by Dilip Kumar
No book on Hindi cinema has ever been as keenly anticipated as this one …. With many a delightful nugget, The Substance and the Shadow presents a wide-ranging narrative across of plenty of ground … is a gold mine of information.
– Saibal Chatterjee, Tehelka
The voice that comes through in this intriguingly titled autobiography is measured, evidently calibrated and impossibly calm…
– Madhu Jain, India Today
Candid and politically correct in equal measure …
– Mint, New Delhi
An outstanding book on Dilip and his films …
– Free Press Journal, Mumbai
Hay House Publishers (India) Pvt. Ltd.
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Email: [email protected]
www.hayhouse.co.in
Copyright © Dilip Kumar 2014
First reprint 2014
Second reprint 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
The views and opinions expressed in this book are the author’s own and the facts are as reported by him, which have been verified to the extent possible, and the publishers are not in any way liable for the same.
All photographs used are from the author’s personal collection.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or otherwise be copied for public or private use – other than for ‘fair use’ as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews, without prior written permission of the publisher.
ISBN 978-93-81398-86-9 in print
ISBN 978-9-38139-896-8 in ebook formats
To
Amma and Aghaji
Sukoon-e-dil ke liye kuch to ehtemaam karoon
Zara nazar jo miley phir unhein salaam karoon
Mujhe to hosh nahin aap mashwara dijiyey
Kahan se chedoon fasana kahan tamaam karoon
CONTENTS
Foreword
Introduction: A Dream Come True
Chapter 1 Birth
Chapter 2 The Matriarch and Her Brood
Chapter 3 Escapades and Adventures
Chapter 4 Off to Bombay: A New Chapter Begins
Chapter 5 The Growing Up Years
Chapter 6 The Poona Interlude
Chapter 7 The Return of the Prodigal
Chapter 8 The Turning Point
Chapter 9 Lights, Camera, Action!
Chapter 10 New Aspirations, New Experiences
Chapter 11 Between the Personal and the Professional
Chapter 12 Reel Life versus Real Life
Chapter 13 Madhubala
Chapter 14 Devdas, Naya Daur and Beyond
Chapter 15 On the Domestic Front
Chapter 16 The Travails of Film Making: Gunga Jumna and After
Chapter 17 The Woman in My Life
Chapter 18 The Big Day
Chapter 19 Celebrations Galore
Chapter 20 Colleagues and Friends
Chapter 21 Taking Care of Saira
Chapter 22 The Husband–Wife Team
Chapter 23 A New Role: Taking Up Noble Causes
Chapter 24 ‘The Second Innings’
Chapter 25 Family Matters
Filmography and Awards
Acknowledgements
Reminiscences
Raihan Ahmed
Shabana Azmi
V. Babasaheb
Amitabh Bachchan
Jaya Bachchan
Moin Beg
Mahesh Bhatt
Chandrashekhar
Yash Chopra
Farida Dadi
Dharmendra
Sitara Devi
M. Asif Farooqui
Subhash Ghai
Dr Shrikant Gokhale
Kamal Haasan
Farida Jalal
Anil Kapoor
Rishi Kapoor
Aamir Khan
Ayub Khan
Salim Khan
Manoj Kumar
Hema Malini
Mumtaz
Lata Mangeshkar
Ram Mukherjee
Nanda
Nimmi
Bakul Patel
Pyarelal (personal dhobi)
Veera Rao
Waheeda Rehman
Harish Salve
Sayesha
Shaheen
Salim Sharifee
Dr R. C. Sharma
Ramesh Sippy
Sharmila Tagore
Mani Talati
Vyjayantimala
Zoha
Photographs
FOREWORD
IT IS WITH FEELINGS OF EXCITEMENT AND JOY THAT I PEN THIS foreword to my husband’s autobiography, narrated by him, after years of persuasion by me, to my close friend Udayatara Nayar. It has always been an arduous task to prevail upon him to talk about himself, his life and his achievements. I understand it is neither proper nor right for me to extol the virtues of the book you are holding in your hands although I am tempted to do so, the primary reason being my widely known admiration for my husband and the ardent pride with which I have always hung on to every word he has uttered to me or to anyone in my presence over the decades we have spent together as a couple. Such is the magic of his command over words and language, be it English or Urdu, and I have no doubt I am not alone when I say this.
When a shy 22-year-old son of a Pathan fruit merchant was selected by the diva of Indian cinema, Devika Rani, to star in her Bombay Talkies’ production Jwar Bhata (released in 1944), it led to a small change of name for the young man. Yousuf Khan became Dilip Kumar.
It was the beginning of the arrival of a new legend in Indian cinema and Hindi cinema’s first definitive actor was born. Dilip Kumar almost single-handedly redefined histrionics in one screen portrayal after another – from Shaheed (1948), Andaz (1949), Devdas (1955), Naya Daur (1957), Gunga Jumna (1961) to Azaad (1955), Kohinoor (1960) and Mughal-e-Azam (1960) – and from Ram Aur Shyam (1967), Gopi (1970), Kranti (1981) to Shakti (1982), Mashaal (1984) and Saudagar (1991). Dilip Sahab has, in his illustrious career, refined acting to an art form of exalted brilliance. Down the decades every actor of calibre has held him in high respect as the reference point in acting. He went to no school of acting but created his own method of emoting long before ‘method acting’ came to be known in India or abroad.
From the wolf-whistling frontbencher to the most serious critic of cinema, Dilip Sahab’s varied range of histrionics has aroused spontaneous admiration while he has been considered the epitome of fine acting for generations of actors who looked up to him for inspiration. His understated elegance and, Mashallah, voice modulation have become role models for all of us actors over the years.
Few among his countless followers know that Dilip Sahab has always been a voracious reader. Whether it is novels, plays or biographies, his love of classic literature has been foremost. The classics of Urdu, Persian and English literature adorn the bookshelves of our home. When he’s done with the library bookshelves, we have to be ready to offer him a pick of the thousands of books tucked away carefully in our
huge store rooms. Down the years and all through the lifetime I have spent with him, the reading lamp that burns bright by his armchair has shone through the dark hours of the night to the wee hours of the early morning. Be it at home in Mumbai,* or a remote daak bungalow in Dachigam in Jammu and Kashmir, where it would be no surprise to find a hairy bear from the wilderness snoozing on our verandah, or in Kulu-Manali (in Himachal Pradesh), in Switzerland or in any part of the world, when he reads, he is like a child engrossed in his favourite game, unwilling to put it away until time and again I plead with him to rest. If not the biographies or classics or master plot plays by great writers such as Eugene O’Neill, Joseph Conrad, Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Tennessee Williams, he is sure to be engrossed in the writing of a script or a scene that waits to be picturized the next day morning.
Reading a script.
He took up one film at a time and that was his absolute commitment and focus. I remember once he was writing and discussing scenes with producer-director Subhash Ghai in the freezing cold weather of Kulu till very late into the night during the outdoor shooting of Saudagar and, after he sent Subhash away to rest in his room, he continued to examine the scene passionately. At about 4:30 a.m. Dilip Sahab had a bright idea and he did not hesitate to wake up Subhash from his slumber to exchange this new brainwave! Then both of them were like busy bees working on the scenes until they were happy with what they finalized and, mind you, they diligently started the morning outdoor schedule bang on time!
With the completion of his autobiography my happiness is as though a dream has come true. The first section of this volume, set against varying backdrops, will make you part of his journey from the rugged mountain-hemmed North West Frontier Province in British India to hilly Deolali in Nasik district of Maharashtra to glamorous Bombay to traditional Madras to sophisticated London. The poignant as well the mirthful experiences he narrates will give you an insight into the making of the legend called Dilip Kumar who, as the title symbolizes, is the shadow while the substance is a simple, child-like, trusting and genial man called Yousuf Khan.
Indeed, what I can and would love to share in this unconventional foreword are the unseen and unknown facets of the man and actor I have been lucky enough to know and love deeply from the age of twelve when I first set eyes on him.
I want the world that is full of his admirers to be acquainted, through incidents and episodes in the book, with Dilip Sahab’s innate simplicity, straightforwardness and immeasurable goodness of heart.
I started my life as an admiring fan, and fortunate am I to marry him and see the different aspects and qualities of this great human being who was not like any of the people I had met and spoken to during my extensive travelling almost all over the world with my mother Naseem Banuji from the age of seven onwards. Such a man as Dilip Kumar Sahab, I would say, walks rarely on this earth.
We are all aware of his brilliance as an actor and an intellectual but, his persona transcends everything – lands, religions and castes. His is the unspoilt, innocent, untainted smile of a babe in arms – his eyes have the purity and honesty of crystal-clear running water in a brook. His stern refusal to see the negative side (flip side) of anyone, or any situation, has always worried me as also his preference to turn a blind eye to the flaws in people he chooses to like and trust. He would rather focus on the positive qualities and plus points in people and tide over the negative side because he is convinced that he has yet to see a faultless, infallible and perfect human being. From my very first meeting with him as a shy girl, I knew he was different and superior to other men. He had that aura of greatness and class, which made him stand out in a gathering anywhere, be it at home in a family get-together or a grand celebrity-filled film event or amidst royalty and people of high lineage in a royal palace.
His secular beliefs spring straight from his heart and from his respect for all religions, castes, communities and creeds.
For instance, a group of amazing Jain community children who fast sometimes for thirty days (known as Maaskhaman) or sometimes for eight days (known as Atthai) once wanted him to be amidst them and taste the drops of sugarcane juice with which they broke their holy fasts (in 1980 when he was the sheriff of Bombay) to mark the close of their magnificent abstinence from food. He gladly obliged. His knowledge of the contents of the Holy Quran and his recitation of the verses retained indelibly in memory from childhood are no less brilliant than his knowledge and recitation of the Sanskrit verses in the Bhagvad Gita. Many have been the times when he has amazed Udayatara with quotations from the Bhagvad Gita and drawn parallels with the words of wisdom in the Holy Quran and the Bible during their informal conversations while recording his narration of the story of his life. He enjoys celebrating Deepawali with firecrackers and rows of lamps lit at our home by Narmada Gawde, our Maharashtrian cook of forty-odd years, as much as he enjoys the celebration of Eid with his family and close friends at our house. His azaan (call to prayer) is the most captivating, welcoming lilt to bow down to the Almighty as we all scramble to our prayer mats happily to pray together at the command of Allah.
When he ‘sings’ a bhajan (as in the 1970 film Gopi: Sukh ke sabh saathi, dukh mein na koi, mere Ram, tera naam …),* no Hindu can believe that Dilip Kumar is a Muslim or that it is Yousuf Khan who is ‘singing’ this bhajan with such shraddha (reverence) and bhakti (devotion). For instance, there is a famous paanwala in Lucknow whose shop is covered and adorned with Dilip Sahab’s photographs. He is not prepared to believe that Dilip Sahab is not a Hindu.
Among my husband’s closest friends are Parsis and it is a treat to hear him speak Parsi Gujarati the way only Parsis can speak. Needless to say, he has ever so many Sardar (Sikh) friends, some of them having close friendships with him from his Khalsa College days. To say that he is a citizen of the world is certainly no tall claim.
Imitating Saira.
I want people also to know that Dilip Sahab is a man full of joie de vivre (the joy of living). He is as mischievous as a child prankster. When I stopped my work in films and took over the management of the house, sometime after marriage, my new avatar was replicated hilariously by Dilip Sahab a few times having me and my mother in splits. He would perch a pair of spectacles on his head, a telephone diary pressed under his arms, and carry a dress outfit precariously for showing to the tailor in one hand while keeping one half of his pyjama drawn high on his leg (much like me) and he would romp around absentmindedly in the house impersonating me. It was a sight.
Another hilarious and perfect copy was his grand depiction of the dancing queen Helenji’s* famous cabaret item. It had to be seen to be believed! His imitation of the Monica, O my darling** number was mind-boggling! I was amazed! What a superb duplication he did of Helenji! He seductively projected his leg out of the slit of a towel and with the batting of his thick eyelashes to give that come-hither look, he paid his own tribute to Hindi cinema’s most adorable seductress! I wish I had filmed it quietly to show all of you what a good mimic he is.
Great prankster.
Similarly, he once did a fantastic copy of famous Kathak dancer star Gopi Krishna from V. Shantaramji’s Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje (1955), depicting Gopiji’s famous but difficult steps. To add conviction to the dance performance Dilip Sahab would recite the necessary tabla ‘bols’ (words) exquisitely, chanting and doing chakkers (rounds) like a professional dancer, his tousled mop of hair bouncing in a frenzy all over his forehead and you could not miss his mischevious eyes darting to and fro. We rolled over on the ground with laughter. Once Gopiji himself was a sporting witness to one such spectacle, when he visited us with the renowned danseuse Sitara Devi.
For me to introduce his admirers to the countless ‘qualities’ of Dilip Sahab, I will have to write my own book, narrating my life experiences with him over the (Mashallah) wonderful four decades and more I have been blessed by God to spend with him.
Dilip Kumar, whom the world hails as the greatest actor of all time and is also a brilliant orator and intellectual
, does not just play brainy chess or bridge, but also plays like a child with the family. He is superb at the game of dumb charade, the adept actor in him leading us through a labyrinth of expressions to give us clues to hit upon unlikely names of films of yore like Pataal Ke Neeche, Shin Shinaki Boobla Boo, Hatim Tai and Shaque.
He has always wanted to live life to the fullest, never wanting to miss out on enjoying any of the splendours of nature’s beauty. He hates to miss a sunset. Earlier, he used to love to stop at the local bakery where we got freshly hot roasted bread then got a slab of ‘lite-butter’, which we slapped onto the bread and drove merrily, munching along Mumbai’s Bandstand, straight into the great crimson sunset, watching the awesome but humbling sight. Once, when I was working a lot and did not have enough time to myself as I went from my make-up room when it was daytime to the stage floor for my shot and then emerged out of the set when it was dark outside, Dilip Sahab stopped me in my tracks in my mad rush to report from one studio to another and he asked me: ‘Saira, tell me, when did you last see a sunset?’
He loves his simple white cotton attire, but the suave and sophisticated Dilip Kumar loves his beautiful collection of shoes, suits and ties too. I have learnt from him the finest way of maintaining these items. Down the years, I have loved to master the art of going through the various steps to achieve a good polish for the exquisite Dilip Kumar footwear, which are then lodged in shoe trees and wrapped in covers to keep off any moisture. His clothes are lined up and kept colour-wise: ‘White is white and off-white is off-white’ he has driven into our heads. All this looking after of Dilip Sahab was inculcated into me by my mother and you will read in the book that he has Pyarelal, his special dhobi, who launders better than any international cleaner and whom Sahab has known since the time they were both young men.
Humility is what I have learnt from Dilip Sahab. If ever I was in a mild disagreement with my much loved mother, Dilip Sahab would gently reproach me and induce me to go across to her immediately and profusely apologize. He would say: ‘You can never fulfil the debt of your Maa who has given birth to you and brought you up in this big world with so much love and sacrifice.’
