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Scenery-chewing tough-talking cops had always been a Bollywood staple, with Amitabh Bachchan giving his Vijay in the 1973 Zanjeer the kind of smouldering swag we hadn’t encountered before. But when Nana Patekar came swinging out in Shimit Amin’s 2004 Ab Tak Chappan, owning the part of a Maharashtrian cop in a never-seen-before way, he became equally unforgettable. Patekar didn’t have to act the part of his iconic role as Inspector Sadhu Agashe; he just became the man so obsessed with cleaning up crime that all semblance of balance disappeared.
His other, even more iconic line that everyone remembers belongs to another cop he played in the 1991 Yashwant: ‘ek machchar saala aadmi ko hijra bana deta hai,’ delivered in that distinctive voice rumbling from the screen.
Film star Paresh Rawal, Nana Patekar and Atul Agnihotri in film KRANTIVEER. Express archive photo
In a film industry which had traditionally handed out important roles to clean-cut, chocolate-box heroes, Nana Patekar stood out in both appearance– rough-hewn, son-of-the-Maratha-soil-who-never-forgot-his-roots, as well as his ability to pull off bombast with believability. While he did lean into broad comedy and socialist-realist-middle-of-the-road cinema (Raju Ban Gaya Gentleman, Natasamrat, Welcome), his most striking streak saw him play both villain and hero roles, a tough divide to straddle: think Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s 1987 Parinda, in which Patekar’s psychotic crime lord Anna Seth ruled the roost, which stands alongside the 1991 Prahaar in which he played the righteous armyman Major Pratap Chauhan. Patekar directed *Prahaar* himself without making it a vanity project: interestingly both films featured Madhuri Dixit in the lead.
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Craggy looks and the crime landscape go hand in hand, especially when it comes to hidebound casting choices in Bollywood. His first appearance that brought him recognition was Mira Nair’s 1988 Salaam Bombay, in which he plays Baba, the hard-nosed drug dealer without an ounce of empathy for the women he pimps out. And he could have been typecast in such roles, especially after Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s 1987 Parinda came out, in which his psychotic mob boss Anna Seth delivered that maniacal laugh that became his signature mannerism.
Actor Nana Patekar in film Ab Tak Chhappan. Express archive photo
But Patekar refused to get boxed in. He dived straight into his own directorial, the 1991 Prahaar, in which he directed himself as the righteous Army major, Pratap Chauhan, without making it a vanity project. Yes, he was the leading man, but Madhuri Dixit as the leading lady came up with one of her most underrated performances : interestingly, she was also the female lead in Parinda.
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There were a clutch of other roles that he will be remembered for, especially the 1994 Krantiveer, in which he got to play his own brand of angry young man, fighting against injustice and corruption. And then there came a time when his film appearances dwindled– in 2018, he was faced with a sexual harassment charge– but even when he remained on the periphery, his presence as one of the most popular actors in Maharashtra, ensured that his Ganapati celebrations continued to be crowded with netas and abhinetas alike.
Film star Nana Patekar on the set of film WAJOOD. Express archive photo
His being at the right place at the right time ensured he became one of the busiest actors of the era. With his powerful performances, and stylised delivery, he cemented a place in the post-Satya late ’90s world, giving us a clutch of characters we could enjoy and take home with us. Patekar never tried to be anything he couldn’t channel with authenticity, even when doing loud nationalistic dramas like the 1993 Tiranga.
Corrosive anger and a kind of contempt, which felt, often, self-directed, as well as slung out at the audience, was a quality that ran through his highly-performative roles, the ones his fans loved him for. But he could also underplay. One of my most favourite performances of his is in the very-hatke 1996 Sanjay Leela Bhansali Khamoshi, in which he plays the deaf-mute Joseph Braganza as a husband-and-parent, to Seema Biswas and Manisha Koirala respectively. This was the film in which Patekar channelled his softer, vulnerable side, and he was quite wonderful in it : no clutches of dialogue, just pure performance, the hallmark of a true performer.
