It is late ! And it is unforgivable to be connecting at this hour ! But connect I must even if it is beyond comprehension and desire ! This life line as it were would be so incomplete if it were not so ! And so here I am !

Memory is so deeply linked with nostalgia. We get nostalgic when there is an event or place or deed that memory brings back for us to get that way. I was to shoot for ‘Bbuddah’ today at a building opposite the Haji Ali dargah. I thought I would also pay my respects and prayers at the dargah, as I so often do. But I was running late and had to miss it. The work was inside a building just across the waters of the Haji Ali, by the side of another mosque, commonly known as the blue mosque because of the color of its dome. On reaching there nostalgia took over. It was the same building that Jalal Agha lived in and one that I had visited many a times during my early years in the Industry. Jalal, that accomplished artist, my friend and my colleague in my first film Saat Hindustani, was the son of the famous comedian Agha. We got along well along with Anwar Ali, Mehmood bhaijaan’s brother, him and myself forming a trio that moved around together often. Jalal’s sister was married to one of Anwar’s brother’s. But the three of us were quite a team during the making of Saat Hindustani. The film also had Pushy, Jalal’s other sister as the lead lady. Pushy married Tinu Anand, the director who made several films with me - Kaalia, Shahenshah, Mai Azaad Hoon, Major Saheb. Tinu Anand’s father was the well known writer Inder Raj Anand who wrote several wonderful screen plays and dialogs for many films, prominently those that his son directed. Tinu’s Mother was a great friend of my Mother’s during her days in Lahore before the partition. Her brother was a prominent member of this group in Lahore. Her brother Mr Seth had a son Kiran Seth, who studied with me in University in Delhi. Kiran after finishing University with me joined the Army and was a distinguished soldier. Was, because in the 1965 war with Pakistan he was killed in the battle field ; he was commanding a tank which got a direct hit and perished. What a world we live in. All interconnected and all coming together in different circumstances. Born and brought up in erstwhile Punjab now in Pakistan, divided through history into two nations, those born and brought up in one region deported to another, both regions then battle and the one from the one region gets eliminated by the one from the same region !!

And I now shoot for Bbuddah in the same house as Jalal’s. Jalal who was the one that discovered my ability to do radio commercials and to make use of my voice to make that Rs 50/- to feed myself. The first radio spot I did was for Horlicks - ‘har roz Horlicks pijiye’ and another for the company called Nirlon. Jalal and Annu were the ones that introduced me to City Bakery at the corner of Worli, a cute little shop which made the best biscuits in the city. After midnight we would stand there and have a delightful bite, because after midnight the prices would be halved.

Jalal passed away suddenly. Anwar Ali is now in Hospital with multiple complications and I help him in his treatment. Those lovely memories of Goa and its forests during the monsoons when we shot Saat Hindustani, so vivid and clear and all the fun and mischief that we indulged in during the making, all coming back as I peer out into the Arabian Sea from the third floor of Jalal’s building, now dilapidated and forlorn, deserted with no one there living.

Memories bring back a smile at times and at times sorrow. Happy on one day and not so on another. Yesterday was yesterday. Today it is different and who knows what tomorrow will be.

What shall definitely be tomorrow, will be the final of the World Cup with India and Sri Lanka, here in Mumbai …

Amitabh Bachchan