Should I start??
That was the time
when once-great Imperial Studios was in terrible shape.
Employees’ salaries were not paid on time.
Even in that situation, the company’s owner,
Seth Ardashir Irani crossed the limits,
in order to get the credit for making the first color film of India
he imported the expensive Cine Color process machine.
He had earlier been accredited for producing
the first talkie of India titled- 'Alam Ara'(1931).
Incidentally, I wrote the story
for that color film (Kisan Kanya 1937)
and it was a biggest flop.
Company’s condition went bad to terrible.
It was such a bad phase
that I was living in a very horrible tiny room
and the very same time my mother came to Bombay
and was staying with her daughter.
As my relation with my brother-in-law was strained
that I was banned to enter his house.
When my mother visited me at that horrible room,
she broke into tears
that her son who grew up in a pampered environment,
now is a deprived child lives in such a dirty place.
After calming down, she asked me seriously.
Saadat why don’t you earn more?
I said,
Mom, what I will do with that extra money.
What I am earning is sufficient for me.
No, the fact is
you cannot earn more.
You are not well educated.
If you had been more educated,
things would have been different.
I laughed off,
Mom what’s the use of extra earning for a single man,
if I had a wife you would see the difference.
Earning money is not a difficult task,
even an illiterate man can make huge bucks.
Hearing this she immediately questioned me –
Do you want to marry?
In a flow I said,
Oh yes, why not.
Okay, then come down to Mahim this Sunday.
Wait for me on the footpath under the building,
I will come down seeing you.
Your marriage will be arranged –
by the God grace.
So that Sunday morning I wore clean clothes,
and was standing on the sidewalk near ‘Ininglito Mansions’ in Mahim.
There was another building on the twenty-five yards course
called 'Jafar House'.
Mother knocked a flat on the second floor,
we entered the house,
Mom went to the ladies
and I was attended by a middle aged gentleman with fair complexion.
He asked me and I asked him
about each other’s occupations etc.
He was a government employee –
working in the department of police
as a finger print specialist.
He was earning pretty good.
I told him every single thing about me.
I even told him that I work in a film company
where you don’t get salary.
And it’s surprising
when I told him
that even in that state
I drink a bottle of bear every evening,
and he didn’t react to it.
By the time I left from there
Mr. Malik Hasan had read all the pages of the book of my life.
But I was thinking
if they agreed to this match,
whether I had to marry in reality?
No way,
I didn’t have any worth for which
someone will agree to give me his/her daughter.
Next Sunday Mr. Malik invited me for lunch,
as per the commitment I reached there.
They entertained me very well.
Food was served,
there was chicken curry,
some vegetarian dishes and all…
Everything was delicious
but Oh My God it was very spicy.
I sweated a lot but kept eating.
After a couple of Sundays,
when I was pretty comfortable with them,
my mother informed me…
Congratulation!
They have accepted the marriage proposal.
When I heard this, I was stunned –
I used to take this matter as a mockery –
why would any sensible person give me his daughter,
what did I have?
I was just an entrance passed with third division,
work in films and journalism –
no one gives a damn about such people.
Hell of efforts I put to get a filthy room on rent.
The landlord somehow came to know
that I work in a Film Company.
After a number of recommendations
he agreed to rent out the room to me.
I was terribly upset –
thought that I should run away from Bombay –
now I had only one choice
that I should see Seth Ardeshir
and ask him for money to meet my marriage expenses.
The company owed me about a thousand and five hundred rupees.
If I was paid I’d be out of my troubles,
rather it would be a boon.
Whatever I told him he listened it halfheartedly.
He said-
You see, you know it all the company is in what shape.
You can imagine my desperation.
I was about to leave, he called me…
Mind you,
I can at least do one thing, get you some basic things.
We went to a shop in his car,
I bought two Sarees there.
Next number in Seth Ardeshir’s account was a jewelry shop.
I insisted that let the girl chose jewelry for herself.
So I along with a man from jewelry shop went to Jafar House.
Jewelry were shown to the mother of the girl.
She just chose a diamond ring,
a necklace and two bangles.
I insisted her to keep some more items
but she didn’t want to put an extra burden on me.
I wish I would have told her that
Oh dear Aunt!
I won’t get such an opportunity again.
Company owed me one and a half thousand rupees,
snatch whatever you can from the thief.
But Alas!
I got four to five hundred bucks from that account
because the company was shut down immediately after my marriage.
Of course, the marriage proved to be dicey for me.
I didn’t have any friend or folk in Bombay…
The doors were closed for me at my sisters’ place.
I had to arrange everything on my own.
I had to go personally to invite people
for my marriage ceremony.
And in that course
once I slipped and fell unconscious on a rock-solid floor.
The injury was so deep
that with a great difficulty I climbed the stairs of Jaffer House
to attend my marriage ceremony.
There were 15 to 20 people at the ceremony,
I sat down with the support of a thick pillow.
It was difficult to fold the injured leg, (It’s a bad manner sitting with extended legs)
but when the priest ‘Marghen’…
a weird name, ofcourse… Priest ‘Marghen’…
when he asked me to sit folded legs,
I made me pretty strong to obey him.
After the Muslim Rituals were over,
I was relieved ultimately.
I flattened my leg
and swallowed that massive pain.
I accepted the compliments
and limped my way to my filty room.
I lit a kerosene lamp
and lying on the bug-infested bed
I started wondering the fact that I really got married.
I was almost a married man now
but there was something missing,
my wife was not there in my room.
Legally,
I could have ask her to move in with me any moment
but then what would I be feed her,
the food from the Iranian Eatery across the road,
and that’s too on a credit.
Where would I keep her,
in that filthy tiny room?
Of course, where the lady would bathe,
there was no closed bathroom there.
I honestly felt
that I can play any role
but not a husband.
Ten months were passed to my marriage
and there I faced a shameful incident.
I had an idiot friend called ‘Ashiq’ (Romeo),
an illiterate, a boor
but a master of dance.
An evening he brought some bear bottles to celebrate with me.
He also drank a bit
and started twittering.
Along with tweeting, he took me to a girl's house,
according to him she was his follower.
He knocked the door
and a voice called out…
Who’s there!
Ashiq said-
Ashiq (Romeo)!
Horrible abuses got out from inside –
Bloody Ashiq (Romeo), You Mother…
Aashik could not resist his rage,
he broke the door and got inside.
I followed him
and there saw him beating the servant brutally.
Let me conclude the incident.
Next day when Ashiq got arrested
he told to the police.
There was another man with me.
And hence I too got arrested.
My in-laws too discovered this.
I was worried –
now how will I face those folks?
I put myself to my wife’s place and gave a thought it,
and came to a conclusion that
I should clear them
that if after that incident,
which is really very embarrassing,
if you do not feel good to give me your daughter,
then I am ready to give her a divorce.
After hearing my statement Aunt said –
Don’t be nuts,
don’t think like that,
we are sure about your innocence.
On the request of my in-laws,
my mother announced the date for bride’s home coming.
It was more than a year by now for my wedding,
they were fed up of waiting.
I was not in a hurry
but rather desired
what if that home coming never occur.
I was nervous,
how would I run the household.
But the day was fixed –
which was the doomsday for me.
When there were just ten days left for the bride’s home coming
I was frightened.
I got up immediately
and booked a flat in a building on a rent of Rs. 35 a month.
I cleaned the flat thoroughly, locked it and
miserably went to Naanu Bhai Desai (another employer and father of Bollywood Actress Bindu).
I asked for the compensation for my stories,
salary dues and etc.
You better know! I cannot give you a single penny right now.
Flat refusal!!
I lost it.
I abused at him and said –
If my account was not settled
then I would go on a hunger strike.
Finally it was settled…
You see, I can arrange half but
you have to count it full disbursement,
you know company’s on a dire verge, man.
I had been given a postdated cheque of Rs. 900.
Days passed,
I telephoned Nanu Bhai Desai,
today is the due date,
and I am going to cash the cheque but he said –
Hello! First you come down here to meet me.
I met him.
There’s nothing in the bank.
What if I pay you 500 cash
and let’s close this chapter here.
I agreed immediately.
However my hard earned Rs. 1800 was first cut to 900,
then to 500
but I had no choice.
Only 4 days were left for the bride’s home coming.
There was 500 Rupees in my pocket –
I bought some Sarees for the bride –
got some stuff on easy installments.
And finally the doomsday was arrived.
That morning I was sitting in the office.
Mother was at my place.
While leaving home I told her that
I am going for the arrangements of Baraat (marriage procession).
Mr. Nazir had already sent off invites to people,
most of them are from film business.
Quasi it was a film celebrity procession.
Miyan Kardar,
Noor Md. Charlie,
Mirza Musharraf,
Babu Rao Patel
and the leading lady of India's first color film - Miss Padma Devi.
By the evening I finished a full tin of cigarettes.
All I had in my pocket now –
was half a box of matches and nothing else.
All the guests were gathered before the dark.
Padma Devi and my mother attended all the guests.
Later on that convoy
which was on ten-fifteen motor cars
proceeded towards Mahim.
I was in the motor car of Nanu Bhai Desai
and was without a rosary.
There, my mother-in-law had done a superb job of
setting up refreshments on the terrace.
Everyone pigged out
because the feast was absolutely delicious,
as might be expected of us Kashmiris.
Then we came down.
Billimoria offered us his car.
My mother was with me and sat the bride down first.
She sat herself and then asked me to get in.
She sat between my bride and me.
On her lap, wrapped in muslin, was a Quran.
Mine and bride’s necks were overloaded with garlands.
As the car started,
Mother began to murmur some verses.
I can’t remember
how long it took for us to get home – or how we got there.
All of a sudden, we were there.
The next morning I rose to find
that one quarter of me had magically turned husband.
I was relieved to feel this way.
I saw, out in the balcony,
a piece of string with nappies hanging on it.
It’s a ritual in India that eunuchs sing and dance at a house where a baby is born to compliment the occasion.