Have you seen Grace defined in dictionary as elegance and beauty of movement and expression, at a handshakes distance?
I have. Back in mid-sixties. When coup d'oeil was a rarity.
I have. Back in mid-sixties. When coup d'oeil was a rarity. The days were of Guide. Hoardings displaying Dev Anand tying ghungroos around Waheeda Rehman’s ankle were shining on the broad turns of wide roads in Mumbai.
Cinema was the only perennial medium of mass entertainment then, barring dramas and seasonal cricket matches. Seasonal!
Dev Anand was darling of the audience, the only Indian face having international features. The most impeccable male face on Indian screen.
Waheeda Rehman, originally a girl from Hyderabad, had more sharp features, more piercing eyes.
The city was charged by the ultimate handsome pair on Indian screen. Raju guide and Rosy ruled over every heart.
Waheeda Rehman, originally a girl from Hyderabad, had more sharp features, more piercing eyes.
The city was charged by the ultimate handsome pair on Indian screen. Raju guide and Rosy ruled over every heart.
Actors didn’t mingle among people, then. To get a pass of movie premier was a bigger achievement than an honour that government would confer on, for the audience. Those who couldn’t get that, thronged in thousands near the theatre to have a single glance.
Watch Kaala Bazaar (1960) written and directed by Vijay Anand and enacted by our pair, and thank full team of Navketan for that experience. Dev Anand selling tickets of Mother India (1957) in black; actual shooting!
I worked in the biggest branch in central Mumbai of one of the leading banks as a locker assistant. The under ground safe deposit vault was famous enough to attract customers like Raj Kapoor and many other tycoons. We were two assistants under a Parsi custodian officer.
Our branch manager (called Agent then) received a phone one morning; Waheeda Rehman is coming in half an hour to open her safe deposit locker. Our Parsi officer told both of us and ordered to stick to our chairs.
I’ll not allow any nonsense. If someone else sits in your chair you have to go upstairs, he warned adding, there won’t be a fourth man here.
I’ll not allow any nonsense. If someone else sits in your chair you have to go upstairs, he warned adding, there won’t be a fourth man here.
The news spread in the full blast air conditioned premises, a rarity that time. In the hope of seeing the charming queen of the Indian screen who exuded nothing but grace at a handshakes distance other assistants constellated in the vault space. Our Parsi officer whisked them off immediately.
Forget handshake. It was a non-happening.
We glued to our chairs till she came with her cousin sister. Our handsome Agent came down to greet her and opened her locker himself. Our mouths wide open in awe.
It happened once again within a couple of months. This time she sat opposite me. We weren’t extra smart to open dialogue with any celebrity, a strict norm of the period. Neither were we allowed to behave so.
Notwithstanding, my joy was double.
This was the lady who did magic on the screen making you forget any kind of sorrow earlier in Mujhe Jeene Do (1963) dancing a mujra on the lilting 'chhum...chumm...' tunes of Jaidev instil haunting song “Raat Bhi Hai Kuchh Bhigi Bhigi”.
After a few years I went to my branch. A young boy of my age then was sitting in my chair.
Waheeda Rehman sat here two decades ago, I said to him.
What! The boy literally jumped from the seat, exclaiming. There was a feeling of disbelief in his eyes that he couldn’t hide; his eyes as expressive as Waheeda Rehman, that moment.
We have marked her initials on the back of the chair she sat, I told him.
He dragged me to the extension of the adjacent vault space. The old chairs lay there. We spotted it out; he cleaned it and sat on it.
Need I tell you further what a spell means?
Or need I go on describing about her intense looks in Pyaasa or Teesri Kasam or any of her unforgettables? No, they are to be experienced.
However, I can’t resist telling this one
V. K. Murthy the renowned cinematographer said once that Waheeda Rehman was the only actress with flawless face where we didn’t have to search at all for perfect angles. Her left cheek as shot in the song sequence of Pyaasa (1957), “Jaane Kya Tune Kahi, Jane Kya Maine Suni” by V. K. Murthy is the ultimate close-up on the screen any time, I think, notwithstanding.
The sharp featured actress who has experienced glamour in the days of Guide, I am telling you about, was honoured with a Padma Shri then (1973), has retained her recluse and humility that has brought her the honour of Padma Bhushan, who now is supporting for the cause of improvement in primary education remaining behind limelight.
I might be staying some 1250 kilometers away from her residence of recluse in Bengaluru but have a feeling that the grey haired lady is sitting just opposite me without her black glasses, exhibiting the aura of modesty.
- Divakar Kambli
