'Each of us will have a beautiful story about him because he went beyond work and touched our lives. That's a rarity in this industry.'
Divya Dutta met Shyam Benegal when she was just 17 or 18 and went on to do some of her finest work with him. She was one of the guests at the legendary director's 90th birthday on December 14. Today, she is still trying to process the fact that he is no longer with us.
Speaking to Rediff.com Senior Contributor Roshmila Bhattacharya, the National Award-winning actress says, "The first Shyam Benegal film I saw was Mandi. I can't remember how I happened to come across it because I was pretty young then. Maybe my mum was watching and I too saw it, chup ke. I was bowled over by the story, the performances and the realism it portrayed after all those commercial films I had grown up seeing."
'By the time we finished cooking, Seema Biswas was Seema Didi...'
Shyambabu was so knowledgeable, and even if it was history or geography, he would explain through anecdotes, making it easier for you to grasp what he was saying.
He was a true storyteller and I always looked forward to our tea sessions in his office.
In our film industry, you often hear people say, 'Sure, maybe next week' or 'I'll let you know' when you tell them that you want to work with them and would like to come over.
But when I approached him, he gave me his phone number and said, 'Please come tomorrow.'
It was that easy even though he was the Shyam Benegal.
He was so fair and honest, cheerful and uncomplicated, that's something all of us can learn from him.
I was just a newcomer then, yet the respect with which he spoke to me is something I will never forget.
He was aware that I didn't know any of my co-actors who had worked with him earlier so he quietly asked me what I enjoyed doing.
'Cooking,' I blurted out, having just come from Punjab.
So Shyambabu asked me to go and cook something with them.
I went into the kitchen, shy and wary, but by the time we had finished cooking, Seema Biswas was Seema didi, Rajit Kapur was Rajju and Rajeshwari Sachdeva was a friend and our chemistry translated beautifully on screen.
'He asked me to choreograph my own song'
I was 17 or 18 years old when I did Samar; a novice, yet he entrusted me with the responsibility of choreographing my own song.
He could have got anyone to do it given his stature but he chose me, so I could learn the process and acclimatise myself with his kind of filmmaking.
I performed the dance in one go, like a street performance, with seven cameras trained on me, and the entire unit was there cheering for me.
I was clapping for myself, delighted to have done a song for Shyambabu and grateful for the opportunity.
He brushed off my gratitude graciously, he was above all that.
For him, it was a job well done.
He patted me on the back, and said, 'Young lady, you were good.'
In hindsight, I realise he knew exactly how to extract the best out of you without you even knowing what you were doing.
I will always cherish those light-hearted conversations, his crackling one-liners and jokes, the pearls of knowledge he scattered, telling you things you didn't know.
I came out of his office a very enlightened woman.
'I was bowled over by Mandi'
The first Shyam Benegal film I saw was Mandi.
I can't remember how I happened to come across it because I was pretty young then, maybe my mum was watching it, and I saw it, chup ke.
I was bowled over by the story, the performances and the realism it portrayed after all those commercial films I had grown up seeing.
And those women, what characters, what characterisation!
Later, I would ask Shyambabu which role he would have offered me had I been around then.
He would laugh and say, 'Guess, I'm not telling you.'
It was only when I saw the film again, years later, that I realised its gravitas and the message inherent in it.
All his films, be it Mandi, Bhumika, Nishant, Samar, Junoon or even the delightful satire Welcome to Sajjanpur, are a reflection of our society and its myriad issues, a topical, hard-hitting, socially-relevant statement on casteism, patriarchy and politics, which is why they are so hard to forget.
On his 90th birthday which was a small and intimate celebration with only those who were very close to him present, there were many of those associated with Junoon and it was euphoric to meet them.
That beautiful evening, I was absorbing every moment with Shyambabu and with those I hadn't seen in a while.
'The shoot was to pack up at 6 pm, we finished by 3 pm'
The beauty of the man was that he never let you over-prepare, yet would constantly challenge you.
He would say, 'Have a blast while keeping that little nervous energy.'
Once we were doing something on Punjab and since I had some really long verses to deliver, I was a little anxious.
When he assured me there would be a teleprompter, I was reassured.
The next day, I arrived on the set to be greeted by Shyambabu wearing his usual 'Director' work hat and familiar smile.
That smile was so warm and so bright it could light up the surroundings.
'Young lady, are you ready?' he asked.
Nodding, I started reading my lines from the teleprompter.
His sudden, 'Cut!' gave me a start even as I wondered what happened.
'Are you reading from the teleprompter?' he asked.
In response to my 'Yes Sir', he shook his head and said, 'No, don't read, go and mug up the lines.'
I was aghast! There were 40 pages of verses, how was I going to remember it?
He was unfazed, telling me to take my time.
Once again, he had entrusted me with a huge responsibility and I couldn't let him down.
I went and sat behind a huge rock in Mumbai's Film City Studio, poring over the sheets.
Half an hour later, I was back.
The shoot was to pack up at 6 pm, we finished by 3 pm.
That was the magic of the man, woh aap se badi badi cheezen aasani se karwa lete (he could easily get you to do near impossible things).
He had the eye and would pick people, place them where they were a perfect fit.
I know he must be getting ready to make his next film
He had a rare gift of putting everyone at ease.
Yes, he made you work hard but life was so much fun on his set because no one went to their make-up room or vanity van after their shot. We sat around him and had a blast.
After pack-up, when we all sat down for dinner, he would have one-on-one conversations with everyone, from the actors and their families to the technicians.
He made you feel he was one of us and not someone who had given Indian cinema some of its best works.
With his simplicity and theraav (gravity), Shyambabu was a class apart.
Just his name had such a personal ring to it.
He was Shyambabu to everyone and each of us will all have a beautiful story to tell about him because he went beyond work and touched our lives. That's a rarity in this industry.
When my mother passed away, he was there with his wife Nira.
How many people can you count who are that professional and yet so personal!
I have no words for the man. With Shyambabu, I will always fall short of words.
People like him should be around you forever.
I'm still processing the fact that he is no longer with us. At the same time, I know he must be getting ready to make his next film.
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