Part I

This is part one of the character study of Mohan Bhatnagar from the Indian TV show known as Na Bole Tum Na Maine Kuch Kaha (aired on Colors). I decided to blog it, because I did not have the heart to delete 40+ pages about a character that I absolutely adore, and because I was asked to share those pages by a few friends.

1) Introduction

I remember the first time that a fictional character from a TV show touched my heart. It was in year 2003. The name of the character was Angel and he was portrayed by actor David Boreanaz. Angel was not a lead in the original series (Buffy), but his character became so popular that a spin-off was created solely based on him.

I obsessed over Angel for five seasons because I needed to see him redeemed as the writers had promised. I needed to see this always-dressed-in-black, brooding, tormented soul rewarded for his sacrifices when his journey came to an end. But the writers failed their own character (the main reason being that the original writers had been replaced by a team of new writers who did not understand the character or his purpose).

Indeed, I cried tears of blood for Angel (pun intended). And then I swore never to fall in love with a fictional character again; not with a fictional character from a TV show, at least. When you have spent most of your childhood holed up in a closet for hours with a book, flashlight, and your lunchbox (while your parents believe that you are at school), then you do not make friends with people. You make friends with characters.

Fast forward to year 2010 and I stumbled upon another TV show; an Indian TV show. It was a retelling of a fairy tale known as The Beauty and the Beast, but untraditionally the female lead represented the Beast on the outside and the male lead represented the Beast on the inside). The name of the (male) character was Dutta and he was portrayed by actor Mishal Raheja. Like with Boreanaz, Raheja started out with no space for his character, no importance, until his performance captured the attention of the viewers. They wanted more of him and thus the channel/writers were compelled to provide his character with an actual story.

Dutta did not only become an original character through Raheja’s performance, but he also became one of the most beloved male characters on Indian TV. I face-planted at his feet in his first emotional (read: temperamental) scene. I followed him zealously from episode to episode – crying when he cried and laughing when he laughed and damning the world when he damned it. No, it did not escape my attention that Dutta was quite similar to Angel, e.g. the always-dressed-in-black part, all his brooding and self-hating nature, his demonic past, and so on. I followed him as I had once followed Angel, needing to see him rewarded for his sacrifices.

But this time the channel failed the character. They butchered him. They destroyed the show. And I never fought so hard for the justice of a fictional character in my life. In the end, I was left feeling betrayed.

Thus I swore it again. That I would not become emotionally attached to a fictional character from a TV show – and in the wake of Dutta, I did not believe that I would be able to love another character as much as I had loved him. But it so happens that I have fallen hard once again. And it so happens that that I have fallen for a character from a show aired by the very channel that character assassinated Dutta and treated his loyal fan-base like shit.

Oh, the frigging irony.

2) The Embodiment of Mohan Bhatnagar: Kunal Karan Kapoor

Looking at his career before NBT, it almost seemed as if Kunal was used. It seemed as if he was given a part, but never the lead part, even when he possessed the very ability to overshadow co-actors with his mere performances. The important people seemed to understand that he contained incredible talent; that he had something which pulled at something within the viewers. They retained him. They provided him with a bit more space and a bit more character depth, but they never allowed him to run a show, because despite his awe-inspiring talent, despite his inexplicable ability to draw viewers into the very skin of even a villainous character (such as Angad from Mann Ki Awaaz Pratigya), they did not believe in him enough to hand him a lead part.

I found it upsetting that someone with so much talent had been held back for years because people refused to look past his exterior. In a TV industry imbued with models, you have to look like an Abercrombie & Fitch commercial rather than carry actual talent. Indeed, people will ignore your lack of skill, but not your supposed lack in appearance – an appearance measured by some grand scale in the inhuman world also known as the model industry.

However, Kunal redefined beauty, in my opinion.

Kunal as an actor is flabbergasting. Watching him perform is like watching a painter paint on a blank canvas – colours blend, shapes emerge, lines connect, but the painter continues to paint and the painting continues to change. Kunal manages to wring out his character and expose every shade of it. Even as Angad, he twisted the black shades. There was more to the character. One could see the potential. The writers would not make him a stronger part of the story. They would not allow his character to grow out of the darkness and leave a mark.

Something that I found admirable was how Kunal never feared that people would hate his character. Perhaps hating is the same as caring. I do not know. But I do know that Kunal is gifted. It is as if he perceives more than the overall design. It is as if he sees the nuances and details and manages to draw them out. Comparing Angad with Vasu, they had only one thing in common; they were both criminals. Kunal made certain that the similarities ended there. The characters did not share the same dialect, attitude or body language, tone of voice or facial expressions.

My sister said something interesting about Kunal bagging NBT. She said that she wondered exactly when the channel/creative heads realised that they were in possession of an actor who was capable of a whole lot more than they had actually anticipated. She wondered when it occurred to them that he was not just any actor, but the embodiment of Mohan Bhatnagar; that he could take the character beyond the script.

Having watched both seasons twice, I doubt that they ever fully realised it. Or if they did, they continued to use his talent as everyone else had without providing him with anything more than his limited space. I believe that Kunal, even on NBT, was not given much screen-space or story; that even though he proved what he was capable of in season one, they still went on to restrain his character in season two, making it all about the love stories rather than Mohan’s very journey – especially the emotional one. I find it disheartening that an actor worked 12-14 hours a day, gave his all for a character, and yet in some episodes he had one scene that lasted no more than three minutes while others had half episodes dedicated to them. Perhaps if it had not been for the director understanding Kunal’s talent and meticulously capturing his every shot, then even the few minutes of him might have failed to show the depth of Kunal’s performances.

Despite his limited screen-space, it was Kunal who overshadowed entire episodes with his one/two-minute frames. And at the end of every episode, it was his performance that I recalled. It was his expressions that burned into my memory. It was his face that left an impact.

For instance, on February 20^th 2013 and February 21^st 2013, his character had a sequence in the office with Nanhi and Anupama. In the sequence, he raged on about how Nanhi had put herself in danger for a story (even though he used to do the exact same back in the day). During his rant, he paused to ask Anupama for Nanhi’s name. When Nanhi answered with Navika, his eyes went from narrowed-in-hell-fury to completely vulnerable, hopeful, and tormented. It would be an understatement to say that I was in shock. I had never, ever, seen any actor’s (or human being, for that matter) eyes become so emotionally exposed, so naked. It was astonishing. It was beautiful in the most painful sense of the word.

The episodes were about Nanhi and her hunt. All I remember is Kunal in that single shot. I remember that I kept telling my sister: He is not human. That is not humanly possible.

I could list numerous examples of how Mohan as a character was quite oppressed in both seasons, how his journey was never given much space, and how Kunal’s scenes would be shown mid-conversation and cut before they were even completed (while others would have long stretches of time for their characters). However, not much can be done about that now. Personally, I am relieved that I was not a part of India-Forums when NBT was still on-air. I would have driven people insane with my posts, including myself.

Before moving on to the character study, I would like to point out that I do not consider myself a fan of any actor. I become a fan of characters, yes. And I admire some actors such as Kunal. I support them in their work. I enjoy their performances. Thus this character study will focus on Mohan Bhatnagar as in the character, but through Kunal’s flawless portrayal of him, of course. It will not focus on Kunal as an actor alone.

Furthermore, the links added in the study are, in fact, short videos that show a glimpse of Mohan Bhatnagar as well as the relationships in his life.

Without further procrastination…

The Character Study of Mohan Bhatnagar

If you are expecting a pink depiction of Mohan, a romantic painting of a man whose love was so potent that it touched your very soul, then my study will only disappoint you. Because I see Mohan as a man who loved people with such potent purity, such honesty, that it ruined him.

The final episode with the happy ending was an illusion to me. It satisfied my heart in the sense that a huge part of me needed to see Mohan happy, rewarded for his sacrifices. However, 1) his reward was supposed to be more than Megha and 2) Mohan would have never been able to return to the way that he used to be, because he had lost too much of himself in the process of proving his worth to everyone else.

The song choice was on purpose because I see Mohan Bhatnagar as a broken man who clung to a love that destroyed him; a man who clung to relationships that ruined him; relationships that throttled his soul. That smile and positivity he wore like clothes was nothing but a charade behind which you would find someone carrying immeasurable pain, disappointment, and hurt. To others, his smile and confidence and consistent positive behaviour provided life, inspiration, and power. But no one – perhaps with the exception of Guru – saw the man behind the mask.

Despite what the writers wanted to show (true love conquers all), studying Mohan and following him from scene to scene, I took away something else; only invest as much into a relationship that you can afford to lose; do not seek happiness in someone else – find it in yourself first; finally, do not define yourself based on how people see you. People can be wrong. I took away that even if they reject you, it does not mean that something is wrong with you. It does not mean that you are not worthy of their love. Sometimes it is the other way around.

Basically, I focused on what could be learned from Mohan’s journey rather than the love story. Perhaps this will seem provocative to fans of the on-screen couple, but the relationship between Mohan and Megha was destructive. It was not an epic romance. It was an addiction. It was Mohan’s bane.

I am certain that a lot of people will disagree with me. But that is the beauty of perception, is it not? No one sees the world in the exact same way.

3) Who is Mohan Bhatnagar?

 

I didn’t mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank. But that is not the same thing.

Conrad in The Secret Sharer and Other Stories

Son

Brother

Journalist

Social worker

Friend

Hero

Husband

Father

Son-in-Law

Mohan had many names. He played many roles in people’s lives – family, friends, and strangers alike. But none of the abovementioned titles represent him as what he essentially was.

Human

Perhaps it was the reason why everything went wrong in his life. People saw him as something other than human. When he touched their lives, his beauty and charm and life-force sunk into their hearts, pumping into their veins and empowering them. Perhaps if they had seen him as a human, as someone capable of feeling the same amount of pain and despair as any other person, they would not have punished him for his flaws or demanded painful promises. They would not have expected him to deliver beyond the limit.

Perhaps.

But then it was not people that punished him. It was not people that wounded him. It was family – or at least those that he considered family.

Mohan Bhatnagar, stripped down to the very bone, was a young man from a troubled home. He lacked the acceptance of his father, the presence/support of his mother, and the warmth of a close-knit family. In his eyes, he was abandoned by his parents and girlfriend. He was rejected. He focused his life on his work, not only because it gave him some kind of soul purpose, but also because he had something to prove. Mohan pushed people away, constantly, because he needed to see them fight for him; to prove that, yes, he was worth fighting for, worth loving.

Mohan was the kind of character that held so much flawed beauty and so much perfect imperfection, so much pure intent and mad mistakes that one could not help but fall for him. I could relate to him in more ways than one. I connected with him through his internal struggles; his abandonment issues and cynical/sarcastic attitude (which at times appeared to be a shield against the world as much as a personality trait), his resentment toward his parents, his insecurities and self-doubt, his need to be loved and accepted, his fear of being rejected again, his fear of being unworthy of love/family, and his mistakes.

To me, it grounded him. It made him real. It made him tangible. I could connect with it all through Kunal’s performances of every facet of Mohan and that made me emotionally attached to him. Kunal is one actor who seems to mentally crawl inside the skin of his character. He speaks with such conviction, every detail completely fine-tuned, performed with finesse. There is a thought and a purpose behind every motion as well as emotion, but it does not feel unnatural. For instance when Mohan cried on the show, Kunal would draw air into his lungs and hold it there, shoulders lifted, as if a sob was stuck in his throat, as if the pain inside of him was too great to unleash. And often, he would bear an expression that did not contort into anything dramatic. Instead a twitch of a facial muscle or the sorrow in his eyes would speak of more than just hurt – it would speak of a pain so intense that it made me feel sick for him.

I also fell for the idealist in Mohan; even as I could not relate to that part of him on the same level. Though at times, it frustrated me – to the point that I wanted to shake him. For instance the absolute honesty with which he cared/acted (regardless of what it cost him), his empathy (which made him feel others pain and made him want to ease it; sometimes it would make him put on a positive act for others – even if he was incinerating from the inside), his pure intentions/heart (often leading to people misunderstanding him or misjudging him, and him losing more than he could afford to on an emotional level).

The more others rejected him, the more he fought to be in their lives, to become worthy of their love and adoration; even if that meant changing himself entirely for them.

There were times when I wanted to hold him because he was coming apart and no one was there to see it. There were times when I wanted to yell at him and tell him to stop fighting for the people who could never and would never understand him, his worth, his sacrifices, or his pure heart. There were times when I just wanted to throttle Megha and – plainly speaking – did not feel that she deserved him or his love. The latter being something that remained constant to me throughout both seasons. Apart from Guru, no one came anywhere even close to comprehending what Mohan was made of.

In the end, I always found that Mohan was alone. Even when standing in a crowded room, surrounded by his so-called family, Mohan looked alone – like an outsider; in the same room, but not a part of the same world. Looking through a window, staring at the ones he loved; Megha, Nanhi, Addu, Jijibua, and so on. I specifically recall one scene in which he had returned with Munna (whom everyone believed to be Addu) and the family rejoiced in the living room. Mohan shrunk into the background, as if he was an awkward extra limb that did not fit anywhere.

I never felt, at any point on the show, that his worth was acknowledged or that he was valued by anyone, except for Guru and Rimjhim (and Bala after the second leap). I never felt that he was ever fully accepted. That he was ever really seen for who he was and what he had done for people. In one scene, Megha told Vasu about Mohan, about what a good man he was, but it sounded empty to my ears. Hollow. Simply because her words did not even begin to describe what Mohan had gone through for her, or what he had sacrificed.

Mohan did not become an iconic character because of the idealistic dimension to him. No, I believe that he became an iconic character because of how human he was underneath it and because of Kunal’s portrayal of that humanity. When people rejected him, it hurt him deeply. He would not always put on a brave front to mask the pain. He would break down in tears. He would yell. He would throw things, act out. He would resent God and the world. He would fight with everyone. And then he would feel horrible for it and make amends.

4) The Becoming of Spiderman

Mohan started out a one-dimensional character. I did not find his characterisation manifold in the initial episodes. For instance in the first month he had very few scenes in which he was shown chasing Koyal or bickering with Megha. His characterisation was underwhelming. I did not understand his purpose — other than that he was supposed to fall in love with our female lead at some point.

But I had seen it before; boy hates girl, girl hates boy, and yet they fall in love with each other against all odds. Lovers bound by fate and et cetera, et cetera.  What I needed was character depth. Mohan had to have a story to tell beyond his relationship with Megha.

Yes, I found him unique in ways; his profession was crime reporting (refreshing), his shoelaces were never tied, he was all over the place, he was a mess (yet Kunal somehow made him seem classy), and whenever he opened his mouth, it was to toss a remark, which (unlike other male characters on TV) made him seem cocky rather than arrogant. There was no arrogance in Mohan. That was a relief. I was entirely fed up with the arrogant bad boys of Indian TV (as an editor in chief, Kunal never overdid the light air of superiority – even as Vasu, he kept his character grounded).

I could not see what was so special about Mohan Bhatnagar. Not in the start. Not until I noticed Kunal. The moment I realised what he was capable of, what he was doing, Mohan became intriguing. He slowly began to reveal subtle nuances in his character – not because they had always been there, but because he started to supply them. For instance when he fired a sarcastic response at Guru, his words would be harsh, but the sentiment behind it, the way that he voiced it changed the entire meaning of it. With his performance, his body language and expressions and underlying sentiments in his voice, he provided me with a clear picture of the relationship between him and Guru – a much clearer picture than the actual story had given. There was more to their relationship than that of a master and a servant. I realised this through Kunal and the actor who portrayed Guru.

There were so many similar examples in the first season in which Kunal provided the layers to his character rather than the other way around. For instance he gave Mohan distinctive habits; hands on his hips, his ‘are yaar’ and ‘sun na’, his speedy walk, his constant hair-shoves, how he sucked in his cheeks when emotional, and so on. Looking at Mohan at his other characters, they all had distinctive habits that made them more real, e.g. Vasu tended to stalk around with hooded eyes, a swag, and he planted his hands on his hips and swayed slightly (a trait that connected beautifully with Mohan in season one, minus the swaying part, whereas Mohan in season two took on new habits such as arms folded over his chest).

Thus fleeting glances of Mohan told me nothing about him, his relationships. But Kunal’s portrayal of him showed me everything and more.

Honestly, if it had been any other actor in Mohan’s shoes, I doubt that I would have experienced the many dimensions to his character. I doubt that I would have observed and interpreted the things that I have, nor read between the lines whenever he expressed one emotion that connected to another and another, etc. (One noteworthy scene among many being when Mohan sees Megha at Meethi’s sangeet and imagines that he approaches her – in that scene, Kunal portrayed all stages of Mohan’s emotional journey in nothing but two minutes; shock, joy, sadness, pain, hope, caution, love, and even bravery).

For me, Kunal made Mohan multidimensional through his portrayal of him. Indeed, it was him who took the character beyond the written word, beyond the shallow frame.

That is not to discredit the writers behind the creation of the character. When you create a character in a story, you pen him down in as many details as you can. But you can never know the whole character – not until you have journeyed with him. It must be an incredibly rewarding experience as a writer to see your work translated on-screen by an actor of Kunal’s calibre who “co-wrote” Mohan merely through his layered performances.

(Needless to say, when you write for TV, you are limited as well. You might not have the same freedom to develop a character in the way that you want. External forces might decide how and when your character should bend – they might even decide his fate. Truman Capote once said that finishing a book is like you took a child out into the backyard and shot it. I wonder what he would say about channels hijacking writers’ stories.)

Mohan in season one was vastly different from Mohan in season two. In season one, you saw a young man who started out confident and content, but fell into a relationship with people that were like a drug to him. And they gnawed away at his confidence, his self-belief, his sense of self-worth, and sent him down a dark path. In the second season, you saw a matured man burdened by guilt and all but obsessed with proving his love for the same people who destroyed him. You saw a man who could have been happy with what he had achieved in the past 12 years, but who continued to seek acceptance and love from them, who continued to believe that he had something to prove, and who could not see what he had, at times, because the addiction occupied every fibre of his being.

To be continued…