One of the many markers of advancing age I encounter is when I see contemporaneous actors like Anil Kapoor, Sanjay Dutt and Sunny Deol doing what is euphemistically called, ahem, mature roles. I acknowledge the passage of my own years, I am not delusional, but honestly I feel age is just a number. My ‘Abhi toh main jawan hoon’ bubble may get pricked when an autorickshaw driver calls me Uncle (even though his hair has more salt and mine more pepper). However, by and large, ageism amuses me because I feel unchanged from within — I feel life is beautiful.
One pleasant reminder of just how much water has rippled under the bridge is when the children of the generation of stars I knew in their prime attend my workshop as the potential stars of Gen Next.
It all began with a call almost two years ago.
A young voice asked: Are you Dinesh Sir?
Me: Yes. But who are you?
He replied enthusiastically: Fateh. I want to enrol for your workshop.
Me: How did you get to know about my workshop?
Fateh: My mom is your Facebook friend. Farah.
Me (a trifle uncertainly): Farah, the actress? Of Faasle fame?
Fateh: Yes sir. She said if you are conducting the workshop, I must attend it.
On D-day, Fateh arrived well in time. I wasn’t surprised that he was a handsome lad; Farah also was stunningly beautiful in the Eighties. By the end of the five-hour workshop, he impressed me some more. He spoke with finesse, a tad unlike his mom whose vocabulary would make my ears turn red but whose warmth more than compensated for the language. Most importantly, Fateh was hungry to know about the media and the film industry. His winsome smile brought back so many memories of Farah — including a bike ride in Film City which began with her as my pillion rider and ended with her being in the driver’s seat while I held on for dear life as she zoomed like a speedster.
I have held 20 workshops so far and Om Puri’s son, Ishaan Puri, has attended 16 of them. The keen cinema buff is one of my brightest students, is extremely well versed with the entertainment medium and often wins the film quizzes I conduct. Ishaan wants to complete his graduation before he joins the film industry… but is already laying his groundwork. He is bright eyed and bushy tailed and constantly encourages fellow participants without wearing his famous surname as a badge.
‘How time flies’ is a euphemism for ‘we age’ but it sounds better. I had interviewed Om Puri when Ishaan was scampering around the house in shorts. I recall meeting Ishaan along with his mother Nandita at the screening of The Blue Umbrella (2005) and he was visibly excited at the thought of seeing a children’s film (such few of them are made even today). He is a sensitive soul — he wrote, “The workshop is like a life experience’ after attending the first one in 2017 and recently vouched on camera: “It’s a holistic experience for people from all walks of life.” I remember Om Puri proudly showing me memorabilia in his son’s room. Ishaan has the same open-faced honesty and is not surprisingly a huge fan of his late dad. In fact, the Om Puri-Amrish Puri film, Ardh Satya is one film I recommend to all my students.
I have yet to follow up on a decades-old invitation from ’80s singer-actress Salma Agha to sample kebabs at her house. But it may materialize now that I have befriended her daughter, the gentle and gregarious Zara Khan of the beautiful, long hair and peaches-and-cream complexion. Zara, who doesn’t like her screen name Sasha given to her during the making of Yash Raj’s Aurangzeb (2013), met me by default rather than by design. Sasha is a dear friend of my ex-reporter at Bollywood News Service, Raihaan, and spoke with me at his suggestion because she wanted to refute some misinformation about her. I wasn’t able to resolve that but ended up inviting her to my workshop, and she was hooked. She attended a few more workshops and also volunteered to compere the event when Meghna Gulzar released my book, ‘101 Haiku by Dinesh Raheja’. Not only did she do a fine oratorial job, but she also came home and patiently rehearsed to complement fellow actor-compere Mohommed Ali Shah’s rich baritone.
The fourth actor-in-the-wings who makes me feel that 37 years of my life in the film industry have flown past in the wink of my eye is Namashi, the second son of Mithun Chakraborty. Visions of all the interviews, features and photo-shoots I have done with Mithun over the years often swim before my eyes when I see Namashi. The youngster is as charming as his dad and can even do a mean pelvic thrust which he shot for a boomerang picture at my workshop while fellow participants loudly cheered him on. Namashi is easygoing and possesses his mother Yogeeta Bali’s twinkling eyes and fair complexion, and his father’s charisma. A gesture that embarrasses me no end and reminds me I am ageing — Namashi touches my feet as greeting each time he attends my workshop.
Aside: Why do Fateh, Ishaan, Zara and Namashi call me Sir even though I have not been knighted?
The day I see these four promising millennial talents find their place in the galaxy of stars, the immense joy of interacting and watching not one but two generation of stars from close quarters will have actualized.
