I don’t have any tales to tell of Manoj that all of you wouldn’t already know. But I have had the good fortune of fighting the ‘good fight’ alongside Manoj, the warrior for artistic cinema. I had heard tales of how he had introduced Anurag [Kashyap] to Ramu [Ram Gopal Varma] for Satya, and countless other young actors, writers and directors to opportunities they sought but could not access.
For nearly three years, we had faced maddening uncertainties with Bhonsle before we met Manoj with the script in 2014. At that time, I wasn’t even certain I wanted Manoj to play the 60-year-old Marathi constable. But once he had read it and met me, I guess he noticed the fire in my eyes and the throbbing of my heart. He clutched my arm and said he wanted to do the film, come what may. He was even willing to attach himself as a co-producer, if that helped attract funds for a project that, at the time, had none.
Rare as this is in B-Town, I was still skeptical. Most better-known actors, even after agreeing to act in your film, will leave you to your devices, asking you to come back only when funding hiccups have been sorted—implying that you need not bother if you fail to raise the funds.
Manoj was a startling exception. From those initial days, he began making calls, to studios, financers, producers—ones he had worked with before, as well as tyros with stars in their eyes. He also called up senior filmmakers, hoping they may help open other doors if they liked the script. His zeal was unflagging, his conviction, unbelievable. There were days I found my own energy sapping, after dozens of doors had shut on our faces. I was questioning why I even wanted to make a film no one wanted to fund. But Manoj would say more the world refused to see Bhonsle made, the more stubborn it made him to see it through.
He wasn’t just my lead actor. He was the fire of hope in which I went to dry my clammy hands on rough days.
A year rolled by. After some of my short films created ripples online in 2015, Manoj, had a brainwave. He asked if we could make a short film together, just to show the world our collaboration was worth investing in. He brought in some first-time producers and co-produced what became my ticket to a seat at the Bollywood high table—Taandav.
We finally began shooting Bhonsle in 2017, running out of funds more than once during the period. Ever the warrior, Manoj would finish his shots with me late into the night, go to his van and start making dozens of calls to arrange for money—any amount—just so that the shoot didn’t stall.
It eventually took us three-and-a-half years to complete. I shot like a maniac. In Manoj, I found kinship that went beyond those of director-actor, upstart-mentor… we shared a manic fury to see a difficult, unwanted, thorny project through.
Every best actor award he has won for Bhonsle feels like an award I too have won. The film is inseparable from his performance. In his words, the awards are “poetic justice” for a hard-fought battle that almost no one had faith in.
For me, Manoj is a long-distance runner in a stadium splitting at the seams with sprinters.
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I wish every filmmaker in this country with artistic aspirations, chasing a difficult story that no one believes in, gets an actor/mentor/protector/guide/collaborator/fellow-warrior like Manoj. This brilliant man ensured a filmmaker like me didn’t end up as a lost, bitter, anxious bundle of self-doubt—the fate majority of us meet in this brutal town. I was fortunate to have my fateline rerouted by Manoj Bajpayee.
(This appeared in the print edition as "My Friend, the Gladiator")
(Views expressed are personal)
Devashish Makhija, his film Bhonsle won Manoj Bajpayee the national award
