Romancing with Dev Anand

Phoolon ke rang se:Dev Anand with Kishore Kumar

Raju Korti
I had my first dekko of the magnetic Dev Anand way back in 1982 when he was at a local theatre for the screening of his film Swami Dada. The owner of the theatre Jawaharlal Munot was his huge fan and made it sure all his films were first released in his theatre. The film, of course bombed at the box office, as it happened with all Dev Anand films in the post Hare Rama Hare Krishna period. But that was of least consequence to this Adonis-like man because people came to watch him first and last, story and direction be damned.
If he was conscious of his iconic status, Dev Anand never showed it but what was always in evidence was he wore his trademark chivalry and charm on his sleeve. Add to those a devastating toothy smile riding on a confident swagger and you had a package you would rarely see in your mundane world. Therefore it wasn't altogether surprising when he found time out from throwing his charisma around and agreed for a hearty tete-a-tete. In the course of that conversation, I realized that he never stalled any of my questions and answered them with a candor refreshingly different from those of his ilk. At the end of it, he smilingly granted his autograph on a picture of his I had kept in my possession for years as a smitten fan. It took some time for me to come to terms with the fact that he had drawn liberally from his irresistible charm to make me feel I was more important than him. A decade later, I found out he did that to everyone fortunate to cross his path.
God knows what he liked about me but he would call me now and then to his milestone Navketan Studios in Mumbai's posh suburban Bandra to spend time talking about this and that over a "sukha bhel" which seemed to be his favourite snack. I would find him smothered and surrounded by a maze of newspapers and magazines, yet his handsome, smiling face would pop out of them and he would get up from his chair to shake hands that seemed to be softer than butter.
Whenever I veered my discussion to his pre-eminent status as one of the trinity along with Dilip Kumar and Raj Kapoor, Dev Anand would dismiss it with his brand stylish nod. He knew generations were in his awe and he didn't have to make a big deal about his suave and urbane looks or demeanor. So the discussion would be about Politics and other social, cultural events. Just how well informed he was came through sharply in his incisive comments draped with a language that seemed to be a fascinating fusion between literature and colloquial. Never personal or prejudiced in his views, he had this unique trait of being frank without hurting anyone. With Dev Anand, diplomacy stood no chance before his charm.
I suspect that he had carefully cultivated the image of a man who never looked behind. Nostalgia got to him as well although he spoke with a sense of detachment. There was regret but no hurt when he spoke of his failures -- as a film-maker or about his love life. (The only exceptions were his disappointment with the failure of English version of Guide made by Tad Daniewlsky and Zeenat Aman). That must have been quite an ask since one yesteryear actress Shakila (of CID-1956) told me that it was impossible to believe that all his leading actresses had not fallen in love with him at some point of time or the other. Obviously, he broke many a heart when he married Kalpana Kartik in a simple and hush hush marriage on the sets of Taxi Driver (1954). Married or not, he kept swooning men and women for decades with a charisma that almost bordered on witchery. Remember that popular fable about how he was asked not to wear a Black suit because women would fall off from their chairs watching him. He was God's chosen one for whom Time had shown the unusual courtesy of standing still.
The only person I found him in awe of was composer SD Burman. More often than not our chats were centered around his music majorly made by Mohammed Rafi and Kishore Kumar. I mention Rafi first since he delivered better compared to Kishore. But Dev Anand was convinced that Kishore went on his lips better and this Burman Dada knew well. On his part, Dada knew how to serve both the aces which prompted Dev Anand to believe that Rafi was good for Ghazals and Kishore better for the lighter ones. Given his conviction, I saw the futility of saying anything otherwise. But on several occasions, I heard him say that "Abhi na jao chhodkar" (Hum Dono-1961) as the last word in romanticism. After all, wasn't he the one who had some stake to knowledge about music because he belted out KL Saigal in company with Sahir Ludhianvi and some others on the Shivaji park "katta" in the early fifties? He once told me in his slightly nasal drawl "I admire two people -- one Paul Muni and the other Dada Muni" (Ashok Kumar).
Among his more notable characteristic was his razor-sharp memory. He surprised everyone by calling people by their first names even when he had met them decades back. He would also remember the dress one wore during his first meeting with him. He never lost his famed reflexes till the end.
For someone who ate very frugally, Dev Anand packed a lot of punch in his speech and verve in his action. "I can survive on one plain sandwich for a couple of days. When you eat less, you think more" he once told me. It was this Spartan eating as also a very disciplined lifestyle that saw him becoming weak towards the end. The flesh failed but never the spirit. At airports, he would lug his suitcases and felt it an affront to use a wheelchair when asked to take one during his last visit to UK from where he never returned. True to his character, he never wanted anyone to see him dead. He took his youthful elixir to his grave.
If you are wondering why I took four years to write a blog on him, the simple answer is I never ever believed he has died. You don't write the obituary of a person who remains alive in your memory.
Today I miss his dry bhel and youthful exuberance like hell. My most enduring memory would be his addressing me as Raju Guide, the character he essayed in Guide (1965).
A non conformist of sorts, Dev Anand knew the terms and conditions of growing old but never agreed with them. He was drunk in love and romance and high on life. A true God of Happiness.