When Sridevi spoke about dealing with her father's death

Excerpts of the actress' chat with senior film journalist Khalid Mohamed in 1992

It's been nearly two weeks, but the news of Sridevi's sudden death - at just 54 - still feels unbelievable. Heartfelt eulogies have been written in her remembrance. Largely, though, the Indian media - particularly television - was guilty of gross sensationalism and wild conjectures.
That was a given, perhaps, in an era when the hysterical and bombastic are a must to grab eyeballs. The coverage of the loss of Indian cinema's beloved Sridevi, who had acted in 300 films in various South Indian languages and in Hindi ever since she was four, is best deleted from the memory files.
Some exception has been taken to calling her Indian cinema's first female superstar. To that one can say, yes, there were top divas before her - take Vyjayanthimala and Hema Malini as the most obvious instances - and there have been other actresses who have worn the crown after her - be it Madhuri Dixit or Deepika Padukone. Yet, there can be no argument about the fact that Sridevi ruled Bollywood and that too with a certain grace and humility during the 1980s and the early '90s.
I never saw her put on airs, surround herself with acolytes or secretaries who would demand magazine covers for her, a practice that is commonplace today in the industry. She spoke when spoken to, tended to be courteous and brief in her answers. Not exactly an interviewer's delight - well, no one is among the Bollywood heroines, except Rekha (occasionally) and Shabana Azmi (always) - Sridevi was neither talkative nor controversial. Intuitively, she knew where to draw the line when it came to discussing her private as well as professional life.
At one point, the outspoken choreographer Saroj Khan had stated that she would not work with her following a misleading statement advanced by a producer-director. Sridevi was flummoxed, and maintained a silence. Fortuitously, the choreographer called for a truce. Their collaboration lasted through 22 films, and memorable set-pieces, including Main Naagin Tu Sapera (Nagina, 1986), Hawa Hawaai (Mr India, 1987), Mere Haathon Mein Nau Nau Choodiyan Hai (Chandni, 1989), Morni Bagah Ma Bole (Lamhe, 1991) and Naa Jaane Kahaan Se Aayi Hai (Chaalbaaz, 1989).
It's widely believed that the actress was shy of discussing her emoting style and how she assumed an entirely different persona - from the retentive to the extrovert - as soon as the camera was switched on. I'd like to think that she could open up about her artistry when she felt at ease.
Here are excerpts, then, from a conversation with Sridevi, conducted way back in 1992, which, I hope, disclose some aspects of the star-actress for whom her métier was as essential as breathing:
Have you ever assessed yourself as an actress?
I haven't. For me, there can be no beginning, no end. I'm every woman before the camera but myself. If I was ever asked to play myself, the character would be very boring, no one would go to the theatres to watch the film. The audience wants to see me as a bright, bubbly, chulbuli ladki (fun-loving girl). I act spontaneously. maybe because in our rush-rush system of filmmaking, there's no time for rehearsals.
See, when a husband, father or brother dies in a film, I cry and cry till my eyes hurt. But when my father (Ayyapan Yanger) died, there was no drama, no hysteria. In films, you have to convince the audience that you're grief-stricken. Perhaps you can cry for a death scene realistically only in an art movie. But I've never acted in art movies.
Would you act in a film directed by, say, Shyam Benegal?
Before I retire, maybe. Just joking, I do not think I'll ever retire.
Can you recall the first time you faced the camera?
Very clearly, it was for the Tamil film Thunaivan (1969). I was hiding behind my mother's pallu (border of a saree). She said, "Pappi, there's nothing to be afraid of." I believed her and since then, acting has come naturally. It's said that child stars usually have a rough time. I didn't. There was another child, though, who had to cry along with me for a scene. I just broke into tears but the other child had to be pinched hard by his mother to cry out loud with pain. I played my first grown-up role in the Telugu film Anuragalu (1975), a remake of Anurag. I was playing a blind girl, so I made my eyes go blank. I was an obedient child, I guess.
Once, your half-brother, Satheesh's name was mentioned on the front pages of leading newspapers in connection with a mysterious murder in a hotel.
That was completely false. He's so simple and straightforward. He wouldn't be involved in anything remotely shady. The incident took place in the hotel where we were staying and his name was wrongly mentioned. He's a mechanical engineer and looks after our family's factory in Sivakasi that manufactures plastic covers.
Did your parents ever tell you how they actually got married?
Yes, my father - he was a lawyer - would often narrate the story. My mother, Rajeshwari, was travelling in a car that met with an accident. There was some kind of a legal case and my mother had gone to a lawyer's office where she met him. Theirs was a love marriage. My father was so cute and jovial, he'd often tease my mother about their first meeting. I'm told I look and behave like him.
He contested the general elections once. Were you in favour of him joining politics?
We all tried to dissuade him. But his brother was in politics and wasn't well enough to contest from Sivakasi. My uncle requested him to contest on the Congress ticket. Of course, he was very upset when he didn't win. I did campaign for him and some other Congress candidates. But I was really scared of the crowds, I would give the same speech at all the rallies. I have got feelers to join politics, but I know I just don't have the calibre to become a politician.
Would you ever portray a politician on screen?
I'd love to play Mrs Indira Gandhi.
As an actor, who have you admired most?
Sivaji Ganesan. There's a little element of him in every actor in the South today.
Who would you rate as proficient dancers in Hindi cinema?
Amitabh Bachchanji has grace, Rishi Kapoor has style, Govinda freaks out, Anil Kapoor gets extremely enthusiastic, so you have to keep pace with him.
Are you avoiding the tantalising Madhuri Dixit style of Dhak Dhak dance?
I don't think I could do the Dhak Dhak dance. Both of us have our own styles - all I know is that it wouldn't suit me. The song was well-picturised, she danced very well.
Once Jaya Prada and you were at daggers drawn. Is that war finally over?
We weren't fighting a kushti (wrestling) match. But, I suppose, there was a sense of competitiveness. We'd try to act better than the other in the many films we did together, like Tohfa (1984), Mawaali (1983) and Maqsad (1984). She wouldn't speak to me, but all that's over now. She came over when my father died. She was caring and concerned; it was a very kind gesture.
wknd@khaleejtimes.com