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Ali's Notes

Take care, my friends
I don’t know how men in the Z security category are supposed to look after one of the most precious gems of this country, Dilip Kumar. I wonder if he knows it too. But every time I enter 34, Pali Hill where Dilip Kumar stays, I am stiff-scared at the way these men on duty are scattered all over the place. They have a room to themselves just outside the bungalow. They are made to sit there or they keep walking around or chewing their favourite paan. They are often seen lying around without their uniforms, just in their white and not so white baniyans. There are some who are just busy playing cards. There are others who mingle around with the thespian’s staff. I was shocked when I heard three of them who are supposed to protect the man we all love. They were talking about the aaramchi naukri (satisfactory jobs). There was one who said, “Saab comes down at 11 am, then he has long meetings with all kinds of important people and leaders. He moves out of the bungalow only towards the later part of the evening.

That is the only time when our duty gets tough. That’s the only time when we have to be on the alert, keep our security tight. Sahab is a very good man, he talks to us in Marathi like any ordinary man. He takes us to his evening walks and keeps walking while we get tired. I have rarely seen any of these Z security men speak out against any trouble they have had on duty. They seem to be the happiest people around. Some of them even wish that they had the same duty all round the year. I look at them again and my fear grows. How will these brave men protect the jewel of the country? I would like the authorities to take a little serious look at what happens at 34, Pali Hill.

It’s not right, God
I am not angry, my dear God
I am not depressed either
How can I when you are there by my side?
But I am certainly filled with a feeling of hoplessness, sheer helplessness
Why must she who doesn’t know with which alphabet the word talent is spelt
Make hay, gold, silver, build apartments, make white money, black money, any money under the sun
Not the sun I know, the sun who shines for us, Your people
Some sun painted somewhere by a bad painter
And why must this pretty petite prosperous with talent wait and wait and wait, wait helplessly
Painfully, this petite girl, this sweet little girl who is a born actress was born to shine to bring light into lives
Why must she wake up every morning to sit with her eyes staring at the blank ceiling
The fan whirring like some furious fan in her mind
And wonder, worry about what the future holds for her
Why most girls who have no talent to be known as actresses act and make Acting, a farce and worked like robots with all kinds of keys
Why must this dear little girl M... who has proved that she is bright in so many films
Why must this girl who won all kinds of awards as an actress, the love of the people more than awards
Why must she be deprived of opportunities to prove her true talent?
Why must she wait for work, why can’t work come to her once in a way? Why must she be forced to do shows and anchor shows on TV and do tele-films and short films?
Why, when girls who hardly have half her talent zoom past in their latest cars to do the latest multi-starrer in which all they have to do is “show” themselves
They are what they are only because of what they “show”
And why must M... a treasure of talent lie in bed with 104 degree F down with flu and no one to look after her and with suspicion getting the better of her
Why must mannequins and Barbie dolls get set to hop to the next disco at night?
And why must my favourite girl M... think of going back to her mother’s lap in her beautiful ‘gaon’, depressed, defeated
Don’t, don’t M..., don’t let defeat destroy you
We (people like you and me) are born to struggle to succeed
He will see that we will succeed
He is our God, after all
I am not angry my God, my hope and M...’s hope
But if you don’t do something, if you will not do something good to M..’s talent
I’ll have to force myself to dim my little light
Who knows, God forbid, even force me to switch off the light
Rare rare re...
Some women look after themselves so well. I don’t know how many sacrifices they make, how many delicacies they are forced to avoid, how many liquids they give up, how many exercises they go through vigorously, rigorously. The classic example that comes to mind is the one and only Rekha. She seems to have been blessed with the rare ability to grow younger, slimmer, more and more seductive with every passing year, with every birthday. She seems to be both of films and out of it. She is born rare. She will never stop being rare long after a lot of men and women who envy her have lost and gone into the great beyond. She spreads hope, she hates despair. We can have only one Rekha. We need only one Rekha. Too many Rekhas even the best of them cross the lines (Rekha’s) and crossing lines is a crime. The last time Dilip Kumar called her the “the industrictible Rekha”. What a tribute to what a woman from what a man.

When woman was ‘king’
A page from history. Something about the making of that magnum opus Mother India which was made forty years ago and is still a big hit every time it is released anywhere in India, even though it has been shown on television several times.

Nargis played that role of a life-time in which she played the mother of Rajendra Kumar and Sunil Dutt, two newcomers who were introduced to Mehboob Khan by the comedian, Mukri, when she was just twenty-eight, yes, just twenty-eight, an age when actresses today still want to run around fur trees in Switzerland or dance around young men in frilly flowery skirts, singing silly songs. The film was a turning point in her life. It was the best role she had played, also the last till she came back in a half-heartedly made film called Raat Aur Din. She also found her husband in Sunil Dutt, Birju in the film who saved her both in reel life and in real life from that raging fire.

Dilip Kumar was to play Birju in the film but Dilip wanted to play both father and son (Birju) something which was not acceptable to Mehboob Khan, the man who did just what he wanted and tolerated no interference from anyone as a powerful filmmaker who never wanted to stoop before his stars but created a position where some of the most well-known names were his friends. Mehboob signed Raaj Kumar, Rajendra Kumar and Sunil Dutt to play the father and the two sons. His distributors fumed and freted. They said he was going mad. He told them he know what he was doing. He showed what he had done. He had made history. He never said to the world said it, still says it.

Javed’s great fan
At the eagerly awaited jam-packed function to release the book written by Nasreen Muni Kabir, a book based on her intimate conversations with Javed Akhtar, which covered the entire gamut of Hindi cinema. Aamir Khan was the chief guest and the man to release the book was chosen by Javed Akhtar himself. He wanted Aamir Khan to release the book because he firmly believed Aamir was the right choice, a star-actor, a thinking actor who always talked to Javed about the lack of good writing in English on Hindi cinema. He said he was sure Javed’s long conversation with Nasreen would throw some new light on the subject he was passionately in love with — cinema. He had not read the book till the release he said but was anxious “to dig into it” because he was sure his “digging” would come up with some genuine pearls. He couldn’t wait to start reading the book, he said. He decided to drive down all the way from the suburb to be at the function because he had great respect for Javed Akhtar not just as a film writer or a poet but he respected him more for his deep knowledge about almost every subject under the sun. He could debate, argue, speak, scream on any subject however tough and trying. He had rarely seen him loose. He was a man born to enlighten in every possible way. That’s why he was there.

That’s why he wanted to get more books written by Javed, the man who fulfilled his (Aamir’s) hunger and thirst for knowledge.
On the other hand the compere introduced Aamir like he had never been introduced before. At the outset he was introduced as an actor who found time off from his very busy schedule. Aamir smirked, smiled and then the entire hall burst into laughter. Aamir was one actor who was the least busy among the star-actors because he did just two films in a year. He had broken his own record last year by doing four films. He is soon going back to his schedule, doing just one or two films in a year.

The compere had done her homework about Aamir. She knew how good he was in school at games like table tennis, football, cricket, hockey and chess. He was the chess champion of the school. That was, perhaps, the beginning of a thinking young man who finally grew up to be one of the country’s best thinking actors, a young man who didn’t run after hopeless dreams, dreams with a hole which could bring his dreams crashing down. He knew he had responsibilities. He had bought responsibilities for himself, hired expectations which he couldn’t give up. He had so much still to do and somewhere in the dark of the beyond he had this dream of making it as a director. If an actor could be a director on the sets of another director (without the director minding) this man Aamir Khan could easily become a fascinating actor-director. That’s how he has been made. That’s how he will be. That’s how I would like him to be always. The day a man like Aamir turns director I’m sure there will be tremors all around.

I don’t know and I don’t care what the psychologists, psychiatrists and other highly placed human beings in stratspheres and states (of the mind) where very few dare to step in or do only to find a whole life time wasted in chasing mirages, illusions. But I know one truth without their help and that is that sex sells like nothing sells in the great, grand bazaar of Indian entertainment.

It has been proved in the past. It is being proved now and it will be proved even as we step on to that roller-coaster ride to an unknown but hopefully exciting distinction in the millennium to come. Like there was Mira Nair’s film Kama Sutra which was supposed to be based on that great treatise on love for which India is so well-known. It was a film which did well at a time when films were falling like rusted nine pins all over the place. And the only reason for its success was sex. The sex-starved audience went in to see what Rekha is doing in it and find very little or nothing and are thoroughly disappointed but there are some nude scenes and some tittilation, bas aur kya chahiye. Then there is Jay Mundhra who tried making some serious films in Hindi with Suraag and Kowla and gave up because they only meant two more painful experiences. He went back to Hollywood, did his homework on sex, honed the act of blending a lot of sex into any kind of subject and made it is a very successful seller of pleaze. he brought a sample of the cleazy sizzler to specialise with so much authority in a film called Monsoon. It is a horror film as a film but people still go to see Monsoon to get drenched... in the sickening sleaze.