Johnny Balraj, the protagonist of the recently released Bombay Velvet, speaks a type of Hindi that is understood by all denizens of Mumbai, irrespective of their caste, religion, social status and command over the language. Balraj, played by Ranbir Kapoor, wants to be a top dog but he can’t rid himself of his mongrel tongue. And why should he?
Bambaiya binds together the taxi driver and the passenger, the fifth-generation resident and the five-week-old migrant, the burgher and the boot polisher. Bambaiya’s lexicon includes actual and misheard words and phrases drawn from the many languages that are spoken on the city’s streets, commercial establishments and homes.
Along with money, Bambaiya has helped the city conduct its affairs smoothly and peaceably. Its unique status has not gone unmarked by filmmakers and writers forever on the prowl for the hidden nerve that, when hit, will register an instant and direct connection with audiences. Here is Abrar Alvi, the brilliant dialogue writer, scenarist and director for Guru Dutt Films, ignoring the imperative that Hindi movie characters must speak in a register higher than their viewership.
Speaking Bambaiya is a prerequisite for establishing a character’s street credibility. It conveys attitude, confidence and humour. Here is Kader Khan giving Amitabh Bachchan some of the best lines of his career in Manmohan Desai’s blockbuster Amar Akbar Anthony.
Bambaiya sits easily on the year in lyrics just as well as in dialogue. Composed by Bappi Lahiri and lifted from a Koli tune, this song from the Vinod Khanna starrer Aap Ki Khatir celebrates the city as well as its peculiar mode of communication.
Bambaiya is not for the purists and certainly not for rashtra bhasha advocates. Is it Hindi even ‒ and should it be classified as a dialect? Whatever it is, it suits Munna just fine. The tapori (vagrant) from Ram Gopal Varma’s Rangeela, played by Aamir Khan in one of his best performances, has no problem whatsoever verbalising disgust, anger, insight, love and his independence.
Whether spoken by the gangster Munna from the Munnabhai movies or Sidhu from Ghulam, Bambaiya has a way of getting the point across. (It also has its own Wikipedia page). Some actors are better at Bambaiya (Govinda, Mithun Chakraborty, Sanjay Dutt, Salman Khan, Aamir Khan, Jackie Shroff, Paresh Rawal) than others (John Abraham, Ranbir Kapoor). All of them are outdone by the badshah of Bambaiya, Anil Kapoor. He is now playing terrorism hunters and upper-crust daddies, but here he is in his element, teleporting the man in the front row onto the big screen.
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Bambaiya binds together the taxi driver and the passenger, the fifth-generation resident and the five-week-old migrant, the burgher and the boot polisher. Bambaiya’s lexicon includes actual and misheard words and phrases drawn from the many languages that are spoken on the city’s streets, commercial establishments and homes.
Along with money, Bambaiya has helped the city conduct its affairs smoothly and peaceably. Its unique status has not gone unmarked by filmmakers and writers forever on the prowl for the hidden nerve that, when hit, will register an instant and direct connection with audiences. Here is Abrar Alvi, the brilliant dialogue writer, scenarist and director for Guru Dutt Films, ignoring the imperative that Hindi movie characters must speak in a register higher than their viewership.
Speaking Bambaiya is a prerequisite for establishing a character’s street credibility. It conveys attitude, confidence and humour. Here is Kader Khan giving Amitabh Bachchan some of the best lines of his career in Manmohan Desai’s blockbuster Amar Akbar Anthony.
Bambaiya sits easily on the year in lyrics just as well as in dialogue. Composed by Bappi Lahiri and lifted from a Koli tune, this song from the Vinod Khanna starrer Aap Ki Khatir celebrates the city as well as its peculiar mode of communication.
Bambaiya is not for the purists and certainly not for rashtra bhasha advocates. Is it Hindi even ‒ and should it be classified as a dialect? Whatever it is, it suits Munna just fine. The tapori (vagrant) from Ram Gopal Varma’s Rangeela, played by Aamir Khan in one of his best performances, has no problem whatsoever verbalising disgust, anger, insight, love and his independence.
Whether spoken by the gangster Munna from the Munnabhai movies or Sidhu from Ghulam, Bambaiya has a way of getting the point across. (It also has its own Wikipedia page). Some actors are better at Bambaiya (Govinda, Mithun Chakraborty, Sanjay Dutt, Salman Khan, Aamir Khan, Jackie Shroff, Paresh Rawal) than others (John Abraham, Ranbir Kapoor). All of them are outdone by the badshah of Bambaiya, Anil Kapoor. He is now playing terrorism hunters and upper-crust daddies, but here he is in his element, teleporting the man in the front row onto the big screen.
