My mother was 45 when she conceived me. The doctors were concerned for her health. It is said that the nurse who delivered me was hesitant to break the news to my aged father waiting on a bench all night. She had come to know that I was the sixth daughter and the eighth child of my middle-class parents. So she assumed that the news would break my father’s heart. She was wrong.

My father, on hearing the news, extracted a five-rupee note from his pocket and said, “Our walking stick has arrived…We are going to have a companion in our old age…” My father depicted rare courage, though deep down, I’m sure both my parents felt concerned about my future.

When I grew up my older siblings recounted many stories of my childhood, some cheerful and some not so pleasant. Strangely, they never filled me with sadness. It may be because they narrated these stories with immense humour and affection.

Time alters perspective and wisdom turns you philosophical. In my quiet moments, I have often wondered what would have happened if my mother had not been able to sustain me in her womb many years ago…?

Chances are that I would have settled for another womb, found another home and perhaps another destiny! There is no guarantee that I would have been happier or even healthier. One thing is for certain. I would have been deprived of the opportunity of being my parents’ child!

So thank you, Ba and Bapujee for having me… for not being bogged down by societal pressures.

I was 20 and raring to go. I had stars in my eyes and wings that would not fold. When I look back on it now, it seems like a scene from a film…. in many ways it was.

The morning newspaper invited college students with a flair for writing for a walk-in interview. In response, I landed in Bombay’s premier Taj Mahal Hotel to try my luck. As I stood facing a panel of stern-looking judges, I shuddered to think what my parents would say about my adventure. The interview lasted ten long minutes. I was asked the craziest questions after which I discovered to my horror that I was confirmed for the job as a film journalist.

“But I don’t want to be a film journalist,” I told the eminent members on the panel. There was an awkward silence and then a veteran thundered, “Then why the hell are you wasting everybody’s time here?” I had no answer and quietly left the room.

There is no logical explanation for why I changed my mind and despite a degree in Law opted to become a film journalist after all. There is no explaining why I sustained in this high-strung profession for 30 long years and enjoyed it.

Today there is no doubt in my mind that it is the right choice for me. But could this have occurred had I not courted a mid-summer adventure many summers ago? It is because I was bold enough to speak my mind…to follow my heart that I was able to pursue my dream…It is not easy surviving show business!

Thank you jury for challenging me. It’s because of you that I was motivated and I am where I am.

Over the years, there were many happy and sad moments in my personal life and career. Some of these memories linger even now… The first time I bought a sari with my hard-earned money… The first time I purchased my diamonds… The first time I bought a car… My first apartment… The first time I became an editor… The first time I turned an author…

Some revive old wounds… The dreadful night when I lost my father… Ever since, I have been filled with fear of darkness. My mother understood this and when it was time for her to say good-bye, she chose to exit at dawn. She had faith that her daughter will rise above the suffering and she was not wrong. Before she departed, she prepared me to absorb all experiences that come my way positively.

They say time is a great healer and it is perhaps the blessings of the deceased that I can look back on my caravan of life with gratitude and wonderment. Everyone who touched my life had a message to impart.

A few years ago, my loyal maid of many years lost her husband and she was devastated. When I saw her crying beside the dead body I was sure life would never be the same for her. But a month later, tugging her six-month old baby at her waist, she was back to the job. “Of course, I miss him and feel his presence all the time,” she said to me with tears in her eyes, “But life has to go on.”

How right she was. Life goes on and we fall into what is laid for us. In our happier moments we think we make the choices when in reality, the turning points we encounter are all predestined.

Thank you life, for being the greatest teacher.

This was first published in the August 2010 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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She is among the few actresses who didn’t fade away after marriage and motherhood. In 1983, when she was pregnant for the first time, she happened to read Irving Wallace’s The Second Lady and decided to launch herself as a producer with Sharara, a desi adaptation of the novel. The film starred Hema in a double role with Raaj Kumar playing her husband.

Soon, Hema forayed into television with Nupoor, a tele-serial based on the life of a dancer, produced, written and directed by her. Next, she was ready to debut as a director with Dil Aashna Hai.

In 2003, she made a comeback with co-star Amitabh Bachchan in Baghban and continues to successfully combine different performing mediums.

Dance remains Hema’s first love and she has managed to lure the audience with varied ballets like Durga, Meera, Ramayana, Savitri and Radha Krishna.

In this exclusive interview, conducted at her bungalow in Juhu, Hema discusses the significance of dance in her life.

In Her Own Words…

Dance Is A Timeless Bond

I believe dance has enriched me. It makes me stand apart. As a leading lady, I can rule the roost for a decade, and if I’m fortunate, a little longer. But as a dancer, I can be on stage for a lifetime. In show business, there comes a phase when you have to cross over from being the heroine to character roles, but not in dance.

As a dancer, you can perform the same role and abhinay at 17 and also at 70, provided you are in good health and your limbs and muscles move. Unlike in films where you have to retire some day, dance is a timeless bond. When you are older and find it difficult to move as nimbly, you can launch an academy and teach dance… there are so many options. I want to do that but I’m in no hurry, for, I believe that things happen when they have to and when they do, it is the right time.

My Mother’s Penance

I sometimes feel that it is my mother’s bhakti (devotion) and tapasya (penance) that has brought me so far. Few people know this, but she was an accomplished painter and a singer. In her pregnancy itself, she had decided that if she had a daughter, she would groom her into an artiste.

I was named Hema Malini because she liked the sound of it and felt it was an appropriate name for a classical dancer. In those days my parents had a family friend, Vijay Raghavan, an ICS officer whose daughter, a very beautiful and talented Bharatanatyam dancer, was called Hema Malini. My mother was so impressed with her, that she named me after her.

I Started Learning Dance at 5

I started learning dance when I was only five years old. When they first tied the bells around my tiny ankles and demonstrated the adavus and the mudras, it hurt terribly but I wasn’t allowed to take them off. “You will get used to them,” my mother said firmly and I did. Within a week, I was wearing the heavy anklets, and bending and twirling, without complaints.

I began giving public performances at prestigious gatherings at a tender age. Since we were based in Delhi, opportunities to perform before ministers came often. I remember recitals clearly.

Before going on stage, my mother’s standard line to me used to be, “Concentrate, don’t get nervous, and don’t make mistakes.” She’d make me bow before the idol of Lord Nataraja and say my prayers. Something always stirred in the pit of my stomach just before the curtains went up. Then slowly, as the music started, it would all begin to feel familiar again.

Dance As Punishment

Once, I was dancing at a sabha where veteran actress Vyjayanthimala was present. She looked very beautiful and graceful. After the show, she shook hands with me and was very encouraging. That was a special moment for me, more so, for my mother. Mother had a knack of making me perfect my dance. Whenever I was up to mischief, whenever I disobeyed her or made her angry, dance was imposed on me as a punishment. I was pushed into my room and ordered to practice Allarippu, Jatiswaram and Shabdam until she asked me to stop. This happened periodically. As a result, I could perform all the dances flawlessly even with my eyes shut.

As I grew older, I insisted on doing my rehearsals in my room. It was a device to cheat mother—once the door was locked, I’d stand before the mirror and loudly sing the song without actually doing the steps. Still young, the enormity of my art hadn’t dawned on me… the realization came much later. As I said, there is a time and place for everything in life.

Stage v/s Screen

I have accomplished all I have as a dancer because I began young and pursued it against all odds. Initially, there was resentment from the film fraternity. The producers said performing on stage will decline my stardom but my mother was adamant. She said I was first a dancer and cannot give up dance for the sake of films. They relented grudgingly. It was not easy balancing time and dates for films and shows but we managed somehow. On stage my stardom was both, an advantage and also a disadvantage. I invariably got a full house but the film-going audience expected popular dance from me for which I was not willing to perform. It was a tough call. Ultimately, my father resolved the conflict.

“You will have to find a way in between the two art forms,” he advised. “That’s the only way we can retain audience from both the worlds.” It made sense to me and, together, we worked out a new profile for me. It was my father’s idea that I perform ballets inspired from mythology—he set meetings with writers and music composers to script Ramayana, Durga, Meera and several others. Meera was my father’s favorite ballet, while my favorite was Durga; it’s still my favorite. Ever since I began performing Durga, I’ve started fasting on Fridays. Not because that is the day of the Goddess but because I want to. Durga is traditionally associated with the color red, but I deliberately wear blue and the audience has accepted this.

It is all about faith and when you are convinced, the audience submits to it as well.

Also read » Terence Lewis: “Body movements don’t lie”

Films Can Never Match the Fulfillment of a Stage Show

The best part about dance is that it helps you as a yoga exercise. It calms your nerves and improves your blood circulation. But dance is part of show business too and the more successful we become, the more the audience expects from us. In our pursuit to not let them down, we aspire for excellence. In films, they judge you from film to film. On stage, they watch you every minute. The fulfillment I feel after a three-hour show on stage is something a film can never match. In films you work in fragmented frames, you switch on and off from your character. On stage you transform into the character. That’s why it’s important to portray inspiring characters.

My father wanted me to play courageous leaders and that is also the reason perhaps why gurus ask you to pray and turn vegetarian because spirituality plays an important role in artistic expression.

This was first published in the September 2010 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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He is the first to be regarded a sex symbol in his autumn years. The first to stage concerts of international standards, his celebrity status transcends national boundaries with fans in every corner of the globe. And this, without having to go through Hollywood.

Amitabh Bachchan is the sole survivor of his contemporaries—the only actor to be discovered at every turning point of Indian cinema.

Conversations with the legendary patriarch.

What kind of a child were you?

Amitabh Bachchan: Normal.I would say, quite reserved and not particularly argumentative.

What do you recall of those early days?

Amitabh Bachchan: It’s strange, but early memories remain vivid even after so many years. There are times when I’m not able to recall what happened ten years ago or sometimes, even ten days ago but memories of childhood are imprinted on our psyche. Probably because life at that time was much slower and little moments left an impression. Today, everything occurs so swiftly and rapidly, that it’s impossible to recapitulate events. I have vibrant memories of my childhood.I remember the various homes we lived in, our daily routine, our conversations at the dinning table.

Was growing up turbulent?

Amitabh Bachchan: Not much turbulence. To a large extent, the sobriety of living life on an even keel came from the family. All our problems were referred back to mom and dad. The first major conflict came soon after completing college. It was the beginning of the uncertain phase—of not knowing what to do or where to go. These are conflicts everybody has to go through.

Can you share some of the early memories with your father?

Amitabh Bachchan: Dad was always either at his desk, or away at work. My predominant memories of him are of him behind his desk, writing. He was very focused, very disciplined and spent most of his time in the study. He worked 12 to 14 hours every single day and the discipline continued even when we shifted to Delhi and I began to attend college. Or even many years later when I started working in Calcutta and then shifted to Mumbai. There were times when he was consumed by his writing and totally shut out from the rest of us for days at a stretch but no matter how busy he was, he was always accessible to us.

Your wife says you are a lot like your father.

Amitabh Bachchan: Yes, I like to keep to myself and by temperament, I’m disciplined. Like him, I worry if a family member falls ill. One could always depend upon dad and my family knows that they can rely upon me. My mother says that I was responsible even as a little boy. I have heard my parents recount stories about me.

One day, my mother just collapsed on the floor at night. Dad was away in England and my younger brother was too young, so I lifted her up from the bathroom and sent the servant on a bicycle with a written note to summon the doctor [we didn’t have the telephone then]. For days, my mother couldn’t stop talking about how responsibly I had conducted myself.

You have often said that in moments of stress, it’s your father’s poetry that rejuvenates you. Will your children be able to say the same about your work?

Amitabh Bachchan: No… they will not find solace in my work but they will definitely feel rejuvenated after reading my father’s work. My work will become obsolete in a year or two, but my father’s work will continue for centuries. It will provide them and their children the strength to move on.

Your work engages you constantly in the company of the new breed. Do you ever feel out of place?

Amitabh Bachchan: Not in the least. I can never feel out of place simply because I have a living example of a youngster in my own house, my son Abhishek. I’m familiar with the new breed lingo and feel equipped to fit in to their world. I find the new breed extremely stimulating and enjoy their company. I would like to believe that they enjoy my company equally, for, I’m thoroughly clued in about what’s happening in their world.

For a long time, you were the only actor in the family. Now every member of the family is an actor. Does that increase the level of pressures?

Amitabh Bachchan: Not at all… Do families that have three businessmen, three doctors or politicians, have increased pressure levels? So why should it be any different with a family of actors? We are normal people and much as people don’t like to believe it, we lead a very normal life.

For the position you are in, do you find yourself surrounded by unwarranted advisors?

Amitabh Bachchan: Somehow advice has always been there. It has come in from all quarters—at times productive, at other times, not so productive. I find consolation in the fact that I’m important enough for people to entertain thoughts about my career and life in their conversations. I would like to believe that I matter to people offering me advice whether warranted or unwarranted though I accept that unwarranted advice is not always flattering.

What does friendship mean to you?

Amitabh Bachchan: I don’t think friendship can be defined…relationships are too precious and cannot be slotted in compartments. These are areas I’d like to keep to myself. Talking about them destroys the very essence and should remain between the two people involved. Talking about sensitive issues defeats their very purpose.

Do you believe that friendship is always between equals?

Amitabh Bachchan: I have never thought about it in this perspective. Friendship is private and subjective and there cannot be rigid rules governing it.

What does happiness mean to you?

Amitabh Bachchan: It’s a difficult question to answer but I would say happiness is seeing the welfare of the people who depend upon you. To be able to see your children prosper…To be able to wake up in the morning and see your loved ones healthy. I think one reaches a stage in life when all these things are of prime importance because it’s the worry of those you care for that really bogs you down.

Do you ever feel unconfident or unsure?

Amitabh Bachchan: Of course I do, don’t all of us? And isn’t it natural to feel so? I’m unconfident all the time—before a new film, before a new shot or before a new release. Insecurity is an overwhelming emotion in any creative profession but challenge lies in rising above these anxieties both as an actor and as a person. That is life and as long as there is life, there is struggle.

How important is reassurance to you?

Amitabh Bachchan: Very important, especially when I’m in distress or feeling weighed down but not from outsiders. I seek reassurance only from the family and I know that they will stand by me at the cost of personal sacrifices. The reverse is also true.

When you look back on your Herculean past, how would you describe your journey?

Amitabh Bachchan: I would say I have flown with the tide…I have no complaints with my life. I think I’ve got much more than I deserved and feel humbled by the love and affection of the people for so many years. Remember the famous poem, ‘There’s a tide in the affairs of men…’? I have just followed that.

The camera is often intrusive; have you ever felt caught off-guard?

Amitabh Bachchan: The camera does its job and it is the artiste’s responsibility to conceal what he does not want to reveal to the world. When an actor is in front of the camera, he feels a number of emotions but not all of them are for display. Actors are human beings too and we endure the same pressures that other individuals go through, only they don’t face the camera so in that sense the actor is far more vulnerable.

You once mentioned feeling angry with Marlon Brando for getting old.

Amitabh Bachchan: I was angry because he had put on too much weight and neglected his appearance. I felt the same way about Al Pacino when I saw him after a very long gap. He had aged and didn’t the same look the way I had grown up watching him. It was a phase of transformation for the actor and also the viewer. Gradually, I got accustomed to the new look and accepted my heroes whole-heartedly.

You went through a similar phase too.

Amitabh Bachchan: Yes, the actor and the audience need to have the maturity to accept that everyone is human and change is inevitable…We need to accept that all of us will get old and age is not always flattering… If we can accept this gracefully, without resentment, then good for the actor and good for the viewer! Life is all about acceptance.

Do you still read the Bhagawat Gita regularly?

Amitabh Bachchan: Yes.

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