by Dilip Kumar
The Dilip Sahab who enchants me is also a man who is a hero in real life. The plural heritage, which is the bedrock of this nation, radiates from his entire being, not only on the screen but in real life as well.
The way Yousuf Khan alias Dilip Kumar utters the words ‘Hey Ram’ in Gunga Jumna reveals that his heart is rooted in the ideas of the Mahatma.
But unlike most screen icons who embrace the politics of silence when it comes to contentious issues, Dilip Kumar actually fought for the values for which he stood in his day-to-day life.
In 1998, Dilip Sahab persuaded Javed Akhtar and me to join him to approach the Supreme Court of India with a public interest litigation [PIL] on the protests against the film Fire [directed by Deepa Mehta], which was pulled out of the theatres by the right wingers. This had created such a furore in the Rajya Sabha, that the business of the House was adjourned because the thespian was called ‘a Pakistani’ by a member of the right wing party.
‘The freedom of speech is the very breath of the artists’ community. We are film makers, actors, writers. How can we remain silent and pretend to be blind when that ideal is being strangulated?’ he said to us that wintry night when we were being advised by some apprehensive film folks not to take on the establishment. But, after all, democracy thrives through dissent, and. through dissent, one has to be open to face discomfort: that is the lesson I learnt from my screen idol that night.
Five years ago, on Dilip Sahab’s eighty-seventh birthday, like every year, I went to his Pali Hill abode to wish him. He greeted me with his charismatic smile and held my hand like only someone who considers you to be his own would. And through that touch, he perhaps communicated to me that which words could never have. It meant simply, I am with you, I stand with you.
Those were troubled days for me. I was going through a firestorm. The alleged connection between the infamous David Headley, the architect of the Mumbai carnage of 26/11 [26 November 2008], with my son Rahul Bhatt, had turned our lives into a mini hell overnight. The right wing political parties, whose politics I had always questioned, were now using this as grist for their mills to grind against me. I was busy fighting on behalf of my son, to make sure he was not victimized by the vested interests around us. Since Dilip Sahab had been in this space before himself, he could empathize with me.
Just then, a lawyer of great repute appeared from nowhere and, with great gusto, wished Dilip Sahab a happy birthday, adding that everyone was praying for his long life and protection. Dilip Saab, pointing towards me, cut him short. ‘Miyan, pray for his protection not mine. He is fighting a lone battle and paying the price today for sticking his neck out for all of us. He needs to be protected, not me!’ His words touched the very core of my being. It was not what he said, but how he said it. I suddenly felt validated and not all alone anymore.
I looked into his eyes and smilingly said: ‘No Dilip Sahab, how can I be alone when I have you holding my hand. I have inherited this courage from you. You have walked this path before all alone. It’s my turn to walk it now.’ My words reached him and he gave me a smile that I will never forget until my dying day. My memories of Dilip Sahab are my prized treasures, which I will cherish all my life. In fact, they have helped me to define to myself who I really am. Thank you Sir. You have touched my life in ways you cannot imagine.
CHANDRASHEKHAR
THE WORLD MAY KNOW DILIP KUMAR AS THE greatest actor of India; I consider him the finest human being. I am a year younger than Dilip Sahab and, though I was a leading man in the early years of my career, I cannot claim to be anywhere close to the stature he attained, yet the respect and position he gave me each time we worked together to support causes, including those of the film industry workers and artistes, warms my heart even today.
I used to visit Bombay Talkies like so many aspiring heroes of that period and I would see him there. He was handsome and lean, spoke very politely in impeccable English and Urdu. Ashok Kumar, fondly called Dadamoni by the entire industry, too, would sometimes be shooting there. He would look towards Dilip Kumar and quietly tell us: ‘Usko dekho, khoya khoya sa rehta hai aur chup rehta hai. Ek din sab se bada star hoga aur uska naam puri duniya mein phael jayega.’ [Look at him. He appears to be lost in thought and remains silent. But there will come a day when he will become the biggest star and attain fame and recognition the world over.]
Dilip Sahab’s approach to whatever he did remained the same even after he attained huge stardom. He would sit quietly watching the actors, directors and technicians working on the sets of films that were being shot in the studio. He put his heart and soul into everything he did. Some rallies we organized to raise funds for national causes involved considerable management of human resources and motivation; the whole exercise used to be taken over by Dilip Sahab not because he wanted to be in the limelight but because he genuinely cared.
Whether it was the Bihar famine or the droughts in Maharashtra and West Bengal in the 1960s and 1970s, he wasted no time in getting the industry together to collect funds. He inspired us all. His best friend, Raj Kapoor, was always there to help him but the nitty-gritties were invariably left to Dilip Sahab to organize. I remember an occasion when actors Jairaj, David and myself spent days assisting Dilip Sahab to organize a benefit cricket match to aid the devastated victims of the Koyna earthquake [in Maharashtra in 1967]. We managed to collect lakhs of rupees for rehabilitating the homeless victims.
He would be equally concerned to raise funds for needy artistes and workers; the first cheque always came from him. The Film Industry Welfare Trust and superannuation schemes for old, retired artistes were his initiatives. He was the first from the film industry to propose to the Government of Maharashtra for the Dadasaheb Phalke Chitranagari (Film City), which came into existence in 1978. The Nehru Centre [at Bombay] also was Dilip Sahab’s idea. He had big dreams for the Indian film industry and he worked selflessly for it. In contrast to today’s actors who lust for Hollywood, Dilip Sahab turned down David Lean’s offer to cast him in Lawrence of Arabia [released in 1962]. He was proud to be an Indian actor.
YASH CHOPRA
MY ELDER BROTHER B. R. CHOPRA SAHAB was very keen on making a film with Dilip Kumar in the lead. B. R. Sahab had arrived on the scene as a director with the Ashok Kumar starrer superhit Afsana [1951] and he wanted Dilip Sahab to star in the production house’s first offering.
Dilip Sahab remained genuinely unaffected by the extraordinary success that was coming to him with his every new film. He was choosy about the subject, the director and the production house. He was also known to work in only one or two films at a time and remained uninterested in cashing in on his huge mass appeal.
Chopra Sahab had the story of Naya Daur [released in 1957] and was confident that Dilip Sahab would like it. It had a social intent and a timely message for the country, which was on the threshold of changes in the rural economic scenario. He approached Dilip Sahab who had recently swept film-lovers off their feet with his moving portrayal of Devdas in the eponymous film [released in 1955]. His character, who takes heavily to alcohol as an escape from his desolate and lovelorn life, had had the most incredible impact on the youth; the message was clear – resorting to alcohol wasn’t a means to escape reality. I don’t think any other actor could have achieved that.
It was a day of great excitement when Dilip Sahab decided to visit our office near Lido Cinema [in Bombay], to listen to the narration. We were instructed to be well-dressed as Dilip Sahab was noted for his impeccable sartorial sense – white trousers and full-sleeved crisply ironed white shirts. When he alighted from his car, he smiled at me as I rushed to open the door; he then spotted Chopra Sahab who had come out to receive him, and shaking his hand warmly, turned around to greet every staff member. After the narration, Dilip Sahab admitted that he liked the story idea but unfortunately he was committed to do a film for Gyan Mukherjee with whom he had an old association from his Bombay Talkies days. He would surely consider the project after completing Mukherjee’s fil
m. As noted earlier, he acted in only two films at a time and a third would not be accommodated no matter how interesting the offer. He was very particular about that.
My brother was visibly disturbed for some days. He had discussed the subject of Naya Daur with two men he respected very much: The first was Ashok Kumar who categorically told him it would be foolish to cast anyone but Dilip Sahab in the lead because the role fit him to the T; he also spoke to Mehboob Khan whose counterpoint was that the story had little dramatic potential and Dilip Kumar would be wasted in the lead role.
And then an unfortunate incident changed everything. Mukherjee passed away and the project was dropped. So there was room now for one more movie in Dilip Sahab’s work plan for the year. Talks resumed with him and I was witness to the exuberance in the B. R. Chopra unit, as it was an honour to be associated with a Dilip Kumar starrer.
I was third assistant to my brother at that time, having arrived in Bombay just five years ago. Within the unit I was receiving training in direction, production management, editing, cinematography and so on. As B. R. Chopra’s brother, I had access to all the departments of film making but as a unit hand I was on par with the others.
To my excitement and nervousness, I was put in charge of Dilip Kumar, who suggested that his shack in Juhu be used for the story sittings, and it was my responsibility to accompany him. Dilip Sahab spent an entire month with the writer, Akhtar Mirza, and Chopra Sahab. He took up each scene with the dialogue and enacted it bringing in drama, sentiment, humour, pathos and deep emotion that would dazzle us all and render us speechless. He would show us variations in the enactment that would enthral us. He not only dwelt on the moulding of his character but also on the character to be played by Ajit. He was unselfish to the core and made sure that Ajit’s part was equally strong and sensitively written. The same measure of sincerity went into the delineation of the heroine’s role.
That one month was an education I cherished all my life. For a student of the medium, it was like going to an institution and learning the craft of acting, direction, writing and visualization. Dilip Kumar became my guru in the real sense during the making of Naya Daur.
The climax of the film was a big challenge for Akhtar Mirza. How was he to convince the audience that a horse-driven tonga could beat a motor vehicle in a race? Well, it was Dilip Sahab who gave Mirza the idea of the tonga taking a short-cut route to touch the finishing point – something that was logical and convincing.
Naya Daur was to bring together the charismatic Dilip Kumar–Madhubala pair. However, Madhubala’s father, Ataullah Khan created a problem after a schedule in Poona (now Pune). He simply stated that his daughter would not work in a film that was to be shot outdoors. Chopra Sahab was livid! It was an unreasonable demand as it was well understood by the actress and her father that a large chunk of the shooting would be outdoors when the script was presented to them. Evidently, Ataullah Khan had his own axe to grind, but Chopra Sahab was adamant about taking the daughter-father duo to court.
It was no secret that Dilip Sahab and Madhubala were in love. But when the law suit was slapped on Madhubala, Dilip Sahab supported Chopra Sahab.
There was a day’s shooting in a timber shop near Andheri railway station [in Bombay] before the last hearing. Dilip Sahab came to the shoot looking rather disturbed. After the shooting he said to me: ‘Yash, I am relieved that it is all over. Let us not have any bitterness on either side.’ He also told Chopra Sahab who won the case: ‘You have proved to the world that they let you down. Now forgive them and let them be.’ Chopra Sahab did just that.
It was like a blessing in disguise for Chopra Sahab when Vyjayantimala walked into the project. Dilip Sahab calmly went along, firmly of the opinion that the producer had the prerogative to choose the cast and technicians. Vyjayantimala and Dilip Sahab made a superb pair.
Dilip Sahab is not a method actor as many cineastes think. He is a spontaneous actor who draws from his inner emotional reserves when he performs those marvellous dramatic scenes. I am saying this after watching him closely for fifty years or more. This alone was the reason why he had to seek the help of a psychiatrist to purge himself of the melancholy that had set in after all the tragic films he did in a row at the start of his stardom. In his personal life he was a loner till he married Saira. His evenings were spent with friends whose intellects could hardly match his. His siblings were different from him. He spent a lot of time reading and writing and working on the interpretation of the roles and screenplays that he selected.
I recall that as the shooting for Naya Daur was about to commence, it was my responsibility to escort Dilip Sahab from his bungalow to the shoot in Poona. I was given a small car, which was to follow the limousine arranged for him. When he came out, ready to leave he looked at both the cars. He understood that the limousine was meant for him and the small one for me. He walked to the small car, opened the door and sat in the backseat, asking me to sit beside him. I was worried as I knew I would be pulled up by my brother if I let him travel by the small car. However, when we sat in the car he gave me a warm smile and assured me that he would handle things.
Our journey to Poona was most memorable for me. Dilip Sahab put me completely at ease and regaled me with various episodes from his life, including how he earned his first big income with his enterprise at the Army Club in Poona. He described the sandwiches he sold at the stall he had set up there while engaging me in a lively Punjabi conversation.
The privilege of spending long hours with him during rehearsals and when he gave his final shots is unmatched. He was extremely serious about his work; emotions just surfaced naturally when he was before the camera. In the final take, therefore he invariably did what he felt was best.
In Bhopal we shot in a village called Boudini. We travelled by train and had a new building meant for a hospital entirely at our disposal. Both the outdoors had a contingent of 250 junior artistes and a hundred other unit members, including technicians and their assistants. Not even once through the entire course of the shooting in both Poona and Bhopal did I see or hear Dilip Sahab asking for preferential treatment. If the assistants brought outdoor umbrellas, he would ask for them to be given to the ladies in the unit or to the older junior artistes. He would sit with everybody and eat the food cooked for the unit. In the evenings, after pack-up, he took the initiative to create entertainment. He played football, badminton, carom, table tennis, sang, joked, patiently listened to personal anecdotes and shared genuine camaraderie.
I thank god for giving me the opportunity to befriend a man who was exceptional in every respect.
FARIDA DADI
MY FIRST CASTING ITSELF WAS IN A FILM STARRING DILIP SAHAB. It was Filmalaya’s Charity Master, produced by S. Mukherjee Sahab, sometime before his next production Leader (released in 1964). Charity Master was never made for some reason. After that, I was selected to play a child character in Dil Diya Dard Liya (released in 1966). By then, I was quite aware of what film shooting was all about. Although A. R. Kardar was billed as the film’s director, it was Dilip Sahab who was directing the film in actuality.
I watched him in awe as he arranged everything in minute detail for the shots and, at the same time, took care of everybody on the sets. He was ever so respectful towards the elders on the sets and my mother was completely floored by the genuine respect he gave her and took care of her comforts. It was not every day that we come across such a celebrity who spoke with humility and put us at ease without being condescending.
On the first day of my shoot at Kardar Studios in Bombay for DDDL, I could not reach on time as I was held up in Madras. Dilip Sahab cancelled the shooting saying: ‘Agar ek bada artiste nahin aa sakta to shoot cancel hota hai to Farida ke liye bhi cancel ho sakta hai.’* That was a great gesture.
The outdoor shooting of DDDL took place in the fortified city of Mandu in Madhya Pradesh. While we moved from one location to another in Mandu, picturizng scenes against rocky landscapes and performing our scenes on the rugg
ed plateaus, I saw the selfless and tireless devotion with which Dilip Sahab was doing not only his own work but also egging on other artistes to do theirs.
I think I must have done my scenes in DDDL to Dilip Sahab’s satisfaction. When the casting for Ram Aur Shyam (released in 1967) began, he asked the production manager to bring me and my mother to his bungalow to brief me about my character and the dresses that had to be stitched for me. It was an achievement for me to be chosen by Dilip Kumar.
He told my mother about the shooting that will go on in Madras and he assured her that my studies would go on and he would speak to the school authorities to give me leave of absence. I was even more thrilled when I heard that the character required a much younger girl to be cast but Dilip Sahab had insisted on casting me.
The entire production of Ram Aur Shyam in Madras was memorable. All the artistes were accommodated in the Oceanic Hotel and once again it was Dilip Sahab who was marshalling the manpower and organizing everything from the covers of the properties on the sets to the curtains to the artistes’ wardrobes and jewellery. I trailed behind him everywhere and I saw how he synchronized the colours of the curtains and sofa covers with the paint on the walls much to the amazement of the art director and never took the credit for it; instead he always let the compliments go to the art department. It was an education for me just observing him. It gave me some knowledge of how a film was made and I also learned valuable lessons of polite behaviour and speech.
All our evenings were spent in the open badminton court where Dilip Sahab played badminton with whoever wished to partner him. He was also busy editing Aadmi (released in 1968) during spare time and I think he refreshed himself by playing in the evenings. For me it was mandatory to open my books and study after one game. He was very particular about that. Dilip Sahab always had lunch with the entire unit and saw to it that everyone was comfortable.