The 'Women's Day' has come and gone as a ritual- plain and  mere

 We still have  miles to go before SHE walks without a shred of fear

Let’s first wipe off HER fair face each and every sad, painful tear

Otherwise all silly hype and speech simply hurts and jars the ear

Anyway, this is March and sun’s silvery radiance casts a spell of ethereal bliss

Here’s my take on NS’s memoir- a book to read this spring without a miss

A memoir worth reading

     

                         

 After  having finished reading Naseeruddin Shah’s memoir ‘And Then One Day’, I can’t resist the temptation of sharing my thoughts with you on the book.

To be honest, I placed the online order for the book with some reluctance and hesitation. Of course I was certainly looking for a good, stimulating bio- or autobiographical account to read as a break from an overdose of fiction. My first choice was the highly acclaimed A Life of My Own by Claire Tomalin. But its price tag proved daunting. Finally, since author-historian Ramachandra Guha whom I greatly respect and admire had showered high praise on NS’s book, I needed no better trigger to place the order. Then when the book arrived, I wondered if it would provide me the sort of cerebral nourishment I was looking for. But as I began reading, to my great delight, I found it a delectable feast.

Written in his own inimitable style, the memoir sparkles with honesty as it informs us about NS’s bumpy ride through the vicissitudes of life. He speaks about his aversion to studies – math in particular, zoology no less – right from his school days to the college and so on. He has had to contend with all kinds of coercions, pressures, bullying, jeers and harsh stinging words from so many, including his overzealous and inflexible Dad who wanted him to become a doctor or a power-wielding civil servant. His brothers’ resounding success in studies leading to successful careers contrasting sharply with his serial flops and failures only compounds his misery and frustration that much more. Unable to find his bearings, he turns flippant, irreverent and wayward imbibing all the bad habits. It is indeed with rare candour and courage - which only the truly great can muster - that he describes all his flip-flops:  smoking, drugs,  stray escapades/‘flings’/trysts with women and heartbreaks  as he gropes for a right course for his journey of life. However even in the face of not such a bright and promising start – at least in the eyes of his parents and the world – he doesn’t let that inner spark in him be snuffed out. Somewhere deep inside him he feels that he is cut out for something different, extraordinary and unconventional and not a trite 10-5 office job. Cinema holds him in thrall and instead of poring over insipid text books he sneaks off to cinema halls to watch movies, and nurture dreams. Acting becomes his overriding passion and obsession. The odds, insults, recriminations, reprimands…nothing whatsoever is able to extinguish that flame of creativity in him. His self-belief in himself remains unshakeable. And he pursues his dreams, come what may. Thus, stumbling, falling but rising again and learning his lessons all the way, he forges ahead. First good turn comes when – call it the invisible hand of destiny or sheer chance – he lands himself at the National School of Drama (NSD), Delhi and meets his mentor the erudite Ebrahim Alkazi. He also meets persons like Om Puri, Jaspal and others to befriend- some of whom finally make it big in the film industry. Later he joins the FTII, Pune from where, while staying glued to  theatre, he inches his way to the world of cinema. NS’s candid, incisive account of highs and lows and the plusses and minuses of FTII and the film-world make for an absorbing and insightful read- and a man of his character and intellectual integrity alone could have done this plainspeak.

As we go through the twists and turns of his life, we finally come face to face with the ultimate Naseeruddin Shah: an actor par excellence but with a difference. As we know,  NS stands out as one of the rare few in Bollywood who has not sold his soul to the glitter and glamour, and rapacious greed for money. He has consciously stayed away from its blind pursuit and not become filthy rich by doing undignified ads for all kinds of stuff from hair oils to fairness creams. 

 He remains rooted to the ground with his head in place. And  being a cerebral, discriminating film star, he is unsparingly critical of the rubbish that is dished out by the Bollywood for our consumption. “A habit for consuming junk has over the years been created in the audience,” says he with brutal, endearing honesty so typical of him.

His narrative style is refreshingly original though at places I found the sentences a bit too meandering for quick easy comprehension. But that doesn’t in any way dilute the richness and the joy of reading this delicious memoir. If you love reading such books, this one won’t disappoint you.

                                                         

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 Images that haunt post Intl' Women's Day

                                                                      

   (The pics are courtesy: 'The Equator Line',  'magazine of the new world')

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