Boman Irani

Just the other night was the premiere of Well Done Abba.

There were certain things you can be certain of:

1. Shyam Benegal would be bang on time. The rest of the world was truly and genuinely caught up in a traffic jam. So how did he get to Fun Cinema in Andheri from Malabar Hill on time? We will never know. He obviously does not take a surface route and it is either an underground or aerial route. He is never late. Having said that, most people were not all that late either, but that’s because most people there were from the Shyam Benegal stable anyway. Still, they were not there before him.

2. The screening would not start on time. If it did, people would panic. They would think something was terribly wrong. So it is always wise not to adhere to the stipulated time.

3. The media goes wild asking any and everybody what they think of the film. “We have not seen the film yet and will let you know after the screening” is the usual answer. “After the screening we will not be here” they seem to say!

4. There will always be a technical snag and the theater guys will try and explain it to you as to why there is a delay. You nod, smile and pretend you understood what he said and all you will ask him is “just tell us how much time before we start?”

5. The problem would not be solved for a while so they play the National Anthem. It always feels good. It would be a good 30 minutes before the problem is solved and the movie would start. National fervour is always a good distraction from the real issue.

6. There will always be a lot of clapping and cheering when the credits roll. Loud cheers when names show up on the big screen. Then only pockets cheer for their friends only. Everybody does not cheer for everybody! When Shyam Benegal’s name shone on the screen, there would be the loudest cheer!!

7. You can tell the genuine from the polite in the interval. It is always a case study in human behaviour.

8. There will always be hugs and kisses after the show. All genuine. Reason being, the polite ones would have left.

9. Popcorn is always good carpet decoration. That is all that remains.

The Well done Abba premiere was one of the best I have attended. I felt really proud that night. The drive home was sweet. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep in the car. I couldn’t, as I was smiling with my eyes closed!

21^st March is Navroze. Parsi/Irani New Year. It is Spring Equinox day. One of two days in the year, when we have equal day and equal night, on the equator at least. This is the ‘Year of the Tiger’ according to the Persian and Chinese calendar.

Summer solstice day? Spring equinox day? I sometimes wonder how centuries ago they figured it out geographically? Assuming of course that today we are the most advanced species of mankind ever?

All this made no sense to me as a kid since all I was interested in was a new set of clothes to wear on Navroze, the Parsi natak that we would go and watch in the evening, dinner after at a restaurant and the traditional ‘Navroze table’ that would be set in the morning:

We would wake up at an odd hour bathe in our sleep, wear our topis and help mom to set it so that it would be ready in time when the earth would spin, shift it’s axis and go past an imaginary line that would bring in the new year, cosmically. By then we had placed, dry fruit in bowls, fruit, paneer nan, a glass of falooda, dia’s, candles, Irani sweets, a needle and thread, a small piece of cloth,  a bowl of salt, sugar and rice, a mirror a sprinkler of rose water and other goodies. This cannot be done over the dining table since this table stays set for a couple of days, so we always used Dad’s old writing table. It is the prettiest little setting you ever saw.

It may seem a strange mix of items. But there is significance for everything. The fruit for the food that we get, the piece of cloth and needle and thread for the clothes we wear, the mirror as a reflection of the year gone by, the rose water for the sweetness in our lives, the salt, sugar, rice explains its own presence, the falooda for plenty. So when the planet is spinning towards the new year, we stand around the table and hold hands and pray and thank the Lord for what we have, and will receive. We then hold the mirror into each other faces ask for a smile and freeze the smile with a sprinkle of rose water, so that the whole year may be spent smiling. Then hugs, kisses and then finally…eat all the goodies.

Next morning school, and we would stuff all the dry fruit in our pockets, (never the nan paneer) to share with friends. Kishmish was always sticky so badam, pista always safe. Chilgozas(shelled dry fruit) too. Cracking the little buggers between the teeth and sliding out the little white bullet of fruit is a sweet sweet memory of childhood that stays.

Tomorrow morning the first thing I will reach out for at the table is a Chilgoza. It always makes me happy!

This is the ‘Year of the Tiger’. Ironic, Baichung Bhutia and MS Dhoni have been appealing over the TV to save the Tiger. The numbers are dwindling.

Silly me! For a minute I though they were talking about us Parsis!!

Navroze Mubarak

A lot of people remember pretty vividly the first movie they ever saw. They recall where they saw it, who they saw it with and at what age.

I on the other hand have a pretty good memory, but yet have no clear idea of the first movie I ever saw. Strange!  My theory is that, all those who remember well must have watched it at an age they remember most things well. I must have been three or two or even half a year old…..or even less? Don’t laugh, but I feel I have watched movies from my mother’s womb. So don’t shoot me for not being that vivid. When I may have been six months old they took me to see ‘Dil deke dekho’. I did try telling them “I’VE THINK SEEN IT BEFORE!!!”

Friday was a special day in my life, like it is for many of us. But apart from being the last working day of the week it was also the day our family shop had it’s day off. Most importantly it is ‘new film release day!’ Still is!

The old cinemas had no Air conditioners and there used to have big double black curtains at the doors to keep the sunlight out. One curtain shut from right to left and the other the opposite way. So if you were trapped between the two curtains with 6 popcorns, 2 kulfi cones and 3 samosas, you had to yell for the usher for help as if you were being raped. Ranjeet being the curtain. That explains my claustrophobia. You also had to avoid the giant whooshing Adler fans in the hall, which are much like the hurricane fans we use on the sets for a storm effect. You had to choose between the noise of the fans that drowned the sound or the sweat that flowed down your cheeks that drowned you. The only time they used those fans in an AC hall was during the screenings of Razia Sultan at the Maratha Mandir, when they used to hold plates of biryani in front of the fans to enhance the ambience during the famous feast scene. Smelt good, looked good but did not work, as viewers were distracted as they kept wondering as to what happened to the biryani?

‘Teen se chey’ show had you walking out with a unique brand of body odour. ‘Chey se nau’ had a subtle change and ‘nau se barah’ had definitely a posher body odour. Unless of course it was the month of May where everybody smelt the same whatever the show.

For a lot of my schoolmates Haathi mere Saathi was their first movie. Poor souls; I had already done two PhD’s by then. Mom kept sending me to the Alexandra Cinema opposite my house like she was sending me for tuitions. She encouraged me to watch movies and felt there was an all round education in cinema. What a visionary. From Guru Dutt to Dara Singh I had seen them all.

The Alex used to screen English movies and the film titles were translated on the poster so that local audiences would get and idea. ‘Spiderman’ was retitled in hindi as ‘Havve me latka de sabko phatka’ while ‘Taste the blood of Dracula’ was ‘Drakoola ne kheli khoon mein holi’ and ‘Dirty Dozen’ was ‘Dhasoo Darjan’.  The Alexandra was my Cinema Paradiso.

It is no secret that my mom played a big part in me loving the movies. 

So then why does everyone find it strange when I say I used to watch movies from my mother’s womb?

A couple of days ago on my way to a shoot I asked my driver Zak the locations address. He looked at me as if I needed an additional seat belt strap if he did tell me where we were going. I was wondering why he was being so coy and finally he said ‘Poonawalla Bungalow, Tadaaaa!!!’ without actually saying the ‘tadaaaa!!!’ off course. I did not get it.

We finally reached the location and realized why there was razzmatazz in his voice. Normally a one expression wonder he is, but when he saw the look on my face when I gazed at the bungalow, he looked at me closed his eyes and nodded his head from north east to south west, Rajesh Khanna style, an expression that said ‘that was what I was trying to tell you!’??

What he should have told me was that we were going to “Asthana House” not “Poonawalla Bungalow”.

Memories came flooding back. My first Hindi film shot here. My first location. I could recall every moment of those ten days of shooting that probably changed my life.

As I walked past the gates I entered the memory of my first day on a Hindi film set.  My first shot was with a legend called Sunil Dutt. There was a scene of us walking past that very gate of me welcoming him to Asthana house and sharing with him the efficacy of laughter therapy. I remember walking up to him and greeting him. I did tell him I was rather nervous since it was my first day of shooting. He took me to the side and whispered to me not to let the word get around since he felt the very same way himself. It had been sixteen years since he had faced the camera. He said if the director found out he might recast the both of us. I reminded him that it was the director’s first day too and he was nervous as hell as well.

“Now, we really are in trouble!” he said.

 We burst out laughing, and that in truth, was the real meaning of laughter therapy. That was his manner. Humble, wise and disarming.

This memory itself was enough to choke me with emotion and I had not even entered the house yet.

I had to start shooting. We were shooting promos that day. Let me tell you the crew was the best audience I could have hoped for. I had a story for them for every room in Asthana House. They were asking trivia questions, mouthing dialogues, reminding me of things I may have forgotten. They were eating out of my hand. Then…… I blew it!!! You see, after eight hours they were not going to endure Munnabhai MBBS nostalgia tour part 2. They had had enough. Their eight hours were up and they were not even going to take overtime to listen to another one of my ‘lump in the throat’ stories.

We had been through it all. Room to room. The bhai from Dubai scene in the kitchen. The telephone scene with Chinky. The ‘boyfriend bole toh’ scene on the terrace. The Munna behind the blinds with flowers.  The Dongri medical college sofa scene in the living room. I was now getting into inches and centimeters and pointing at the tile that I was standing on where I said what.  

Meanwhile Zak was doing a tour of his own with all the other drivers and eight hours later still had a captive audience while I had lost mine. It was dusk now and I was in the garden sipping tea all by myself on a ‘garden bench’. Good God!! How could I have forgotten? “The garden bench!!!!” The bench where Sanju and I did the famous scene where he tells me he doesn’t love my daughter but another, who is actually my daughter…… I had to share it with someone. I had another fresh story. The crew was not having any so I tweeted the moment. I was not alone, albeit for just a while. So I sat by myself and enjoyed the moment thinking.  I was having an epiphany. I was a captive audience to myself!

I have so many stories of Asthana House to tell you all, but learning from a recent experience, there is this much a reader can endure too, and one must know when to stop.

When we packed up, Zak still had his audience eating out of his hand. It was late at night and he was still at it and they could not get enough of Munnabhai stories. They were like kids around Santa Claus. What did I do wrong? Nothing really!

The difference was that Zak was sharing funny anecdotes and making em laugh and I was trying to share a feeling!

Before I got married I used to crack up every time I caught a Parsi having a conversation with a dog! I used to find it hilarious! Today I find myself unabashedly chatting with Layla, my golden retriever daughter.
As a matter of fact before I got married I could never see myself married. I converted, toed the line and got married in a matter of weeks. It’s another story that I am toeing the line for the past 25 years!
I could never understand the use of a suit and tie in the heat of this country and never wore one. I found it a choking handcuff of clothing, for the boring. Today I hardly every attend a function untogged and untied. I have now discovered a suit is also a great little camouflage for a great little area around the belly button.
The list of things I may have said NEVER to, goes on.
Sushi, brinjal, drinking warm water and telling the wife ‘you’re wrong’. Converted!
Using the stairs, sms greetings, shiny shirts and the mother in law. Converted!
Watching God channel and talking to plants…….Got you there, not yet!!!
I had ever said no to Munnabhai MBBS. Thank God for my powers of succumbing!
To make a long story short, this premumble is only a roundabout way to let you know that I am now ready for the world of blogging.
This is my 1st BLOG folks. So don’t hold it against me for taking time to get converted.
I have learnt the hard way never to say never again. Once converted though, my track record has been pretty good. Ask Zenobia. Did I not tell you? She is never wrong?

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