Lessons From Papa

It is the second last day of the first shooting schedule of my first film, Sonal.

December 29, 1971, 5am

It is the second last day of the first shooting schedule of my first film, Sonal. We are in Bombay, at Papa’s official residence on Little Gibbs Road. As I rush out, I bump into him, as he is offto catch a flight to Trivandrum (en route to Thumba). I give him a kiss, and say, “See you tomorrow night.” We have a date—he, Amma and I—to be together and dance at the Ahmedabad Gymkhana on New Year’s Eve. Amma is in Bombay, too, and we are all slated to fly to Ahmedabad on the morning of the 31st. I suddenly remember that he had his annual medical check up the previous day. “What did the doctors say? Is the blood pressure under control?” I ask. “Don’t fuss Malli. I am fine.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I roll my eyes, give him another hug.

December 30, 1971, 11am

We are in the middle of a shoot in a studio in Andheri. At the end of a take, an assistant comes and whispers in the ear of my director, Prabhat Mukerjee. He leaves the set. In a few moments, he is back and walks up to me. “Come, Mallika. I am taking you home. Amma is unwell,” he says. Amma, unwell? I search his face. He averts his eyes. My heart sinks. We take a taxi. He looks out of the window and periodically says, “Don’t worry.” My world is collapsing inside me. Is she dead? Has there been an accident?