An Evening in Chanakya

In the late seventies and early eighties, the government-run Chanakya Cinema was one of the very theatres in Delhi that regularly screened English films. Once in a while, Chanakya also hosted foreign film festivals. The Nirula’s had set up shop nearby and their pizzas and ice creams were indeed a treat those days when there was hardly any competition – and both Chanakya and Nirula’s were relatively easy on our shoe-string budget. Naturally, the young crowd from the Universities used to land up in the Chanakya complex for a bite and a good film.

One wintry evening, a large group of us was seated in the front rows in Chanakya, eagerly waiting to see the first of the Spanish films that were to be screened that weekend. The hall was near full and the crowd was getting restive: there was to be a formal inauguration of the film festival and the VIP hadn’t yet arrived, even though it was well past the designated time. The stage was set with a table, a few chairs and the microphone. The film, it seemed, had to wait…

Thankfully, the VIP landed sooner than expected, and there was a collective heave of sigh. But the solace was short lived, for the speech making started shortly. To make matters worse, all the guys who were on stage suffered from the `have microphone, will speak’ syndrome. The audience was now sweating in spite of the wintry weather outside and the ACs inside. 

Soon, the preliminary speakers finished their quota of speeches and now it was the turn of the VIP to address the crowd which, incidentally, was in no mood to listen. Nonetheless, beggars can’t be choosers, so we didn’t have any option but to be captive listeners. Taking a cue from the previous speakers, the VIP too went on an overdrive: he spoke about Indian films, Spanish films, actors, actresses, directors, singers, choreographers, art, culture – and on and on! We could hear a few whistles from here and there but considering the police presence, the protests were rather muted. So, the VIP continued with his relentless speech making…

Suddenly, we noticed someone going up on to the stage, and to our surprise it turned out to be our friend Pradeep Vajpayee. In very trying situations too, the bespectacled Pradeep is the most loveable guy, bestowed with an infectious smile, who can liven up any assembly. Even after a few drinks, Pradeep, who always is in crumpled half-sleeve shirts, is sober, but then he can be a bit unpredictable as well. When we met outside Chanakya, Pradeep was still at his smiling best.

But the Pradeep on the stage was not smiling, even though he didn’t have his evening drinks. Even as the VIP was mid way into his long winded speech, Pradeep quietly walked up to him, picked up the microphone and its stand, folded them up, kept them in one corner and walked down the stage! The action was so quietly and quickly executed that neither the VIP nor his cronies, nor the security guys got an opportunity to stop Pradeep from completing his task. The subsequent assault by the police on Pradeep’s frail body was drowned in the spontaneous applause that rang through the Hall…

When asked later about what prompted him to do the unthinkable, Pradeep merely smiled his affable smile.

A few months back, when I heard of Pradeep’s untimely death, I wistfully remembered that wintry evening in Chanakya.

Adieu Pradeep…