an ‘office boy’!) On the days when there was a crowd- shooting, you
could see him mixing his paint in a giant vessel and slapping it on the crowd
players. The idea was to close every pore on the surface of the face in the
process of applying make-up. He wasn’t exactly a ‘boy’; he was in his early
forties, having entered the studios years ago in the hope of becoming a star
actor or a top screen writer, director or lyrics writer. He was a bit of a poet.
Think as you read
What does the writer mean by ‘the fiery misery’ of those subjected to
make-up’?
What is the example of national integration that the author refers to?
What work did the ‘office boy’ do in the Gemini Studios? Why did he join the
studios? Why was he disappointed?
Why did the author appear to be doing nothing at the studios?
In those days I worked in a cubicle, two whole sides of which were French
windows. (I didn’t know at that time they were called French windows.) Seeing me
sitting at my desk tearing up newspapers day in and day out, most people thought
I was doing next to nothing. It is likely that the Boss thought likewise too. So
anyone who felt I should be given some occupation would barge into my cubicle
and deliver an extended lecture. The ‘boy’ in the make-up department had decided
I should be enlightened on how great literary talent was being allowed to go
waste in a department fit only for barbers and perverts. Soon I was praying for
crowd-shooting all the time. Nothing short of it could save me from his epics.
In all instances of frustration, you will always find the anger directed towards
a single person openly or covertly and this man of the make-up department was
convinced that all his woes, ignominy and neglect were due to Kothamangalam
Subbu. Subbu was the No. 2 at Gemini Studios. He couldn’t have had a more
encouraging opening in films than our grown-up make-up boy had. On the contrary
he must have had to face more uncertain and difficult times, for when he began
his career, there were no firmly established film producing companies or
studios. Even in the matter of education, specially formal education, Subbu
couldn’t have had an appreciable lead over our boy. But by virtue of being born
a Brahmin — a virtue, indeed! — he must have had exposure to more affluent
situations and people. He had the ability to look cheerful at all times even
after having had a hand in a flop film. He always had work for somebody — he
could never do things on his own — but his sense of loyalty made him identify
himself with his principal completely and turn his entire creativity to his
principal’s advantage. He was tailor-made for films. Here was a man who could be
inspired when commanded. “The rat fights the tigress underwater and kills her
but takes pity on the cubs and tends them lovingly — I don’t know how to do the
scene,” the producer would say and Subbu would come out with four ways of the
rat pouring affection on its victim’s offspring. “Good, but I am not sure it is
effective enough,” the producer would say and in a minute Subbu would come out
with fourteen more alternatives. Film-making must have been and was so easy with
a man like Subbu around and if ever there was a man who gave direction and
definition to Gemini Studios during its golden years, it was Subbu. Subbu had a
separate identity as a poet and though he was certainly capable of more complex
and higher forms, he deliberately chose to address his poetry to the masses. His
success in films overshadowed and dwarfed his literary achievements — or so his
critics felt. He composed several truly original ‘story poems’ in folk refrain
and diction and also wrote a sprawling novel Thillana Mohanambal with dozens of
very deftly etched characters. He quite successfully recreated the mood and
manner of the Devadasis of the early 20th century. He was an amazing actor — he
never aspired to the lead roles — but whatever subsidiary role he played in any
of the films, he performed better than the supposed main players. He had a
genuine love for anyone he came across and his house was a permanent residence
for dozens of near and far relations and acquaintances. It seemed against
Subbu’s nature to be even conscious that he was feeding and supporting so many
of them. Such a charitable and improvident man, and yet he had enemies! Was it
because he seemed so close and intimate with The Boss? Or was it his general
demeanour that resembled a sycophant’s? Or his readiness to say nice things
about everything? In any Poets and Pancakes/61 case, there was this man in the
make-up department who would wish the direst things for Subbu.
You saw Subbu always with The Boss but in the attendance rolls, he was grouped
under a department called the Story Department comprising a lawyer and an
assembly of writers and poets. The lawyer was also officially known as the legal
adviser, but everybody referred to him as the opposite. An extremely talented
actress, who was also extremely temperamental, once blew over on the sets. While
everyone stood stunned, the lawyer quietly switched on the recording equipment.
When the actress paused for breath, the lawyer said to her, “One minute,
please,” and played back the recording. There was nothing incriminating or
unmentionably foul about the actress’s tirade against the producer. But when she
heard her voice again through the sound equipment, she was struck dumb. A girl
from the countryside, she hadn’t gone through all the stages of worldly
experience that generally precede a position of importance and sophistication
that she had found herself catapulted into. She never quite recovered from the
terror she felt that day. That was the end of a brief and brilliant acting
career — the legal adviser, who was also a member of the Story Department, had
unwittingly brought about that sad end. While every other member of the
Department wore a kind of uniform — khadi dhoti with a slightly oversized and
clumsily tailored white khadi shirt — the legal adviser wore pants and a tie and
sometimes a coat that looked like a coat of mail. Often he looked alone and
helpless — a man of cold logic in a crowd of dreamers — a neutral man in an
assembly of Gandhiites and khadiites. Like so many of those who were close to
The Boss, he was allowed to produce a film and though a lot of raw stock and
pancake were used on it, not much came of the film. Then one day The Boss closed
down the Story Department and this was perhaps the only instance in all human
history where a lawyer lost his job because the poets were asked to go home.
Think as you read
Why was the office boy frustrated? Who did he show his anger on?
Who was Subbu’s principal?
Subbu is described as a many-sided genius. List four of his special
abilities.
Why was the legal adviser referred to as the opposite by others?
What made the lawyer stand out from the others at Gemini Studios?
Gemini Studios was the favourite haunt of poets like S.D.S.Yogiar3, Sangu
Subramanyam, Krishna Sastry and Harindranath Chattopadhyaya4. It had an
excellent mess which supplied good coffee at all times of the day and for most
part of the night. Those were the days when Congress rule meant Prohibition and
meeting over a cup of coffee was rather satisfying entertainment. Barring the
office boys and a couple of clerks, everybody else at the Studios radiated
leisure, a pre-requisite for poetry. Most of them wore khadi and worshipped
Gandhiji but beyond that they had not the faintest appreciation for political
thought of any kind. Naturally, they were all averse to the term ‘Communism’. A
Communist was a godless man — he had no filial or conjugal love; he had no
compunction about killing his own parents or his children; he was always out to
cause and spread unrest and violence among innocent and ignorant people. Such
notions which prevailed everywhere else in South India at that time also,
naturally, floated about vaguely among the khadi-clad poets of Gemini Studios.
Evidence of it was soon forthcoming.
When Frank Buchman’s Moral Re-Armament army, some two hundred strong, visited
Madras sometime in 1952, they could not have found a warmer host in India than
the Gemini Studios. Someone called the group an international circus. They
weren’t very good on the trapeze and their acquaintance with animals was only at
the dinner table, but they presented two plays in a most professional manner.
Their ‘Jotham Valley’ and ‘The Forgotten Factor’ ran several shows in Madras and
along with the other citizens of the city, the Gemini family of six hundred saw
the plays over and over again. The message of the plays were usually plain and
simple homilies, but the sets and costumes were first-rate. Madras and the Tamil
drama community were terribly impressed and for some years almost all Tamil
plays had a scene of sunrise and sunset in the manner of ‘Jotham Valley’ with a
bare stage, a white background curtain and a tune played on the flute. It was
some years later that I learnt that the MRA was a kind of counter-movement to
international Communism and the big bosses of Madras like Mr. Vasan simply
played into their hands. I am not sure however, that this was indeed the case,
for the unchangeable aspects of these big bosses and their enterprises remained
the same, MRA or no MRA, international Communism or no international Communism.
The staff of Gemini Studios had a nice time hosting two hundred people of all
hues and sizes of at least twenty nationalities. It was such a change from the
usual collection of crowd players waiting to be slapped with thick layers of
make-up by the office-boy in the make-up department.
A few months later, the telephone lines of the big bosses of Madras buzzed and
once again we at Gemini Studios cleared a whole shooting stage to welcome
another visitor. All they said was that he was a poet from England. The only
poets from England the simple Gemini staff knew or heard of were Wordsworth and
Tennyson; the more literate ones knew of Keats, Shelley and Byron; and one or
two might have faintly come to know of someone by the name Eliot. Who was the
poet visiting the Gemini Studios now?
“He is not a poet. He is an editor. That’s why The Boss is giving him a big
reception.” Vasan was also the editor of the popular Tamil weekly Ananda
Vikatan.
He wasn’t the editor of any of the known names of British publications in
Madras, that is, those known at the Gemini Studios. Since the top men of The
Hindu were taking the initiative, the surmise was that the poet was the editor
of a daily — but not from The Manchester Guardian or the London Times. That
was all that even the most well- informed among us knew.
At last, around four in the afternoon, the poet (or the editor) arrived. He was
a tall man, very English, very serious and of course very unknown to all of us.
Battling with half a dozen pedestal fans on the shooting stage, The Boss read
out a long speech. It was obvious that he too knew precious little about the
poet (or the editor). The speech was all in the most general terms but here and
there it was peppered with words like ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’. Then the poet
spoke. He couldn’t have addressed a more dazed and silent audience — no one knew
what he was talking about and his accent defeated any attempt to understand what
he was saying. The whole thing lasted about an hour; then the poet left and we
all dispersed in utter bafflement — what are we doing? What is an English poet
doing in a film studio which makes Tamil films for the simplest sort of people?
People whose lives least afforded them the possibility of cultivating a taste
for English poetry? The poet looked pretty baffled too, for he too must have
felt the sheer incongruity of his talk about the thrills and travails of an
English poet. His visit remained an unexplained mystery.
Think as you read
Did the people at Gemini Studios have any particular political affiliations?
Why was the Moral Rearmament Army welcomed at the Studios?
Name one example to show that Gemini studios was influenced by the plays
staged by MRA.
Who was The Boss of Gemini Studios?
What caused the lack of communication between the Englishman and the people
at Gemini Studios?
Why is the Englishman’s visit referred to as unexplained mystery?
The great prose-writers of the world may not admit it, but my conviction grows
stronger day after day that prose- writing is not and cannot be the true pursuit
of a genius. It is for the patient, persistent, persevering drudge with a heart
so shrunken that nothing can break it; rejection slips don’t mean a thing to
him; he at once sets about making a fresh copy of the long prose piece and sends
it on to another editor enclosing postage for the return of the manuscript. It
was for such people that The Hindu had published a tiny announcement in an
insignificant corner of an unimportant page — a short story contest organised by
a British periodical by the name The Encounter. Of course, The Encounter
wasn’t a known commodity among the Gemini literati. I wanted to get an idea of
the periodical before I spent a considerable sum in postage sending a manuscript
Poets and Pancakes/65 to England. In those days, the British Council Library had
an entrance with no long winded signboards and notices to make you feel you were
sneaking into a forbidden area. And there were copies of The Encounter lying
about in various degrees of freshness, almost untouched by readers. When I read
the editor’s name, I heard a bell ringing in my shrunken heart. It was the poet
who had visited the Gemini Studios — I felt like I had found a long lost brother
and I sang as I sealed the envelope and wrote out his address. I felt that he
too would be singing the same song at the same time — long lost brothers of
Indian films discover each other by singing the same song in the first reel and
in the final reel of the film. Stephen Spender5. Stephen — that was his name.
And years later, when I was out of Gemini Studios and I had much time but not
much money, anything at a reduced price attracted my attention. On the footpath
in front of the Madras Mount Road Post Office, there was a pile of brand new
books for fifty paise each. Actually they were copies of the same book, an
elegant paperback of American origin. ‘Special low-priced student edition, in
connection with the 50th Anniversary of the Russian Revolution’, I paid fifty
paise and picked up a copy of the book, The God That Failed. Six eminent men of
letters in six separate essays described ‘their journeys into Communism and
their disillusioned return’; Andre Gide6, Richard Wright7, Ignazio
Silone8, Arthur Koestler9, Louis Fischer10 and Stephen Spender. Stephen
Spender! Suddenly the book assumed tremendous significance. Stephen Spender, the
poet who had visited Gemini Studios! In a moment I felt a dark chamber of my
mind lit up by a hazy illumination. The reaction to Stephen Spender at Gemini
Studios was no longer a mystery. The Boss of the Gemini Studios may not have
much to do with Spender’s poetry. But not with his god that failed.
Think as you read
Who was the English visitor to the studios?
How did the author discover who the English visitor to the studios was?
What does The God that Failed refer to?
Exercise
Understanding the text
The author has used gentle humour to point out human foibles. Pick out
instances of this to show how this serves to make the piece interesting.
Why was Kothamangalam Subbu considered No. 2 in Gemini Studios?
How does the author describe the incongruity of an English poet addressing
the audience at Gemini Studios?
What do you understand about the author’s literary inclinations from the
account?
Talking about the text
Discuss in small groups taking off from points in the text.
Film-production today has come a long way from the early days of the Gemini
Studios.
Poetry and films.
Humour and criticism.
Noticing transitions
This piece is an example of a chatty, rambling style. One thought leads to
another which is then dwelt upon at length.
Read the text again and mark the transitions from one idea to another. The
first one is indicated below.
Make-up department
Office-boy
Subbu
Writing
You must have met some interesting characters in your neighbourhood or among
your relatives. Write a humourous piece about their idiosyncrasies. Try to adopt
the author’s rambling style, if you can.
Things to do
Collect about twenty cartoons from newspapers and magazines in any langauge to
discuss how important people or events have been satirised. Comment on the
interplay of the words and the pictures used.
ABOUT THE UNIT
THEME
An account of the events and personalities in a film company in the early days
of Indian cinema.
SUB-THEME
Poets and writers in a film company environment.
COMPREHENSION
Understanding humour and satire.
Following a rambling, chatty style and making inferences.
TALKING ABOUT THE TEXT
Discuss
Today’s film technology compared with that of the early days of Indian cinema
(comparing and contrasting).
Poetry and films; criticism and humour.
NOTICING TRANSITIONS
Focus on devices for achieving thematic coherence.
WRITING
Practice writing in the humorous style.
THINGS TO DO
Extension activity on cartoons as a vehicle of satirical comment on human
foibles.
Footnotes
A Swedish actress, in 1954 she received an Honorary Oscar for her
unforgettable screen performances. The Guinness Book of World Records named
her the most beautiful woman who ever lived. She was also voted Best Silent
Actress of the country. ↩
An Indian actress whose performance was widely appreciated in Bimal Roy’s
Devdas. She won three Best Actress awards for her acting. She is now an
active politician. ↩
An English poet essayist who concentrated on themes of social injustice
and class struggle. ↩
A French writer, humanist, moralist, received the Nobel Prize for
Literature in 1947. ↩
An American writer, known for his novel Native Son and his autobiography
Black Boy. ↩
An Italian writer, who was the founder member of the Italian communist
party in 1921, and is known for the book. The God That Failed, authored by
him. ↩
A Hungarian born British novelist, known for his novel Darkness at Noon. ↩
A well known American journalist and a writer of Mahatma Gandhi’s
biography entitled The Life of Mahatma Gandhi. The Oscar winning film Gandhi
is based on this biographical account. ↩
