If you go away...

that room is empty now, the room where he received the occasional visitor, laughing that bemused laugh, "who wants to meet me now? i'm of no use to anyone, not even to myself." then sneaking a smoke like a schoolkid, he would stub out the cigarette, while simultaneously extinguishing memories of the glory days that were. glory, always, presided like a halo over ashok kumar. he may have retired to a balcony-fronted room of his chembur bungalow, surrounded by those translucent bottles of tonics and syrups as well as dibiyas of homeopathy pills. yet clearly, here was a man as large as life itself, as magnificent as king lear, an actor who generously gave several generations an epical show of uncontained artistry. truth be told, ashok kumar was vastly underrated. he was like a father, whom we so often take for granted, always at home for us, dispensing advice, wisdom and yes, even homeopathy pills whenever we complained of stress, major or minor. now we can only regret that we could not return his love with an equal measure of emotion. ashok kumar didn't encourage hagiography or paeans of praise actually. on requesting an interview, i was invited over for a five-course lunch topped by fish curry, and he was more interested in what i was all about (precious little, really) instead of flashbacking to the kick-off reels of his awe-inspiring career. "very boring," he laughed, "you'll get the usual sarcastic remarks on devika rani who terrorised me...you'll get the usual rona dhona about how there are no bimal roys on the scene anymore." a pause, a quickie puff at a cigarette, that ashokian laughter and then the question, "so, what's madhuri dixit doing nowadays? she should have married me instead of that doctor in america." laughter, and then the snappy addition, "what is that rekha doing nowadays? so many beautiful women...but no one comes to see me. not even my good old friend nalini jaywant, though she lives just a stone's throw away...or should i say a boulder's throw away?" looking me straight in the eye, he continued, "stone? boulder? what's the difference? but with you, i have to be careful with my words...every sunday morning i read your reviews, keeping a dictionary by my side. those words you use...where do you find them?" don't know if that was a compliment or a jibe, but one new year, he sent me the dictionary, with the inscription, "from dadamoni to his sunday friend." wow, i felt humbled, but then i always did in his presence. towards the winter of his life, he didn't encourage more visits, fobbing me off on the phone with, "you ask me too many questions which i can't answer." like? like a question on his distinctive smoking style on screen which could compare if not rival that of humphrey bogart's sleight of hand-`n'-lip with the cigarette. like a question on his utter ease and natural propensity for making special events of the most maudlin of movie scenes. "arrey baba," he would grouse, in the tradition of all truly great artists eschewing attempts at self-analysis. "acting is easier than falling off a log. yeh sab method-wethod bakwas hai. whenever any actor tells me on the sets that he's trying to get into the mood of a scene, i tell him, 'hey charlie, it's just a film, take it easy.'" laughter. and then he would state, "actually, i picked that up from alfred hitchcock who told grace kelly that she was just in a movie, and not a chapter from a history book." still, i'm certain that ashok kumar was aware of the fact that he had made history, straddling the decades in the manner of a self-deprecating colossus. to sit by ashok kumar's feet was an education. reluctant to rewind but rewinding with relish on being pushed, prodded and persuaded, his own story was infinitely better than any script-writer could possibly imagine. quite infallibly, khurshid, his unwaveringly loyal man friday, would butt in to snatch his pack of cigarettes, hidden under the pillow. like khurshid, we are now left with a room that may seem empty... but is still so very much full of laughter, love, and life. aka ashok kumar. khalid.mohamed@timesgroup.com