For long, members have expressed a desire to know more about Hrishikesh Mukherjee and my association with him, the films that I did and what kind of a relationship I had with him.

Hrishikesh Mukherjee was Hrishi Da to all of us. Da is short for Dada. Dada is endearingly referred to for respect, for an elder, a brother a senior. It is a term that follows most first names in Bengal. I cannot give an English equivalent to it, it is just another uniqueness of our country.

Hrishikesh Mukherjee was a huge name in the Industry. An assisstant to the legendary Bimal Roy, his forte was editing. Being a Bengali there was that inherent tilt towards the more sensitive and sensible content in all his work. I was first exposed to it when I was in Kolkata working in my first job as an executive. I went to see a film quite by accident in a not too prominent region of the city. It was ‘Anupama’ - Dharmendra and Sharmila Tagore. And again, as after seeing Chaplin’s ‘Limelight’, I never slept well after. I saw it three times within two days, a luxury I could ill afford at that time. I talked about it to my friends, to my colleagues, to my family by post. I was consumed by it.

So when I came to the Mumbai to become an actor Hrishikesh Mukherjee was one person I had wanted to meet. It happened when Abbas Saheb my first director, took me along to meet him and to suggest to him the possibility of me working in the film he was about to make with Rajesh Khanna, ‘Anand’.

I never asked Hrishi Da why he chose to cast a complete newcomer and an outsider in his film and never asked him since, why he kept casting me in film after film. For many it may come as some surprise, but Hrishikesh Mukherjee is the director that I have worked with the maximum number of times. I think the figure will be 9 films - Anand, NamakHaram, Guddi, Abhiman, Mili, Chupke Chupke, Bemisaal, Jurmana, Bawarchi, Golmaal. The last 2 were appearances - a commentary in one and a small part in the other. ‘Zanjeer’ may have coined a new phrase for me, but the seeds of the ‘angry young man’ were sown in ‘NamakHaram’.

I mention ‘Guddi’, because I was the hero of the film, (Jaya, as most know was the heroine, it being her first film) and actually shot for it for almost 10 days. But, during the making of ‘Guddi’, ‘Anand’ released and became a huge success. It had Rajesh Khanna in the lead, the first actor for whom the term super star was coined. Nothing ever has been seen since, that comes anywhere near matching the hysteria and fan madness of those years. The success of ‘Anand’ rubbed a bit off on to me as well and Hrishi Da felt that a now known face for ‘Guddi’ would be inappropriate for the film. I was dropped from the film and Samit Bhanja, a very fine and accomplished actor of prominence in Bengali cinema was taken opposite Jaya. I remember I was shooting for a South Production of a film called ‘Pyaar Ki Kahani’, when Hrishi Da called me and told me of his decision. I was crest fallen. But he explained to me the reason and I understood. He did, however, do something very sweet. In a sequence of “Guddi’, he put in a clip of another film I was shooting for those days, ‘Parvana’ where I played an obsessed lover with grey shades. ‘See’ he said later to me ‘ I have not dropped you from the film, you are very much there’!

‘Guddi’ had brought Jaya and me together and since she was given the first break by Hrishi Da he became in a sense our godfather. When Jaya and I decided to marry, he was the first one that we went to after telling our parents to seek blessings. Him and Abbas Saheb.

There is another fact that many may not know. The leading lady that I have done the maximum number of films with, is Jaya. And most of the films have been directed by Hrishi Da.

Hrishi Da made films that were middle of the road - not the escapist commercial fare predominant of the times, neither the too artistic parallel cinema genre. They were films that were real and sensitive and socially relevant. They were made in modest budgets and had a simplicity that sadly disappeared after he became incapable of working, due to ill health. He was a master editor and had the ability to see an edited version of the film even while shooting it. Which is why when he would direct us and we would want to know why we were doing what we were doing he would simply say just do as I tell you. And as always the final product was awe inspiring. He was a simple man which is why I presume he was able to bring that culture in his films - a culture that all identified with in as realistic a manner as possible. A great lover of the finer arts, which Bengali isn’t, he was an accomplished musician and a skilled chess player. In between shots as the lighting would be in process, he would strike up a game or two with his assistants. He hated the pomp and glamour of the fraternity he was aligned to. He was a socialist and conducted his life in those beliefs. Nothing ostentatious or affluent attracted him. His house though expansive had very minimal possessions. The only objects of excess in his home were his pet dogs - he had hundreds of them and cared for them like his own children.

He was a great economist. Producers loved him because of the novel ways he would save them money. For him the strength of the story, its written word and the performances were supreme. Nothing else mattered. Costumes for a particular film, were an area that some of us that worked with him, would find difficult to negotiate. There were no dress designers in those days. The director chose what you should wear and the production tailor would make them for you. Invariably artists would bring their own clothing.

With Hrishi Da, when we would report on set and he would narrate the scene to us, we would ask him what we were supposed to be wearing. ‘ What you are wearing now is fine’ , he would say to us dismissively, without looking up from the chess game in process. And we would land up in the film wearing whatever casual wear we had come to the studio in. Subsequently some of us became a little smart. Knowing that he would approve the personal dress we wore to the studio to be the costume for the film, we started dressing up at home in our own finer clothing, just so we could look good on screen.

He hated wasting raw stock. If we were not satisfied with a particular take he would refuse us the opportunity to try another one. When we would insist, he would lay conditions. ‘If the take you give now is not better than the one I have approved, then you pay for the raw stock film that you have wasted.’ He would win always.

We were never shown the rushes of the film by him, always the finished product. Entering the editing room was prohibited for artists in those days. If somehow you sneaked in and he found out all hell would break loose and heavy penalties imposed. There were no video assists in those days. Today through this technology we can see each shot that has been taken soon after ‘cut’ is announced and improve performance and angle and lighting, whatever, immediately. Not so in Hrishi Da’s time or even before. The director sat by the camera and saw the shot live, made camera angles and shot takings instinctively through his own creative guile and talent and then waited for the shot to be processed in the lab days after, for him to get an idea what had been captured by the camera.

When you see some of the masterpieces of those times, you wonder how ever they were able to get such perfection in their framing and in their execution without the technical help that we have today.

He had endearing pet names for all his artists. He called me ‘maharaj’, for some reason. I never asked why. Strong in will and belief, he never compromised with either. Afflicted with severe arthritis during his later years, he would function with the help of crutches on set. When he finally found it difficult to move he confined himself to his home his dogs and his music system.

On special occasions Jaya and I would visit him. He was lonely and he would tell us to drop by as often as we could. I last saw him step out of his house when I insisted that he come and bless my daughter Shweta on her marriage. He came early, sat for a while gave her the blessings and left. Sitting and moving about was painful for him. He called me often to just converse and know what I was doing creatively. When he heard about ‘Black’ he wanted to see it. I took a copy of the DVD for him to his house. He was now not in a position to move on his own. Nurses and assistants helped him. He clutched the DVD like a little child that had got his desired ice cream. A few days later he called and in an emotionally choked voice he said -

“Maharaj.. this is your finest ! But it is still only 30% of what you can do !

In 2005 when I went in for my sudden surgery because of my stomach condition, he had been admitted to the same hospital. One morning he wheeled himself into my cabin in the ICU stating that he was next door and asked me to get well soon and come and visit him. By the time I recovered he had already been discharged, but his condition remained precarious. Some months later he was admitted into the ICU again in a more serious condition. When Jaya and I went to visit him he was semi conscious and on the ventilator. He saw me through foggy eyes and with great difficulty beckoned me to come closer to him. I did. A tube ridden hand rose from under the sheets and quivering reached up to my head in blessing. Then dragging it to his lips with great difficulty, he kissed my forehead and closed his eyes. I stood there looking at this maestro, now unable to breathe on his own and an entire lifetime of my association with him passed by.

A few days later he passed away. And with him passed away an era. I doubt today’s generation will ever value Hrishi Da’s contribution to that middle of the road cinema and the simplicity that it invoked in all of us.

But I have faith in simplicity. It is seldom talked of but always noticed. Just like Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s films.

With love and a prayer -