I remember shooting for Anupama at 5 a.m. in Khandala for the Kuch dil ne kaha song. Oh, such lovely memories! It was always like an adda. He would never scream or shout; he would explain the shot to the cameraman and then go back to playing chess. His only complaint during Anupama was about my bouffant in the song. He would constantly say, “Don’t mind your makeup; make up your mind.”
He was so economical in his shots, and we would wrap up shoots very quickly. He liked my performances in Apur Sansar and Devi, and perhaps that’s what made him cast me in Anupama. I don’t think anyone could dictate to him about casting or anything else. He was quite clear about whatever shot he was taking—no unnecessary wastage of time or film. I remember him playing chess with Tiger Pataudi between shots and even praising him, though I’m sure Hrishida was a far better chess player.
I recall a song sequence in Mahabalipuram for Chupke Chupke when Dharam was late. Hrishida waited for a while and then just went ahead and shot without him. Later, on the editing table, he showed Dharam at the end of the song, zipping up his trousers outside a gents loo. He was a wizard with editing. Recently, after a bout of illness, I rewatched Chupke Chupke, and it hasn’t aged at all. It has a wonderful shelf life. I remember texting Dharam about it.
Hrishida told the most politically incorrect jokes, many of which are unprintable, but we would all have a good laugh.
We have something more in common: he had a long tenure as chief of the Censor Board, and so did I for seven years, long after he had left the post.
As an actor, I would have loved to act in Abhimaan too, but I guess that was not to be. Jaya and Amit were so good. I have loved all of Hrishida’s films, especially Mili and Guddi. Jaya just aced them.
Externals never mattered to him. Hrishida, as I mentioned before, was so economical; he never really cared about set design or props. He just focused on the core of the scene and saw nuance in all of it. I remember his instructions to Dharam during Satyakam: “Dharam, you are not you. You are an honest man.” And Dharam really shone in that film. In that last shot where I tore up the letter, I asked for a retake. He said, “No way. You can’t do better than this; leave it to me.” I think I looked very beautiful in Satyakam, especially in the scenes where she quietly watches her husband at work.
I would frequently visit Hrishida, and I remember the dog smell in his house. It was full of dogs; he loved them. He would speak to all his staff using a microphone, and he also had a calling bell.
He was beset with health problems, but he carried it all very lightly, whether on set or off. Be it his gout or any other ailment, he never made a big deal about it.
