On Mukherji Sahab and his son Joy Mukherjee

I have been thinking a lot about S. Mukherji , the founder of Filmalaya and one of the major influences in my career. I was witness to the care and love he lavished on his son Joy Mukherjee. He wanted to see Joy scale great heights as a star. It was not just a loving father’s desire to see his son shine as a star on the screen; it was the conviction of the man who had spotted, groomed and launched some of the more adored stars of Hindi cinema besides writers, directors, technicians, singers and composers.

Mukherji Sahab was very particular about physical fitness and he was keen that his son follow a strict physical regime to achieve attractive features like a good physique, chiseled facial features, flexibility in body movements etc. He would tell me: “Yousuf, tell him( Joy ) how you keep yourself fit with your game of badminton and soccer whenever you find time. You must also tell him how you don’t put yourself to great strain in acting. You just become the character you play”.

For Joy’s physical fitness and part of his ‘gyming’ Mukherji Sahab had hired a wrestler, a tough pleasant guy who knew his job well with oiled curly hair falling over his forehead. A wrestling ring was created a regular sand ‘Akharda’ and it was the wrestler’s duty to see that Joy and his brothers took regular lessons from him and went through the requisite regime like body massage etc. Joy had no option but to obey his father and I guess he knew what his father expected from him. Joy became one of the heart throbs of the nation after his debut and I could see the pride in Mukherji Sahab’s eyes.

It saddened me to see Joy when I last met him at our dinner here at home last December. He was unable to walk without help as his weight had increased. The neglect and indifference towards the physical fitness his father had insisted on began after Mukherji Sahab’s passing away. The void was hard for the sons to accept, especially for Joy, I am sure.

DK

On Lifecasting, Cinema and Memories

Had an interesting experience a few days ago. I had read of lifecasting used by sculptors to achieve accuracy in creating statues and busts in museums and by special effects conjurers in cinema for creating dummies in scenes requiring perilous stunts by the actors. 

Last week, Riteish Deshmukh, my dear friend Vilasrao Deshmukh’s talented son, visited us with his lifecasting expert to get impressions of my hands and Saira’s hands which will be in a museum he proposes to have for cinema lovers. The alginate mixture poured into trays reminded me of the mixture I used to see in a bakery in Poona years ago where I used to drop in to buy my favourite biscuits during my first ever stay away from my family in the early 1940s.

It took only a quarter of an hour for the team to get the mixture ready and get our hands imprinted on the mould which I am told will be imaged on metal for display in the museum. It is Riteish’s brain child and it is his way of telling those of us who spent the best years of our lives entertaining and, hopefully, impacting people’s minds through our films, that our hard work and contributions to the growth of the medium have not been in vain.

I have heard from my family about Riteish’s gift for excelling in comedy. I have known him for some years now as a well bred young man doing his parents proud. I hope to be at his wedding on February 3 and share the Deshmukh family’s  happiness on the occasion.


Video is attached with this.

DK

On Memories of January 1

I am wishing all of you a wonderful start to 2012 and pray that the year gives us pleasant times and many, many reasons to smile and feel on top of the world each day of the year.

Personally, it is not just the beginning of a new year for me. It is replete with beautiful memories. It is Saira’s mother Naseem Banuji’s (Appaji) birthday and my thoughts turn to her and the way she made a difference to our lives. My thoughts turn right now to Appaji and the quiet, unobtrusive way she made sure I was living the life that even a king would have envied. She was the epitome of beauty, grace and refinement and it reflected in her speech and manners.

Appaji always made January 1 special not for herself but for all of us by giving us a lovely day with some gorgeous surprises.

Appaji, brought me and Saira together in marriage in 1966. She taught Saira to be the caring, unselfish and understanding wife she is and I would credit it to Appaji that Saira evolved over the years into a strong, gracious woman with the will to bring my own family closer to me.

Saira and I have accepted the will of God and learned to live without her but not a day passes without our thoughts recapturing her contribution to the strength of our marriage and love for each other.
Appaji, we love you.    

DK

Thought on Maharashtra

Wednesday evening was a different experience. Received an award from the President of India, Mrs Pratibha Patil. The award rated me as the best Maharashtrian of the year-Lifetime Achievement. On my way home, I thought over it and yes...

In more ways than one it is Maharashtra that holds the roots of my life and career. I had my schooling at Barnes School in Deolali, Nashik, as a day scholar. The moderate climate, especially the cool summers attracted my parents to stay in Deolali since my mother was ailing with asthma. Years later, after I became known as actor Dilip Kumar, I revisited Deolali in the course of my search all over Nashik District for an ideal location to film Ganga Jamuna’s outdoor scenes.

People came to greet me wherever we stopped and were surprised and happy to converse with me in Marathi. It was exhilarating to travel all over Nashik by road taking in the natural majesty of  the Sahyadri range. My brother Nasir and friend Mukri were with me and we enjoyed the small meals we tucked away at wayside eateries. Hot usal served with crushed papdis and ghati sev, poha, puris with potato bhaji garnished with green, finely cut coriander, jhunka with hot bakri....Maharashtra’s cuisine has its own identity. It titillates the taste buds but is never heavy in the tummy. Our cook of almost four decades is a Maharashtrian, Narmada who has hooked us completely to puran polis, batata vadas, kanta poha etc forever.

One place I can never resist is Pune. I lived and worked in Pune (then Poona) for two years and earned my first “big” money there. I know every street and road in Pune city.  One of my wishes  was to build a house and live in Lonavala, enjoy the convenience of driving to Pune or Nashik whenever I desired and invite friends to spend weekends with me.  


DK

On My Ancestral House and Childhood

The news that the house where I was born (1922) and where I spent a good part of my childhood in Peshawar’s Qissa Khwani Bazaar, then in Undivided India, will be given the honour of being a part of the national heritage of Pakistan has sent my mind racing back to memories of happy days spent in the spacious home and its surroundings. This morning many of you asked me to blog about it.

I am at once full of fond remembrances of my parents, grandparents and numerous uncles, aunts and cousins who filled the house with the sounds of their chatter and hearty laughter. My mother who was frail and delicate was always in the spacious kitchen of the house and as a little boy I would wait for her to finish her chores so that I could just sit by her side and gaze at her beautiful face.

I have memories of the sitting room where the family gathered for high tea in the evenings, the large room where the ladies prayed, the terrace, the bedrooms, everything. I can vividly recall the piggy rides on my grandfather’s back and the scary stories my grandmother cooked up to forbid me from wandering out of the house alone.

I have lovely memories of Qissa Khwani Bazaar, where I received my first lessons in story telling, which later provided the impetus to choose meaty stories and scripts for my work. Every day as the trading closed in the market of Qissa Khwani Bazaar, a story teller would sit in the centre of the square narrating stories of valour and victory, deceit and retribution which I would listen to with wide- eyed attention, seated next to my father and uncles.  It is all there in my autobiography which, Inshallah, will be released shortly.


DK

On Amitabh and my admiration

My Dear Amitabh:

With tears of pride in her eyes Saira handed over the print out of your eloquent tribute to my work in your blog. I read it once, then again and again.

As you yourself would be keenly aware, we actors are completely oblivious of ourselves and our surroundings while we perform and, even when we watch our work in the rushes shown to us, our senses and vision are trained to detect shortcomings more than accomplishments. That’s the only way we know to improve and render performances that come close to our own satisfaction. And it is always the audience who have the absolute right to acclaim or reject our work, however hard we may have worked to achieve perfection and excellence.

I am certainly privileged to know from your affectionate compliments that someone as knowledgeable and competent as you has liked my work. Yes, now that you have reminded me, I can recall the scenes that brought us together before the cameras for Shakti. I should say the respect and admiration are mutual. Not just Shakti, your work in several films I have watched has been world class and inimitable. In recent times I can remember Black and, if I remember right, Saira and I were at a loss for words at the premiere night, after the curtain came down, to express our myriad feelings of admiration for your outstanding performance. It is a pity the film missed the Oscar nomination. If any Indian actor, in my personal opinion, deserves the world’s most coveted award, it is you. I have heard so much about Paa which we didn’t catch up with.  You know how Saira is—she never could see me die in my films and she could not muster the courage to see your death scene in Paa.

Thank you, Amitabh, for your warm love and good wishes. May God keep you, Jaya and your family happy always.

DK