Javed Akhtar --- An Autobiographical Sketch

[Afzal A. Khan]

This following is an English rendering of an article that
appeared in a vernacular magazine some time back. I have
added a few footnotes at the end .... Afzal
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" I used to live in Lucknow with my (maternal) grand-
parents and other family members. I was 8 years old at
the time. My father was in Bombay and my mother in the
graveyard. All day long, I used to play cricket with my
younger brother. In the evening, a rather scary-looking
tutor would come to teach me. He was paid Rs. 15/= a
month. I still remember this because I used to be
reminded about it every day at the time. My daily
allowance was a half-anna in the morning and one anna
in the evening. This was quite enough for my needs.
In the morning, I would buy some candies from the local
grocer Ramji Lal. And I would spend the "ikanni" in the
evening for buying "chaaT" from a footpath vendor named
Bhagwati. I was very happy.

My first school was the famous Colvin Taluqdars' College,
Lucknow. In earlier days, only the children of (rich)
Taluqdars used to get admission here, but now it had
become possible for (comparative) "low-castes" like me
too to get admitted there. Even then, it was a very
costly affair. My monthly fees was Rs. 17/=. Many
children in my class (from rich families) used to have
wrist watches and wore nice sweaters. One even had a
fountain-pen. During the lunch recess, they would spend
eight annas buying chocolates. One of my classmates Rakesh
used to say that his father had promised to send him to
England for higher studies. My (maternal) grandfather
would exhort me to at least complete Matriculation so
that I could get the job of a post office peon. At that
age, when children dream about becoming Engine Drivers,
I had determined that I would become rich some day.

At the age of 14, I was sent to live with my aunt
(mother's sister) in Aligarh. There was a large maidan
in front of our house, beyond which was my school. I
was in ninth class. Aligarh used to be very cold in
the winter months. My first period would begin at
7 in the morning. The cold wind used to make me feel numb.
I couldn't even feel my nose. I was quite poor in my
studies. Even my uncle had told my teacher to "take care"
of me because of this.

At the time, I would want to visit good restaurants like
the older boys and would play truant from school. My
teachers would send complaints to my family. Many a time,
I would get beatings at home, but my waywardness continued.
I used to like poetry and novels. I would read them often
despite the scoldings. I remembered a great many shers
by heart. Whenever there was a "bait-baazi" competition,
I would represent the school, winning several prizes.
As a result, I became quite well-known amongst the Uni-
versity students. I was particularly happy because these
included quite a few girls.

I wrote my first letter to a girl when I was 15 years old.
I gave it to her near a badminton court. That was my
first and last love letter. Now I have forgotten its
contents, but I still remember that girl.

From Aligarh, I went to Bhopal for college studies,
getting admission in Saifia College. I was here for
four years. But never paid any fees. Even the college
folks never asked me about fees. Probably, this can
happen in Bhopal only. A vacant room inside the college
compound had been allotted to me free of charge. When
the classes would get over, I would move two benches to
my room and make a bed for the night. The restaurateur
who used to give me free food nearly went bankrupt.
Fortunately two of my friends would then arrange to get me
some food from time to time.

In College, I was very fond of participating in Debates.
I won the Bhopal Rotary Club Debating Prize for three
years in a row. Also won several trophies in inter-college
debates. Participated in the Delhi Youth Festival,
representing Vikram University. There were two main
factions in our college, and at election time, both would
invite me to speak on their behalf. Since I had no
interest in the elections, I would speak from both
platforms.

I still remember one of my college friends Mushtaq Singh.
These days he is in Glasgow. While leaving college, I
took his "kaRa" as a memento and have worn it ever since.
Once, when I was turned out of my room, it was Mushtaq
Singh who came to my help. He also held a job while
he was studying. He was the President of the Urdu
(Literary) Association. He knew a lot of Urdu shers.
I know Urdu so well, but I believe his Urdu was even
better. He was my best friend ever. He would arrange
for my food, clothes and even my cigarettes.

I came to Bombay on the 4th October 1964 and spent a
couple of very difficult years. There was no arrangement
for my food or lodgings. At times, I would write the
dialogues for a "C" class film. Somehow I eked out a
living doing odd jobs. For an year, I lived in Kamaal
Studios (now known as Nataraj Studios). Here I would
sleep either in the compound or some corridor. Several
other people, in similar straits, used to stay there.

In those days, I had developed a friendship with a
second-hand bookseller near Andheri Station. I would
sit with him in his footpath shop and keep on reading
books. After some time, I managed to get a separate room
for myself in the Studio. The walls here were lined by
several large cupboards filled with dozens of costumes
from the film "Pakeezah". The film's shooting had been
suspended at the time, as Meena Kumari and Kamaal Amrohi
had separated. When I opened a cupboard one day, I found
a great many shoes and sandals that were meant to be used
in the film --- along with three Filmfare Awards (trophies)
won by Meena Kumari. I cleaned them up and kept them
back in the cupboard. From then on, it became a routine
for me to lock the room, take a trophy in my hand and
view my image in a mirror, thinking of how I would respond
when such a trophy would be awarded to me amidst the
thunderous applause of the assembled crowd.

My fortunes changed for the better after 5 tough years.
In 1969, I got my first real break, and from then on,
my world changed forever. Everything I touched turned
to gold.

I first met Honey Irani on the sets of "Seeta Aur Geeta".
She had a very pleasant and jovial personality. Within
four months, we got married. We had two children, a
daughter named Zoya and a boy Farhaan. Honey and myself
separated in 1983 but the Divorce was amicable. We are
still friends. The separation and divorce did not have
a negative effect on our children. And the main credit
for this goes to Honey. Today, she is a very successful
writer and a good friend of mine. I have a great deal of
respect for her.

I began writing poetry around 1979. I always had
an interest in poetry and in fact had inherited it.
Somehow I knew from my childhood that I can write good
poetry, but (till '79) had not actually tried my hand
at it. It was during this period that I met Shabana
(Azmi). She too wanted to return to her roots. We
became vey close and soon got married.

I had begun drinking at quite an ealy age, but then came
a time when when I became a vey heavy drinker. I still
feel a lot of gratitude for people who tolerated me in
those days. Quite possibly, I would have succumbed to
this evil habit, but was saved by "someone" whose admoni-
tion and advice touched my heart. Today I don't touch
liquor at all.

My children Zoya and Farhaan have now grown up. My
younger brother Salman is in the US. He is a successful,
psychoanalyst, author of several books, a loving husband
and father of two intelligent children. He too, like me,
experienced difficult times, but both of us have today
reached our goal with tireless labour and determination.
Shabana is not merely my wife but my "mehbooba", combining
a priceless mind with a beautiful heart.

Although I am a successful and contented person today,
but I still remember a day in my life (18th January '53)
when my aunt brought me and Salman to a room in our house
where my mother lay lifeless, clad in a white shroud.
Asking us to take a last look at her face, she exhorted us
to achieve the pinnacle of success one day. I watched
silently as someone came forward and covered my mother's
face. Though I have achieved so much in life, I still get
a feeling that there is so much more to achieve. Maybe
I have hardly accomplished one fourth of what I should
have done.

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Notes by the Contributor :

Javed's mother Safia was the sister of the poet Majaaz.
She was an Urdu lecturer in Aligarh Muslim University.
She had married JaaN-Nisaar Akhtar around 1945. Soon
after, her husband came to Bombay in search of a career
in films. He had very limited success. For most of her
short married life, she had to lead a lonely life. This
told on her health and she passed away in January 1953.
JaaN-Nisaar thereafter married again. He had carefully
preserved the letters that Safia had written to him
and got them published in two collections. They make
very pathetic reading.

"Bait-baazi" is an Urdu sher-reciting competition, akin
to Antakshri.

Afzal