What happens when you are made to feel like a celebrity, that too, someone of the stature of Shashi Kapoor, the role model of many amongst us who admire movies and theatre?
Well, you feel as if you are walking on cloud nine. You think you must have done something creative of a remarkably high order to deserve a treatment of that kind. Looking inward, you wonder if your limited supply of creative juices could have ever enabled you to dish out something juicy which could merit a recognition comparable to that of the famous actor-director.
I confess that, unlike Shashi Kapoor, nature has not bestowed me with the kind of charming personality he had. Nor do I sport an impish smile. In fact, rare are the occasions when you would spot me smiling. As an honorary vice president of the International Society of Morons, you would find my shoulders stooping owing to the troubles of the entire world weighing on the slender frame. Smiling does not come easy to me.
As to acting, my endeavours in that field have never met with any success, since I believe in what quite a few of our Indian scriptures preach, that is, to have an alignment between our manasa-vacha-karmana. In other words, to have a harmony between what we think, what we speak, and what we do. But in acting, one has to be exactly the opposite. One may be very sad internally but may have to do a comic scene in front of the camera. The biggest back-handed compliment I ever got in my life came once from a lady lawyer who was defending my employer’s case where I was supposed to face the firing squad as one of the witnesses. She advised me not to appear in the court, lest all the untruths proposed to be advanced by her in her arguments to help the company win the case may be rendered null and void. When it comes to theatre, the closest I have ever come to a stage is when the director of the play being staged thought that I was fit enough only to perform the function of drawing the curtains in and out.
So, how did I feel getting treated like Shashi Kapoor by a worthy cousin of mine? Well, the credit for this goes entirely to her.
The Cousin
Now, this cousin of mine happens to be a girl of medium height, with jute-white hair which remind one of freshly driven snow on the Himalayas. During her long sojourn on this planet, much rain has fallen into her life, but has failed to dampen her spirits. She maintains a cheery disposition.
I am not an expert about girls’ eyes but can vouch with confidence that hers are as shiny brown as a November sky when the sun has just completed its obligations to humanity for the day and is heading for a well-earned reprieve for the night. Her eyes are eyes that look straight and often challenge one. The gaze is occasionally intent, as if powered by a laser beam. At times, it could be a piercing gaze which expresses an icy anger, annoyance or contempt, possibly directed at her bitter half. It could also be one which conveys either a dumbstruck admiration and wonderment or a deep concern for the welfare of a fellow human being. When in a compassionate mood, the eyes could thaw to the light brown of the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, where it splashes about the coast of Monaco in Southern France. Even though her eyes do not thaw for everybody, they surely thaw for a cousin like me who comes visiting her lair once in a blue moon.
Having been a teacher in her working life, I am certain that she would have had a sound reputation as a tamer of lions and lionesses amongst her students, somewhat akin to that of Miss Tomlinson of Bertie Changes his Mind fame. But many of her students would have possibly loved her as well. On occasions, she might have been like Emerald Stoker. You know, one of those soothing, sympathetic girls you can take your troubles to, confident of having your hand held and your head patted, bringing some solace to the bruised soul.
Of Shashi Kapoor and the Business of Staring
A few decades back, this cousin tagged along with her illustrious husband who was then an editor of a premium Bollywood magazine to an interview with the famous star. He was late owing to a tight shooting schedule, leading to a long wait during which she noticed the dull and drab surroundings of a makeshift room in a studio. However, when the charming and radiant person came in, in a sharp contrast, the whole place lit up. Introductions were made but she was overawed, dumbstruck and tongue-tied to say anything. She simply sat soaking in the brilliance and charisma of Shashi Kapoor, staring at him with an unwavering eye. You know, the kind of steady stare Piggy and her friends kept giving Bertie Wooster when he was trying to address the girl students at the school near Brighton. When the interview got over, the star got up, turned to this cousin of mine, and quipped:
“Hope I look as good as I do on the screen?!”
Embarrassed, the cousin suddenly realized her folly – of having been so brazenly staring at him all the time!
Being Made to Feel Like Shashi Kapoor
Cut to the present. One of my habits is to go out for an evening walk. I believe it keeps the good old pump in a better shape. Also, it is never a bad idea to grasp the topography of the neighbourhood, exchange courteous nods with some other strollers who view me as a harmless creature and are open to making eye contact, besides, of course, trying to be pally with the dogs in the area. The last mentioned take a jaundiced view of strangers venturing into a territory on which they believe they have exclusive rights. Some would bark when they notice me, whereas others would simply treat me with dignified apathy. Some of them who suspect I could be offering them a morsel of some interest might even wag their tails tentatively. However, once they sense that I have nothing to offer, they follow one of the key principles propounded by the Bhagavad Gita, practice the art of detachment, and quietly melt away.
On a particular day, it so happened that the ambient temperature was more than 34 degrees Centigrade. By the time I got back home from my walk, I was a bit breathless. Rather than going straight back into my room, I simply turned the fan on and parked myself in the drawing room itself.
It was the work of a moment for my concerned cousin to swoop in. With deep lines of worry lining her face, she stood nearby, intently staring at me for quite some time. After some time, I gave her a sheepish smile, and teased her by saying:
“Nothing dramatic is happening. Not to worry. But do I look like Shashi Kapoor?!”
We both had a hearty laugh. But her piercing gaze cast at me then did make me feel like the star in question. It chuffed me no end. After all, one does not get to feel like a celebrity every other day.
Of Sister Acts
In fact, looking back, I find that most sisters fuss over and pamper one no end. One look at the Anatole-ish spreads laid out on the dining table, and greed prevails over prudence. Concepts like diet control sound like the esoteric propositions of theoretical physics which appear to have no relationship to the reality around us.
I realize that sisters operate with a dash of motherliness which comforts and soothes one. An angelic disposition is surely their forte.
Right after this visit, I raided the home of another cousin. She and her husband also spared no effort in showing me around almost all the important places in their city. One could get a whiff of the history and the culture of both the places and even gorge on the exotic cuisines on offer.
The care and attention I received at both the places merely reaffirmed the importance of sisters in one’s life. Sisters are truly special.
Of course, Lord Emsworth, who is often found shuddering at the prospect of facing his sister, Lady Constance Keeble, may not concur with my views.
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