Mahesh Manjrekar: âœNana Patekar Was One of The Best Guys to Be Withâ

I go back to the end of 1984, when Nana was like a hero for us who were deeply involved with theatre. His antagonist role as Gulabrao in Purush was hailed. Despite being the antagonist, he stole the show. Who would have thought this JJ School of Arts student would be hailed as one of the greatest actors in the years to come? Despite his normal looks and all, he had that aura. It gave us all hope.

Of course, his training with stalwarts like Arvind Deshpande and Vijayabai (Mehta) gave him the edge. I always believe you can’t really create an actor. An actor has to have the goods, and then a director or mentor can fine-tune that.

We were all what you typically call fanboys. I recall it was a great moment for us when he joined movies and had called us to see him shoot for Andha Yudh. He was co-starring opposite Raj Babbar, who was a star. We went to the shoot. It was a big moment for us to watch him in a Hindi film. I remember some production guy tried to shoo us onlookers away, and Nana ripped into him and gave him hell. He said, “They’re my guests. Don’t ever talk to them badly.” He made us have lunch with him. We were all pretty thrilled that day.

Years later, I announced Natasamrat. I had a scene with Dr Lagoo, who had played the eponymous role. I had an idea to do it in Hindi with Amitji. Then I realised that I could only make this film in Marathi, and the only person who could justify it was Nana.

But I hadn’t written a word. I realised it was a play and it would not have been filmable. It’s only when the supporting characters, like Rambhau (played by Vikram Gokhale), who were not in the play, started forming in my head that the film finally took shape.

Nana would call and ask me about the writing process, and I would say it’s going on, but I hadn’t written a word. Everyone predicted a disaster. Two headstrong people like me and him would never get along. But can I tell you, we finished the film in about 35–40 days.

He’s like a child, I realised. You have to humour him and play along, and then do exactly as you want to. It happened on two occasions. Once, when the sound guy didn’t get the dialogue right, Nana let loose and had a go at him. The sound fellow and the cameraman were at their wits’ end. Later, he calmed down and went and humoured them.

Another time, I was lighting up and he started yelling at me, saying I was wasting time. Instead of replying, I started yelling into the phone at someone I was talking to. And I called for a pack-up. He immediately backed off and said his leg was hurting and asked me for the Myospasm tablet that I have for pain. One hour later, he was ready to shoot.

Yet another occasion, Nana was reading his lines with low energy. It was a scene with other minor actors. In the film, he’s called to witness an enactment of Shakespeare, and he tells them they’re not doing it correctly.

That day, I wasn’t getting an adequate response from him. I wanted him to be louder in that sequence. But he wasn’t doing it. So instead, I blew my top at them. He got the message and gave a perfect shot. It was the “To be or not to be” sequence. After the shoot, he gathered the young actors and told them that since I couldn’t yell at him, I chose to yell at them but all the shouting was directed at Nana. We all had a good laugh.

On day one, he had suggested my wife, Medha, for Natasamrat. I wasn’t convinced. I wanted Reema Lagoo, who’s my favourite actor. She’s acted in all my films. But Reema herself wasn’t convinced about her role and felt there was nothing much to do. So finally, I took Medha, and Nana kept saying, “I told you from day one Medha would be perfect.”

He had a soft spot for her, especially after she was diagnosed with cancer. She’s out of it now, but every ten days he calls to ask after her and calls her Sarkar. I’m telling you, Natasamrat was a breeze to shoot. Even when he suggested that the background score wasn’t working, I said, “Wait for the final mix.” I think his son Malhar was a bit concerned that some important scenes we had shot weren’t there. But Nana was unperturbed. He came to the Empire dubbing studio and saw the final mix and agreed with my version.

After Natasamrat, Nana wanted me to do Sakharam Binder with him. But I was not convinced about how relevant it would be for this age. In those days, it had a shock element. I don’t know if that element holds today. I’m sure someone else may make a superb Sakharam Binder, but it’s not for me. In fact, I told Nana, “You make it, I’ll come and assist you on the project.”

I had narrated two or three other stories which he liked but wasn’t fully convinced about. By the way, he often said I don’t pay enough attention to my craft and, according to him, I’m a fine actor and should act more. Once, he called me to praise a scene I had done in Dabangg, where I jumped off the tank into the water. He kept praising me, much to my embarrassment. I wanted him to do Juna Furniture, but he wasn’t too keen, so I stepped into the role myself.

It feels so weird talking about him in the past tense. I’ve just landed in London. I saw a reel of his where he was talking about a book written by someone who had travelled all over India by bicycle, and I was not feeling great about it. A few hours later, he’s gone. He really was a child. He would come and give such warm embraces. I really broke down last night. He was someone who just breathed cinema, and more cinema.

He was very proud of his farm. He would show you around like it’s the Eiffel Tower. He would take me around, speak to his cows and bulls. He would organise a campfire and make mutton for me. It would take an hour and a half to prepare. He would personally add the masalas and all, and feed me. He would proudly say, “The rice you’re eating is from my farm, the vegetables are from my farm.” He was like a child and he would get excited about things like this.

He was separated years ago from his wife, Neelakanti, but there’s no bitterness. She’s one of his best friends; she’s often on the farm with him. She’s actually his backbone. His son Malhar calls his father Saaheb.

He was a straight shooter, so perhaps his no-nonsense ways intimidated a lot of people. But I was not one of them. For me, he was one of the best guys to be with, both as an actor and, most importantly, as a human being.

Also Read: “Hero Nahi…tu Actor Hai” – Shah Rukh Khan Recalls Nana Patekar’s Advice