A scribe’s tryst with filmdom

My visits to the studios became infrequent as my administrative responsibilities increased. I didn’t miss the interaction as I had little in common with the new breed of stars. I’m of the opinion that every fresh crop of journalists must discover a fresh batch of stars to interview. Only then can new insights emerge. It’s best that they fight, make-up, trust, grow and influence each other. This prevents cynicism. Once in a while, when the pressures were less and the mood right, I would drive to a neighbouring studio but returned confused.

In the new world the stars and their staff, make-up men and dress-designers were too informal. The heroines travelled to studios in kaftans and the heroes in shorts.Aamir Khan, who was shooting in my neighbourhood, dropped in at my home wearing shorts, with a briefcase in hand. I was embarrassed introducing him to my 85-year-old mother. `Is he the neighbour’s son?’ she asked me through sleepy eyes. A few days later he was shooting outside the building and visited me early in the morning. An hour of heated discussions and three cups of tea later, when he could not control his hunger, Aamir said, `I’m famished. Aren’t you going to offer me breakfast?’ Accustomed to eating an early lunch, I told him the family wasn’t reared on the breakfast culture, but the maid could cook him some upma or aloo poha. `I want eggs’.

There are no eggs, I told him. This is a vegetarian home. `What about toast and butter?’ Gujaratis have superior notions about eating bread but we can get you a packet as soon as the shops open. `In that case, what about some cornflakes?’ I shook my head again. `Forget it. Just give me some milk’. That was the last time Aamir Khan came home. Or I invited himover.

Madhuri Dixit was introduced to the press by Subhash Ghai on the sets of am Lakhan. When, later in the evening, she sang, `Number 54. House with the bamboo door,’ everyone was impressed. From the very beginning, Madhuri has maintained her distance with the media. No journalist can claim to know her on a personal level. Even though she has done a number of photo-sessions for a number of magazines, the defences have never been lowered.

I have seen flashes of anxiety when a favourite film like Prem Pratigyaa or Sangeet was due for release. She was keen to know what the press thought of her performances. They were performances she was proud of and she wanted the films to do well. Much later, there were moments of vulnerability when travelling to the USA for her shows with Anil Kapoor, she was tired and unwell but was expected to perform within hours of landing. At the Chicago airport, during the immigration, the officer insisted on breaking up the group. Madhuri was on priority for she had a show thesame evening, but not her parents. When Madhuri remonstrated, the officer retorted, `It’s only a day and you are not dependent on them, are you?’ When, later, I told her that she could have argued that she wasn’t but her parents, being old, were dependent on her, she regretted keeping silent. `I didn’t think of it. I’m not used to arguments’.

For the launch of our Hindi edition, it was decided to invite her as our chief guest. Her arrival created a storm in Delhi. After the function, as I was leading her to her room, I felt giddy and nauseous. Even before the elevator could stop on the third floor, I started to throw up. I was rushed into Madhuri’s room but before I could make it to the basin, the passage and the toilet area had been soiled. It was a repulsive sight and I felt deeply embarrassed by the mess, but there was genuine sympathy in Madhuri and her mother. At awkward moments like this you miss your own family. Still, the Dixits showed a lot of grace, even though the housekeeping took some time toclear the carpet and the walls.