‘Shyambabu Made You Work Hard But…’

‘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.