The house I sit in today is thanks to a wonderful human being called Smita Patil. But more of that later. We did films like Ghulami, Waaris, Raahi and Thikaana together. Waaris was a long-drawn-out film that took five years to make, but our spirits never went low. Another film we did, Sagar Sarhadi’s Tere Shehar Mein, never saw the light of day. It was a really good film, but I think the producers and director didn’t see eye to eye.
You know, Smita and I would address each other as tu, in an informal way. Our friendship grew in Panhala on the sets of a film. But first, I must tell you of a funny incident. Once, I went to Essel Studios, where Smita was shooting for a B.R. Ishara film. She came to me and started chatting away happily, backslapping me and saying all kinds of things. We weren’t even that close then. It so happened that she mistook me for the director of Waaris, Ravinder Peepat. A lot of people, including Raj Babbar’s brother Kishen, would call me Peepat saab. When we realised the mistaken identities, we had a good laugh. I think that was the beginning of our friendship.
Around this time, I was also a part of Vinod Chopra’s Khamosh, starring Shabana Azmi, Naseeruddin Shah and Amol Palekar. On that outdoor, since we had tight budgets, like in all arty films, I was sharing a room with Sadashiv Amrapurkar. One night, he told me, “Avatar, Smita is your friend. Her dad is a big-shot politician. She can easily get you a house in the Chief Minister’s quota for artistes.”
I was excited. Now you know what owning a house in Mumbai means for a struggling actor. I met Smita a week later. I went to her home in Bandra and told her I had letters of recommendation from four people, including Shatrughan Sinha, Shabana Azmi, Vijay Tendulkar and Manmohan Krishna, who was the head of CINTAA then. But if she wanted, she could get me the house on the recommendation of her father.
That day, Mrinal Sen had come to sign her for Akaler Sandhane, the Bengali film. She introduced me to him as her friend and told me to make a file and write out an application. I did as she told me and, after having tea, I left. She said she would talk to her baba (father).
At that time, Vasantdada Patil was the Chief Minister of Maharashtra. Somehow, baat bani nahi. Smita was perennially busy, and we couldn’t coordinate with her dad or any other politician. Months passed and then it was almost a year. I saw my dreams of getting a house going bust. Finally, I cornered Smita again when she was shooting for Angaaray at Yashji’s Girnar house in Bandra. I gave her a tough look. After the shot, she told me in Marathi, “Raghvu nakos re” (don’t get angry). I was like, “Yaar, tu kar rahi hai mera kaam ya nahi?”
She called her dad from the landline and got him to fix up an appointment for me with the Chief Minister. She told me to come to her father’s Tardeo home, near Ganga-Jamuna Theatre, at 9 am. She said she would reach there on time. I reached the next day at around 9.45 am. Her father was eating his breakfast. He offered me tea and mangoes, and by then Smita had also come.
We reached the then Chief Minister’s office. He saw Smita and her father and beckoned us all inside the room. She told him in Marathi, “Dada, please hey karun dya.” He asked me for the file and application. I looked at Smita. I had given it to her almost a year ago. She had forgotten it at home. She looked at me apologetically. Look at her presence of mind. She asked her father if he had a letterhead in the car. A letterhead was brought, and she made me fill in the application. We gave it to the CM and she requested him to give me a flat in the artistes’ quota.
I was living in Chembur those days and was quite happy to live close to my parents’ house. I had hoped the house would be allotted next to theirs because my parents, like all Indian parents, were emotionally blackmailing me not to move too far away. Finally, I was allotted a one-bedroom house. I was aghast. I wanted a two-bedroom house. She said, “Just take this house. If you wait for another one, it will take another six months.” By the way, this one-bedroom, 500-square-foot house had a huge terrace adjoining it. She told me, “Just take it.” She told me to move in with my wife as soon as possible.
As luck would have it, the CM got a transfer elsewhere. But my house got sanctioned. Smita called up his PA. The personal assistant, she figured, nursed ambitions to be an actor, so she got him a doctor’s role in Raman Kumar’s Raahi in the bargain. The PA requested her not to mention all this in front of the outgoing CM, as his ambitions to be an actor would not be taken too kindly.
A few months later, we were shooting at Dubash Bungalow, which is now Shah Rukh Khan’s house, Mannat. We were shooting the climax for Waaris. She was seven or eight months pregnant. I had to push her for the scene, and I flatly refused. She said, “Okay, just pretend to push me. I’ll do the rest.”
She really helped the makers of Waaris. She would constantly tell them, “Show me the film. I have a good feeling,” she would say. She helped them so much. Waaris was her favourite film. She did it for free. The house I live in is thanks to that angel. She told me, “When my baby comes, I’ll get him to your house and pee on your bed. But I won’t spoil your bedsheets.”
The TV series Nukkad had a good run, so at the Hope 86 programme we did a skit in the afternoon based on Nukkad. Our skit was directed by Amjad Khan’s brother Imtiaz. In the afternoon, we got the message that she was sinking into a coma. And then she was gone. Just like that.
We stopped the show, and about 100 of us went to the hospital to see her. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Smita confided in me about so many things. I knew she was going through some tough times, but to meet an end like this… Often, I wonder if there is any justice in the world.
Look at me. I was just a rank newcomer. She had nothing to gain from me, but she showed me so much kindness. To me, Smita will always be that muhphat soul who had no pretences and was real. It’s because of her that I have a roof over my head today. I shall be eternally grateful to her.
Also Read: Exclusive: Priya Banerjee on Mother-in-law Smita Patil: “She Was a Lot Like Me”
Disclaimer : This story is auto aggregated by a computer programme and has not been created or edited by DOWNTHENEWS. Publisher: filmfare.com
