Jaswinder Bhalla, a jewel in the crown of Punjabi comedy

A typically crazy Punjabi movie, Viyah 70 km (2013), has a scene in which a marriage bureau guy tries to amuse Jaswinder Bhalla with a joke about a runaway buffalo. An unimpressed Bhalla, who is desperate to find a bride for his nephew, shoots back: “Kamaidy na kar. Kamaidy main bathheri kar laoon. Jehda tainu kaam kiha oh kar” (Don’t do comedy. I’m there to do it. You just do what you have been told).

This was not an empty boast or a mere wisecrack. Bhalla was actually so funny that he was in a league of his own in Punjabi cinema. And that was no mean feat, considering that there are several actors around who can make you laugh any day of the week, be it Gurpreet Ghuggi, Binnu Dhillon, BN Sharma or Karamjit Anmol. But Bhalla was Bhalla.

The year 2012 was a game-changer for the Punjabi film industry, which was struggling to woo audiences in India and abroad. Within a span of four weeks, two movies were released — Jatt & Juliet and Carry On Jatta. Both clicked with Punjabi viewers around the world, and Bhalla contributed immensely to their sweeping success. In Jatt & Juliet, he paid a zany tribute to the City Beautiful: “Chandigarh dheh jau pindan varga taan reh jaau, jeh pind hi dheh jau jaau pher pichhe ki reh jaau” (I’m like Chandigarh. I will survive any blow, but you are just a village and nothing will be left of you).

He was at his best in Carry On Jatta, in which he played a much-harried advocate who was more busy tackling his troublesome sons than fighting court cases. His famous one-liner, “Gandi aulaad na mazaa na swaad”, summed up his character’s bitter experience of parenthood. Despite his myriad problems at home and in the courts, he proudly declared: “Advocate Dhillon ne kaala coat aevein hi nahin payaa.” He was hilarious as the father trying hard to show his sons who was the boss — but failing more often than not.

Bhalla’s popularity peaked during the past decade or so, and he was an obvious choice for virtually every comedy. It was in the late 1980s that he burst onto the Punjabi entertainment scene with the audio cassette Chhankata. He cast himself as Chacha Chatar Singh, an elderly villager with the gift of the gab.

Blending earthy wisdom with buffoonery, he carved a niche for himself at a time when Mehar Mittal was ruling the roost as the premier comedian in Punjabi cinema. Chhankata, initially an annual affair, became so popular that Bhalla and his team had to bring it out twice a year at times. Comedy was a Herculean challenge in that era of terrorism, when Punjab was in the throes of tragedy and bloodshed. Every good joke was worth its weight in gold as it helped people forget their woes, albeit only for a short while.

Thanks to Jalandhar Doordarshan, Bhalla reached out to TV viewers. The fact that a professor — he taught at his alma mater, Punjab Agricultural University, Ludhiana — could perform such brilliant comedy was astonishing, to say the least.

His first major film role was in Jaspal Bhatti’s scathing satire Mahaul Theek Hai (1999). Bhalla was delightful as a corrupt cop who bullied shopkeepers into paying him protection money. He also teamed up with Bhatti, himself a comic genius, in Jija Ji (2005), Chakk De Phatte (2008) and Power Cut (2012). Interestingly, both had their own tried-and-tested junior partners — it was Vivek Shauq in Bhatti’s case, while ‘Chacha’ Bhalla had Bal Mukand Sharma as his ‘Bhateej’. Sharma, also a PAU alumnus, has held senior positions in Markfed and the Punjab State Food Commission.

Bhalla’s comedy focused largely on Punjabi society and culture, covering burning issues such as the drug menace, female foeticide, unemployment and illegal immigration. The eternal battle of the sexes also got his due attention. However, he didn’t shy away from making a political barb every now and then. This landed him in trouble back in 2003, when he and Sharma were ‘roughed up’ by a senior officer at the Punjab Civil Secretariat in Chandigarh after they took potshots at the CM during an event in Patiala.

Bhalla, however, withstood the storm resiliently and even joked about it in Chhankata 2003 (Chacha Sudhar Gaya). Drawing a weird parallel, he said the US had been attacked by Osama bin Laden, but it was Saddam Hussein who bore the brunt of American fury (what he meant was that he had been punished for someone else’s fault). He not only targeted the state government but also mocked some fellow performers who abandoned him when the going got tough. Standing up for Bhalla and Sharma, Punjabi artistes led by Jaspal Bhatti and Gurpreet Ghuggi issued a sarcastic statement, urging the Punjab Government to ‘ban’ humour or designate the Principal Secretary for approving all songs and skits before a public performance. During the Covid-19 lockdown, Bhalla commented playfully on the CM’s demand for the reopening of liquor vends — and got away with it on that occasion.

Punjabi cinema has been fortunate enough to have some legendary comedians — Gopal Saigal, Khairati Bhainga, Majnu (whose real name was Harold Lewis) and of course, Mehar Mittal. Now, Bhalla has joined this pantheon in the other world, where they must be making the gods roll on the heavenly floor.

Vikramdeep Johal is Deputy Editor, The Tribune.

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