The reactions to Waheeda ji have been so invigorating. I never ever realized that there would be many among you that shared similar feelings. Yes she has been an exceptional lady and shall always remain within all of us that have admired her work, as that simple and gentle breeze that blew ever so fragrantly around us.

Reshma aur Shera was full of so many wonderful experiences. Living together in Pochina was like a great big army settled in around the village in a semicircular pattern. The tents were designated to different people, each having their own private little space and bed. In our tent there were 6 of us and after work was over we would all tuck ourselves into our hold- alls and our quilts, for it did get chilly by the time night fell. The place was infested with little bugs special to the region, which would climb onto the body almost like leaches and leave painful bites. There were the desert scorpions too, invisible in color and dangerously poisonous. They were difficult to spot in the sands, because of their transparent structure and many in the unit became victims of their sting. Apart from being exceedingly painful, the scorpion bite would give a fever and if not attended to could prove fatal. On one of the schedules coming to an end, when I rolled up my bed to pack and leave, I discovered to my horror that three of the deadly scorps had been under my pillow ever since I came in. Whhhooooaaaaa !! There were the usual folk tales of the special snakes that existed around the area, snakes that would slide up on to your chest as you slept and merely by their hiss, could deliver a deadly poison into your face ! The cure and precaution apparently for these sliders was tying a whole bunch of onions at all the four posts of the bed you were sleeping on. Ramchander ji, our DOP, the director of photography and one who feared this special phenomena much, was the one that spent the maximum portion of his time at the camp store, loading himself with bags full of the ‘tear jerker’. No one ever encountered one of these lovelies, but its fear and its strange behavior kept all of us on constant vigil.

There were the obvious ‘tipplers’ too that would sit around the camp fire every night and enthrall us with impromptu sessions of song and poetry - the recognized trait of most Indians when they had sailed off with just that little excess. KN Singh, that most dreaded villain of the 50’s movies was among our cast - evil as hell on screen, but the most amiable and learned of all the cast. He would keep us engrossed with his great knowledge of Urdu poetry and stories of the earlier days of the Industry for long hours in the night, as he nursed his favorite bottle of rum - the limited supply of which in this distant remote land, made him safely store his quota underneath the sand, to preserve it yes, but also to keep it away from those that prowled around to steal it. There would be a few obvious inebriated casualties too. And after they had been led to their respective beds after a rough night, some of us younger lot would sneak into their tent, pick up the entire bed they were on and travel a good 100 meters to the sand dunes nearby and place them there in the open air. Then get up as early as possible and stand around nonchalantly to watch the reaction and fun when they awoke !!

The most dreaded moment would be the sand storm ! This came on unexpectedly in the day and would last for more than 48 hours at times. So strong was their force that one could lean over their force and remain suspended in mid air without support ! Problem was, the sand was like minute particles of burning coal hitting your face and body and no matter how much one tried to cover ourselves it was never sufficient. Most of the day and night was spent inside the tent, scooping out all the excess sand that was piling up all over the enclosed area.

On a clear day the sky was never more beautiful. You could almost stretch out your hand and catch a few stars. Some of us would gather atop the soft dunes in the pleasant evenings and ‘dholak’ in hand would sing every possible song that we had learnt as kids or had had an association with from the films of the time. On one such evening, I had introduced the sparse gathering, of which Waheeda ji was a prominent member, ‘mere anganein me’, the UP folk ditty sung often at marriages and festivals. Never had I imagined that some years later Prakash Mehra would ask me to sing it for a song sequence for his film ‘Lawaris’.

I can never forget the terrifying moment of the animal sacrifice during the festive season within the walls of the Jaisalmer Fort. Traditionally during Dushera I think, a buffalo is beheaded in one fell stroke in front of the ruler amidst great fanfare in the central courtyard of the palace. We were to shoot the event live for the film, incorporating it in our story. The crowds were massive and bursting at the seams. The moment and the presence of Dutt Saheb and Waheeda ji was not making things easier either. Director Sukhdev, an award winning maker of his time was conducting affairs. He would wield the camera too on many an occasion. Among drum beats and loud cymbals the ruler strode out at the top of the mini stadium looking down into the well of humanity pushing and shoving for a vantage point around the buffalo that had now been placed in ‘position’ for the execution. The heir apparent to the royalty was brought down to the same level as us and seated under a special canopy on the same level and close to where the operation would occur. At a signal from the ruler a member of the palace appointee would pull out his sword and strike the neck of the animal, the expected procedure to be completed in one stroke.

It was a horrifying site and one I hope has since been stopped. As the deed was performed to perfection among loud cheers from the people, I sensed Waheeda ji, who was standing beside me in the shot, reel in a faint. I jumped to the rescue as the crowd became out of control. Dutt Saheb sensing the moment, soon joined me and gathering Waheedaji in his arms led her to the jeep we had come there in, asked me to jump in as well and speedily drove off. We quickly got to the place where we had shifted to in the city, ran up the stairs to her room and after cold water and fresh air and other various efforts on dehydration brought her to some semblance of sanity. I must admit, even though the situation was grave, I did feel very responsible and important, because I had helped in getting the Waheeda Rehman out of harms way.

Many years later as Jaya and I along with my dear friend and family member, Amar Singh, visited Abhishek’s shooting in Jaisalmer for Apoorva Lakhia’s film, we drove up from the airport to the Hotel and nostalgia took over. The Hotel was indeed the same out house given to us to reside in during the shoot of R@S and where we had rushed Waheeda ji to, after that animal sacrifice incident. And .. Abhishek was staying in the same room that Waheeda ji was living in, during R@S. He had vacated it to allow us to stay there because of the paucity of space, but I could not but sit there and smile at the coincidental circumstances.

During R@S, the accommodation at this out house was less than basic. There were rooms, discarded and uncared for and beds, that is it. In a largish room downstairs a group of seven or eight of us lived dormitory like during the shoot. Ranjit, Vinod Khanna, Amrish Puri and other assistant directors. It was a life. It was an unkempt and ignored portion of the Palace, where perhaps the horse stables were looked after. Our existence there, was no less than being in a stable, but we were all so charged and happy while we lived there. It was particularly memorable for me, because a yellow sapphire ring that was given to me by my Mother, I am certain under heavy and difficult circumstances, was stolen, destroying my existence as it were of the much needed protection guaranteed by the stone.

Today the yellow sapphire is no longer the astrological stone of choice. The deserted and forlorn out house has been converted into a cute and lovely little Hotel with all the facilities of a five star. Things have changed for the better. Jaisalmer is now on the International tourist map, visited and enjoyed by a multitude of varied tourists. Pochina still remains that wild destination out in the desert, where a 7 year old boy had never known what rain was because it had never rained there for the last seven years.

What has remained unchanged is the memory of the place in the 1970’s and the lovely Waheeda Rehman !!

My love,

Amitabh Bachchan