Conversations with Waheeda Rehman Page 5

  WR: While I was working on Solva Saal, my mother would accompany me to the studio. She started to feel poorly and decided she should rest at home. I called my sister Sayeeda who was living in Vijayawada and asked her to come to Bombay at once. I was shooting all day and did not want my mother to be alone at home, given the fact she suffered from a heart condition. Sayeeda came to Bombay as soon as she could. She was a few months’ pregnant at the time.

  One day my servant called me at the studio and asked me to come home immediately because my mother was feeling very ill. I rushed back and found her barely conscious. We panicked and rushed her to Northcote Nursing Home, which was close to our Colaba house.

  My mother had suffered a massive stroke. The doctors gave her an injection and, thank God, she recovered. When she regained consciousness, we found the stroke had affected her speech and so she spoke with difficulty. She had to stay in the nursing home for six weeks. My elder sister Sha-Apa came to Bombay from Madras to be with us. When my mother returned home, she started improving, but it took her three months to regain normal speech.

  Some weeks later, Sayeeda was due to give birth to her third child. We admitted her into the same nursing home where my mother was treated. Sayeeda had a difficult delivery and on

  9 December 1957 her son was born. When my mother saw the baby, she was very happy. She took the child in her arms and said: ‘I am going to call him Ashfaq.’

  I had no shooting for three days and my mother and I would go and see Sayeeda every day. Three days after Ashfaq was born, on 12 December, we were sitting with Sayeeda and her baby when my mother said: ‘Waheeda, I am not feeling very well. I’ll go and see the doctor. You’ll be shooting from tomorrow, so stay here with your sister. There’s no need to come with me. I’ll go to the doctor’s and come straight back.’

  Fifteen minutes later, our driver came running into Sayeeda’s room and said: ‘Mataji did not see the doctor, but decided to go home. She isn’t at all well. Hurry.’ I ran back home.

  My mother was lying on her side. I turned her around so that I could see her face. I kept calling out to her: ‘Mummy, Mummy!’ She was very still. I told the cook to get the doctor who lived nearby. The cook returned with the doctor who said: ‘She is not my patient. There’s nothing I can do.’ I told him it was an emergency and he had to help her until her cardiologist, Dr Vakil, could come from Opera House. He said: ‘There is nothing I can do. She has passed away.’ I got very angry with him and said: ‘What nonsense! Just give her an injection. She’ll be all right.’ But he did not listen to me.

  Although the nursing home was nearby, Sayeeda was weak and could not come home till later that afternoon. I didn’t know many people in Bombay. I was still more or less a stranger to the city, and so I called Guruduttji and told him to send Guruswamy at once. Guruswamy arrived and he was followed by Guruduttji and Murthy. I could not get through to Dr Vakil, but another doctor came in his place. He examined my mother and said she had passed away an hour earlier. I was completely shocked and refused to believe him. It was too much for me to take in.

  Guruswamy asked for my elder sisters’ numbers so he could call Bi-Apa and Sha-Apa who were back in Madras by then. Since I am a Muslim, Guruduttji thought I should have some older women around me as they would know what had to be done. He called Mrs Mehboob Khan and Mrs A.R. Kardar and very sweetly they came over. I was dazed and shocked and couldn’t even cry. What irritated me was hearing them say: ‘Look at this girl. She isn’t even crying. She looks fine.’ I thought to myself: why did they come? I was so upset that I was angry with them for no reason.

  I kept going into my mother’s room and touching her. I pulled the sheet away from her face. She was still warm. I kept asking everyone why the doctor hadn’t come. Why weren’t they giving her an injection? I had once heard that when a person dies the body turns cold, and since my mother felt warm to the touch, I could not accept that she had passed away.

  Guruswamy called the actor Rehman, thinking he would know about Muslim burials because neither Guruswamy nor Guruduttji knew anything about our customs. Rehman Saab lived nearby in Colaba and came over immediately. At eight that evening they took my mother away.

  NMK: You were only nineteen. You must have felt very alone.

  WR: Those were terrible days. Despite the fact that Rehman Saab was a bachelor at the time, he sent food for us for the next three days. People in mourning are not in a state of mind to worry about cooking and all that, and so it is customary that friends or family send food. Many visitors dropped by to offer their condolences and we had to have something to offer to the guests who came.

  NMK: How did you cope emotionally?

  WR: For a year after that, almost every night, I had a very bad recurring dream. I dreamt that my mother had not died and I kept asking if I had buried her too quickly without being sure that she was dead. Had I rushed? The doctor hadn’t come. She was not breathing, but then why was her body still warm? It was a terrifying nightmare.

  My father had gone and now my mother. My sisters were married. I felt all alone in the world. I was totally confused. I didn’t know what to do. Should I continue working or go back? But go back where? To whom? I didn’t want to live with my elder sisters. They were married and had their own families to look after. I didn’t know what to do.

  People said the best thing for me was to carry on working and finish Solva Saal and Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja. They said I was lucky because at least I had work. It was the best remedy under the circumstances.

  NMK: How did you manage the shooting of Solva Saal?

  WR: After my mother passed away, Sayeeda stayed on in Bombay with her family and ran the house. Our old friend Mr Lingam came from Madras and he looked after my accounts. He was a very sweet and kind man.

  Raj Khosla, Dev and his assistants were very kind to me on the sets of Solva Saal. They distracted me, talking about this and that. Dev was very caring and kept comforting me, saying: ‘Kaam karo. Aur kya karogi? [Carry on working. What else can you do?] Your sisters are married, and besides, it’s not the same thing to live in a married sister’s home. By God’s grace, you have two movies—finish them and then decide what you want to do.’

  NMK: How old was your mother when she passed away?

  WR: She was about forty-nine. Not even fifty. She was very young, you know.

  I always believed my mother brought me to Bombay to leave me in the world of films. If she had not done that, I doubt I would have had the courage to move here alone.

  NMK: In your next film, Kaagaz Ke Phool, your feelings of personal loss are quite visible. I am thinking of the scene where Suresh Sinha and Shanti decide to separate and not see one another again. Your face is full of sadness. The loss of your mother must have been on your mind.

  WR: I was very sad and upset. I felt alone. It was a difficult time. But I always had a sense of discipline and made sure I got to the set on time and did what was required of me. I had to put aside my personal feelings when it came to work.

  NMK: Kaagaz Ke Phool was the first CinemaScope film made in India. Do you remember any discussions about the planning of it?

  WR: I was never involved with those kinds of discussions. When we actors finished the day’s shoot, I used to run out of the studio like a schoolgirl let out of class! Guruduttji, Murthy, Abrar and the technical team then sat together and discussed production issues.

  NMK: Kaagaz Ke Phool is now considered an important classic but at the time of its release, the reviews were pretty dismal. Some people felt the story was confused.

  WR: It was. When we saw the trial show, I personally didn’t think the audience would like it. Abrar Saab got very angry with me and said: ‘What do you know? Why are you saying that?’ I thought the film was too sad and there wasn’t enough happening in the story. It was too heavy.

  As I said earlier, Guruduttji had this habit of asking his cast and crew what they thought about a film, and he also made it a point to ask his valet Rattan. Some peopl
e were taken aback by this and would say: ‘What does your valet know? Why ask him?’ But he believed Rattan’s reaction would not be different from that of the audience.

  When Rattan saw Kagaaz Ke Phool, he said: ‘I hope you won’t get upset, Saab. But Johnny Walker’s part is not interesting, it isn’t funny.’ And he was right.

  NMK: I agree. Johnny Walker’s subplot stopped the narrative flow and weighed the whole story down.

  WR: So Rattan was right, you see? Guruduttji told us that Kaagaz Ke Phool was inspired by A Star Is Born.

  NMK: You mean the 1954 musical with James Mason and Judy Garland? One can see similarities in the story. A star played by James Mason falls in love with a showgirl (Judy Garland). She becomes famous while the career of the male star declines. He turns into an alcoholic and finally commits suicide by walking into the sea. Basically it’s the story of the rise of one artist and the decline of the other.

  Today Kaagaz Ke Phool is a great favourite for many and has gained the reputation of a classic. But I have to admit I have great reservations about the film despite it having some deeply moving scenes. Undoubtedly, Murthy’s photography is ingenious, especially in the song ‘Waqt ne kiya’. This most gifted cinematographer once explained to me in an interview how he created the lighting effect.

  He used two large mirrors—one was placed on the roof of the Mehboob Studio floor where the song was filmed, and the other was positioned on the catwalk inside the set. When sunlight fell on the first mirror, Murthy redirected it to the second mirror and from there he managed to create two parallel beams of light that flooded the set.

  WR: That was a wonderful scene. It was something that had never been seen before. I know there are many good moments in Kaagaz Ke Phool, but as a whole I didn’t think it worked.

  I thank God it is considered such a classic today. But I can’t help feeling the story has flaws.

  NMK: Guru Dutt and V.K. Murthy created brilliant cinema together. They must have had a fabulous understanding and closeness between them.

  WR: Yes, they understood each other very well, but fought a lot. When Guruduttji explained a shot he wanted to Murthy, he wanted the shot ready at once. But they were never simple—they often involved complicated angles, trolley movements, close-ups, mid shots, etc. And since Guruduttji was already thinking about what he wanted next, he would get impatient and say: ‘Murthy, yaar, are you ready? Hurry up now!’

  ‘Nahin, Guru, abhi to shuru kiya maine.’ [I have just started.]

  ‘Arey yaar, you’re taking a lot of time.’

  ‘It hasn’t been five minutes since you told me what you wanted. The camera is not in position. How can the lighting be ready?’

  Murthy Saab would storm off the sets while Guruduttji sat quietly. No one in the unit would utter a word. Then Guruduttji would ask his chief assistant: ‘Did I say too much? What shall I do?’ When Guruswamy became more familiar with him, he’d tell him: ‘I think you should go and say sorry.’

  Guruduttji would disappear and a few minutes later he returned to the sets with his arms around Murthy: ‘Murthy, yaar, main aisa hi hun.’ [Murthy, my friend, that’s just me.] It was very sweet to watch them arguing like children.

  (L to R) Unidentified assistant, Guru Dutt, boatman, S. Guruswamy and V.K. Murthy on a recce in Bengal. Early 1960s. Photograph courtesy: Late Tarun Dutt.

  NMK: The sets of Kaagaz Ke Phool were superbly designed by M.R. Achrekar. His contribution to Indian cinema of the fifties was tremendous. He was also a fine artist and painted a stunning portrait of you. How did that come about?

  WR: We were travelling together on a flight to attend the Delhi premiere of Kaagaz Ke Phool. I was sitting in the row ahead of Achrekar Saab. He came over to me and asked if he could sketch me during the flight. Of course I had no objection. Between Bombay and Delhi, he made twelve pencil drawings and when we landed in Delhi, he said he’d like to paint a portrait of me. He asked whether I would go over to his house in Shivaji Park and we exchanged phone numbers. When I returned to Bombay, I went over to his house some weeks later.

  We had two sittings of an hour each. This was sometime in 1961. He drew five or six sketches and then painted the portrait. He worked very fast. It was amazing. When the portrait was ready, he called his wife to have a look at it. She stared at the painting and then at me and said: ‘It’s very good but the mole on her upper lip is missing.’ She was so observant. Then Achrekar Saab made a second portrait that he gifted to me.

  I have cherished his painting and it has hung on the walls of the many homes I have lived in. I have it here with me in Sahil. Achrekar Saab was such a simple and lovely man. One day I must try and buy the other portrait he made of me—the one with the missing mole.

  Celebrated artist and set designer M.R. Achrekar painted this portrait in the early 1960s. Poonam Apartments, Bombay.

  NMK: He drew brilliant sketches of Guru Dutt and Raj Kapoor.

  And I have seen his beautiful paintings of Lata Mangeshkar, Meena Kumari and Nargis. He managed to capture the inner life of these stars, including you. M.R. Achrekar was a formidable talent and that’s obvious in all his work, including his set designs.

  After Kaagaz Ke Phool, the next film that Guru Dutt produced and released in 1960 was Chaudhvin Ka Chand. I am wondering why he didn’t direct it?

  WR: He believed that Sadiq Saab, being a Muslim, would know the nuances of Lucknavi culture. Little subtle details. For example, when Jameela—the character I play—gets flustered, she says: ‘Hai Allah!’ She would say this and immediately cover her head if a stranger happened to enter the house. It’s these delicate touches. Sadiq Saab was familiar with Muslim traditions and etiquette. Guruduttji had made the right decision. He helped with the filming of the songs, of course.

  When Guruduttji was producing Chaudhvin Ka Chand, people asked him why he had chosen a director whose recent films were flops. He said Sadiq Saab may be down and out, but that did not take away from his directing abilities. Guruduttji was a very generous man by nature and even sent Sadiq Saab provisions for his house because he knew he was going through difficult times.

  NMK: V.K. Murthy told me he went to London as an observer on the sets of The Guns of Navarone because Guru Dutt had asked him to learn about colour photography so he could reshoot the title song ‘Chaudhvin ka chand ho’ in colour, even though the rest of the film was photographed in black and white by Nariman Irani.

  Why the need to redo the song?

  WR: By the early 1960s, many Indian film-makers had started making song sequences in colour, if not shooting whole movies in colour. We were, however, nearly halfway through our production. When Chaudhvin Ka Chand became a super hit, Guruduttji decided to reshoot the song in colour because he knew people would go back to see the colour version since the song was so popular. It was a kind of gimmick.

  I remember I had to dip chamois leather in an ice bucket and apply it to my face because the lights burned my skin. The lights were terribly hot. The colour version was the same as the original, shot by shot. We reshot it at Natraj Studios.

  The Censor Board wanted the song re-censored and asked us to remove a close-up where I am seen turning my face towards the camera. They said my eyes looked too red and sensual. Guruduttji said my eyes were red because of the strong lighting and explained the characters were husband and wife, and so where was the problem? If the Censor Board members of that era saw the films of today, I wonder what they would say. [we laugh]

  Chaudhvin Ka Chand is a lovely film. The story of sacrifice between the two friends Pyare Mian [Rehman] and Aslam [Guru Dutt] is very moving.

  NMK: It’s a wonderful film. Rehman was excellent, and equally good as Mr Ghosh in Pyaasa and Chhote Babu in Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam. He is a hugely underrated actor.

  WR: Many people have asked me if I was related to Rehman Saab because of our surnames. After the release of Pyaasa, my mother and I were invited to a number of parties. Rehman Saab was very protective of me and would quietly come and tel
l us to leave because everyone was drinking and the food was bound to be served very late. He could tell that my mother and I were out of place. Sometimes Rehman Saab asked the hostess to give us dinner in another room. He would advise us to eat and leave discreetly so we did not have to say goodbye to everyone.

  I remember Rehman Saab wasn’t comfortable with dialogue lines that started with a ‘k’—like the words ‘kab’ or ‘kyun’. He would get stuck, and so Guruduttji would ask Abrar to change the line. Guruduttji always found an alternate way of expressing the same mood or feeling. He did not think there was only one way of making a scene work.

  Rehman was a very good actor, and after Pyaasa he was in great demand for character roles. Like Raaj Kumar, he had a wonderful personality and although they both played lead roles, I think they had greater presence as secondary heroes.

  NMK: Did you know Chaudhvin Ka Chand was based on a story by Saghar Usmani called ‘Ek Jhalak’ [A Glimpse]?

  WR: I didn’t know that. Sometime in 1982 or ’83, Rajesh Khanna wanted to remake the film. He asked me to see the film again on video. I said I didn’t have a VCR or a television. He was shocked. We even discussed a possible cast, but he didn’t pursue the idea.

  NMK: I don’t think certain films should be remade.

  WR: I agree. No one would dare remake Gone with the Wind.

  Ek Phool Char Kaante was remade with Salman Khan and Karisma Kapoor, but it didn’t do well. Pritish Nandy was thinking of remaking Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam. But the idea was shelved. There was a TV serial based on Sahib Bibi. It wasn’t very good.

  NMK: Unfortunately you do not have any scenes with Meena Kumari in Sahib Bibi, the Guru Dutt film that came after Chaudhvin Ka Chand.

  WR: I wanted very much to do a scene with her. When I asked Guruduttji to work a scene into the story, he said the two women do not meet in the novel. I immediately told him: ‘When I question you about something, you tell me film-makers must have artistic licence, so why not create a situation?’ [laughs]