Raju Korti
It is seldom that celebrities, especially those from the tinsel town, land at your doorstep. So I was completely unprepared one afternoon as I reclined against my chair, lost in those forty winks. A very feminine, delicate voice, sounding almost like a musical chime said "Excuse me", shaking me out of my reverie. I woke with a start, thinking my editor had caught me yet again sleeping in the office.
Instead, I was looking at a tall, handsome man accompanied by a pretty and petite woman. The man drew a blank but there was something familiar about the lady who looked extremely elegant draped in a chiffon sari.
Quickly getting into the niceties, I offered them both a chair, racking my brains hard on where I had seen her before. And then the nickel dropped. "Baby Nanda", I exclaimed, hardly trying to control my excitement, which was more out of pleasure than surprise. "You are right minus the Baby part', she riposted with the infectious smile that often lit up the screen.
As professional journalist, I have had enough brush-ins with most celebrities and dignitaries but I guess professional objectivity goes for a toss when you meet someone for whom your affectations are specially reserved. It therefore took some time to sink in that one of my favorite actresses was in front of me -- in flesh and blood.
Apparently, she had accompanied brother Jayprakash who wanted to meet me in connection with a film he was planning to make. As it turned out, he remained a bystander for most part of that interaction as I diverted all my focus on the lady who with her hour-glass figure looked every inch sensuous without being in-the-face. For that matter, Nanda herself watched my flustered demeanor, that dazzling smile never leaving her face. Probably, she was as elated. Or so I believed.
After the small formal talk with Jayprakash, who remained in touch until early nineties, I broached an informal conversation with her and she listened to my bluster, her responses mostly in appreciative nods and smiles. Her smile that reached right up to her eyes got to me.
At the mention of the 1957 AVM family entertainer Bhabhi, she lapsed into nostalgia. "Yes I was called Baby Nanda then because I was barely in my teens. And my hero was Jagdeep who later specialized in playing bumpkin-buffoon kind of roles," as I remembered how she brought out the diametrically opposite nuances -- first a bubbly young girl and later as a young widow --of her character.
Beautiful without having the trappings of a conventional female lead, Nanda somehow seemed to be tailor-made to play the role of a sister. Chhoti Behen (1959) earned her a permanent place in the people's psyche but it was the supporting role that she excelled in. Recall Kala Bazaar (1960), Hum Dono (1961) and Dhool Ka Phool (1962) where she left her own mark though pitted against Waheeda Rehman and Mala Sinha. There was something about her personality that made her character stand out no matter who else was in the film.
"My best period was from 1956 to 1966" Nanda expectedly told me, "when I was customarily paired with baby-faced Shashi Kapoor and the ever so handsome Dev Anand." And then she went on to tell me how Dev Anand was convinced that he wouldn't settle for anyone else than her as his conscience-stricken sister in Kala Bazaar. It was a measure of her self-confidence that she didn't hesitate in the least serenading him in an out and out flirtatious Teen Deviyaan where a sobered Dev Anand sings to her in the voice of Kishore "Yahaan wahaan fizaa mein awaara, abhi talak ye dil hai bechaara."
Her films were an invariable musical delight. Usne Kahaa Tha, Aaj Aur Kal, Nartaki, Mera Qasoor Kya Hai, Kaise Kahoon, Jab Jab Phool Khile, Gumnaam, Bedaag, Akashdeep, Neend Hamari Khaab Tumhare, Mohobbat Isko Kehte Hain were a veritable treat to the ear.
"I got to lip-synch some of the best songs in the films but to this day, my most exhilarating experience remains sharing the recording room mike with the legendary Mohammed Rafi. We were recording Ek tha Gul Aur Ek thi Bulbul and so endearing and silken was Rafisaab that I almost fell in love with the man. So enamored I was of his voice that I fervently wished the rehearsals would never end," said Nanda, adding "it was an experience of a lifetime to be with the great man." When I told her that Lata Mangeshkar had once said to me that Nanda along with Sadhana, Saira Banu, Waheeda Rehman, Mala Sinha and Asha Parekh did full justice to her voice, she was thrilled to bits. "Is it," she asked incredulously, not hiding her glee at all.
Though with Shashi Kapoor she made among the most popular pairs in Hindi cinema, she was perfectly at ease with bigwigs like Rajendra Kumar, Dev Anand, Dharmendra, Sunil Dutt and second-line rung like Vishwajit and Manoj Kumar.
Daughter of successful Marathi actor-director Vinayak Karnataki, Nanda had to struggle after his death and grew up from a child artiste to a polished heroine, but very few know that it was this metamorphosis in real life that made her the peerless but rather under-rated performer who could essay a sister and lady love with the same aplomb.
I never met Nanda thereafter but spoke to her brother a couple of times, one when the Perry Cross Road in Bandra was renamed after father as Master Vinayak Cross Road. An unsavory row followed the renaming as residents were staunchly opposed to renaming the road which was address to another legendary singer Talat Mehmood.
Jayprakash, who lived with his sister on Perry Cross Road until 1992, before moving to Santa Cruz, pointed out that he had been correcting people on the official name of the road for a long time. He even claimed to have met Sachin Tendulkar at a function organised by the Mumbai Police. Tendulkar had recently moved into a bungalow in that locality. “I introduced myself to him and he recognized my father and sister. So I told him, ‘You don’t live on Perry Cross Road. You live on Master Vinayak Road. Please, use your postal address accordingly’.” The cricketer apparently said he would correct his error.
After the death of Director Manmohan Desai to whom she got engaged in the latter half of her life, Nanda became a sort of recluse, moving out only occasionally with close friend Waheeda Rehman and Asha Parekh. In an intense recall of those moments spent with her and as a tribute to this wonderful actress, I write the first two lines of the haunting Suman Kalyanpur song that could have been composed only for her dignified visage:
Jo hum pe guzarti hai tanhaa kisey samjhayein
Tum bhi to nahi milte, jaaye to kidhar jaayen...
Instead, I was looking at a tall, handsome man accompanied by a pretty and petite woman. The man drew a blank but there was something familiar about the lady who looked extremely elegant draped in a chiffon sari.
Quickly getting into the niceties, I offered them both a chair, racking my brains hard on where I had seen her before. And then the nickel dropped. "Baby Nanda", I exclaimed, hardly trying to control my excitement, which was more out of pleasure than surprise. "You are right minus the Baby part', she riposted with the infectious smile that often lit up the screen.
As professional journalist, I have had enough brush-ins with most celebrities and dignitaries but I guess professional objectivity goes for a toss when you meet someone for whom your affectations are specially reserved. It therefore took some time to sink in that one of my favorite actresses was in front of me -- in flesh and blood.
Apparently, she had accompanied brother Jayprakash who wanted to meet me in connection with a film he was planning to make. As it turned out, he remained a bystander for most part of that interaction as I diverted all my focus on the lady who with her hour-glass figure looked every inch sensuous without being in-the-face. For that matter, Nanda herself watched my flustered demeanor, that dazzling smile never leaving her face. Probably, she was as elated. Or so I believed.
After the small formal talk with Jayprakash, who remained in touch until early nineties, I broached an informal conversation with her and she listened to my bluster, her responses mostly in appreciative nods and smiles. Her smile that reached right up to her eyes got to me.
At the mention of the 1957 AVM family entertainer Bhabhi, she lapsed into nostalgia. "Yes I was called Baby Nanda then because I was barely in my teens. And my hero was Jagdeep who later specialized in playing bumpkin-buffoon kind of roles," as I remembered how she brought out the diametrically opposite nuances -- first a bubbly young girl and later as a young widow --of her character.
Beautiful without having the trappings of a conventional female lead, Nanda somehow seemed to be tailor-made to play the role of a sister. Chhoti Behen (1959) earned her a permanent place in the people's psyche but it was the supporting role that she excelled in. Recall Kala Bazaar (1960), Hum Dono (1961) and Dhool Ka Phool (1962) where she left her own mark though pitted against Waheeda Rehman and Mala Sinha. There was something about her personality that made her character stand out no matter who else was in the film.
"My best period was from 1956 to 1966" Nanda expectedly told me, "when I was customarily paired with baby-faced Shashi Kapoor and the ever so handsome Dev Anand." And then she went on to tell me how Dev Anand was convinced that he wouldn't settle for anyone else than her as his conscience-stricken sister in Kala Bazaar. It was a measure of her self-confidence that she didn't hesitate in the least serenading him in an out and out flirtatious Teen Deviyaan where a sobered Dev Anand sings to her in the voice of Kishore "Yahaan wahaan fizaa mein awaara, abhi talak ye dil hai bechaara."
Her films were an invariable musical delight. Usne Kahaa Tha, Aaj Aur Kal, Nartaki, Mera Qasoor Kya Hai, Kaise Kahoon, Jab Jab Phool Khile, Gumnaam, Bedaag, Akashdeep, Neend Hamari Khaab Tumhare, Mohobbat Isko Kehte Hain were a veritable treat to the ear.
"I got to lip-synch some of the best songs in the films but to this day, my most exhilarating experience remains sharing the recording room mike with the legendary Mohammed Rafi. We were recording Ek tha Gul Aur Ek thi Bulbul and so endearing and silken was Rafisaab that I almost fell in love with the man. So enamored I was of his voice that I fervently wished the rehearsals would never end," said Nanda, adding "it was an experience of a lifetime to be with the great man." When I told her that Lata Mangeshkar had once said to me that Nanda along with Sadhana, Saira Banu, Waheeda Rehman, Mala Sinha and Asha Parekh did full justice to her voice, she was thrilled to bits. "Is it," she asked incredulously, not hiding her glee at all.
Though with Shashi Kapoor she made among the most popular pairs in Hindi cinema, she was perfectly at ease with bigwigs like Rajendra Kumar, Dev Anand, Dharmendra, Sunil Dutt and second-line rung like Vishwajit and Manoj Kumar.
Daughter of successful Marathi actor-director Vinayak Karnataki, Nanda had to struggle after his death and grew up from a child artiste to a polished heroine, but very few know that it was this metamorphosis in real life that made her the peerless but rather under-rated performer who could essay a sister and lady love with the same aplomb.
I never met Nanda thereafter but spoke to her brother a couple of times, one when the Perry Cross Road in Bandra was renamed after father as Master Vinayak Cross Road. An unsavory row followed the renaming as residents were staunchly opposed to renaming the road which was address to another legendary singer Talat Mehmood.
Jayprakash, who lived with his sister on Perry Cross Road until 1992, before moving to Santa Cruz, pointed out that he had been correcting people on the official name of the road for a long time. He even claimed to have met Sachin Tendulkar at a function organised by the Mumbai Police. Tendulkar had recently moved into a bungalow in that locality. “I introduced myself to him and he recognized my father and sister. So I told him, ‘You don’t live on Perry Cross Road. You live on Master Vinayak Road. Please, use your postal address accordingly’.” The cricketer apparently said he would correct his error.
After the death of Director Manmohan Desai to whom she got engaged in the latter half of her life, Nanda became a sort of recluse, moving out only occasionally with close friend Waheeda Rehman and Asha Parekh. In an intense recall of those moments spent with her and as a tribute to this wonderful actress, I write the first two lines of the haunting Suman Kalyanpur song that could have been composed only for her dignified visage:
Jo hum pe guzarti hai tanhaa kisey samjhayein
Tum bhi to nahi milte, jaaye to kidhar jaayen...
You are a man of musical heart. Keep writing like Jubeen Mehta conducting the composition of Bach.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteNice piece. I wld always remember her for some immortal songs filmed on her and the impeccable casting by Raj Kapoor in Prem Rog...as the mother of a young widow...In my opinion she was best in her swan song.....Very few actors wld get a character like that to sign off....
ReplyDeleteThis article is such a delight to read.
ReplyDeleteThanks Bhargavi. You are always encouraging and warm in your compliments. God bless you.
DeleteThank you Sanjib Da for the encouragement. Your appreciation matters because you are a man of art yourself.
ReplyDeleteThank you Ajit Andhare. Had no inkling you were reading my blogs. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Bhargavi. You are always encouraging and warm in your compliments. God bless you.
ReplyDeletewent through the whole article without blinking really was so informative added to my knowledge as I am not much into films and ofcours it was in the wondeful raju korti style do keep writing and educating tech moron like us
ReplyDeleteThis is what happens, when someone who knows and can write, writes. Wonderful, Raju.
ReplyDeleteOne of the best pleasures in my life is to read what you write..... You are blessed Raju Kaka !!
ReplyDelete