Dilip Kumar: The Substance and the Shadow

by Dilip Kumar

  In the late 1990s, when we met at his home to discuss the format and content of the script to be filmed for his home production, an interview-based TV serial Is Duniya Ke Sitare, he suggested we make classical dance the base and go ahead with the programme. That was something so close to my heart and we filmed it likewise, showing me practising Bharat Natyam at my residence and then proceeding to the interview. It turned out to be a success. During editing, he intercut the interview with flashes of my classical dance from the film Mrigtrishna (1975), which is one of my outstanding performnaces on celluloid. During the shooting of the serial at my home, my mother, Jaya Chakravarti, who was a great fan of Dilip Sahab’s movies, was so excited to know that he was coming that she specially ordered the kitchen staff to make him North Indian dishes, with a distinct Punjabi cuisine.

  The gentleman that he is, he greatly relished each item, but little did we all know that, having lived in Madras and with a liking for everything South Indian, he would have instead preferred rawa masala dosa and the classic sambhar and chutney!

  We have constantly run into each other at various film functions and my happiness knew no bounds when he said he liked my performance in the 1986 film Ek Chaadar Maili Si (based on Rajinder Singh Bedi’s much acclaimed novel). We also kept running into each other in Lucknow while campaigning during elections. Sahab was all for Congress, of course, while I supported the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).

  Being a Bharat Natyam artiste, when, for the first time I incorporated Kathak dance portions in my new ballet Draupadi, I invited Dilip Sahab and Sairaji (who is a disciple of Kathak queen Padmashri Roshan Kumari) to witness the premiere performance. They sat through the entire ballet and appreciated it.

  Dharamji,* who dotes on Dilip Sahab like a brother, and I were touched to the core when he and Sairaji, despite intense traffic jams and huge crowds, attended our daughter Esha’s marriage with Bharat Takhtani in June 2012. It meant so much to us to have Dilip Sahab’s and Sairaji’s blessings for our child.

  I am indeed happy to know that Dilip Sahab will be giving the world a rare look into his remarkable life with this book.

  Here’s wishing him and the lovely Sairaji the very best in life.

  *Hema Malini’s first Hindi film, released in 1968, in which Raj Kapoor played the hero.

  *Dharmendra, Hema Malini’s husband.

  MUMTAZ

  I OWE MY RISE IN BOLLYWOOD AS A star and an as actress of consequence to Dilip Sahab. At the time when comedian Mehmood suggested my name to Dilip Sahab for a role in Ram Aur Shyam (released in 1967), I was mostly working in films starring the famous wrestler Dara Singh, apart from Mehmood himself. The Dara Singh films came under the ‘C’ category in commercial terminology. As a result some heroes who were nowhere near Dilip Sahab in stature were refusing to work with me. To mention some names, Jeetendra, Dharmendra and Shashi Kapoor, plainly told directors who wished to cast me to come up with the name of some other leading lady. If I secured Boond Jo Ban Gayi Moti (released in 1967) with Jeetendra, it was only because the veteran producer-director, V. Shantaramji, told Jeetendra that he would cast another hero in the film if Jeetu had a problem working with me.

  It was in such a scenario that Mehmood took tins of reels of a film starring me with him to Madras to show Dilip Sahab who was looking for a heroine to play the rustic character opposite the character Ram. It was very good of Mehmood to take the trouble because he and I were a good successful team and, in normal circumstances, no actor would like to break a successful team and go all out to recommend his heroine to a superstar and pave the way for her rise.

  I was very very lucky because Dilip Sahab liked my work in the film he was shown and he felt I was ideal for the role of Ram’s buxom and vivacious sweetheart in Ram Aur Shyam. Just imagine the scenario. An actress who has faced the humiliation of being rejected by a few A-list lead actors is picked by the legendary thespian Dilip Kumar to star opposite him. It made sensational news.

  I remain eternally indebted to Dilip Sahab for changing the course of my career. Overnight, after the announcement of the casting appeared in the media, I was in great demand. I had the maturity and wisdom to remain level-headed and patient, knowing that God sends opportunities to take the deserving to their goals. The truth is that I was always confident that my day would come if I focused on my work and toiled sincerely. The reward came with a deluge of offers following the casting in Ram Aur Shyam.

  Dilip Sahab did not pause to see with which hero I was working when he decided to include me in the cast of Ram Aur Shyam. He was solely concerned with the suitability of my looks and acting abilities for bringing alive the village girl Ram loves. It was a role that had to contrast with the sophistication of the character of the rich, city-bred girl Shyam meets (played by Waheeda Rehman) when he lands up in the city.

  The shooting of Ram Aur Shyam passed off like a dream for me. During outdoor shooting at Panhala (in south-western Maharashtra), Dilip Sahab and Saira were newly married and we all got the opportunity to spend quality time together. I remember the whole unit came to their bungalow where they were staying, to celebrate Dilip Sahab’s birthday on 11 December 1966 and the ragging was on because both of them took their own time come down from their upstairs room! Saira and I developed a friendship and we began confiding in each other. In between the outdoor shots, there were interesting tête-à-têtes between us, with comedian Mukri regaling the entire unit with funny anecdotes. Later, when I married Mayur Madhwani in 1974, I was so happy and touched that, despite the bed rest she was prescribed by the doctors at the time, Saira and Dilip Sahab had still graced my wedding reception. Just a few days ago, I visited them again after long and we spent a very happy evening together.

  Dilip Sahab’s greatness lies in his extreme humility and the trouble he takes to groom artistes who work with him. I benefited not only in the positioning I got after the casting of Ram Aur Shyam but also in the respect I gained with seasoned directors who eagerly cast me in their films after that.

  Eventually, I was sought after by the very individuals who rejected me and I couldn’t but thank the Almighty for giving me that thrill and pleasure. Producer-director L. V. Prasadji chose me over many other names suggested to him for Khilona (1970), for which I won the Filmfare Best Actress Award. Shashi Kapoor eagerly signed N. N. Sippy’s 1974 blockbuster Chor Machaye Shor with me and Dharamji gladly signed Loafer, among the top grossers of 1973.

  All this taught me that self-belief and faith can indeed move mountains. I got married to Mayur Madhwani at the peak of my stardom and quit the industry. I have been away from the arclights for around forty years now. I battled against the spread of a killer disease and once again God stood by me. Life does not stop teaching you how to live and be grateful for the bounties granted to you.

  LATA MANGESHKAR

  I WAS INTRODUCED TO YOUSUF BHAI BY the noted composer Anil Biswas in a local train sometime in 1947. Anilda was taking me to Bombay Talkies and, when we boarded the train, Yousuf Bhai was already there in the compartment. Anilda knew him well, so they greeted each other warmly. I had heard about Yousuf Bhai but he did not know anything about me. So Anilda introduced me to him saying: ‘Yeh Lata hai, bahut achcha gaati hai.’ (This is Lata, she sings very well.) Yousuf Bhai said: ‘Achcha, kahan ki hai?’ (OK. Where is she from?) Then Anilda gave him my full name, Lata Mangeshkar.

  The remark that Yousuf Bhai made when he found out that I am a Maharashtrian is something that I cherish because it made me seek the perfection I then lacked in my Hindi and Urdu diction. He said very truthfully that singers who were not conversant with the Urdu language invariably tripped in the pronunciation of words derived from the language and that jarred and spoiled the listening pleasure for those who enjoyed the lyric as much as the melody. At first, it saddened me that he thought I had a flaw in my rendering. Then, I thought over the remark and I realized he was right and he had said it with the intention of improving my diction if it needed the improvement.

 
I went home and sent for a family friend who was an Urdu expert to come over urgently as I wished to take lessons in Urdu immediately. A learned maulana* was arranged by Shafi Imam, our family friend who was like an elder brother to me. As I continued my Urdu lessons, I found myself being appreciated and admired more and more. So, in the first meeting itself, Yousuf Bhai gave a gift unknowingly and unhesitatingly.

  We did not meet too often those days. However, whenever there was a recording of a song at Mehboob Studios and Yousuf Bhai was shooting there, I never missed the opportunity to call on him. He was a superstar and I was rising on the horizon as a playback singer, but, when we met, he held me close to his heart like an elder brother and gave me the love and respect that only someone as pure as he could.

  Another talented composer, Salil Chaudhury, gave me an opportunity to sing a duet with Yousuf Bhai for Musafir (1957),** and it was a memorable experience to observe the pains he took to sing faultlessly. His eldest sister Sakina Aapa was very fond of me and I visited her often. Yousuf Bhai would be around sometimes and one could see how much he loved his family and went to any length to make his sisters feel secure and happy. He had the same measure of affection for me and I always felt he was as protective about me as he was about his sisters. I remember, for instance, an evening at Kalyanji bhai’s house where, after the snacks were served, a plate of paan (betel leaves) arrived. (Composer Kalyanji, along with his younger brother Anandji, formed a musical duo.) When I took the liberty of telling Yousuf Bhai to have a paan, his expression changed to a frown. He said: ‘It is not proper for you to do this. Never do it in future.’

  I was taken aback because, at that time, I had no idea that it was not appropriate for a decent lady to offer a paan to a man. I also remember the evening before my concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London in 1974. Yousuf Bhai asked me to give him the list of songs I had selected. I had done so carefully since it was my first concert outside India. The first song on the list was Inhi logon ne le leena dupatta mera* from Pakeezah (1972). Again, I noticed that there were lines on his forehead as he asked: ‘Why do you want to sing this song?’ referring to the Pakeezah number. I told him it was a popular song and the Asian audience would love to hear it live. He was silent for a minute and then he quickly went on to discuss something else. I could sense his objection to my singing the song because the lyric alluded to something he did not want to hear from his sister.

  Yousuf bhai’s speech at the Royal Albert Hall was a masterpiece. Many speakers have since tried to repeat the same words and phrases in their speeches but no one could match his eloquence and charisma and the dignity he exuded that evening. He graciously introduced me as his chhoti bahen (younger sister) and, as is his wont, every word he spoke was carefully chosen.

  What makes Yousuf Bhai different from other stars is his unaffected humility and the sense of belonging he gives to each individual in his own way. The apnapan [sense of belonging] he radiates is so genuine and from the bottom of his heart. The courtesy, etiquette, tehzeeb [culture] and warmth you see in him are hard to find in anyone these days and even in the times gone by. I remember greeting him at the wedding reception hosted by [actress] Padmini Kolhapure’s parents at a five-star hotel (I cannot recall when exactly). He returned my namashkar [greetings with folded hands] warmly and he recognized my niece Rachna** who was with me, asked her about her brother and chatted with us for a while. It is difficult for most people who meet him to believe that a great personality like him with a worldwide fan following can be so simple and unassuming.

  He once phoned me after listening to a ghazal album I had cut and told me how much he enjoyed listening to it. A few months later, another album of ghazals I had rendered caught his attention and he listened to it. He did not like what he heard. He phoned me to express his disappointment. Yousuf Bhai is like that: child-like, honest, simple and pure at heart.

  Finally, what makes me extremely happy is that he is married to a woman who is not his better half, but his best half. They are made for each other.

  *An Islamic scholar known for his religious learning.

  **The opening line of the song, written by Shailendra, is: Laagi naahi chhoote Rama.

  *It is these people who have taken away my dupatta, the garment used to cover a woman’s head and chest. The dupatta is considered a symbol of a woman’s modesty.

  **Rachna is the daughter of Meena Mangeshkar, Lata Mangeshkar’s sister.

  RAM MUKHERJEE

  I SURELY MUST HAVE BLESSED WHEN SHASHADHAR MUKHERJEE SAHAB decided to entrust Leader [released in 1964] to me as it was every director’s dream to direct Dilip Kumar.

  Dilip Sahab was very dear to Mukherjee Sahab. They consulted each other on most personal and professional matters and it was obvious that they had discussed and liked my work as a director in Hum Hindustani [1960].

  Mukherjee Sahab’s first instruction to me was to spend as much time as possible with Dilip Sahab. He said: ‘Stay with him if you must; spend your waking hours with him and develop the script and screenplay along with him. He is a genius when he crafts a screenplay and it is your good fortune that you are getting to work with him.’

  I started visiting Dilip Sahab’s Pali Hill bungalow every day. Some days I accompanied him wherever he went, visiting someone or just driving through Mohammad Ali Road, stopping the car at his favourite café to pack some succulent meat kebabs, which he would share heartily with me. People would gather around his car and he would talk unaffectedly and unassumingly with all of them. I could see the pleasure and genuine joy in the eyes of all those simple awestruck people who approached with apprehension that they might be shooed away or insulted for crowding around his car.

  Dilip Sahab’s love for his fans is something no star of his time or later could emulate. He once told me: ‘You know, Ramu, when an unfamiliar hand clasps mine and I feel the warmth of genuine adulation in that clasp I feel a deep sense of reward for all the hard work I put in for a performance which no award can give me. It is all right to be called on to the stage and presented with an award and a thousand hands are clapping in assertion of the acclaim you have won with your dedication. But when compared to a poor man who comes to me, his eyes moist and conveying so much, I feel truly rewarded!’

  Dilip Sahab worked on the script and screenplay with untiring zeal, writing, rewriting, reviewing the scenes with me; discussing the sets, costumes, make-up, backdrops, outdoors and indoors in detail. There were nights when I stayed up with him at his house when he would be writing continuously. When he would fall asleep in the wee hours, I would drive back home and catch up with my sleep. It was then I understood why Mukherjee Sahab had instructed me to be with him all the time; it was to be my education – exposure to the dedication and passion of a man who worked relentlessly to achieve perfection in his work.

  On arriving at Filmalaya Studios for the first day of shooting [for] Leader, I discovered the special make-up room reserved for Dilip Sahab had been given to another popular star also shooting there. The studio manager was in a spot. I was extremely nervous thinking I would have to call off the shooting. Meanwhile, Dilip Sahab arrived and as is his habit he walked into Mukherjee Sahab’s office. Now there was no question of my going inside and telling them what had transpired.

  Dilip Sahab somehow learnt of the situation; he quietly came out from the office and walked towards me. I could feel beads of sweat erupting on my forehead because, all things considered, it was my responsibility to ensure that the make-up room was not allotted to anyone else. Quietly pointing out to a banyan tree in the compound he said: ‘Put a chair and small table for me there. If I do my make-up there, will you have a problem?’ he asked.

  I was at a loss for words. My first thought was how Mukherjee Sahab would react if he came to know that the biggest star of the industry did not have a make-up room in his studio for his own production. Sensing my confused thoughts, Dilip Sahab smiled and said: ‘Leave the matter to me. Just arrange for the table and chair and some clean w
ater.’

  The first day’s shooting was really one of its kind. Dilip Sahab’s cheer was infectious, and we worked like a unit on a picnic.

  At all the outdoor and indoor shootings Dilip Sahab’s co-operation made my work easy and pleasurable. He had solutions for every problem that cropped up. However, he distanced himself when we had problems with Vyjayantimala who began to arrive late for our shooting because she was shooting for Raj Kapoor’s Sangam [also released in 1964] at the same time. He left it to Mukherjee Sahab as the producer to deal with the issue since he was very close to Raj Kapoor and he did not want any misunderstandings.

  Dilip Sahab was as much a producer’s delight as he was a director’s dream. He never let down the producer and respected his authority. He saved expenses for the producer and seldom asked for preferential treatment. When we were shooting at a location in Udaipur, there was a huge crowd outside the palace where we were shooting. He was concerned about the security of the entire unit and especially Vyjayantimala. He would tell me: ‘We Pathans always make sure that women and children are safe and secure. It is a rule I was brought up on.’

  As we packed up the shooting we heard that the crowd was getting unruly and the local police was having a tough time controlling them. They wanted to see Dilip Sahab. I felt it was not safe for him to go out and greet the crowd but he said it was their right to seek a look at the film stars. He greeted the crowd and addressed them on a public address system. The crowd dispersed when he politely asked. Two cars had been arranged for the stars. Dilip Sahab was with me in one car and Vyjayanti and her grandmother in the other car. As his car drove out a young man on a cycle threw himself in front of Sahab’s car with the intention of getting a close look at him or even touch him. Fortunately, the driver braked in time; at first Dilip Sahab was very angry with the youth but he stopped the police from handling him. While Dilip Sahab was helping the young man to his feet, all he could do was stare and shake his head with disbelief.