A Christian Boy's Investigation into Bollywood, Kollywood, and Our Family's Alleged Criminal Connections
Growing up in India during the 1970s and 1980s, I learned many valuable lessons from Indian cinema. Good always triumphs over evil. Mothers can identify their long-lost sons by a birthmark. A hero can defeat twenty armed men without disturbing his hairstyle. And if a man is named Robert, Peter, Michael, or Johnny, there is an excellent chance he is involved in smuggling, gambling, kidnapping, or all three.
As a Christian, I have spent considerable time wondering what exactly my ancestors did to deserve this cinematic reputation.
Seriously, what did we do?
While the rest of India was producing respectable doctors, engineers, teachers, and government officers, apparently our community was busy supplying the entire Indian film industry with smugglers, nightclub owners, henchmen, and cabaret dancers.
And nobody even paid us royalties!
Bollywood's Most Reliable Employment Agency: The Christian Community
Think about those wonderful old Hindi movies.
The hero was usually Vijay, Raj, Ravi, or Ramesh. He was honest, hardworking, and deeply devoted to his mother. Even when unemployed, he somehow managed to maintain an impressive wardrobe.
The heroine was Radha, Sita, Geeta, or Lakshmi. She was beautiful, modest, and capable of singing an entire romantic song while running around trees without getting dizzy.
But the villain?
"Robert! Where is the suitcase?"
"Boss, Peter has taken it to Michael!"
"And where is Michael?"
"At Johnny's nightclub, Boss!"
Good heavens! An entire Christian family reunion was taking place in the Indian underworld!
Apparently, if the police had simply raided a few churches after Sunday service, they might have solved half the smuggling cases in Bombay.
And please don't misunderstand me. I'm not suggesting Christians were criminals. I'm suggesting Bollywood seemed convinced we had formed an international criminal organization without informing the rest of us!
Tamil Cinema Wasn't Exactly Innocent Either!
Now, before my Tamil friends start laughing at Bollywood, allow me to remind them that Kollywood was equally enthusiastic about this arrangement.
Our hero was usually Raja, Ravi, Kumar, or Murugan. He respected his mother, loved his village, and could defeat an entire gang with one punch.
But somewhere in Madras, behind a mysterious door guarded by two men wearing sunglasses at midnight, there was invariably a nightclub.
And who owned it?
Peter!
Who managed the illegal activities?
Robert!
Who supplied the liquor?
Michael!
And who was dancing on stage?
Rosie!
I began to wonder whether there was a secret employment exchange outside every church.
"Good morning, Father. Any job openings?"
"Yes, my son. Are you interested in smuggling, nightclub management, or cabaret dancing?"
"Actually, Father, I was hoping to become an accountant."
"Accountant? Sorry, my son. That role has already been given to Srinivasan!"
Even the Tamil-speaking Christian characters were sometimes required to speak a peculiar mixture of Tamil and English.
"Hello, boss! Everything ready, boss! No problem, boss!"
Apparently, being Christian automatically came with a compulsory English vocabulary and an optional bottle of whisky.
And What About Our Poor Christian Women?
This is where the injustice becomes truly unbearable.
If your name was Radha, Lakshmi, Meena, or Janaki, you were considered suitable marriage material.
You wore a sari, respected your elders, and sang devotional songs.
But if your name was Rosie, Rita, Lily, Julie, or Mary?
Congratulations! You had been hired by the nearest nightclub.
No interview necessary.
No dancing qualifications required.
Your Christian name was apparently sufficient proof that you could perform a cabaret number in front of fifty drunken smugglers.
I can almost imagine the casting director.
"What's your name, dear?"
"Lakshmi."
"Excellent! You will play the respectable daughter-in-law."
"And you?"
"Rosie."
"Wonderful! Cabaret starts at eight. Costume department is downstairs."
"But sir, I studied classical Bharatanatyam!"
"Never mind, Rosie. Tonight you're dancing to jazz!"
And the poor girl had absolutely no choice.
Helen, Bindu, and the Great Indian Moral Contradiction
Now, let's talk about the legendary cabaret dancers of Indian cinema.
Helen could walk into a nightclub, dance for five minutes, and make every smuggler in Bombay forget what illegal business he was conducting.
Bindu could raise one eyebrow, and the villain would immediately order another bottle of whisky.
But here's the interesting part.
These so-called morally questionable women often turned out to be the kindest characters in the entire movie.
The respectable heroine might spend three hours crying, misunderstanding the hero, and listening to her parents.
Meanwhile, Rosie would discover the villain's secret plan, steal the evidence, rescue the hero, and occasionally sacrifice her own life in the process.
And what did she get for all that?
A tragic death scene!
The heroine got the wedding.
Rosie got the funeral.
If that's not workplace discrimination, I don't know what is!
And Then Came Anthony Gonsalves!
Just when I thought Indian cinema had permanently assigned Christians to the smuggling and entertainment industries, along came Amar Akbar Anthony in 1977.
Finally!
A Christian hero!
And not just any hero. Amitabh Bachchan himself, playing the unforgettable Anthony Gonsalves.
I was delighted.
Here was a Christian character who was funny, lovable, courageous, romantic, and capable of delivering one of the most entertaining performances in Indian cinema.
Of course, Anthony also enjoyed his alcohol and occasionally got into trouble.
Apparently, Bollywood was willing to give us a hero, but asking him to remain completely sober would have been expecting too much!
And then there was Jenny, Anthony's girlfriend, played by the beautiful Parveen Babi.
Not Zeenat Aman, as my memory originally suggested. After nearly fifty years, I suppose I can be forgiven for mixing up two of Bollywood's most glamorous actresses!
Jenny was no helpless heroine. She knew whom she loved and was prepared to stand up for him.
I remember her determination that Anthony was the man she wanted to marry.
What a refreshing change!
A Christian woman who wasn't required to dance in a nightclub to earn her place in the story.
But just as I was beginning to celebrate this breakthrough, I discovered something disturbing.
The villain's name?
ROBERT!
Unbelievable!
Here was a film celebrating Hindu-Muslim-Christian unity, and Bollywood still couldn't resist giving the criminal a Christian name.
Anthony was Christian.
Jenny was Christian.
Robert was the villain.
Apparently, the filmmakers wanted to make absolutely certain that our community maintained adequate representation on both sides of the law!
The Indian Cinema Guide to Identifying Criminals
By the time I reached my teenage years, I had developed a fairly reliable system for predicting movie characters.
If a man entered wearing a white dhoti and carrying a lunchbox, he was probably an honest family man.
If he entered wearing a black suit, dark glasses, and a gold chain, he was probably a smuggler.
If his name was Robert, there was no need to wait for the interval. The investigation was complete.
And if a woman entered wearing a sari, she was probably somebody's daughter, sister, or future wife.
If she entered wearing a sparkling Western dress and introduced herself as Rosie, the orchestra would begin playing before she could finish her sentence.
It was an astonishingly efficient system.
Modern police departments spend millions on investigations. Indian cinema solved everything with a Christian name and a costume change!
But Why Did Filmmakers Do This?
Behind all the comedy lies an interesting question.
Why were Christian and Western-sounding names so frequently associated with smugglers, gangsters, nightclub owners, and cabaret dancers?
Part of the answer lies in the social attitudes of those times.
Filmmakers often portrayed traditional Indian culture as morally respectable while associating Western lifestyles with drinking, dancing, gambling, and sexual freedom.
Christians and Anglo-Indians, because of their Western-sounding names and certain cultural associations, became convenient symbols of that supposedly Westernized world.
Bombay's cosmopolitan nightlife, including its jazz clubs, musicians, and entertainment culture, also influenced these portrayals.
Of course, this was an enormous exaggeration.
Most Indian Christians were ordinary people going about their lives, working in schools, hospitals, offices, businesses, and countless other professions.
But why let reality interfere with a perfectly good screenplay?
It is also worth remembering that Indian cinema gave us many wonderful Christian characters: compassionate priests, dedicated nurses, loyal friends, and, of course, Anthony Gonsalves.
Not every villain had a Christian name, and not every Christian character was a villain.
Still, the recurring pattern was unmistakable enough to leave a lasting impression on generations of moviegoers.
The Great Christian Contribution to Indian Cinema
Looking back, I have come to appreciate the extraordinary range of services our fictional community provided to Indian filmmakers.
We supplied the smugglers who kept the heroes employed.
We supplied the nightclub owners who kept the villains entertained.
We supplied the cabaret dancers who kept the audiences awake.
We supplied the henchmen who allowed the heroes to demonstrate their fighting skills.
And when the story required a compassionate priest to rescue an abandoned baby, we supplied him too!
What an incredibly versatile community!
Without Robert, Peter, Michael, Rosie, and Lily, half the movies of my childhood might have ended before the interval.
Imagine a typical Bollywood movie without us.
"Vijay, somebody has kidnapped your sister!"
"Who?"
"Nobody. Robert has retired."
"Then what am I supposed to do for the next two hours?"
"Go home and help your mother!"
THE END.
One Final Thought
Today, when I look back at those wonderful old Hindi and Tamil films, I laugh at the stereotypes, but I also recognize something important.
Cinema has enormous power to shape how we see other communities.
A child watching hundreds of movies in which Robert is a smuggler and Rosie is a cabaret dancer might eventually begin to associate those names with certain behaviors.
And that is where harmless entertainment can quietly become something more complicated.
But perhaps the greatest irony is that the very characters portrayed as morally questionable often demonstrated more humanity than the supposedly respectable ones.
Rosie might have worked in a nightclub, but she was frequently the first person to help someone in trouble.
Robert might have been a villain, but Anthony Gonsalves reminded us that a Christian character could also be one of Indian cinema's most beloved heroes.
And as for me?
I grew up Christian, became an accountant, and have spent much of my life trying to make sure other people's books balance.
What a disappointment I must have been to the Indian film industry!
With a perfectly good Christian name, I could have become a smuggler, owned three nightclubs, employed Rosie and Lily, and made enough money to retire before the interval.
Instead, I chose accounting.
Robert got the gold biscuits. Peter got the whisky. Michael got the nightclub. Rosie got the dance floor.
And I got the balance sheet!
Somewhere in Bombay, a casting director must still be shaking his head.
"What a waste of a perfectly good Christian boy!"
P.S. To all my friends named Robert, Peter, Michael, Johnny, Rosie, Rita, Lily, and Mary: Please don't take offense. You are all wonderful people. But if any of you happen to own a mysterious warehouse near the docks, I would appreciate an invitation. Purely for accounting purposes, of course!
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