Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; October 5, 2019)

October 2 was Bapu’s 150th birth anniversary but for Darshan Jariwala this day has been Gandhi season since Feroz Abbas Khan’s 2007 biographical drama, Gandhi My Father, a performance which bagged him the National Award for Best Supporting Actor. Spanning almost half a century, the film examined the relationship between Gandhiji and his eldest son seen in the context of a larger mission and through the eyes of Harilal, both equally disappointed with the other, and this creating a lifetime of bitterness despite their mutual love. Darshan admits that every year, around Gandhi Jayanti, he finds himself fielding questions about his much-applauded act, questions which range from the “ridiculous” to the “sublime”. “One particular journalist asked me to repeat something I had said and he had read before. I suggested he copy paste the text,” he shares with a wry chuckle when asked to define “ridiculous” and almost instantly the conversation promises to be as interesting as the film which dared to portray a man we have lionized as the Father of the Nation, as a ‘flawed’ father himself.

In the eyes of the actor who lived him on screen however, the character was not flawed. Darshan reasons that if there was anything Gandhiji could be faulted on, it was that he thought listening to someone whose point of view was not correct, was a waste of time. “There were times when, because of his moral values and conviction, he missed out on certain things, particularly with respect to dialogue with his son, which, if pieced together, might have resulted in greater good for both. On my part, I have now developed the art of patiently listening to even idiotic rantings. I simply count from 1 to 10 to stop myself from exploding,” he quips, tongue-in-cheek.

For the 61-year-old actor, the role of the Mahatma was a personal challenge because he had to consciously stop being himself on screen and become an empty vessel so Gandhi could emerge. “I’m a short-tempered man myself and quick to respond to provocation. For this film, I had to calm myself with meditation and yoga, squeeze out every drop of empathy and achieve equanimity,” Darshan reveals.

Other actors, from Ben Kingsley (Gandhi) and Annu Kapoor (Sardar) to Rajit Kapoor (The Making of the Mahatma), Naseeruddin Shah (Hey Ram) and Dilip Prabhavalkar (Lage Raho Munna Bhai) have played him too, but as Darshan points out, they have been different Gandhis from his so there’s no question of comparison or inspiration, covert or overt. Rather he had to look at the territory charted out by the script and view the role accordingly.

“There was one particular scene when a disappointed Harilal decides to abandon his father’s vision in South Africa and return to India. That’s when it first dawns on Gandhiji that because of lack of communication between them, he may have lost his son. It was shot in three different locations, including the interiors of a workshop and a football field, at different times and in different parts. It was a challenge to go back to the moment each time and recapture it’s emotional intensity,” he reminisces.

Darshan is all praise for Akshaye Khanna who played Harilal, despite the fact that they were on screen together just seven-eight times, but contributed to Darshan’s performance with his own. “Had it been a lesser actor, I might have had to work harder,” he admits.

And does he think the son was justified in judging his father so harshly for not putting forward Harilal’s name for a scholarship to study law in England so he could become a barrister like him and fight for his causes in India? “He had his reasons, he believed all the children in the ashram were his own and didn’t want to take any advantage for his selfless service. Since he was in the public eye, he wanted to lead by example and given the strength of his convictions, it never bothered Gandhiji how others judged him. But in hindsight, he realises he may have erred and even apologises to Harilal. For me, he was never a flawed character seen in the context of what he was doing. Rather, I think Gandhiji was disappointed by both his son and the nation, they both let him down,” he rues, pointing out that while we’ve been moving away from his ideals, his essence is still everywhere. “We’ve been trying to murder Gandhiji since 1948 without realising that he’s impossible to kill because he wasn’t just a man, but a body of thoughts.” That, for me, is “sublime” in the true meaning of the word.