Ma, I need some money to fuel my car, you said as you huffed and puffed up three flights of stairs. Why are you back, didn’t you just leave...
Ma, I need some money to fuel my car, you said as you huffed and puffed up three flights of stairs. Why are you back, didn’t you just leave for the shoot, Ma wanted to know. Ma, one of the light boys on our set, he lives in a slum, he needed money to repair his damaged roof. I gave him all the money I had. And now my car has stalled without petrol. Ma quietly gave you some money. That’s what you were like: simple, empathetic and generous to a fault.
Ma had another story about your time in Pune around 1971-72 when you were at Fergusson College. A young man from a royal family was madly pursuing you. You were smitten too, not by him but his haveli. What mattered to you the most was having this mansion where you could raise many children. That’s what you were like: funny, dreamy and outlandish.
Ma and you came to visit me in the United States after my son Adeetya’s birth in 1977. I had to return to work in three weeks. It had been decided that Ma and you would take Adi back to India when he was five weeks old.
You were mad...
