Opinion Waheeda Rehman – actor, rebel, feminist

These kinds of intrepid, complex characters were unheard of in the 1950s/’60s/’70s, which were largely devoted to films that rotated around male stars. Rehman stepped into this dangerous void, which could have broken her — but she shaped it through her determination and talent. For instance, in Teesri Kasam she is pitted against an ageing Raj Kapoor, in probably one of the best roles of his life. It is a risk that few heroines would have taken — and it was a similar challenge she undertook in assaying the part of Rosie in Guide, where her love interest is an anti-hero, played by Dev Anand. Rehman depicts an unhappily married woman who plunges into an adulterous affair, striking out on her own once again when she discovers that her independence as an artiste means more than living with an alcoholic lover.

Rehman brought more heft to these two film characters than had been written into the literary stories by RK Narayan and Phanishwar Nath Renu. This is a rare quality that directors could unleash within her — and no doubt still do. They are assured that she will tap into the essence of the character she is to portray on screen. Which is why she has acted in over 90 films and still continues to be in demand.

Her roles, which have left a huge impact, are many but some have been really path breaking — especially the unforgettable handful of films she made with the tragic Guru Dutt, memorably Pyaasa (1957), Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959) and Chaudvin Ka Chaand (1960). Indeed, it is he who could be credited with discovering her while she was still a minor star in Telugu cinema and giving her the kind of roles that brought her enigmatic beauty to the fore. He created the unforgettable image of the innocent girl with the smouldering, kohl-lined eyes which held both promise and mystery.

Rehman has never been anything less than risk taking. The daughter of Mohammed Abdur Rehman, a municipal commissioner who died young, her first rebellion was possibly about learning Bharatanatyam. Not only was her family against it but her chosen guru refused to teach her on the grounds that she is a Muslim. How could she possibly learn a dance devoted to Hindu gods, he asked.

But Rehman was adamant and said that she was prepared to learn from no one else but him. The guru was finally forced into getting a “kundli” cast for her in which it emerged that she would do him proud as one his best pupils. And so he began teaching this little girl, who was only around 11 years old when she began performing on stage. Her cinematic breakthrough would come eventually in a dance sequence for a Telugu film, Rojulu Marayi. In an oft quoted remark, she says that the title of the film means that “the days are changing” and certainly her days began to change.

Yet, when Guru Dutt wanted to sign her up, she rebelled again. She stuck to her guns that she would maintain her name, even though many like Meena Kumari or Dilip Kumar had bowed to pressure and changed their Muslim names to more “popular” ones.

Today we are thrilled when stars are discovered from the South but Rehman made the transition so seamlessly that, unlike Vyjayanthimala or Hema Malini, she never really carried a southern belle stamp. Perhaps it was growing up in a family where Urdu was the spoken language along with Tamil that helped her to manage the transition very well. Or perhaps, like many of that generation, she herself worked very hard on her career, earning a dire reputation for punctuality and discipline.

However, the air of mystery has never really left her, and despite many rumours of romance with Guru Dutt, she eventually found her happiness with a lesser known cinema personality, Shashi Rekhi, settling down in Bangalore with her children. She says she met Rekhi at a friend’s house and discussed opening a restaurant in Paris with him. A few days later, he proposed, and she accepted.

It is because of the personality that she is, with varied and serious interests, including photography, that even now in her 80s she has kept up her zest for adventure and learning. I have been as overwhelmed by reports of her underwater diving with her daughter as I have with her wildlife photography stints or her passion for the environment.

The Dadasaheb Phalke Award could not have gone to a more talented person who shares the same cosmopolitan worldview that the first winner of the award, Devika Rani, also had. She, too, has lived life on the edge, pushing the boundaries to accommodate a feminist vision, while retaining her own identity, that goes beyond cinema, to the larger world.

What a relief she did not open that Parisian restaurant and long may she continue to perform.

Desai is the author, most recently, of The Longest Kiss: The Life and Times of Devika Rani