A friend of mine dropped in at work this afternoon. He is, in actuality, a friend of a lot of people I know, and a popular figure in the cultural and social scene in the country. More so abroad, where he is better known and perhaps more often seen. His name is Astad Deboo, and I am very happy to count him as one of the people I am always glad to see. Even though with his flamboyant personality, larger-than-life image and sheer ebullience, I have to be as happy to know that I see him only once every so many years!
Astad is a contemporary dancer, one who does not do anything that anyone can fit neatly into a box, or into a conception that can be called ‘dance’. He works harder than almost anyone I know in the field, and prides himself on being able to do the wild thing in a disco, on stage or on a Bollywood set, all with equal élan, always staying true to his Indian roots. But he has, for the most part, kept away from films, opting only for the occasional project that gives him not just creative satisfaction, but a great deal of enjoyment, on his own terms. He told me today that the promo song for Omkara was one of his, and he said it with that little metaphoric tweak of the collar and rise of the head.
I met Astad many years ago, when I interviewed him for a Mumbai newspaper. At the time, he was dancing more in Mumbai, albeit complaining about the lack of opportunities and encouragement in the country, in sharp contrast to that abroad, where he always has been lauded and welcomed with the proverbial open arms. And his resentment is loud and clear, but honest and completely merited. He has been given less attention and fewer opportunities in India than many of his peers, even though he works so much harder and perhaps deserves it more.
My friend is a media delight. He always has the most wonderful photographs of himself available, his portfolio constantly replenished, his image ever changing and, sometimes, fabulously OTT. For the past few years he has had a haircut that attracts attention everywhere he goes, on the street, in the corridors, in my office. And he is loyal, affectionate and completely wonderful as a friend. In small doses.
Astad is someone my mother was rather interested in, as a dancer, as a personality. And he has always been pretty fond of her, keeping her updated on his work and life and talking for hours to her over the phone and in person. For the past few years, his life and ours – my family’s – have moved apart. But with today’s visit, perhaps that old bond can be re-established. In a whole new format, of course.
Astad is a contemporary dancer, one who does not do anything that anyone can fit neatly into a box, or into a conception that can be called ‘dance’. He works harder than almost anyone I know in the field, and prides himself on being able to do the wild thing in a disco, on stage or on a Bollywood set, all with equal élan, always staying true to his Indian roots. But he has, for the most part, kept away from films, opting only for the occasional project that gives him not just creative satisfaction, but a great deal of enjoyment, on his own terms. He told me today that the promo song for Omkara was one of his, and he said it with that little metaphoric tweak of the collar and rise of the head.
I met Astad many years ago, when I interviewed him for a Mumbai newspaper. At the time, he was dancing more in Mumbai, albeit complaining about the lack of opportunities and encouragement in the country, in sharp contrast to that abroad, where he always has been lauded and welcomed with the proverbial open arms. And his resentment is loud and clear, but honest and completely merited. He has been given less attention and fewer opportunities in India than many of his peers, even though he works so much harder and perhaps deserves it more.
My friend is a media delight. He always has the most wonderful photographs of himself available, his portfolio constantly replenished, his image ever changing and, sometimes, fabulously OTT. For the past few years he has had a haircut that attracts attention everywhere he goes, on the street, in the corridors, in my office. And he is loyal, affectionate and completely wonderful as a friend. In small doses.
Astad is someone my mother was rather interested in, as a dancer, as a personality. And he has always been pretty fond of her, keeping her updated on his work and life and talking for hours to her over the phone and in person. For the past few years, his life and ours – my family’s – have moved apart. But with today’s visit, perhaps that old bond can be re-established. In a whole new format, of course.
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