by Dilip Kumar
‘Where is he?’ I asked an assistant and he whispered that Dilip Sahab was taking brisk rounds of the studio to get that tired, weary look and he had instructed the cameraman to be ready to start the camera when he would stagger in with beads of real sweat on his brow and a look of exhaustion. When I heard that from the assistant, I began to panic internally. Here was an actor who took so much trouble to endow realism to an act and here was me who had not done any preparation and all set to face the camera with such a tremendous actor. When the camera started and I saw the incredible perfection of Dilip Sahab’s performance, all I could do was speak helplessly the line: ‘Aur mat piyo Devdas.’ The helpless look on my face was what Bimalda wanted and it came quite naturally.
I got compliments from Dilip Sahab and Bimalda but deep within me I knew I had tough tests coming. If I had to raise my acting to the level of Dilip Sahab’s acting, I would have to work hard and not leave any loose ends. It was an education for me. I found him working so hard; to bring one particular ras (mood or emotion) to a character he performed with such dedication. I learned from him that the attitude and approach he adopted made all the difference. I took that lesson from him.
I was lucky to work with Dilip Sahab on a variety of subjects. He was a very helpful co-actor who never tired of rehearsals and gave his co-artistes as much time to work up an emotion as was needed in critical situations. In serious dramatic situations and love scenes he went out of the way to create an environment on the sets, which made everybody comfortable. In any case, he consciously saw to it that the love scenes were taken beautifully with looks conveying the emotions rather than any explicit depictions of physical closeness. The famous scene in Paigham (1959) is an instance (see Chapter 14). He wrote the scene himself and he made the situation so funny. Yet, it spoke volumes for the unspoken love the hero and heroine had for each other.
I can give the example of the expressive way he performed the scene in Bimalda’s Madhumati (1958), when he hears a voice and he keeps on searching for the source. A girl’s face emerges through the fog and he asks: ‘Who are you?’ She answers: ‘Madhumati.’ I thought the scene was brilliant in the way it was conceived and the way it was performed. Dilip Sahab always used his voice very effectively, modulating it according to the situation and the best moments in Madhumati showed how well he used the texture of his soft voice to enhance the suspense and mystery.
My best film with Dilip Sahab is Gunga Jumna (1961). I play his wife Dhanno in the film. He recorded my dialogue on tape and gave it to me to study. He understood how hard it would be for me to speak the Bhojpuri dialect. So he had me study the dialogue first and then he delivered those lines for me showing me how to articulate each word and how I should give facial expressions at the same time. It was a great help. You know I am a South Indian and getting the inflexions of the dialect wasn’t that easy. I could not have done it without his help.
I personally love the scene where he breaks down over his wife Dhanno’s death. The pathos that comes through in his performance is amazing. His forte is the painstaking study that goes into characters. The perfection he seeks and achieves in each scene cannot be described in words. His influence on each generation has been such that there is a Dilip Kumar in every successful actor in Indian cinema. Even so, he remains incomparable and unsurpassable. That is because his dedication, honesty and passion cannot be replicated.
The fact is that he is an educated man and has been a voracious reader of literature from various countries. His subconscious, I feel, is a storehouse of characters he has studied from the works of famous authors.
Like all his followers, I have also admired the way he speaks in real life. His choice of words, when he talks even casually, is so good. He has never uttered a cheap word or said anything derogatory or unbecoming about anybody. He is truly special and the real living legend of our times. There can be and will be only one Dilip Kumar.
ZOHA *
WRITING A PARAGRAPH OR TWO ABOUT YOUSUF MAMU, TO ME, feels the same as being asked to explain the com-plexities of the ocean with a glass of water. He used to come over to our home on Mt Mary’s Hill (in Bandra) after a shoot or to bring along bread he’d buy from the local bakery that would be still warm from the oven. Every one of those occasions was special, not because he was Dilip Kumar the famous actor, but because he always brought with him a sense of adventure, of possibilities. I felt safe when he was around. He’d smile and raise an eyebrow … and that would lead to a drive to nowhere in particular, a walk, sharing of a memory or the recitation of poetry … any one of life’s ignored beauties would be acknowledged, explained and explored. Life, while orbiting him, was always kind and pristine, imbued with the warmth of love.
He’d come over to our place and invite us to go for a drive with him. The driver, Abdul, was instructed to drive slowly so that we could enjoy the beauty outside our windows. We’d drive along Bandstand in Bandra, sneak around the church at the end of the road, wind through the neighbourhood of bungalows on our way to Carter Road. We’d catch snatches of the setting sun from between the rows of dried fish strung up by the fishermen, and, if there was a moon, Yousuf Mamu would recite a poem, explaining its intricate shades of meaning in his soft voice, or just hum a classical raga. We’d stop to buy some ganderi (a piece of sugarcane) from the man squatting on the side of the road with his tray of chopped up sugarcane illuminated with a Petromax. Mamu always greeted those anonymous hawkers with respect, sometimes remembering their names and inquiring about their families.
The magnificent events that made up the gist of glossy magazines and news articles weren’t what endeared Yousuf Mamu to me; rather, it was his ability to enjoy and highlight the ordinary, his awe at the majesty of every day and his skill at communicating that awe to me, a child, that remain in my heart.
*Daughter of Dilip Kumar’s younger sister Taj.
Photographs
During the early days.
Fun times with Raj Kapoor and Dev Anand.
Playing badminton with the nimble-footed Vyjayantimala as my partner.
The unit of Mehboob Khan (seated to my right) during the shooting of Aan (1952).
With the winners of the 1958 Filmfare awards (L to R: Composer O. P. Nayyar and actresses Nargis and Shyama).
With Bimal Roy, one of India’s most talented film makers.
Younger sister’ Lata Mangeshkar tying a Raakhee on my wrist.
A framed photograph of mine kept in my Peshawar house.
Introducing Lata Mangeshkar at a stage show.
With my debonair colleague Dev Anand.
Mingling with the public at a function.
Getting the camera angle right.
My make-up man giving the final touches before a shoot.
Meeting my life partner Saira.
Got married on 11 October 1966.
Being received at the Madras airport by producer Nagi Reddy with Baby Farida on my right.
Celebrating with flowers.
With Saira and her grandmother Shamshad Begum Abdul Waheed Khan (Ammaji).
Happy times with Saira.
Saira with her brother Sultan and his wife Rahat Beg.
With Saira and her mother Naseem Banu at a function.
In a jovial mood with Saira.
With Saira at an outdoor location.
Giving the ‘clap’ during the shooting of one of Saira’s films in the presence of poet Sahir Ludhianvi, composer Naushad and actors Murad, Kanwaljeet, Raaj Kumar and Rajendra Kumar, among others.
Discussing a musical point with Naushad.
With Indira Gandhi and Raj Kapoor at a function.
Receiving the Padma Bhushan (1991) award from President R. Venkataraman.
Receiving the Dadasaheb Phalke Award (1995) from President Dr Shankar Dayal Sharma.
Revisiting, with Saira, in 1988, the house in Peshawar where I was born.
Many Moods, Many Faces.
In the company of good old friends Ashok Kumar, Raj Kapoor and Sunil D
utt.
With Dharmendra, Dara Singh, Shammi Kapoor and Pran.
With Sunil Dutt.
With Dharmendra, Waheeda Rehman and Nanda, among others Saira welcomes Lata Mangeshkar at our house (March 2014).
Saira welcomes Lata Mangeshkar at our house (March 2014).
Flanked by Saira and Vyjayantimala.
With Nimmi, my co-star of five films, and Saira.
With Mumtaz, my co-star in Ram Aur Shyam.
With celebrated film makers Yash Chopra and Subhash Ghai.
With the actress-cum-danseuse Hema Malini at an event.
Shahrukh Khan providing entertainment for Amitabh Bachchan and yours truly.
Explaining a point to Shahrukh Khan.
Being greeted by Salman Khan.
In the company of Rani Mukherjee and Aamir Khan.
With Javed Akhtar, his wife Shabana Azmi and Saira.
With the happy-go-lucky Anil Kapoor.
With the Bachchans Amitabh, Jaya and Abhishek.
In the company of Rishi Kapoor, his son Ranbir Kapoor, Subhash Ghai, and Saira’s niece Shaheen.
My shareek-e-hayat Saira a loving wife, a dedicated companion, a faithful friend and, above all, a beautiful person.