Bindu says gaalis were her awards

Few homes would have the Haji Ali dargah and the Mahalaxmi temple paying it vigil. Bindu’s is one such along Mumbai’s privileged skyline. Inside, a sharp voice greets me from the room adjacent to the drawing room - ‘Kaun aaya?’ Baitho baitho!’ it says repeatedly. After a while it sinks in that it’s veteran Bindu’s African parrot playing host... till she arrives.

Bindu’s key achievement was that despite her married status she went on to become a sex symbol in a conservative industry. Her sizzling leg show, dazzling dances coupled with a voluptuous form won her the title of Raquel Welch in India. Shabbo (Kati Patang) and Mona Darling (Zanjeer) were the other iconic sobriquets she picked up along the way. Till date she’s paid a backhanded compliment in the innumerable Ajit jokes that continue to feature in TV and comedy shows. “Yes, the way Ajit saab said ‘Mona Darling’ in Zanjeer is widely mimicked,” she smiles. She agrees that her sex-appeal had a lot to do with her physicality adding, “Eyes are also important. My eye make-up would reflect in my light brown eyes. People thought I wore coloured contact lenses.” Being a Gujarati, her chaste Urdu comes as a surprise. “My mother Jyotsna was a stage artiste. She was a Rajput brought up in Hyderabad. I picked up Urdu from her. Even Balraj Sahni once remarked on the sets of Do Raaste, ‘Your talaffuz (pronunciation) is so pure. You’re like a statue, so beautiful!” she shares.

 DREAMS AND REALITY

Tinsel dreams took wings early in Bindu’s life. “I often watched my mother on stage. Her play Ladakvayo was a huge hit.” But her father (Nanubhai Desai), a noted film producer, wanted her to be a doctor. “We were eight of us, seven sisters and one brother (today a brother and a sister have passed away). I used to take part in school plays and often won prizes. My friends would suggest that I should act on screen. I too enjoyed the khayali pulav. I was a great Vyjayanthimala fan. I loved her dance, her beauty. She was my role model.” When her father fell ill Bindu being the eldest was deemed to take charge. “Dad said, ‘You’re my son. Look after the family after I’m gone’. After he passed away I took to modelling to support the family. I was 11 but I looked 16 as I was well-built,” recalls the actor who also featured in documentaries till Mohan Kumar signed her for Anpadh (1962), where she played Mala Sinha’s daughter.

 

TEEN BRIDE

After this brief stint in the movies she went back to school. “I was in the in-between stage – neither a child nor a young girl.” But soon an adolescent Bindu met her future husband (businessman Champak Lal Zhaveri, deals with outdoor advertising) and a romance ensued. “He was my neighbour in Sonawala Terrace at Tardeo. We had a difference of five years between us. I didn’t fall in love with him immediately. Nor did I give in easily. Maine unko bahut sataya.  He’d ask me out. I’d give him a time but never turn up. I did this repeatedly. He’d be upset, but never showed it. Or else he’d have lost me. I understood that it was not just lust or attraction on his part. We did face familial opposition but we were firm and eventually got married,” says Bindu who became a bride at 16. “He has been like a father figure since then.”

SHABBO TO MONA DARLING

At 17 she happened to meet director Raj Khosla at brother-in-law Laxmikant’s (of composer Laxmikant-Pyarelal fame who was married to Bindu’s sister) house. “Khoslaji offered me a role saying, ‘the character is the protagonist of my story but she’s a vamp’. I was a little hesitant. He gave me 15 days to think. My husband said, ‘What’s the need? But I thought what’s the harm?’ It had stirred a longstanding dream in me.”

Bindu was soon called for an audition. “I said the dialogue with confidence. Khoslaji right away said, ‘You’re my Nilambari!’” Incidentally, that was the name of the shrewish character Bindu played in Do Raaste based on Chandrakant Kakodkar’s celebrated novel Nilambari. “The title was changed to Do Raaste, because Khoslaji felt Nilambari sounded like a mythological film.” Even as she was shooting for Do Raaste, Bindu signed Ittefaq, Aaya Sawan Jhoom Ke (both in 1969) and Kati Patang (1970). “Shakti Samanta offered me the role in Kati Patang on the condition that I should be able dance. I rehearsed with Robert Master for three days. Also I was inspired by Helenji’s dances. She used to fill the screen; I admired her figure, her expressions, her dresses, her movements…” The Bharat Natyam and Kathak dancer did find film dancing ‘a bit loud’. “But on the set I gave up all inhibitions and gave it my best. As a cabaret dancer I couldn’t wear a saree or salwar kameez. I had to wear glamorous costumes. But I took precautions. I wore skin-like nylon stitched with my blouse that covered the bare skin.” The hit number Mera naam hai Shabnam in Kati Patang won her the endearment Shabbo and loads of fans.

A spate of glamorous roles followed in films like Mere Jeevan Saathi, Dushman, Garam Masala, Raja Jani, Dharma and Joshilay (in the early ’70s). “I was particular about my diet and exercise. I don’t remember eating lunch on the sets ever. I’d carry buttermilk, tomato/beetroot soup and fruits. Also, you can’t dance on a full stomach. The tummy shows in your costume,” she states. She recalls an intricate dance sequence she had to pull during Haseenon Ka Devta (1971) for choreographer Hiralal. “Masterji had flown in from Madras to take rehearsals at 5am. He was a hard taskmaster and everyone trembled in front of him. He told his assistant Susheela, ‘Amma ko steps sikhao!’ But she herself slipped whilst teaching me. I got nervous and prayed, ‘God please help me’ and did the steps without a cut. Masterji gave me Rs 100 as bakshish,” she beams.

It’s not that she never wished to play the heroine but the dye was already cast. “The stamp of a vamp remained with me. Since I began my career after marriage, I grabbed whatever came my way. I was earning both money and fame. Soon I forgot about being a heroine. I got as much fame as the heroine and surely some gaalis too! The gaalis were my awards. When writers wrote a story they’d just write my name instead of the character’s. That was a compliment. Also, only if you’re shown the bad, will you value the good. Some fans didn’t know I was married and wrote letters in blood saying ‘I love you’ and ‘Will you marry me?’”

So high-flying had Bindu grown that often she stole the thunder from the heroine. “Once I had worn a saree of the same colour worn by a lead actress. She wasn’t pleased and the talk reached my ears. But no one dared to tell me anything as I also held my own. You should be confident about yourself. What has colour got to do with your acting?” she asks. In a traditionalist industry a much-married Bindu dared to play a seductress in Imtihan and a nymphomaniac in Hawas (both in 1974). But she was guarded about not being exploited. “Once I refused to do a certain movement when the camera was kept at a low angle. It would have looked vulgar and the Censor Board would also have cut it out.”

What remains remarkable that in the same year 1973, she did two diametrically opposite roles – that of the don’s moll, the iconic ‘Mona darling’ in Zanjeer and the sympathetic friend of a fading singer in Abhimaan, the latter being her most cherished role. “Hrishida (director Hrishikesh Mukherjee) said, ‘When you make an entry, the viewer’s will be expecting some mischief. But we will surprise them with the twist’,” she recalls.

NOT WITHOUT HUBBY

Bindu credits her career to her supportive husband. “It was with his consent that I worked. So there was peace at home. Even Jaya Bachchan once remarked, ‘You’re very lucky’. So did Yusuf saab (Dilip Kumar) with whom I worked in Dastaan (1972). He said, ‘Mujhe tumse zyaada tumhare husband pasand hai.” When the wife is the bread winner and the husband depends on her, then all the trouble starts. But my husband was a successful person in his own right. He could look after me.” On her part Bindu knew the dos and dont’s if she had to balance marriage with a hi-profile career. “My husband took pride when I was showered with compliments. His logic was hai toh meri hi na (she is mine after all)! The minute pack-up was announced I’d head home. There was no filmi talk at home nor did I share any piece of gossip with him. Also, I never attended parties alone. I was always accompanied by him. I had learnt how to keep people at a distance. Whether you’re willing or not, is sensed by the opposite party. Even your handshake conveys your intention. I never gave people an opportunity to point a finger at me though I played bold roles. I was respected.”

Once an editor of a glossy happened to ask her, “How come you’re not linked-up with your heroes?” “I retorted, ‘Why not link my name with yours?’ He was taken aback and kept quiet,” she narrates. Bindu maintains she was friends with her co-stars. “I was friendly with Prem (Chopra) and still am. He has a great sense of humour. I also got along with Amjad bhai (Khan). He kept having chai every five minutes. I’d ask him not to consume so much sugar but he’d say, ‘Main Pathan ka bachcha hoon, mujhe kuch nahin hoga!’ On the other hand Ranjeet would bring milk bottles on the sets from home,” she laughs.

 

THE LULL

The years between 1977- 1980 says the actress were the ‘saddest’ years in her life. “We had planned a baby and I was glad to be pregnant. After I completed three months I stopped working. But I had a miscarriage when I was in my seventh month. I was shaken. Yeh muqaddar ki baat hai, har insaan ko har cheez nahin milti. You have to be very lucky to get everything,” she muses. “My husband was disappointed too. But he was caring and looked after me. I was back to work after five months. I moved on to mature roles in the ’80s.” Films like Hero, Biwi Ho To Aisi and Kishen Kanhaiya won her notice where she perfected the cruel mother-in-law/aunt act. In the following years films like Shola Aur Shabnam, Hum Aapke Hain Koun..!, Main Hoon Na and more recently Om Shanti Om gave her the chance to show her comic flair. Life today for Bindu has hit a peaceful phase. “I enjoy watching my old films. My husband and I sometimes do remember our lost child. Had he survived he’d have been so much older. But I have my husband as my best friend... I am nothing without him.”

 

AMITABH BACHCHAN

I worked with him first in Gehri Chaal (1973). He was fairly new but you could notice he was a fine artiste. We then went on to do Zanjeer, Abhimaan and Ganga Ki Saugandh (1973-1978). He was romancing Jaya (then Bhaduri) while we were shooting for Gehri Chaal and she for Gaai Aur Gori both in Chennai. We’d often drive down to hotel Savera for dinner there. Years later, when we were shooting in Rishikesh for Ganga Ki Saugandh, the team would drive down to the Kwality restaurant in Dehradun. We’d sing and dance till 3 in the morning. Amitji loved listening to the late Mehdi Hasan’s ghazals. We even attended the maestro’s shows. Amitji, even in those days, had a great music system in his car. When we’d drive around with Jaya and other friends, he’d say ‘How wonderful the ghazals sound in my car!’ I remember listening to Mohabbat karnewale and Woh jal bhi chuke parwane. He was particular about not sharing his cassettes with others as he feared they’d get spoilt.