This is one of the most colourful memory that I have of Farooq Sir. It was the second day of shooting for our film, Listen Amaya, in the crowded Paranthey waali gali in Old Delhi. The signature Delhi heat had made its appearance, and the narrow lane was chock-a ­block with onlookers. Clearly word had gotten around that the beloved veteran actor was shooting in Purani Dilli. Having stuffed ourselves with paranthas, we were making a brave attempt to shoot sync-sound a long scene. The set-lock had been relaxed, and the crowd was free to come and go as it pleased. Two men, with their arms thrown around each other, hollered, “Abey yeh Farooq Sheikh hai kya?“. The other one countered - “nahin yaar, yeh kaise ho sakta hai“. This went on for a while. Finally one of them walked up to Farooq sir and blatantly asked, “Abey tum Farooq Sheikh ho kya?“ “Haan bhai sahib, hoon. Maaf kar do, agley janam mein yeh galati nahi karun gaa!“ Farooq sir replied apologetically. Grace, dignity and wit in any situation, these were some of the telling facets of Farooq sir.

He was also one of the most generous persons I have ever met. He liked giving gifts, like a true nawab, a role which he had portrayed on screen a number of times. Once we were passing a sweet-shop in Old Delhi, he asked, “Swaraji, would you like a gulab jamun?“ I agreed. He bought the entire lot that the shop stocked - a whopping 25 kgs, and turned to the spot boy and said, “Dada, distribute these among the entire unit.“

Working with him was like attending a master class, though his technique was difficult to fathom. He never spoke much about his 'acting process'. He would often read a book in-between shots. Once he was narrating a story to me, he paused in the middle of the narration and said, “An actor can never go beyond the vision of a director. This is the truth of the cinematic medium and it's important for any actor to understand that.“ And then with a telltale gleam in his eye, he quipped, “There - now you have an excuse to shirk hard-work.“