Dev Anand: 1923 --- forever

Sunday 4th Dec.
I was getting ready to go to a place that, to me is as dear and sacred as any place of worship. 

Whenever I pass Mehboob Studios I have this craving to go inside and pay my respects to all those wondrous men and women whom I've revered like prophets of Art and Creativity. 

But apart from my uncontrolled craze for Hindi films, there was nothing else that could possibly justify my presence at that monument which is symbolic of a glorious era Bollywood itself perhaps longs to go back to.

But the previous day, Saturday, 3rd Dec had been astounding. 

I had actually walked past the gate and strolled around that extraordinary palce, where Bollywood History was shaped. 

Films like "Mother India" and "Guide" were nurtured. Sheer nostalgia it was. And I did not want to come out of it.

Times Literary Carnival was an absolutely gratifying experience. Quenching the thirst for good poetry and prose were Gulzar Kalra, Swanand Kirkire, Anurag Kashyap, Kabir Bedi, Fatima Bhutto, Mohammed Hanif.

One was almost spoilt for choice and so I will not even count the presence of the likes of Shobha De and Suhel Seth and many others !!!

Sunday was going to be interesting too. And I did not wish to miss even one session. Swallowing my dry toasts with tea, I switched on the television to catch the morning news just before leaving. 

And that was the end of my Sunday plans ...

Time suddenly froze. 

Nothing seemed to matter.
Just a stoical numbness took over me as the news reader announced Dev Anand's death.

I was being made to realise that the man who symbolised every beautiful colour of life, and most importantly life itself, was no more.

I sat glued to the television, not wanting to miss even one alphabet of the words being spoken. There were the reactions of people from the Industry trickling...and a little later pouring in.

Shekhar kapur said "We talked of him as if he'll live forever....may be he will!"

Anand Mahindra said, "As long as Dev Anand lived, I though I'd live too..."

Rajnikanth said, "We salute your zest for life and spirited energy for work..."

Hema Malini said:"Seeing him work was like taking a vitamin tablet."

Manoj Kumar recalled how well behaved, honest and thoroughly well-bred Dev Anand had been. Sharing with the viewers the time when his father's death had traumatised him deeply, Manoj Kumar said that Dev Saheb would come to his palce every evening to cheer him up for more than a month.

Waheeda Rahman, while remembering Dev Anand's generosity, said, "The most important film of Dev's life, "Guide" was the story of Raju, The Guide, but he made sure that Rosy (Waheeda Ji's character) was in no way over-shadowed...such was his stature and so secure he was as an actor."

Times Now had done an exclusive interview with Dev Saheb just before his film "Chargesheet" was released. Also they had done a "Total Recall" on him. They kept playing those tapes in between. And I for once completely agreed with Arnab Goswami that it was a complete honour to be in Dev Saheb's presence.

He was right there reliving his life's endearingly precious moments, sharing his incredible energy, his youthful intellect, his infectious vivaciousness with his fans, and very interestingly remarking:
"If you take someone else's idea and do a song or a film, you instantly become second rate. I cannot live like a second rate, therefore all that I do is my own creation. Good or bad, it is original."
He also said:
"After I make a film I don't talk about it....I let the world talk about it!!!"

Talking of "Hum Dono", "Guide", "Hare Rama Hare Krishna", Guru Dutt, Navketan, Sahir, S.D.Burman ... and so much more ... there was always that enthusiasm around him which like a sacred halo made everything shine with his light.
Only for a fleeting moment did his face betray him.
It was when the song "Gataa rahey mera dil..." was played and Arnab asked Dev Anand what the song reminded him.
He started saying everything from how beautiful the song was, how they had waited for Dada Burman to recover from an illness and then compose it, and how RD had composed the mukhda before the older Burman could do the rest of the song.
But the deepest feeling of pain he wanted to escape.
In vain, he tried hard to let go of Vijay Anand's memory. But sometimes even the best of eefort is not enough.
So finally when he did speak about Goldie, the pain could not be contained within. His eyes had a far away look, as if he could see Vijay Anand when he said,
"I remember Vijay Anand, who is no more ... he was a great director, a great maker ... a great companion ..."

But the very next moment he was back with the mask of happiness swaying his head to the eternal "Main zindgi ka saath nibhata chala gaya ...", saying "I salute Sahir! He gave me this incredible philosophy of life ..."Main zindgi ka saath nibhata chala gaya ..."

But I think the song that would suit his life more, and which in my opinion is an extension of Sahir Saheb's philosophy is Shailendra Ji's all-time classic "Din dhal jaaye, raat na jaaey ... "
I feel it is a song that has sadness, longing, pain ... and yet a peaceful acceptance of facts that times gone by are gone for good ... so let go, let things be... and so the sadness does not sadden you ...... great words, awesome music ....

Dev Saheb, in his own words, was forever learning and growing ... So how can he ever cease to live ... ?
A man who never paused ... a man who worked tirelessly, the only actor who lasted more than five decades as a leading man ...
He must be celebrated ... because he was life personified ...

But rest he must ... now that God has so willed it for him ... Rest in peace Dev Sahab ...
Don't worry ... your unmatched melodious legacy lives on ...

Rishtey

Kuchh rishto'n ka koi naam nahi hota
Shaaed koi matlab bhi nahi hota

Kyon judtey hain, bikhartey hain
Socho to samajh kuchh nahi ataa

Bass wo hotey hain....
Har pal, har saan's ke saath

Aur unn ke honay se....
Hota hai zindgi  ka wajood 
Be-maani se palo'n ko mil jataa hai matlab jaise
Lamha-ba-lamha aati-jaati saans'on ko mil jaati hai dhadkan jaise...."
(Shazi)

Siblings: Rivals or best friends

Picture childhood. And rushing in come the many pillow fights and trivial tiffs over Mamma-loves-me-more-than-you, I-did-the-dishes-and-dusting-when-the-maid-was-away etc etc among siblings. These are memories for which one will be ready to part with one's entire wealth if they can be brought back.
And the reason could be more than mere nostalgia. Sometimes one also longs for the clock to go back so that the wrongs of the past could alas be set right.

Sibling rivalry is a comparitively less talked-about subject when it comes to discussing relations. However it is an important aspect which effects human behaviour and relations in a very profound manner.

In a film I saw there were these two sisters.
The elder: Beautiful, vivacious, lively, energetic, extrovert, hard-working.
Hobbies: swimming, driving, acting, going on picnics...and of course, making friends.
The younger: Ordinary-looking, unambitious, introvert
Hobbies: reading, films, day-dreaming

Of the two girls, the younger one was tired of being compared with her more endowed sibling. Was it any surprise then, that she grew up to be her own best friend with a terribly shaken self-confidence? Friends and family spared no opportunity to make her aware of her ordinary outward appearance, which according to the accepted societal norms was her shortcoming.

Another case which I read some time back was incidentally about two brothers.
Fairly good looking and innocent. The elder one simple, the younger one looking out for mischief. The elder one helpful, younger one always asking for help.
Both in love with outdoor games. Cricket topping the chart, badminton following closely. Summer afternoons reserved for carrom and cards. Together they had their share of fun and mischief, and often shared a good spanking session from their strict father, if the naughtiness went overboard. But Mamma was protective and would more than make up for the punishment with an extra bowl of ice-cream or some cream biscuits in the tiffin the next morning...

Growing up was like a song.
But not without some notes going out of tune at times. Nothing unusual about that. Happens everywhere. And this could be your story as much as it could be mine.

Going a little further and assuming human nature to work as it normally does, sibling rivalry would certainly be lurking right there in the backyard.
What happens when they are apparently mature adults, married and living their own separate lives.
How would it effect the shaping of future relations between these individuals....and also the bearing it would have on their personalities?

While on this hypothetical exercise, I am reminded of the time when my second child was born, I was advised by the elders in the family to take extra care of the elder one.
"He will not understand why the new-born needs more attention. Instead he may become jealous of the baby." My sister-in-law informed me.
How extremely ironical I thought!
My elder one had been waiting eagerly for his sibling to arrive. I was to come to know later that he had told all his friends in school about the wonderful new friend who would soon be his closest and dearest companion.
He had come straight from the play school to the hospital, and could not for a minute take his eyes off the infant, staring at him in disbelief and exclaiming adorably, "Amma! He's smaller than my teddy bear.....Was I so small too??!!!"

But the inevitable comparisons started raising their head even before the younger one was in school.
The granny would say:"Look at your elder brother...how obedient he is".
A guest would remark:"Wow! your younger one is so gorgeous!"

And once they both started going to school, the teachers contributed their bit too.
I was aghast and angry. But a more experienced friend told me to relax and not pay much heed. Teachers, she said, often inadvertantly (and at times knowingly, in order to bring out the best in students) compare siblings.

Thankfully there seemed to exist a pleasant bond of friendship between the boys.
One day the younger one came home looking sad and went straight to the grandmother's room. There he declared bravely:
"Dadi! Tomorrow I'm not going to leave that boy who hit me today!"
Dadi tried to calm him down. With a smile she asked him why he had not got even with that boy already.
The answer was full of innocent revengefulness. And we all could not help laughing as the younger one confided very seriously: "That boy is elder and stronger than me. Tomorrow my Bhaiyya will come with me and hit him nicely right and left...." and then looking at the elder brother, he asked as if to be reassured: "Bhaiyya you'll come no...?"

Is it some strange coincidence that God makes siblings in striking contrast? So how does one compare two completely different individuals when there is no basis for comparison? Comparing siblings and thus "creating" and "fanning" rivalry between them is, in my opinion the most uncivilised right that our civilisation has so generously bequeathed to each one of us, and justified it too. "Isn't healthy competition a pre-requisite to any development?" They say.
A little envy and ambition is required to fuel that healthy competition, which in turn would ideally ensure the blossoming of a personality.

However one must never forget that most certaily relationships developed in an environment of trust and understanding are by far more dependable than the ones that are fuelled by envious ambition. In times of need selfless associations become reliable shock-absorbers helping one to return to normalcy. It seems almost a necessity for us to seek such understanding in friends after being fed on the age- old adage by some bitterly hurt philosopher who said: "We cannot choose our relatives. But thank God we can choose our friends" or the more contemporary one which said "Best friends do not have the same nature, but they have the best understanding of each other's nature."

Why can't there be such an understanding between siblings who have grown up together and shared so much in their lives? Just a small chat over the telephone with someone who understands you is enough to take the stress off your mind.
And why can't that person be one's siblings? Why can't one's sibling be one's friend too?
It is just a matter of digging deeper into one's conscience and soon enough a voice will say:
"I want to go back to the days when siblings were my only foes" !!!!!

Balancing Kinship

Although this may be said more vocally about finances and money, the fact that relations are the most unstable of all the possessions that one may ever be attached to can hardly be denied. Most of one's relations are established at birth just as some other vitals like religion, gender, nationality etc are as helplessly determined. In addition to these predetermined specifics in one's life there are more associations that come along through societal responsibilities like marriage and work/profession, and also as simply as friendships forged over a period of time.

Of the relations so developed, the extension of family through marriage becomes as important and permanent as the relations by birth or what are more popularly known as blood relations. And perhaps these are more complicated too as in they often become defining factors in shaping the bonding between blood relatives. They tend to determine the strenghtening and blossoming(or the withering away) of a family and thus determine the happiness (or the conflict) that could make or break an entire clan.

Therefore it is very important to choose these associations intelligently. But in a world full of imperfections,passion and selfishness this is easier said than done. One is so painfully amazed to see crowded family courts full of once-upon-a-time loved ones facing one another with bitterness. And more painful is the fact that they are but a small portion of the vast majority of blood relatives locked in varying degrees of hateful rivalry.

A fair amount of friction cannot be ruled out though, if individuals have to interact and live in harmony. Ironical as it may sound, the fact that no two individuals are same, and difference in opinion is considered a healthy sign of co-existence cannot be ignored. Tact, transperancy and understanding assume great importance in building and cementing long-lasting togetherness specially in multi-dimensional relations.

How can understanding develop? And how much of tact should be brought into use? How much should one "give" in order to be able take something in a "give-and-take" venture? These are questions that do not have a tailor-made answer. Nor is there a ready-reckoner on relations that can provide helpful formulas forever. But some broadly defined rules can be kept in mind.

The following may be guidelines of sorts:

1) Always place yourself in the position of the other in case of a conflict to "understand" the other's point of view.

2) Never try to seek perfection.

3) Do not "give" anything in charity to someone who does not require it. And never "give" in expectation of something in return.

4) Always have work areas well defined.

5) Have good fences and respect other's space and privacy.

And the most important thing to remember is that for a relationship to be enjoyable one must understand and be understood by the other. This is where transparency comes in. In most circumstances misunderstandings start with petty things and soon ego takes over reason. Ego is often confused with self respect.....but while self respect makes a man worthy, ego spells doom...self respect is a source of dignified existance, ego undoutedly causes devastation, not just for the egotist but by extension to associated relationships as well.

Balancing anything is difficult. And balancing kinship is perhaps the most difficult of all balancing acts. But relationships are the most precious treasure of a human being because good relations bring more contentment than all the material wealth in the world. Hence investment in relations must be as selfless an effort as is humanly possible.
And if earnest attempts are made, even in an imperfect selfish world it is not impossible to have workably fulfilling relationships. The most important ingrediant that goes into the making of delicious kinships is a fair quantity of sincereity dressed with the most exhilarating herbs namely tact, love and humaneness.

My chance meeting with First Love

I was finally there. At her door.

It was more a sort of gateway. An iron grille through which I could see shimmering green plants in earthen pots neatly lined up, reaching the first door in the lobby. I let my eyes drench themselves luxuriously in that refreshing green nectar.

Then I looked for the door bell.
Oh! There were three of them. Each systematically numbered to correspond to the flat it was meant for. I pressed the appropriate one and waited.

I was so thankful to have eluded the unexpected morning drizzle, but my hair as I imagined was in bad shape. Unsettled and unkempt more due to the polluted blows of the congesting traffic than by the pleasant breeze. So without much ado, took out the hair brush that I carry and ran it through my hair superficially.
I was stuffing the brush back in my handbag when a bunch of keys clinked sweetly and I saw a woman opening the lock.

Was this the woman I had been trying to locate for the last one year in the vast multitude of Bombay ?
And now that she was in front of me, I felt a little nervous.

But my feminine instincts were well in place, alert and sturdy, and had already got busy assessing the woman who had by now opened the door 
From the careless length of her dress to the well etched-out wrinkles on her face, from the pale curtains lazily swaying with the mild breeze to the gleaming six-foot clock standing all by itself majestically near the wall, the mind wanted to take in every detail as I walked in behind her

She told me to be comfortable, but herself looked a bundle of nerves. Her manner openly suggestive that I should hurry up with the purpose of my visit.
Strangely I did not feel the compulsion to obey her.
On the contrary attributing that uneasiness to advancing years I allowed her time to relax and compose !!

An inch or two shorter than me, she looked stout in her loose blue A-line dress that reached well below her knees. Hair chopped very short were extremely scanty. In fact I could see her scalp !!!
A well-fitted pair of glasses encased her eyes as if ironically shielding her vision and limiting her horizons.

The furniture in the spacious, well-ventilated living room was simple. While walls were adorned with tasteful contemporary paintings in neat wooden frames the dining table was an antique. Everything in the room seemed to connect the past with the present. The giant Grandfather Clock was in perfect working condition, showing the right time, chiming flawlessly. Just like the inmates of the house, in their twilight years, but fairly healthy and courageously braving age-related hazards.

"That's me" She said, quietly, without exhibiting much emotion, as I placed the computer printout of a black and white photograph before her.
She kept gazing at the picture. There she was ... a young girl with deep large eyes, and thick black hair. Innocence and simplicity adorning her like precious jewels. Draped in a light chiffon sari, she looked graceful and attractive.

I waited for her to say more.
But till now for my ten lines, she had spoken one. My already weak conversational skill was fast depleting. Sitting at the edge of the chair, as I decided that it was time for me to leave, I heard her voice.

"How is he?" She asked.
"He" was the cord, the bond that had brought her and me face to face. "He" had sent me a half century old address and equally antiquated photographs, with a desire to know her whereabouts and welfare.
"He is fine" I replied.
"Married?"
"Yes!" ( Did she by any chance expect him to be unmarried??? )
"He's a grandfather now!" I said volunteering more information than asked for hoping she would share my happiness and excitement, and open up a bit. But nothing changed on her face. Without any expression she popped up another question:
"Is he happy?"
Now I was taken aback.
Honestly I never expected him to be unhappy. As far as I knew he had married the woman of his choice. His children were doing well. He was a contented grandfather.

I stared at her closely. She was patiently waiting for my answer.
I have no specific reason for this, but to me she looked like someone who had been left to wait for eternity.

But she was too dignified to be pitied. My reply was quick.
"Oh! Yes ... Of Course..." I said hurriedly trying to sound convincing.
She looked at me. And this time I could hear her silence. Though very fleetingly. Unable to give any meaning to it.
There definitely was something about her telling me that she knew him more than I could ever claim.

Now she took the other picture. That was of the gentleman and his wife. They were a couple who really seemed to have been matched by God Himself.
She looked at the picture and said,
"She's beautiful!"
I smiled. She paused.
Some minutes went by. Then came another query.
"How many children do they have?"
I gave her all the details I had about them.

Oh! My God ... !!!!!!!
Not another pause, I thought. Her contemplative pauses were making the air around me heavy.

Gathering herself painfully due to a hurting back, she got up and brought out some fine chocolates from the refrigerator.
She offered them to me with politeness, saying:
"You've come to my house for the first time, you must have something sweet."
Was this some kind of a serene celebration?
An expression of happiness at having heard from a dear old friend ...

She said she was happy to know about him and his family and that I should thank him that he still remembered her.
Suddenly I found myself wondering how would I react if at seventy a long lost friend came calling on me similarly.
The thought of it was exhilarating.
But one look at her dampened my spirits.
Could the past freeze so permanently that no amount of warmth from the present ever revive it ?

Trying to bridge the void that among other things, history too had created between her and him, I informed her how at seventy-five plus this friendly and sociable gentleman kept in touch with everyone through internet.
She looked disinterested.
She had no idea how a computer worked.
Her son and daughter were too busy to help her keep in touch with her friends.

Silence returned.

I had done my best to break the ice.
It would have been a pleasure getting two friends back in touch.
But she wanted to live in a world where she was now comfortable. She would not give the bygones the comfort of a revisit.

As I got up to leave she gave me a tight hug. That was about as far as she would go with an emotional outburst.

The next moment she was back to her usual expressionless, smile-less suffocating self ...
and I was glad that the meeting was getting over .......

She walked to the door with me and just before I stepped out she held my hand and said:
"I have a nice husband, but he is very strict. You see, I don't want to spoil my family life. I have been married for more than forty-five years now. My husband was curious to know who this man out of the blue was? Why was he inquiring about me after so many years?"
Her eyes looked at me as if trying to trust me.
Did I see a longing in there ... ?

I was stupefied into silence. But she was speaking with curt clarity.
"Don't give him my address or telephone number ... I don't want to ... you know what I mean ... you can understand no ... ???????"
At one moment she sounded firm and the very next she seemed to be pleading ...

I was stunned.
NO.
I did not understand her then.
I still don't.

Is the institution of marriage so fragile that even at seventy five plus ... with a golden marriage anniversary behind you ... a woman cannot meet / get in touch on phone or email with an old friend who was once upon a time dear to her , for the fear that her marriage of fifty years would break down ...

I don't understand this at all

The Touch Of The Tiger

My Mamujaan's vibrant legendary love affair with Hockey has been unmitigated for as far back as I can remember.
Mummy had these clear instructions: "Whenever there is a hockey tournament in Bombay, you must make it a point to go and encourage the boys."!!!

Of course it was always not possible, but Mummy did sincerely try and went to witness matches whenever she could.

And we had not the remotest idea that this one, where I had gone along too, was going to become a memorable one.

From the beginning it was different.
First and foremost this was a friendly match between IA(Indian Airlines) and PIA (Pakistan International Airlines).
Although it was a friendly match, the interest aroused among fans was no less. We had no idea till we reached the venue.

With Hockey being forever like the illegitimate halfsister of Cricket, the fans of the game are familiar with an empty stadium.
But this match was being played at the prestigious Bombay Gymkhana. The place was overflowing with spectators by the time we reached. Not an inch of seating space left, Mummy and I stood looking around the place to find a spot from where we could get a clear view of the ground.

Someone suggested we go on the upper floor.
"Up-above-the-world-so-high" also people had crammed in to watch the game. Mummy and I were lucky to find a place from where the view was good. Feasting our eyes on the clear velvety green field we almost forgot the sweaty jostling and climbing of minutes before.

The announcer in the commentators box had already started describing the weather and colours as the players filed out neatly on the ground.

The game got off to an engrossing start and we seemed pretty well-settled in our positions.
Standing hardly mattered to me. Wonder if Mummy had other thoughts, her focus though was evidently on the game.
But I was looking idhar-udhar also :-)
How could one ignore all that sophisticated gorgeousness :-)

And there sitting just a few feet away among some beautiful women and children was the elegant Nawab Of Pataudi.
Mansoor Ali Khan.

Having read and heard about them, his eyes caught my attention. They are still alive in my memory. I had not understood then, but do so well now. That unmistakable friendliness in them was so true and real although one of the eyes was not real!!!
Those large dreamy eyes were calm and peaceful, and as they looked at us, an expression then strange to me, fleetingly crossed his quiet face.

He got up from his comfortable seating space and walked gracefully towards us.

The legendary Nawab whose pictures with his ravishing Begum and the fairy tales that surrounded their life was my only introduction to him, was right beside us and actually speaking to Mummy.

He was telling my mother to go and sit in his place. As she walked equally gracefully to take her place, he took his.
Near me (where Mummy had stood)!!!

His autograph on a piece of blue envelope as were used in the good old days to send what was known as "airmail", is still stuck in one of my olllllddd diaries.

For the last one and a half day I'm searching that diary in my old books ... and hoping my only touch with The Tiger is not lost.

The strength within

The month of Ramzan was in its third week. It was sehri time. Quarter past four I think when the landline phone at the corner table started ringing. It was unusual. Fear made me to hurriedly pick up the receiver. On the other side was my brother. I held my breath.
He was calling from a hospital near our homes.
A very close family friend, almost a family member to us, had been taken there just a little while back. My brother tried to assure me that it would all be fine, and there seems to be no apparent reason to worry. I wanted to believe him. But back to the dining table to eat before the time for sehri ended, my mouth felt parched. I could barely chew the morsel I had put in.

As I entered the hospital lounge just after the Fajir namaz, I saw my brother along with our friend's family. That consisted of his wife and his daughter. It was revealed that he had to undergo an angiography as early as possible.

The two homely females looking evidently exhausted with fatigue, were taking turns in going up and down from the ICU, to the doctor's chamber, to the hospital pharamcy. I wonder how much our presence helped soothe their worried minds and perturbed nerves. But I think those hours were numb and vacant when time stood motionless for them. All that mattered was they had to do the job on hand.

By evening the doctors had performed angioplasty on our friend and declared him "as-of-now-out-of-danger". But the risk remained. Bypass surgery or multiple angioplasty was an absolute must declared the doctors.

And in the days that followed I was amazed at the transformation my friend's 20-something Plain Jane daughter underwent. Her tear-smothered face turned tough like a rock. Eyes red with crying turned red with resolve. She suddenly became a fortress that carefully sheltered her parents and took all the harsh blows on herself.
She had astonished me with her courage and resilience.

A remark that I had heard from one of their relatives not very long ago hit my mind. He had said that this daughter was the cause for worry to the family. She was so ordinary looking and unpolished in manners that at twenty plus she was still unmarried.
"Isn't that a cause for concern?"
I had ignored his idiotic comment then. But now as I saw this same girl move about with confidence and sensitivity I found myself battling with my mind as to why the feminine gender has to time and again stand trials at the altar of societal dogmas.

With a friend for company this tall straightforward girl, her resolute eyes looking for solutions, went about meeting doctors who could educate her on the case and people who had undergone bypasses in the past to understand what her father would be in for.
She then discussed the facilities available at various hospitals, visiting and checking out the facts herself.
The next step was perhaps the most important... and the most difficult one too.
To select an appropriate surgeon.

And all these details she worked out intelligently, diligently and with great composure. At home her mother looked after our friend, and outside the house this girl and her friend co-ordinated the course of action with a huge measure of maturity and fortitude.

I once again am forced to wonder why girls are looked upon only as marriage material. Why do they have to "settle" (read married) in life by a certain age? Are these norms not true for boys? And why settling down has to be with marriage only?
No denying the fact that marriage is important. But then it is important for both...the boys and the girls.
How much more will the girls have to do to prove their worth in their homes and outside?