From the girl-next-door image in QSQT to the judge in a reality dance contest, Juhi Chawla retains her palpable good cheer. Here's decoding the queen of giggles
From the girl-next-door image in QSQT to the judge in a reality dance contest, Juhi Chawla retains her palpable good cheer. Here's decoding the queen of gigglesI have a self-imposed blanket ban on watching Hindi entertainment fare on television. Most of the stuff they dish out needs a scrubbing with a good carbolic soap (pun intended). But I made an effort to see Jhalak Dikhhlaa Jaa. No, I didn't return to watching TV to see rotund Ram Kapoor swiveling his hips in slow motion or to confirm whether the image-switching Bhagyashree can be a babe and boogie. And most definitely not for Saroj Khan's foghorn whistle.
I tuned in to see if Juhi Chawla, in her forties, was still as endearingly full of scattershot charm as always. It has been 25 years since Juhi became Miss India (she was crowned in 1984) and 21 years since she became the cutie from QSQT. But over the years, she has continued to intrigue me for being that rare actress who was able to be both cheerful and successful (it's a harder-to-find combo than you would think).
Juhi could strike a balance between her soft-touch personality and her hard-nosed ambitions. Juhi could giggle and still be taken seriouslyu00e2u0080u00a6 at times. Now, it would be interesting, I thought, to see the genteel heroine become a reality TV show judge required to dole out harsh judgments; and I could check if all the contradictions in the personality I had once known still fitted the now-mature Juhi.
Two decades ago, when I began as the Editor of Movie magazine, there was a trend to create catchy nicknames for stars. Magazines came up with AB Baby for Amitabh and La Tagore for Sharmila. We at Movie, amongst other nicknames, tagged the very propah Meenakshi Seshadri as 'Meenu Mausi' and the squeaky clean Juhi Chawla as 'Chuhi Juhi'.
Juhi was one of the few stars who called me when she liked an article about another star too, or would ring to say that she had laughed her head off at our cartoon series; but one day she called, sounding exasperated. She spoke up, "Hey, can you guys stop calling me Chuhi Juhi? I was shooting outdoors recently and a huge crowd just began chanting, 'Chuhi Juhi, Chuhi Juhi'." Typically, letting her sense of humour come to the fore, she quipped, "It 'rat'tles me."
I have invested too much ink on the reams of articles I have written thereafter, on Juhi and others, to recall if I heeded her friendly request or not. However, I do recall that Juhi has always spoken her mind without losing her cool. This girl may be quick to cry (I have seen her with dark-rimmed eyes when her teenaged dogs Penny and Lira were ailing) but she is no pushover and can express her displeasure with as much felicity as her pleasure, albeit with firm politeness. It's more effective than being a battleaxe.
I got a glimpse of this Juhi-ism in my very first meeting with her. It was in the mid-80s when she was a raw newcomer. That year, a whole bunch of newcomers had hit the screen. Newcomers say much the same things so instead of spotlighting each one of them individually, it was decided (I was working for a film glossy those days) that we take a motley mix of earnest newcomers for a photo-feature. The grocery list we zeroed down included Govinda (Love 86), Rohan Kapoor (Faasle), Karan Shah (Love 86), Rajan Sippy (can't recall his film), Atlee Brar (Hum Naujawan), Khushboo (Tan Badan), Neelam (Love 86) and Juhi Chawla (Sultanat). Our first destination was Nariman Point from where we hired a ghoda-gaadi wala to give a breezy start to the feature and our last destination was a babbling brook enroute to Khandala.
We had planned to assemble at the Oberoi Hotel coffee shop for the feature. And Juhi was there at the designated hour, even before my photographer. While we made our way to her table, she kept tapping her watch and asked where the others were. All the other newcomers, like seasoned stars, came late by 40 to 45 minutes. Juhi bore it all with a smile but at 8 pm, primly said her "goodbyes." Zapped, I protested, "We still have to shoot pictures at Churchgate Station." She countered, "Sorry. I had committed from 4 pm to 8 pm. The time is up." The jeans-clad but determined Cindrella disappeared, while I gathered my wits, and bundled up the rest to the chosen destination.
Yet Juhi knew, or learnt, the value of being malleable. Five years later, the fledgling had become a star and we were sitting companionably in her make-up room after pack-up while she was vehemently voicing her decision to drop her oh-so-cute, goody gumdrops image. 'Watch out for the new improved, go-getting, in-charge Juhi Chawla. Tan-tana-tan', she asserted happily. The next moment the door opened it was her producer and he wanted her to work overtime even after her shift. "I am tired," Juhi pleaded but to no avail. Juhi finally gave in and started applying make-up, carefully avoiding my eyes or reaction at the volte face.
I rarely met Juhi for interviews. She insisted on doing them with my Deputy Editor, with whom she got along like a house on fire. Over the course of a dozen interviews, they shared a joy for quirky phrases and the calisthenics possible in English. Of course, there were incidents and accidents too sometimes a picture was not to her liking, at other times a piece of information to which only he was supposed to be privy would find its way into the copy. Then, Juhi would call in mock Her Majesty tones. To her credit, she would remain unfailingly civilized and would make up sooner rather than later. As the Editor, I would offer to interview her and she would say, 'Na baba. Send him. I am intimidated by you.'
The little girl image and the giggles kept unwanted attention at bay, I guess; but Juhi made sure she took her talent seriously. 1993 was a particularly good year for her and she had a Best Actress award and four successes that year Hum Hain Rahee Pyar Ke, Lootere, Aaina and Darr. Insecurity became a characteristic. "Success is subject to so many variables that even compliments have begun to scare me," she wailed. At the same time, she kept a clear head when her films flopped. She would freely admit to being low but her innate cheerfulness would pipe up and she would say: 'I am almost always in a jolly good mood'.
Juhi was quite unique she wore swimsuits in several films but was not ever considered sensual. She was not one to get into scraps but was outspoken and quotable ("Shah Rukh can never take my place he can't wear a skirt").
More successes like Yes Boss, Deewana Mastana and Ishq came Juhi's way in the nineties but some of her best work didn't do well such as Daraar, in which she had a strong role as the battered wife who fights back, and Duplicate, in which she gave an undervalued performance as a chef who, when agitated, launches into the Queen's English to great comic effect.
After the failure of her co-production with Shah Rukh, Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani (2000), Juhi finally put an official seal on her long-denied marriage to industrialist Jai Mehta and became a serene mother of two living in placid luxury the extended family had an entire building to themselves in South Mumbai.
Interestingly, Juhi also chose to continue that connection she shared with the audience in a Teen Deewarein or in cameo roles like the recent Kismet Connection and Luck By Chance. Her comic flair resulted in a long-lived series of ads for teatime snacks she was as crisp as the kurkure she advertised.u00a0
I think Juhi brings some of that instant connect with the audience to Jhalak Dikhhlaa Jaa too. In an age when rudeness is the norm, she brings palpable good cheer. And though sandwiched between two strongly opinionated choreographers (Saroj and Vaibhavi) held her own end up. After watching her on the show, I immediately shot off an SMS, saying, '10 on 10 for Jhalak'.
A flurry of messages brought us up to date and a seemingly older and wiser Juhi remarked, "Amazing how we grow u00e2u0080u00a6 (and) think of life and blessings in a kindly light."
But, being Juhi, humour was not far off. When I told her I was learning how to sing, it tickled her funny bone. And she wrote back, repeating seven times the word I always associate with her Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.
