Madhav Agasti’s mobile rings as we step into his tailoring shop in Bandra. “Farooq Abdullah,” Agasti tells his son, Shantanu, before answering. The first time he had met Abdullah, then the chief minister of Jammu & Kashmir, was in 1984. Agasti was at the Delhi airport, and so were Abdullah and Congress’s NKP Salve. Salve was in a bandhgala and Abdullah had admired the cut. And that is how the serendipitous meeting took place. Spotting Agasti, Salve introduced him to Abdullah. Then things moved fast. Agasti requested Abdullah to accompany him to the VIP lounge. Out came Agasti’s measuring tape — he always carries one — and the measurements were done. What followed a few days later was an impeccable sherwani. Abdullah was impressed. He ordered a suit next, then a pathani, followed by a safari suit. “He remains my client to this day,” says Agasti.

Agasti’s 76 now. And had invited Abdullah to his Andheri home for Ganeshotsav. But Abdullah called because he thought he would not be able to make it. But he’s promised to be back soon for new measurements.

Agasti’s father was a bhikshuk in Nagpur, a wandering monk who stitched coats for a lawyer named Shewde. Agasti’s ambitions were likely sparked by his father’s skills. He left Nagpur for Calcutta, a young man in his early 20s. He found himself a job as a “cutter” in the city. Then he travelled to Moradabad to learn how to stitch sherwanis and then to Mhow, a cantonment town in MP, to study how to make military uniforms. He travelled back to Calcutta, and, this time, landed a job at a tailoring counter because he could speak English.

In 1973, he moved to Bombay. “I was smoking outside Citylight Cinema in Mahim when I noticed a man with scissor marks on his hand, the hallmark of an assistant tailor. He worked at Super Tailors, dressmakers to Hindi film actors,” recalls Agasti. Soon enough, Agasti landed himself a job there.

A door had opened for him. But what worked wonders was his learning from Mhow; 14 years later, that would catapult him to even higher tailoring fame. He stitched the military uniforms for the 1973 film, ‘Dhund’. And Danny Dengzongpa, who played the role of a cruel, wheelchair bound husband of Zeenat Aman in the film, loved the tailoring.

Agasti had been noticed. His star was on the rise. Plus, his Nagpur-honed Hindi was good, and so was his Marathi. He quickly began to acquire admirers.

Actor Sunil Dutt was the first to suggest that he strike out on his own. “There were no Maharashtrians in tailoring then,” Agasti says. He set up a small shop in Dadar in 1975. Word spread fast. Soon, ministers Vilasrao Deshmukh (“he loved safari suits”), Gopinath Munde, Pramod Mahajan (“he wore kurtas without pockets”), Sharad Pawar and Lal Krishna Advani (“three-button jackets”) were clients.

Through lawyer Shirish Gupte and theatre veteran Mohan Wagh, he met Bal Thackeray in 1981. “Balasaheb asked me to design clothes in such a manner that his legs wouldn’t show in photographs,” says Agasti. He crafted a white kurta-pyjama that became the late Shiv Sena chief’s signature look. “I got him a shawl from Kashmir. He mostly preferred white and off-white,” adds Agasti, himself in off-white shirt and pants today “because this way, I don’t have to worry about combinations”. Thackeray nicknamed him “Rajshimpi” (politicians’ tailor).

But you could also call Agasti a film stars’ tailor. Last month, he received the Bharat Gaurav Award at the UK Parliament in London for designing Amrish ‘Mogambo’ Puri’s unforgettable costume in the 1987 blockbuster, Mr India, and also Bal Thackeray’s signature kurta-shawl look.

He is now preparing for the release of his memoir, ‘Stitching Stardom’. The book traces his journey of image-making across comedians and chief ministers, prime ministers and presidents. Much has changed in tailoring — technology, speed, the churn of fast fashion — and much hasn’t. “Earlier it was about who you knew,” says Agasti. “Now it’s word of mouth.”

As tea is served for unannounced guests — BJP’s Raghunath Kulkarni and former national secretary Sunil Deodhar have arrived in the shop — the septuagenarian darzee holds forth on his craft, his clients, and his takeaways from 50 years of dressing up the who’s who.

“Contrary to perception,” he says, “politicians are the easiest clients and the best paymasters.” Many believed his “lucky hand” made their measurements special. As he reminisces about designing costumes for five villains in Anil Kapoor’s ‘Ram Lakhan’, his eyes settle on the crisp shirt Kulkarni is wearing. “The linen suits you,” Agasti says. “It’s linen?” asks Kulkarni. “Yes, and the American cut sits well,” replies Agasti, seated in the shop he opened in Bandra in Nov 1985, its launch postponed by 15 days to mourn the death of his friend Sanjeev Kumar.

Dev Anand would sneak in through the back door, head bobbing, calling out: “ Ey Madhav, kya banaya hai mere liye?” while Sunil Dutt preferred the front, greeting him warmly as “Madhav Seth”. He even kept a special stool for Mehmood, who would arrive most evenings, leaving the tailors in stitches with his antics.

But the costume that cemented his name in Bollywood lore was Mogambo’s in Mr India. The now-iconic piece with its high-collared military cut and gold trimmings was meant to project both colonial grandeur and zamindar-like menace. Puri, who exclaimed “Mogambo… khush hua” on seeing it (here, in the Bandra shop), wore it with relish. “I worked with him from his first film till his last. After he passed away in 2005, I slowly stepped away from films,” says Agasti, who found the era of menacing villains fading from the silver screen. Soon, it was in politics, rather than films, that his reputation as a tailor of image flourished.

From the dhoti-kurta and Jodhpurs era to the rise of the suit-boot and back, Agasti has seen political sartorialism in India come full circle. Various chief ministers, prime ministers and presidents — including Pranab Mukherjee — have taken oath in his creations. The busy Narasimha Rao would often be exercising on his stationary bike at 6 am when Agasti would get an appointment with the silk-jacket-favouring polymath.

Someday soon, he hopes to tailor PM Narendra Modi’s clothes. “I’m a big fan of Narendra Modi ji,” he says. “He dresses sharply, always to suit the occasion.”

Today, as he marks half a century in the trade, the shop is lined with mementoes. Pride of place goes to a cap gifted by former Army Chief Manoj Mukund Naravane upon retirement. “Clothes make the person,” says Kulkarni. “By that measure, he (Agasti) is a personality builder.”

Deodhar sizes him up as a “self-made man with networking skills and a sharp memory,” adding one enduring quality: “He calls himself a tailor with pride at a time when many look down on the profession. And… he always has a measuring tape handy.”

Dhund is a short film by Sudeep Kanwal and stars Vipin Sharma and Sharib Hashmi. Set 10 years after the Partition, it tells a horrifying tale of a father and son. The first thing that strikes you is that for a short film, the production values are quite high and superior. That itself gives a nice first impression. The plot also is quite promising and though it becomes predictable in between, it captivates very well. The last few seconds of the film are the real winner. See it to believe it! Vipin Sharma as always rocks the show and proves yet again that he’s quite versatile. Sharib Hashmi, seen mostly in comic roles, is a surprise. He too proves that given a chance, he can do various kind of roles. Malay Prakash’s cinematography, Lauren Buchter’s music and Paramita Ghosh’s editing also add a lot to the film. All in all, this 24 minute long film is definitely worth watching!

My rating - **** out of 5!