Showing posts with label Sitara Devi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sitara Devi. Show all posts

"Madhubala's ceaseless laughter became an ideal balm for Dilip Kumar's bruised heart..."

Dilip Kumar with Madhubala
Dilip Kumar and Madhubala had a near, perfect romance, until her interfering father got in the way. A new illustrated biography on the veteran actor, challenges some myths around the famed love story
MID-DAY (October 27, 2019)

After a somewhat tentative debut in Jwar Bhata and Pratima, the actor came of age in Milan, which was followed by the super-duper hit Jugnu opposite none other than Noor Jehan. Dilip Kumar had now hit the purple patch of his career and three mega hits followed in quick succession —Shaheed, Shabnam and Nadiya Ke Paar. The leading lady of all these hits was the comely Kamini Kaushal—reportedly Dilip Kumar's first flame and also his first serious heartbreak.

Kamini Kaushal's real name was Uma Kashyap. She was the daughter of Rai Bahadur S R Kashyap, a renowned Botanist, president of Indian Science Congress and dean of the pre-partition Punjab University. She was one of his five children which included three brothers and two sisters. She was very well-educated and had studied at Lady MacLagan School and Emily Kinnaird College of Lahore. She was also a champion swimmer. When her elder sister, who was married to B S Sood, a high ranking official of Bombay Port Trust, died in a car crash leaving behind two small kids, Uma married him and moved to Mumbai. It was here that legendary director Chetan Anand discovered her talent and cast her in his award-winning Neecha Nagar as Kamini Kaushal. As an actress, she quickly ascended to stardom with films like Jail Yatra, Aag (opposite Raj Kapoor), Do Bhai, etc. Soon, Filmistan's S Mukerji signed her opposite Dilip Kumar in his Shaheed (1948) which was a box-office success.

Famous Kathak exponent and actress Sitara Devi (who starred with Dilip in Hulchul and shared a sister-brother relationship with him) and producer director P N Arora of All India Pictures (in whose super hit Pugree Kamini Kaushal starred) have been on-record authenticating the Dilip Kumar–Kamini Kaushal romance. It is said that Sitara Devi ji had met the rumoured couple huddled together and travelling aimlessly in the first-class compartment of Mumbai's local trains. P N Arora has said, on-record, that Dilip Kumar often visited Kamini Kaushal on the sets of Pugree and once Kamini's military-man brother strode on the film's sets, brandishing a pistol, threatening to kill Kamini if she did not call off her clandestine romance with Dilip Kumar. He also threatened to kill Dilip Kumar. Around that time, Shahi Latif–Ismat Chugtai's Aarzoo, in which Dilip–Kamini featured for the last time, was in the making. Ismat Aapa had reportedly warned Dilip Saheb against the futility of the said romance. The hot-headed brother of Kamini Kaushal reportedly shot himself, having failed to end the Dilip–Kamini romance. This came as a blow to Kamini Kaushal and Dilip Kumar and they put a stop to their romance.

Kamini exuded urbane sophistication and bonded very well at an intellectual level with Dilip. On the other hand, both Madhubala and Dilip being Pathans shared a commonality of ethnic and cultural background. Thus, a vivacious Madhubala's ceaseless laughter became an ideal balm for Dilip Kumar's bruised heart. Madhubala's real name was Mumtaz Jehan Begum Dehlavi. She was third born among the seven daughters (Kaneez, Fatima, Altaf, Chanchal, Zahida and Shahida being others) of a handsome Pathan Attaullah Khan and his beautiful Iranian wife. Her father was a headstrong, stubborn and egoistic man, and a harsh disciplinarian. Her mother was simple, illiterate and a homely woman. Attaullah Khan apparently had lost his job with the Imperial Tobacco Company, Delhi due to his arrogant, hot-tempered behaviour and attitude. He moved to Mumbai with his family but could not fend for them. He made his daughter work in films to make ends meet.

The legendary Dilip Kumar–Madhubala romance is said to have took off on the sets of this film, as the duo hit the ground running, enacting the dulcet duet, 'Nain mile nai huey baware'. One has to revisit Tarana to fathom the chemistry between Dr Motilal (Dilip Kumar) and Tarana (Madhubala) which even after six decades floors you with its innocent charm. Prior to being romantically drawn to Dilip Kumar, Madhubala was reportedly dating the leading man of her hit film Badal, the handsome Prem Nath. Grapevine has it that there was some time when Madhu was dating Dilip and Prem Nath simultaneously. Reportedly, when Prem Nath came to know that his friend Dilip was seriously involved with Madhubala and that she was drawn to him as well, he withdrew and married Bina Rai, his charming co-star of Aurat.

On his part, Dilip Kumar never missed any opportunity to recommend Madhubala for a role opposite himself. The iconic Amar originally had Meena Kumari in the female lead, but she fell off with its renowned maker Mehboob Khan after the latter's squabble with her husband writer-director Kamaal Amrohi. Dilip Kumar promptly persuaded Mehboob Saheb to take in Madhubala. Similarly, when Nargis opted out of Mughal-E-Azam, Dilip Kumar convinced K Asif to let Madhubala play Anarkali which ultimately became her best ever performance. The mahurat announcement of the celebrated classic Daag also had Madhubala's name as the leading lady but something went wrong and Nimmi played the part.

However, the perfect romance of this well-matched perfect couple did not culminate into marriage. Many were of the opinion that it was Madhubala's father Attaullah Khan who stood in the way of their marriage for the fear of losing the breadwinner for the large family. The truth lies somewhere around this premise. As the Dilip Kumar–Madhubala romance was peaking, Attaullah Khan once asked Dilip Kumar to star as the hero of a film he wanted to produce under his own banner and also had his daughter Madhubala in it. We believe that the moment Attaullah did that, he encroached upon Dilip Sahab's professional side via his personal life. Yusuf Saheb never wanted Dilip Kumar to be exploited for somebody's gain.

As is widely believed, Attaullah Khan was not opposed to the Dilip Kumar–Madhubala marriage but had his own axe to grind in the whole affair. He wanted the superstar of the era to work exclusively and on priority for his own home productions. On the other hand, Dilip Kumar, who had been positively considering marriage to Madhubala, was unwilling to tolerate any interference in his professional endeavours. Dilip Saheb reportedly laid down two conditions for getting married to Madhubala. One, he would financially support the Khan's family but Madhubala would have nothing to do with her father after wedding; and second, she would stop working in films. This was a clever killing-two-birds-with-one-stone strategy—if Madhubala agreed to quit films, her father's hold on her would automatically diminish. Both Dilip Saheb and Attaullah hardened their positions in the ensuing tug of war to the point that Madhu had Dilip's ultimatum to choose between him and her father. She opted for her father ending the fairy-tale romance.

Excerpted with permission from Dilip Kumar: Peerless Icon Inspiring Generations by Trinetra Bajpai and Anshula Bajpai, published by Bloomsbury India

The actor with Kamini Kaushal, his first love and also his first serious heartbreak
The actor with Kamini Kaushal, his first love and also his first serious heartbreak

Dilip Kumar with Madhubala. Pics/Dilip Kumar: Peerless Icon Inspiring Generations, Bloomsbury India
Dilip Kumar with Madhubala. Pics/Dilip Kumar: Peerless Icon Inspiring Generations, Bloomsbury India

I have a self-governing system that doesn’t allow me to be sloppy-Ranjit Barot


The musician who hangs with A R Rehman and John McLaughlin on a new venture at the Royal Opera House, which will add to the city’s music and epicurean culture
Anjana Vaswani (BOMBAY TIMES; October 15, 2017)

"The drums chose me,” says Ranjit Barot explaining his choice of instrument as he settles into a seat beside a chandelier-style table lamp at the venue of his exciting new venture. It’s modesty, perhaps, that has him borrow J K Rowling’s prose to underplay his efforts. But, in fact, while it’s no secret he’s led a charmed life — touring with A R Rahman, collaborating with Ustad Zakir Hussain, joining forces with jazz supremo John McLaughlin and performing at Davos are just some snatches from it — Barot’s success really has a more earthly foundation.

In one of his bestsellers, Malcolm Gladwell pointed out that except for very few outliers one’s achievements are, typically, the product of one’s influences and opportunities. Barot, the son of renowned Kathak dancer, the late Sitara Devi, had both. “Our living room at home was a fluid space,” he recalls, “It served as my mother’s dance workshop, my practice place, and in the evenings, it would be the venue for jam sessions. Distinguished classical musicians such as Ustad Vilayat Khan Sahab and Ustad Rais Khan Sahab would come by, the lights would be switched on and biryani would be cooked. My mother would jam with them. So, it was a living room in the true sense — the space pulsated with life.” Surrounded by such powerful musical influences as a child, by age 20, Barot was performing alongside Louis Banks, the musical legend.

He’s conscious of his privileges, and the responsibility these impose, Barot tells us. “Culturally and ideologically I inherited so much nourishment from my mother, I had to make sure I lived up to all of that — this got into my DNA very early, so even though I am lazy, I have a self-governing system that doesn’t allow me to be sloppy, and I very much want to pay this forward,” he says. His role at music composer Ashutosh Phatak’s brainchild, the True School of Music, affords one opportunity to do so. “I teach a course on artistic development there, and mentor some of the brightest kids — there’s some special talent there, and the plan is to produce their work and give them a platform to showcase their skill.”

Phatak is in fact seated within earshot. At a table nearby, he, businessman Nakul Toshniwal and a small team iron out the details of their soon-to-be-launched venture, a live music venue at the recently restored, and jaw-droppingly beautiful Royal Opera House. With a sound-proof auditorium designed to deliver superlative acoustics, a charming al fresco area edged with wrought iron screens and ornamented with pretty plants, and three floors dedicated to hospitality (yes, there will be booze), the project will allow Barot to build on his ambition even further.

It’s a necessary addition to the city’s music scene, Barot explains. “If music is full of character, it forces the audience to listen, and you would think that’s the goal, but I have heard producers say, ‘Make me music that people can talk over,’ dichotomous as that sounds. I feel we have notional ideas of what music should be, but there’s no benchmark for Indian music and I would like to establish that through this project,” he says. “I feel very strongly that in the context of your career and your life, you must be an agent of change. It’s a lonely path because when you’re outspoken, you won’t endear many people — but you may empower many others,” says Barot. The philosophy is so close to his heart, it’s also been encapsulated in a song titled Chingari, written by Manoj Yadav for Musafir, an album Barot plans to release early next year.

Could it also be the reason why Barot seems to have distanced himself from the Indian film industry, despite the tremendous success of some of the albums he contributed to, like Fiza (2000) and Main Hoon Na (2008)? “A lot of that world depends on your people skills and how you can deal with the industry,” he says. “I think the industry was braver once, but it started getting tighter and tighter and I think music directors have less say now in what they should be doing. Besides, I think there are enough good composers out there servicing the industry, and I have my hands and plate full.”

Barot returns to the topic of The Quarter, the exciting new project he’s co-founded with Phatak, Toshniwal and restaurateur Nico Goghavala. It’s a venture that will undoubtedly be a dreamcome-true for SoBo’s music aficionados, many who still lament the closure of Blue Frog. “It’s great to be a performer, but to have a legacy, that’s fantastic. I’ve never been part of anything like this; never been in a partnership, because I’m so pigheaded and must live my life on my own terms. I need to be with like-minded people.” His reflection isn’t laced with regret. “I’m hanging out with A R Rahman and John McLaughlin, so I must be doing something right.”

Khalid Mohamed & Durga Jasraj remember Sitara Devi



 
By Durga Jasraj [singer and producer] MUMBAI MIRROR (November 26, 2014)

Kathak queen Sitara Devi breathed her last after a prolonged illness on Tuesday. She was 94. I had almost come to believe that she would be there for us forever. Even at 94 years of age, she still had ghungroos tied to her feet and was ever ready to dance to the song of joy called ­ Life.

I was merely 6 or 7 years old when I first watched her perform. She was accompanied by Ustad Allah Rakha's son on the tabla. She was so impressed with the young tabla player, that she gave him her garland and predicted that he will one day become a great artiste. The boy was none other than tabla maestro Zakir Hussain.

The last time I met her was at Zakir Hussain's house. I thought she would have forgotten me and avoided the formality of reintroducing myself.

However, as luck would have it, while returning home, we were in the same car. She suddenly said: “Why don't you come and meet me Durga? You do so much to promote music, but there is so much to do for dance as well...“ I felt really stupid and sheepishly apologised. It is then that I realised how sharp she was even at that age.
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By Khalid Mohamed (MUMBAI MIRROR; November 26, 2014)

Scrunched up on a bed, she was sans her mandatory cosmetic coated face. No moon-sized bindi on her forehead either. She was caught off guard and detested that.

I had sauntered, unannounced, into the first floor Napean Sea Road apartment of her musician son Ranjit Barot, who was using a section of the apartment as a recording studio. Sitara Devi was accustomed to the stream of singers and musicians. A journalist suddenly gaping at her annoyed her.“That's mom,“ Barot said quickly hustling me towards the studio. And she laughed, “His mother and a big star in my time. Do you know of me?“ “Yes, of course. Who doesn't?“ I lied shamelessly.

Emaciated with age but her eyes flashing like torches, she ordered her son, “why are you whisking him away? Let me talk.“

Obviously, she liked borrowing an ear. Sitting up, ready for oration, she gestured, “Sit! I know who you are. My son thinks I'm deaf. I'd heard him saying, a journalist was coming over for an interview. Once they wanted to interview me... and I would mesmerise them. Now they come to interview Ranjit and I'm sure they are bored to death.“

Frankly, time had zipped past for one of the first divas, so to speak. She had oozed stardom and seduction in an era, which was a mystery. Or should I say barely chronicled. For the post-independence generation she was a hell-raiser, bold and brazen, as evidenced in the surviving photographs of the whoopee Holi celebrations at the R K Studios. She was a regular having the time of her life, literally let ting her down. For a kid bred on the Mumbai movies and the magazines, trade papers of the 1960s particularly Filmfare and Screen, I'd wonder, “who's she?“ She had appeared in a palmful of films ­ take, Mehboob Khan's Mother India in which she was Lord Krishna to a coy Radha.

That was her last screen appearance, it seems. No, she wasn't a household name. Kukoo and Helen were. And her nephew, Gopikrishna, could dance up a thunderstorm, landing the lead role of V Shantaram's Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje. She could never grab that kind of grandstanding, which could have us lamenting her loss today at the age of 94. By 'lamenting' I mean according to Sitara Devi, the adieu, perhaps deserved by her.

Yes, there is no doubt that she was the proverbial woman of substance, fiercely independent and the sort who could drive the men in her life, insane, and bankrupt, or both.

The most vivid, and perhaps, the only pen-portrait of Sitara Devi was authored by Saadat Hasan Manto. It is not a flattering one; Manto makes her out to be a predator, a cougar. The very fact that Manto chose to write about her, indicated that she was not an ordinary citizen of showbiz. What Sitara Devi wanted, Sitara Devi got. Apologies? Forget it.

Her inflexible personality would inspire a spate of biographies in Hollywood, as they did of Jean Harlow and Marilyn Monroe. Besides Manto, no other dared to cross the path.

That day, at the studio-apartment, she wanted to talk ­ about her passion for kathak, about her lust for life perhaps. She saw my eyes go blank, perhaps, as she elaborated on kathak. “You're not interested,“ she said correctly. “Go, go talk to Ranjit about music.“

I bolted from the bed. Ranjit Barot wasn't embarrassed. Clearly, he adored her, but wasn't going to let her hold forth, on kathak, for hours. “Get him a cup of tea,“ Sitara yelled out to the kitchen. “And lage haath mere liye bhi chaai le aana.“ That's the last I saw or heard of her.

Judiciously, Ranjit Barot has never discussed his star mother, rewinding to her glory days. Wikipedia talks about her brief marriage to the movie moghul, K Asif, about her transition from a child artiste to a woman who led her life on her own unwritten terms. Rabindranath Tagore had praised the child dancer. Manto had disparaged the woman, painting her scarlet. And when I pass by that apartment on Napean Sea Road, I feel guilty. Sitara Devi's story ­ from her point of view ­ will remain untold.