Salman Khan completes 30 years in Bollywood this week. It's also his birthday. It's also Christmas. On his wish list is only one desire
Aastha Atray Banan (MID-DAY; December 22, 2019)

It's 5.30 pm on a Saturday. Salman Khan has arrived in a white Range Rover at Bandra's Mehboob Studios. A random mix of journalists, photographers, fans, and his entourage, watches his every move. He steps out of the car, and relaxes for a few minutes. The photographers nudge him for a picture. He poses, first, seriously, then laughing as he moves to Munna Badnaam. The song ends, and he walks towards a tent that has been set up for media interviews. On the way, he chats with director Farah Khan who has stopped by.

Incidentally, the director-producer was rumoured to replace Salman as host of Bigg Boss 13 in the last six weeks of this season. The move stands canned for now. Perhaps the makers realised there is no boss bigger than Salman. "I don't know what role I am playing this season," he says of the hit reality show. "They are bringing up stuff I did, or didn't do, 30 years ago. Basically, it's become a two-day programme on me!"

It's only fitting. He completes three decades in the Hindi film industry this week. And the "special" is going to have TRPs hit the roof. What started off as a career for a romantic hero, with mega hits Maine Pyaar Kiya, Saajan and Pyaar Kiya Toh Darna Kya, took a detour when he successfully experimented with comedy in Andaz Andaz Apna, Biwi No 1, and No Entry. But it's the films he has chosen in the last decade—Dabangg, Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Sultan, Bharat and Tiger Zinda Hai—that have turned him into the hero of heroes.

In his private life, he has faced the wrath of the universe, making the round of courts, and facing detractors calling him the brashest of stars who can't act. And then, there are an equal number of stories about his largesse, his unending need to help people. Khan doesn't seem to care about what people think. He wears his "good heart" on his sleeve. When we finally meet, a table divides us. He turns 53 on December 27, but he appears just as fit and handsome as he does on screen. He looks like he'd be happier not doing the interview. And we realise, he actually doesn't need to. But when we get down to talking, he is high on wit, cracking jokes, some at his own expense, and others, at this writer's.

Dabangg 3, which he has co-written, sees him return as happy-go-lucky UP cop Chulbul Pandey. He takes a moment to think about the character's evolution since he debuted in 2010. "Chulbul is now stronger, with [the support of] his family and beliefs, and in the way he conducts himself. He can see the larger picture now. And this time, you also discover that he has a past, which is now back and messing with the present." Salman seems to know why the franchise is working. It's a time when we need someone to assure us that things will be alright. "Everyone wants their local policeman to be like Chulbul. When you see uniformed persons on screen, and if the film is about fighting for the country or a cause, you look up to those characters. Such films always work."

And Salman enjoys playing these roles, including for a personal reason. He takes back bits and pieces of Chulbul with him each time a sequel releases. "I'd like to embrace at least 20 per cent of the traits of every noble character I play," he hopes. Salman began his career as a lover consumed by passion. About the 1989 super-hit Maine Pyar Kiya, Khan says, it was his father, famed scriptwriter Salim Khan, who suggested he adopt a romantic image. "That is my father's biggest contribution. He had asked me, can you play a cop? A lawyer? A don? The mohalla ka dada? I said, no. Then, he asked, what about the romantic hero? I said, perhaps. When I asked if he could recommend my name, he refused. So, I'm trying to play those characters which I didn't have conviction to play earlier, now. Thankfully, Maine Pyar Kiya was a hit. Right before that, another Bandra boy had made it big. It would have been embarrassing if I hadn't," he laughs about Aamir Khan's debut Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak.



Bhagyashree, his first co-star, remembers the set as being like a college campus, where she, Salman and director Sooraj Barjatya met for the first time and became friends. "He was extremely protective about me. Once, we had to be part of a shoot for a larger article on three couples who had made their debut back then, and the couple before had us posed intimately. I knew I would not be able to do the same. I heard later that Salman was told by the photographer that he knew I would act stuck up and shy, so Salman should kiss me anyway. I believe he yelled at the photographer. I have respect for him."

Later, when she married Himalaya Dasani, Salman was the first to come to the wedding and the last one to leave. "Since my own family hadn't come, he and Sooraj ji represented the bride's side." She thinks it's with the 2015 comedy drama Bajrangi Bhaijaan that Salman developed a real connect with the audience. "It's no longer about being mesmerized by his torso. Now, it's less showbazi, and more about connecting with the viewers."

Earlier, too, Salman has tried his hand at non-dramatic films, like Phir Milenge, where he played an HIV positive character in love with Shilpa Shetty. When we tell him roles like that are a favourite, he smiles. "I am not going to do movies for your kind for a long time."

He recalls going to a theatre when he was young, and leaving in awe of Bruce Lee. "When we'd go to the theatre, we'd take a look at the poster and decide if we were going to watch the film. If it had blood and guns, we wanted to see it. I know the trend is changing, but I don't want heroes to die. The day heroes die, the sort of movies I do, will also die. If you come out of the theatre, and want to be like the actor you left inside, the battle is won. That's all I want my movies to do."

Actor-director Revathi, who acted with Salman in Love in 1991 and directed him in Phir Milenge in 2004, says Salman came on board to do a role several actors had refused. "Chalo, karte hain," he had told her on the phone. "He did it for friendship, and he was the darling of the unit. It was so easy to work with him. He has a big heart, and rarely thinks with his head. I have called him a few times to talk, just talk about personal issues, and he talks as if we speak every day. Once you are his friend, you are his friend forever."



Khan may not be doing the subtle roles anymore, but he continues to do justice to whatever he picks. He laughs when we discuss prep for a role. He doesn't take on parts that require prep, but then shares a detail that could underline a method. "If you can walk the character, you can talk the character. Daisy aunty [Irani] had three students she taught acting to—Sajid Khan, Chunkey Pandey, and me. After us, she shut shop. She said, 'Keep going to places, keep on observing people. That's the only acting tip I will give you. Hear things, and remember them'. That's what I do. I observe."

Ali Abbas Zafar, who directed Salman in his last film, Bharat, says he likes that the actor wants to go to work every day. "His screen connect and charisma is hard to beat. He is also a team player. With Salman, what you see is what you get. There are no layers to him. He won't change for anyone, however long they have known him. The maturity that the audience sees in my work is thanks to his experience as an actor."

In the last few years, Salman has done more than act. He runs a fashion brand, and a sizeable chunk of its profits help run the Being Human Foundation, a non-profit that works in education and healthcare for the underprivileged. But Salman is also a successful producer, with some of Indian television's biggest shows backed by SK TV, including the weekly comedy sketch, The Kapil Sharma Show. But he brushes off any mention of business acumen. "I don't think about business, although I think about money all the time, and would want more of it. All the profits from the business go to charitable trusts. If that's business, then everyone should be a businessman."

It's getting dark outside. Salman is dreading the line of journalists waiting to interview him. Our last question is about whether he has ever wondered what he'll do when he is done with acting. What next? "I am thinking, what now! What will you ask next, and when we will get to your last question." We crack up. There is a epilogue question we have. "What have the last 30 years taught you?" "Only one thing. Every moment must be enjoyed and extended, even those that don't leave you happy. I remember wanting to be an actor just yesterday. That's how fast the last 30 years have gone by."

Daisy Irani, star of iconic films like Boot Polish, Jagte Raho, Naya Daur reveals she was raped when she was six years old during an outdoor shoot in Madras; Courageous star confronts pain, goes public sixty years after the trauma
Khalid Mohamed (MUMBAI MIRROR; March 23, 2018)

India’s best-known child star of the 1950s, Daisy Irani, whose moppet curls and saucer-eyed charm captivated generations of film lovers, has revealed that she was raped and abused at the peak of her stardom.

It has taken over 60 years for Irani, these days better known as the maternal aunt of Farhan and Zoya Akhtar and Farah Khan, to speak publicly about her trauma. More than #MeToo, what has prompted her to break her silence is the very large number of children working via films, TV and talent shows. Through her story, she serves a cautionary note to parents, guardians and mentors to keep a protective eye on their wards.

The mega child-star of yore reveals that she was just six years old when she was raped: “The man who did this was supposed to be my guardian. He accompanied me to a film shoot (Hum Panchhi Ek Dal Ke) in Madras. One night in the hotel room he violated me, hit me with a belt and warned me that he would kill me if I ever told anyone about what had happened.”

Daisy Irani, all of six, and all alone with him, believed him.

Coerced into movies by an ambitious mother when she was only four, Irani worked multiple shifts to star in over 50 films including the iconic Naya Daur, Jagte Raho, Boot Polish and Dhool Ka Phool, essaying roles of boys mostly. Such was her popularity that heart-tugging roles were written especially for her and her footage often extended. She shared the limelight with the top stars of that time including Ashok Kumar, Raj Kapoor, Dilip Kumar, Dev Anand, Vyjayanthimala and Meena Kumari. Her bond with the last named was so close that she convinced herself that “Meena Kumari was my mother. She was so loving towards me.”

But in the darkness behind the klieg lights lay a story of sexual exploitation, which she has spoken about to Mumbai Mirror spontaneously.

Irani’s two siblings, Honey (Farhan and Zoya Akhtar’s mother) and Menaka (Farah and Sajid Khan’s mother), too, stepped into the movies prompting Daisy to be extra protective about them: “Thanks to our mother, Perin, our lives, when we were kids, resembled a never-ending black comedy,” she says with a rueful laugh.

More than six decades later, she can recount her childhood trauma without a trace of self-pity. “That man is dead and gone. His name was Nazar, he was related to the famous singer Zohrabai Ambalewali. Obviously, he had contacts in the film industry. My mother was hell-bent on making me a star. I made my debut in the Marathi movie, Baby. So Uncle Nazar (she rolls her eyes here) had accompanied me to the shoot of Hum Panchhi Ek Dal Ke in Madras. I can recall the incident only in flashes, but I do remember the killing pain, and the visual of him belting me. The next morning, I was back at the studio as if nothing had happened. For years, I couldn’t dare to tell my mother about what he had done.”

Did the incident take a psychological toll on the young Daisy? To that, she replies, “All I can say is as I grew up, I started flirting outrageously, I would tease and taunt men. I did not even understand what I was doing. I became badtameez (without manners). With time, my mother did get to know about the Madras incident but what could be done really?”

“When I was 15 or so”, she recalls,“mother made me wear a sari, padded me up with a new-fangled sponge, and left me alone with producer Mallikchand Kochar, who was planning a film called Mere Huzoor then, at his office located somewhere between Maratha Mandir cinema and the Tardeo circle. It was all quite hilarious… He joined me on the sofa, and started touching me… I knew what was on his mind. I took out the sponge things and handed them to him. He was furious. Now why did I do that? Because, I’ve always seen the funnier side of things.”

When kid sister Honey entered the movies, Daisy tended to be protective about her and kept her away from harm’s way. “Both of us had a common obsession: to get married and leave home as soon as we could. I revered Dad, he was cute, and he loved us to pieces but he would always be busy at work—his family owned the B. Merwan Café at Grant Road. I loved my mother too, but I guess I hated her as well.”

Bemused, she doesn’t hem or haw about her teenage-year romances, either with an upcoming actor or with an eminent producer-director. The actor married another woman. The movie moghul was already married and a father of several children “who were actually my buddies”.

While Honey Irani married scriptwriter and lyricist Javed Akhtar when she was 18, the other sister married filmmaker Kamran Khan when she was 19. Daisy herself married scriptwriter and director K K Shukla when she was 21. “KK…poor fellow, he’s no more as you know,” she chuckles. “Before he proposed to me, he used to play Cupid between my boyfriends and me. Our marriage lasted the course somehow although I once told him I knew of his extra-marital affair... He didn’t know where to look!”

Daisy who continued to act in supporting roles, her last being in the Shah Rukh Khan-starrer Happy New Year, says she has since found solace in Christianity and joined the New Life Fellowship Association. “I was always drawn to the iconography of angels protecting children,” she says.

“Child actors have it tough. In a majority of cases they have been taken advantage of. Maybe a few have had it easy, but most don’t, really,” she says.

Does she have any second thoughts about whether her interview should go into print? “None at all,” she thumps the cushions. “My three children, my sisters…everyone knows what happened. The truth never killed anyone. If I’ve spoken up after years and years and if the result sounds sensational in print, no problem. There could be a flurry of ‘phone calls. I just won’t answer them. Simple.”