Aamir, Nasir, Tahir, Tariq, Mansoor, Amjad: Movies, Masti, Modernity, Flashback 4

To remind you, Aamir is indeed Aamir Khan, Amjad is definitely Gabbar Singh, and the triple M above is to acknowledge that it was Akshay Manwani’s biographical book on the cinema of Nasir Hussain that got me delving into the period of about 15 years, when I interacted with the Hussain Khans (first five) and the bare Khan (last, but the most imposing personality). Actually, Mansoor did not use his middle name, so he can be called a ‘Khan’ too! Tahir stands for Nasir’s (younger) brother, Tahir Hussain.

Nasir Hussain (1931-2002) was already a in my favourites list much before I met him. Now, the story of my interactions with him is picked-up from the last paragraph of Flashback No. 3.

“Amjad Khan,” the hopeful responded. I had recognised him a full five seconds before he introduced himself, and it had taken me all of those five seconds to regain my composure. Siraj Syed was part of a panel that was auditioning Amjad Khan for a film talent contest? It was happening, not in a film scene, but live, at Andheri, Bombay, albeit in a film producer’s office.

Flashback 4

Amjad Khan made it to the winners’ list, without a hitch, along with some 11others. Destiny had brought us a full circle, and brought him into a situation where I, along with a select few, judged his acting merits. But there was no question at all of suspecting his talent. Later that I year, I was summoned to introduce the winners, at a star-studded show, held at Shanmukhananda Hall, though I have no memory of his physical presence there. The others are seen in the picture, which, I miraculously obtained, and have preserved ever since. Photographs of events I compèred or was associated with were clicked aplenty, but hard to come by, for reasons that remain blurred. It would still be some time before Amjad Khan and I were in the same film—Amjad, the star, would play the villain, while I would have a teeny-weeny cameo.

It was 1972, I was 20, and my days at National College were coming to an end, with the final exams of my Bachelor of Science in Chemistry and Physics being held that year. The college, however, was still to remain a regular fixture in my life, at least till 1980. And in came Tariq. One morning, I spotted Tariq walking into the campus, along with a slim, short, darkish, middle-aged man, who had shades of the Clark Gable looks about him. Tariq introduced him as Dharamvir Varma, the Production Controller at Nasir Hussain Films, and from the Varma family that once owned a studio and produced several films as well. What was he doing in our campus? “We are shooting our new film Yaadon Ki Baaraat, and would like to try out something new. Tariq suggested we contact you. Could you come over to the office tomorrow?”

NH Films operated out of an office that was located less than a kilo-metre from my house, and bang opposite Mehboob Studios. We sat there, in Nasir Hussain’s spacious room, the three of us, as he revealed his new idea. “I have a longish song and dance number in my film. It is nothing like you might have seen in our films, and is inspired by what I saw in London on my last visit. You could call it a disco number. Unfortunately, the few discos here are not the kind I have in mind, and the dancers and junior artistes we have just do not possess the fresh new looks that I want to capture. Zeenat Aman, Vijay Arora and Tariq will be the stars. I want you to get your friends, college boys and girls, to play themselves, dance, and lend the right ambience. Tariq told me you do visit discos and love dancing. I also have a small role for you, playing yourself. If we get the right atmosphere, this could be a highlight.”

I could have never imagined that one day, Nasir Hussain would send for me, in this manner, and I would end up facing a movie camera for the first time, via this route. “I’ll try, though I wonder if the kind of crowd I move in would be interested in the idea,” I responded. “We’ll pay them,” he added. “Payment might not be an issue, unless it was substantial”. “Well, since it is a big crowd, I won’t be able to offer much. Moreover, I will have to retain a few professionals too, to appease the dance director and the Associations, so payment could become a labour union issue,” was his candid retort. “I see. How many boys and girls do you need?” NasirSaahab gave the figure without batting an eyelid, “Two hundred.”

So, this was going to be Tariq’s debut! A spectacular set was being constructed at Filmistan Studios, where Hussain had spent a large part of his early career. Dharmendra, Neetu Singh and Ajit were also in the cast, but did not feature in the shooting that we were to be part of. Getting 200 teenagers to sign-up for a Hindi film song and dance shoot was not an easy task, by any standards. Firstly, many of them looked down upon Hindi films vis–a-vis English films, and secondly, reporting at a Goregaon studio for four consecutive mornings was something that could not even think of. But I set about the task, in right earnest.

A day before the shooting, I visited Filmistan Studios, to finalise a few details. I was taken to a set that looked out of this world, christened Heaven Hotel, on which a young man, in a customised outfit, was rehearsing dance steps. He too looked out of this world, not the Tariq I knew. A few things were bothering him, like the facts that he was not wearing his glasses and that he was not a trained dancer or guitar player. But it was indeed Tariq, as Monto, leader of the band Monto and his Avengers, shooting for what was a block-buster in the making, and I, who had denied him a role in a play, was doing pretty little! I tried to wave at him. Perhaps he needed privacy to figure it all out, for I was ushered out post-haste.

D Day. Close to 180 boys and girls showed-up. Many came out of curiosity, a few for the pocket money. Most, however, had to be sourced or cajoled. I had lived up to the faith reposed in me by Tariq, NasirSaahab and Dharamvir. Choreographer Suresh Bhatt had composed the steps for the main cast. For the ‘crowd’, I was told to keep it spontaneous and create a disco feel, with reactions on demand. Initially, Vijay Arora would sit in the audience, with a few handsome boys, and Zeenat would have some attractive female company. One of these girls was to win the Navy Queen Crown shortly, while another named Elizabeth, with a head-band, was to question the whole, make-believe discothèque ambience. She was to tell Zeenat, herself a disco frequenter, “Have you ever seen a disco like this? Does anybody dance like this?” Zeenat agreed that it was quite different from reality, but explained to her the whole world of the Hindi film make-believe. I asked the girl to keep her mouth shut!

I had worn a printed, silk kurta, with a pattern of heart/leaf shapes, and dark glasses to boot. When the proceedings began, I too joined in the fun. While Zeenat was doing the wriggly ‘stand-half sit-stand’ routine, I walked up to just below the stage, and followed her steps. Suresh Bhatt wasn’t amused, and told me to keep with the crowd. We rehearsed and rehearsed, and, after a few hitches, giggles and guffaws, it worked out rather well. Look carefully, and you will spot me in that trademark kurta. History was being made there, and a handful among the ‘crowd’ was going to take that exposure seriously. Others would just tell their friends, “Look, that is me!” I was to be saddled with more such assignments, and though this first one was done gratis, as a gesture towards a college mate, the others would get me some money too.

Now, whatever happened to the ‘role’ I was promised? That scene was shot at the entrance to Mithibai College. Vijay Arora arrives, astride a motorbike, and finds me talking to a girl. He makes some comments all in jest, accusing me of being a ‘Bunkmaster’, and spending time chasing girls, instead of studying. I protest, insisting that we were only talking about exams and notes. Suddenly, a college peon comes up and taps Vijay on the shoulder, “There’s a phone call for you,” (pre-mobile days, remember). Vijay excuses himself and heads for the college office. In the released film, the scene begins in the office, where he is on the phone! So much for the much-anticipated debut—the scene was entirely deleted! What did you expect? Even after so much cutting, the film was all of 168 minutes in length!

You remember, of course, that the 11-minute marathon song medley that I have referred to above was partly the title song by Kishore Kumar, ‘Aap key kamrey men’, ‘Dil mil gaye’ and ‘Dum maro dum’ (a new take, to cash in on the runaway hit from Hare Rama Hare Krishna, also scored by Rahul Dev Burman, and also picturised on Zeenat, who was the ‘Laal kapdonwali MemSahib’ in YKB). Catch it on the link below. 90% of the faces you see are neither junior artistes nor members of the Dancers’ Association. What an impact! Nasir Hussain had hit bulls-eye again, and the film, released in 1973, was a box-office baaraat (wedding procession) indeed. The four seamless song and dance numbers were the talk of filmdom, as were the hitherto unseen faces that thronged Heaven Hotel. A few production managers were told that their producers wanted to do something similar, and that they should trace out this man called Siraj Syed. Man? At all of 21?

P.S. I need not remind you that in the film, young Tariq was played by a child called Aamir Khan, Tariq’s cousin, and son of Nasir Hussain’s younger brother, Tahir Hussain, who had already produced Caravan and was now planning Anamika.

Yaadon Ki Baarat song medley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmnmiuSboJs

Coming-up: Flashback 5