Dilip Kumar: The Substance and the Shadow

by Dilip Kumar

  We drove by Carter Road, past Delphin, a two-storey structure where my dear brother Nasir and his wife, actress Begum Para, lived with their children on the top floor and my friend ‘Gobindo’ (actor Abhi Bhattacharya) resided on the first floor. I asked my chauffeur to honk loudly until Gobindo came running out to the window, alarmed, thinking that something was wrong. I shouted out to him to hurry and bring down a bottle of drinking water. No sooner than he scurried down, he bent into the car window to speak to me and he practically fainted upon seeing the most unexpected sight: Saira sitting by my side, smiling away at him!

  It seemed incredible to Gobindo because he was just recently shooting with Saira on K. Asif’s Sasta Khoon Mehnga Pani (a film that remained unfinished) at the outdoor locations in the deserts of Jodhpur, Rajasthan. Gobindo was one of the many emissaries, apart from actor Nazir Hussain Sahab and Sanjeev Kumar, who carried messages of how upset Saira was with me! These artistes were working with me too and I would meet them frequently.

  After that, we turned towards the beach at Juhu for a short stroll – the sky was beautiful, laden with layers of dreamy August clouds and we silently walked, hand in hand, enjoying the bracing, placid breeze when suddenly a beautiful, light shower descended upon us as though God himself had blessed this union of two hearts. I immediately took off my jacket to wrap it around Saira’s delicate frame and, to this day, amongst a thousand things she has safely kept in her treasure trove, is the same jacket!

  As we were returning home, at my gate, I saw Nasir’s car parked, indicating that he was there. Nasir commuted between our poultry farm at Nasik and Bombay to keep the family business going. I was so very happy that I wanted him to be the first in my family to know the glad tidings. Nasir was my much-loved, ever-smiling, outgoing and warm-hearted brother. He was therefore my favourite companion, born just after me and so dear to me.

  We took the stairs up to the hall and finding Saira very nervous, I held her hand reassuringly. Nasir was alone and looked up with a huge warm smile as he always did, and we sat down. In the next couple of minutes, I said to him: ‘Nasir, Saira and I are getting … married!’ To which he replied: ‘Oye! Yaar! You’re pulling my leg! You’re joking! How did this happen?’ He then laughed and tightly held me in his embrace and exclaimed: ‘I can’t believe this yaar! Wonderful news!’ My happiness was complete.

  During the next week, I flew down every other evening to Bombay from Madras, and dined and spent wonderful time with Saira, her granny and Naseem Aapa at their Nepean Sea Road home where Saira still was living, or at her newly built bungalow at Pali Hill where at times we would be joined by Mrs Akhtar Mehboob, Mukherjee Sahab and my dear friends Pran and Satish Bhalla. (Pran’s daughter Pinky later married Satish Bhalla’s son.)

  Years later. Saira jovially sang to me ‘Ik ghar banaya hai, tere ghar ke samne’,* telling me that, in actuality, when she wanted to build her own home, the family set about looking for a suitable plot of land around 48 Pali Hill, holding my house as the landmark, being close to which was the first criterion in their choice!

  Events moved at a fast pace thereafter, as the news spread everywhere.

  *Naseem Banuji’s most famous film is Pukar (1939), in which she played Noor Jehan, the wife of the Mughal Emperor Jehangir.

  *An opportune time for beginning something new.

  *Literally meaning ‘with a face like a fairy’.

  **May Allah give you both every happiness and may the fortunes of Yousuf be on the rise. So be it.

  *‘I have built a house in front of yours.’ She was inspired by the title song of the 1963 movie Tere Ghar Ke Samne, starring Dev Anand and Nutan.

  18

  THE BIG DAY

  Came the day of the marriage: 11 October 1966. What did I feel? Was there a gush of nervousness? Having remained a confirmed, eligible bachelor for so long, did I have any trepidations or any qualms as the hour of the relinquishment of my bachelordom drew near?

  AT THE OUTSET, I FELT IT VERY NECESSARY TO ACQUAINT MY future wife, my life partner-to-be, with the scenario at home, with my family and with my dearest ones who were of paramount importance to me. Years ago, after losing Aghaji and Amma so early in my life, I suddenly became the ‘parent-brother’ to my five brothers and six sisters, of whom three were elder and the rest younger to me. I had literally stepped into my parents’ shoes, caring for them and taking time off from my shoots to be with them. I would take great joy in personally shopping for their every need, even for fabrics for the younger siblings and give them to our family tailor to be stitched. When I needed some help in this area, Bhabi Akhtar Mehboob would give me helpful guidance for the girls.

  We would spend long holidays at Lonavala (a hill station in Maharashtra, about 100 km from Bombay), in the house I rented every year where the children would romp in the garden happily and never want to go back home soon enough. When they all grew up, whether the boys or the girls, I endeavoured to give them the best areas of study they chose for themselves. When they wished to go abroad for further studies, I encouraged them without any second thoughts. Their happiness became the purpose of my existence.

  One day, I sat with Saira on a quiet stretch of beach and told her that I had been such a confirmed eligible bachelor for so long with a family in tow that was very accustomed to being in charge of me, whether we attended functions together, arm in arm, or we reserved a whole row of seats in a popular cinema house for films based on Tennessee Williams’ stories (for instance, A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951, and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, 1958). I pointed out to her that it would be difficult, if not impossible, for them to easily reconcile to a new person in my life, as also for her to live together with the family without any problems arising between them. I went on to tell her that it was inevitable that ‘Main saatve aasmaan ki hoor bhi laaoonga, to usey accept nahin kar paigi meri family’. (Even if I bring a celestial angel from the seventh heaven, my family will not be able to accept her.) They were so used to my being a loner and were not used to sharing me with anyone.

  With my sisters. (L to R): Sakina Aapa, Saeeda and Taj.

  In such circumstances, I told her that to give our marriage the right beginning and environment, we would have to live separately, on our own. I assured her that I would get suitable alternative accommodation for my unmarried sisters Sakina Aapa and Farida and for my brother Ahsan, who lived with me, as also for all the married ‘visiting’ sisters such as Taj, Saeeda and Fauzia, who often came to stay.

  Saira explained to me that since I knew that she was herself the prime member of her own small, close-knit four-member family, which she dearly loved, hence I should understand that she would never want to separate me from my brothers and sisters, whom I loved very much. Another thing she stated was that just a year ago her elder brother Sultan had married Rahat Beg and they were naturally living in the new bungalow that Saira had built just across the road. By acceding to my decision, she did not want to set a bad precedence for her own family – she insisted that Sultan and Rahat must continue to live with Ammaji and Aapaji, or her elders would be alone in the autumn of their lives. Saira wanted to live in togetherness with my family; that was her firm decision, saying that if she and I moved out to be independent of the family responsibilities it would be wrong on our part.

  As noted earlier, I had already told Nasir of our proposed marriage and I proceeded to break the news with mild trepidation to Sakina Aapa. She was totally in charge of the house and the members of the family, particularly the girls, and was loved and feared at the same time. Earlier, Aghaji used to have frequent altercations with her as he did not approve of her high-handedness, which was quite in contrast to Amma’s gentle ways.

  When Amma had turned very unwell and bedridden with asthma, she had devised this habit of storing a number of clean socks, hankies and other such items, meant for Aghaji and all of us boys, right under her bed. She would draw them out, doling them out to us as needed!

  I had my own fears of how she would receive thi
s news from me, knowing fully well that poor Nasir, whenever he met Sakina Aapa, the occasion would never be bereft of the scalding criticism he was subjected to time and again from her about marrying actress Begum Para no matter how many years had gone by! I would always spring to the defence of my dear brother who constantly warded off these attacks with smiles and laughter. He said this was the best way to deal with a tricky situation!

  As I faced Sakina Aapa now, I knew what was going on in her mind. Her thoughts were crisscrossing between disappointment at having had no say in the decision and also great surprise at my having chosen a partner who was from the same profession as mine and much younger to me.

  I tried to set her mind at rest, by clarifying that it was no doubt a quick decision, but it was, without doubt, a considered one as all my decisions have been. Yes, I had altered my earlier stand that I would not marry a girl from the same field, but I had changed my mind because I had good reason to do so, because I knew Saira’s illustrious family lineage. Her grandfather was Khan Bahadur Mohammed Solaiman, OBE, who had been the chief engineer of the Delhi Municipal Corporation and had the distinction of structuring the Viceroy’s House (now known as Rashtrapati Bhavan) as also the surrounding Parliament House and the other buildings in that area. Mohammed Ehsan Sahab, her father, educated and brought up in London, had turned into a noted film producer. Her mother was the beautiful Naseem Banu, a first-rate film heroine of her time with a flawless reputation, and her grandmother Shamshad Begum Abdul Waheed Khan, a renowned classical vocalist, who used to sing live over All India Radio Delhi and had recorded for Columbia Records.

  Above all, Saira by herself possessed virtues and qualities that I considered essential in the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I did not feel the need to explain more to Sakina Aapa. I concluded by saying that I was convinced that I had taken the right decision and that I was very happy. She heard me out with a vacant expression and did not argue since she knew it was a fait accompli and she had to accept it.

  The announcement of our engagement on 2 October 1966 reverberated with sensational and joyous tidings all over the country. It was an indescribable experience.

  The media was splashing the news all over and the radio stations kept on announcing the event every couple of hours. There was an air of great festivity in Bombay (and probably elsewhere as well) as all available loudspeakers belted out our favourite film songs!

  With Saira and Satish Bhalla among others.

  The news of our forthcoming marriage came as a surprise to all those who had thought I was an unrelenting, highly eligible bachelor who would never settle down. My fans and also my friends, such as Satish Bhalla, Raj Kapoor, producer Ved Puri, Hiten Choudhary, Pran and Balraj Kohli, were agog with ‘how did this happen’? Saira’s career was just five years old; we had never worked together and were never linked romantically. Consequently, there literally was a storm in people’s minds, who were eager to see us together and have a glimpse of us together.

  As for Saira, Naseem Aapa had told me, in her own dignified manner, that she was beside herself with joy, celebrating the granting of a long-cherished desire of being my wife.

  At that point of time, I was to finish the final schedules of Ram Aur Shyam in Madras and then travel with producer-director H. S. Rawail to Calcutta to do some scripting work and also to finalize a temple outdoor location there for the film Sunghursh (eventually released in July 1968). Saira and Naseem Aapa were also headed for Calcutta to shoot outdoors for director Lekh Tandon’s Jhuk Gaya Aasmaan.

  At the Calcutta airport, there was a tumultuous sea of people such as we had never seen before in our lives – not even at premieres, functions and rallies that I was so familiar with. As the doors of the aircraft were opened for the passengers to disembark, we had to beat a hasty retreat. Heaven knows how, despite security barriers put up by the police, fans had accessed even the tarmac, not just the airport. Eventually, we somehow got to our car, which was surrounded by thousands of fans and, as a gesture of great love, the car was lifted up by them as we sat inside! We could hear just one voice chanting: ‘Mubarak! Mubarak!’ (Congratulations! Congratulations!)

  Somehow, we managed to drive away from the airport and were rushed inside the Grand Hotel (where we were to stay) through the kitchen entrance and up to our suites on an upper floor. Soon enough, there was a storm of ‘knock knock’ on all the doors on our floor! Lo and behold! How had the fans got past security and reached outside our suites? The hotel management was flustered and nervous and Naseem Aapa and film producer H. S. Rawail were of the view that it would be impossible to go out and work in these conditions. Sure enough, at seven the next morning, on looking out of our windows we saw the extensive maidan in front of the building strewn with odd pairs of shoes, umbrellas, clothing and other items as though it had been a battlefield the earlier night! Saira’s outdoor unit of Jhuk Gaya Aasmaan simply had to pack up. There was no way anyone could access the shoot spot because of the happy fans blocking the area in their joyous delirium, hoping to find us there!

  All of us conferred and I decided that it was best that to fulfil the yearning of our fans to see us together. I insisted we must at once accelerate our marriage plans from the end of the year to immediately. Now! I suggested to Naseem Aapa, and phoned Sultan who was in Bombay, that we should get back home forthwith. I was clear in my mind that I wanted a simple nikah (marriage) with Saira in the next couple of days. At the same time, I lost no time in conveying my decision to Sakina Aapa, my elder brother Noor Sahab and Aquila Bhabi, taking their ijazat (permission) for the most important step in my life. Similarly younger brothers Nasir, Ahsan (Aslam had settled in America) and my sisters Taj, Saeeda, Farida and Fauzia were informed. Akhtar was estranged from the family after her alliance with K. Asif. There would be no time for any grand arrangements for the event; nor would there be any finery vis-à-vis wedding clothes and jewellery. In fact, I said that all we needed was a Maulvi Sahab to solemnize our nikah and chuaaras (dried dates) to distribute as per the ritual. We did not even have time to print cards or prepare a proper list of guests! Close friends were just a phone call away!

  So, Saira and I, who had in our professional lives and otherwise, worn the most elegant, custom-made apparel throughout, just wore what Naseem Aapa could quickly muster together in a short while! Naseem Aapa had been the power house of guidance to Saira, in her make-up and wardrobe, the lady who designed and created all of Saira’s gorgeous costumes and jewellery at a time when there were no designers as such and her name had become synonymous with great taste. People looked forward to see what Saira would wear in her films, or even at a premiere.

  Coverage of our marriage by the media, as the date was hurriedly fixed and announced as 11 October 1966, generated nationwide attention and created headlines in newspapers. We had very little time to ourselves as the attention we continued to get from the media, friends, relatives and close family members just wouldn’t stop!

  The mehndi ceremony, with Rahat (Saira’s bhabhi) and Naseem Banuji.

  There was a beautiful, but simple, haldi (turmeric) and mehndi (henna) ceremony, during which the ladies of my family headed by Sakina Aapa and my younger sisters carried thaals (plates) of finely ground henna decorated with bright, illuminated candles to Saira and sacredly anointed my emotional, ecstatic bride. This was the first step towards our nikah.

  Similarly, a whole contingent of glamorous ladies from Saira’s family headed by Naseem Aapa and Rahat Bhabhi (Sultan’s wife) swooped down to make mirth and mischief with the bridegroom and put some pep into the haldi and mehndi ceremony at my house!

  Saira and I had got so used to spending time together during the whole of September 1966, that when after the announcement of the marriage and the nearing of the rituals began, we were put into individual isolation! Our elders forbade us from seeing each other and we found it heart-wrenching. If I went to her house to discuss formalities with Sultan and Naseem Aapa, I had to remain downstairs and Sai
ra would mischievously try every window of the house to get a glimpse of me!

  Came the day of the marriage: 11 October 1966. What did I feel? Was there a gush of nervousness? Having remained a confirmed, eligible bachelor for so long, did I have any trepidations or any qualms as the hour of the relinquishment of my bachelordom drew near?

  No. Instead, what I felt was a serene calm and tranquillity, as though having reached a safe Haven of Peace. I always had Amma’s inner strength to take on life with grit and draw the best out of it. I had been lucky to attain fame and all that goes with it, but now I had the person who would share my life and would be my very own, to look after me in every way to put in their place my shirts, my socks and my hankies, instead of my things being bundled and pushed any which way into drawers somewhere in the house by my man Friday, Anwar.

  19

  CELEBRATIONS GALORE

  Saira and I began our lives together as husband and wife in the most erudite and culturally wealthy city of India, enjoying peaceful mornings with breakfast served in the garden followed by hectic work on the sets, with breaks for tiffin and coffee and ending with a quiet dinner in the room.

  I HAD THE BENEFIT OF MY SISTERS LIVING IN MY HOUSE, BUT THEY were growing up too, finding their feet in life; some were married off and were away. My food was what I would draw garam garam (piping hot) from the pateela (cooking vessel), in the kitchen and wrap it up with bread and off I would go for my shooting. A bachelor’s domain, free as a bird, but with its disadvantage of no attention being paid to the small, but important, things in life!