Nana Patekar: A life painted in many shades

Mumbai: Maharashtra has lost an actor who never really belonged to the glittering world of cinema. Nana Patekar belonged to the street, the stage, the small rooms and crowded trains of Mumbai, to the Maharashtra that understood hardship without making a spectacle of it. He carried that world with him throughout his life.

Even after becoming one of Indian cinema’s most recognisable actors, there was little polish about him. His was a face carved by experience, a voice sharpened by struggle and an acting style that made audiences feel rather than merely watch.

Nana Patekar, born Vishwanath Patekar, died at the age of 75 at his Goa residence in the early hours of Thursday. Leaving behind a body of work that stretched across Marathi and Hindi cinema and, more importantly, a generation of characters that have become part of India’s cinematic memory.

From Hardships

His story began far away from stardom. Born in Murud-Janjira, Nana grew up in a family that eventually suffered severe financial difficulties. At just 13, while studying in Class IX, he began working to support his family. He would walk several kilometres to Chunabhatti in Mumbai to paint film posters, earning about Rs 35 a month and a meal a day. Years later, he would say that the hunger and humiliation of those days taught him more about acting than any formal acting school could have.

It was also during those early years that theatre entered his life.

He acted in plays from his school days and later joined the Sir J.J. Institute of Applied Art. He subsequently became associated with Avishkaar, the influential theatre group of Sulabha and Arvind Deshpande. His years on the Marathi stage included productions such as Hamidabai Chi Kothi, Mahasagar and Purush, with the legendary Vijaya Mehta playing a crucial role in his development.

Theatre was not simply the beginning of Nana’s career; it was the foundation of his craft.

He once recalled that while doing Hamidabai Chi Kothi, he earned only a few dozen rupees per show. Yet he chose theatre over the security of an advertising job. His wife Neelkanti, then earning considerably more than him, encouraged him to follow his passion.

That commitment would eventually transform him from a struggling stage actor into one of India’s most formidable performers.

Screen Presence

Nana’s film career began with Gaman in 1978, but recognition came gradually. He appeared in films including Aaj Ki Awaaz, Ankush, Pratighaat and Andhaa Yudh before Salaam Bombay! and Parinda established him as an actor of extraordinary intensity.

Parinda brought him the National Film Award for Best Supporting Actor and the Filmfare Award in the same category. He followed it with performances in Angaar, Tirangaa and Krantiveer. His portrayal of Pratap Narayan Tilak in Krantiveer earned him the National Film Award for Best Actor. Agni Sakshi brought another National Award for Best Supporting Actor.

Then came Khamoshi: The Musical, Ghulam-E-Mustafa, Hu Tu Tu, Ab Tak Chhappan, Apaharan, Raajneeti and Natsamrat.

And, in a completely different register, there was Welcome, where his portrayal of Uday Shetty revealed his comic timing and made him beloved by a younger generation.

That was Nana’s extraordinary gift: he could frighten you, make you laugh, move you to tears and leave you thinking — sometimes within the same film.

Soldier Within

Perhaps the most remarkable chapter of his life, however, was his association with the armed forces.

For his directorial debut Prahaar: The Final Attack in 1991, Nana underwent rigorous military training with the Maratha Light Infantry. He had dreamt of joining the Army and treated the preparation for the film with a seriousness that went far beyond the requirements of an actor. Reports say he trained for years before making the film.

The relationship did not end when Prahaar was completed.

During the 1999 Kargil War, Nana sought permission from then Defence Minister George Fernandes to join the troops. He later recalled spending around 60 days with Army personnel and becoming part of a Quick Reaction Team. He also spoke of the physical toll of the experience, saying he returned having lost around 20 kg.

There was another little-known side to Nana: he was a serious rifle shooter. He had competed at the national level and won a bronze medal. When seeking permission to join the Army during Kargil, he cited his firearms experience and shooting background.

It was typical of Nana that even this extraordinary chapter of his life was never presented as celebrity adventure. He regarded it as something he could do for the country.

Nana also remained connected to society outside cinema. Along with actor Makarand Anaspure, he was associated with Naam Foundation, which worked for farmers and people affected by drought in Maharashtra.

Yet perhaps the most revealing stories about Nana are not about awards or box-office numbers.

They are stories from the theatre tours.

Only a day before his death, an account by veteran actor Ashok Saraf recalled how Nana once helped save him during a violent incident while Hamidabai Chi Kothi was being staged on tour. When chaos broke out and the actors were threatened, Nana helped Saraf escape, drove a rickshaw and took him to safety.

That story says something about the man behind the legend.

The same Nana who could dominate a screen with a single stare was, at heart, the theatre actor who knew what it meant to stand among fellow artistes and look after his own.

Complex Personality

Nana Patekar never fit comfortably into the definition of a star. He was too restless for that, too blunt, too vulnerable and too human. His characters carried the scars of ordinary people — their anger, loneliness, humour, helplessness and stubborn hope. Perhaps that is why his performances endured.

And somewhere, on an old Mumbai stage, the curtain will always seem to rise again for Nana.

The actor may have left the stage. The character will remain.