India’s happy-go-lucky Romeo
Not once in the last four decades was Joy Mukherjee seen, wooing the paparazzi, at a movie premiere or a splashy soiree. Instead of hanging on to the addictive element called fame, he had practically retired from the show business scene since the late 1970s.
He did not crave publicity. Neither did he plan to return to acting or direction — although his debut as a director Humsaaya — had been praised for its technical fluidity.
Saddled with a somewhat peculiar name, Joy — from the reputed film production and Filmalaya studio-owning Mukherjee family — he had named his two sons Toy and Boy. That was a rare quirk from an actor who, otherwise, maintained a clean-cut image and specialised in portraying the feel-good guy who would rush to the rescue of heiresses being married off to the Vat 69 whisky-guzzling villain.
At the very outset, he romanced debutante Sadhana with Love in Simla (1960). The musical sequence showing him hand-pulling the fringe-haired heroine on a rickshaw through the hilltown’s mall had become an instant rage. Subsequently, he appeared in his most remarkable entertainers with Sadhana (Ek Musafir Ek Hasina) or the two screen sweethearts of the time: Asha Parekh (Ziddi, Love in Tokyo, Phir Wohi Dil Laya Hoon) and Saira Banu (Shagird). Assigned essentially to escapist fare, he excelled in carrying off the fashions of the season as well as lip-sync to scores of chart-busters. The image which abides of the actor is of a happy-go-lucky Romeo strumming an acoustic guitar to assorted Juliets in the scenic locations of Kashmir.
Lore has it that at the summons of his father, Sashadhar Mukherjee, Joy had stepped into a role originally meant for Shammi Kapoor in Love in Simla. To his credit the newcomer did not imitate the rambunctious Kapoor at all, opting instead for a style that was restrained, perhaps to a fault. Frequently, he did appear on the covers of the popular magazines of the time but his interviews were infallibly politely phrased. He could handle the transition from black-and-white to colour cinema but a new phalanx of actors was arriving with Dharmendra and then Rajesh Khanna and Rishi Kapoor.
With the sole exception of Ek Baar Muskura Do, the last few films Joy Mukherjee was seen in were a mixed bag. The films he directed did not quite storm the box office either.
Aware perhaps that he would be coerced to walk on Sunset Boulevard, the actor-producer became reclusive and retained his dignity in a business infamous for its pendulum swing from ecstasy to agony. He did not go to town, expressing his disappointment or bitterness in print or in private. Like the heroes he enacted, he was the quintessential feel-good guy to the end.
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