Mr. Ghantarao is well known to people who know how things used to work in the movies of yore. Which, come to think of it, is not many people. So allow us to introduce him: he is the man who made the ‘bhalah!’ sounds in sync with the punches in action sequences in Telugu films of the 70s and the 80s. Sadly, technology and changing sensibilities (which rarely change for the better) have rendered him obsolete. He has retired now. However, back then, in the glory days, he was the punch in the punches, the biff in the biffs. We are delighted that he agreed to answer a few questions.

Question: What made you choose ‘bhalah!’-making as a career?

Mr. Ghantarao: I didn’t choose it. It chose me. Even as a child, I was a good ‘bhalah!’–maker. It all began in a fight with the class bully. He was slaughtering me. He laid me out with a right hook to the nose. But I slowly struggled to my feet again. I hit out weakly and blindly. And, I don’t know why, but I made my first ‘bhalah!’ sound as I punched. It was not perfect, this first ‘bhalah!’, because it came out through my bleeding nose, but it worked. Like, like…a mantram. The big oaf was startled by the ‘bhalah!’ and I actually connected with a punch. It had the authority of the ‘bhalah!’ behind it. It was enough to scare away the big buffalo. You may well imagine why I became a believer in ‘bhalah!’.

Q: When did you get your first break in the movies?

Mr. G: I was in college then. There was a film shoot in our village. The hero was rescuing the heroine from the villain. I got carried away and began to make the ‘bhalah!’ sounds. The villain was inspired too, or maybe he was distracted, and so far forgot himself that he punched the hero for real. The hero was furious, but the director was pleased, and oddly, so was the heroine. The director invited me to Madras for the re-recording. He said I was just what was needed to make the scene work. I suppose the world knows the rest of the story.

Q: Yes, it has been a fantastic career hasn’t it? But tell us more about your ‘bhalahs!’. How do you make them? What makes them work?

Mr.G: What can I say? They come from the gut. From deep within. It is the ‘bhalah!’ that makes the punch. After all, the fights are make-believe. But the ‘bhalah!’ is real. Always. Feeling. Feeeeling. See?

Q: As the ‘bhalah!’ actor, what is your mind picture of yourself as you act, as you emote for the fight? Do you see yourself as the impersonal force of the punch, or do you imagine yourself to be the hero, or the villain, as the puncher, or the punchee?

Mr. G: That is a good question. I can only give you a partial answer, because I try not to over analyse, it may interfere with spontaneity. Well, the movie fight is not an equal fight. Usually, the hero, who looks like someone’s uncle, is pitted against several substantial thugs. So one must perforce compensate, help the audience suspend its incredulity. The hero’s ‘bhalahs!’ are always more ‘bhalah!’ than the villain’s ‘bhalahs!’ So you could say that, in my mind, I’m the good guy.

Q: Does technology play a role? Do you think sound mixing and electronic enhancement help make the ‘bhalahs!’ more convincing?

Mr.G (a little sternly): I think I have already mentioned that the ‘bhalahs!’ are real.

Q: Sorry. Did you ever feel the urge to experiment? ‘Bhallah!’ instead of ‘bhalah!’, for instance.

Mr.G (still stern, and even a little brusque): No.

Q: What do you think about all the fresh new punch sounds out there today? Biff, pow, kapow, wham, dishoom, even dishhhh?

Mr.G: Mediocrity everywhere! Warped sensibilities! No pride in craft! Our society is in terminal decline.

Q: Mr.G, let us move on to pleasanter topics. Can you tell us if you have a favourite ‘bhalah!’? Was there a fight scene that you will never ever forget, that you think was the acme of the art of the ‘bhalah’?

Mr.G (a dreamy look replaces the frown): It was in 1980. The movie was Peddha Donga (Big Thief).  It had a very big star, who had done over 200 movies until then. But he was over sixty already, and he couldn’t move all that well, you know. The fight scenes looked a little forced. In fact, why mince words, they looked downright unbelievable. They used stunt doubles wherever possible, but the close ups were worrisome. His punches looked like caresses. And his expressions! Like a tired old man humouring his grandchildren with a mock fight. The director was clutching his head as he watched his footage at the studio. But after the recording he came up to me and shook hands warmly with me. He didn’t say anything. I think his heart was too full for words. His eyes did all the talking. Don’t thank me, I thought. Thank the ‘bhalahs!’.

Q: Ah, such a wealth of experience, Mr.G. But was there ever a time when you felt all ‘bhalah!’ed out? When the ‘bhalahs!’ just would not come?

Mr. G (looking thoughtful as he dredges memory): Come to think of it, no. No matter what the state of my mind, no matter what I was going through in my life, once I was behind the mike, only the ‘bhalahs!’ existed.

Q: You are a true professional Mr. G. Thank you so much for talking to us. But before we go, may I request you to demonstrate your incomparable ‘bhalahs!’?

Mr. G: Certainly. Bhalah! Bhalah! Bhalah!

Q: Wow.

Mr. G: Bhalah! Bhalah! Bhalah! Bhalah!