It was during the planning stages of “Barsaat ki Raat” that we saw much of
each other. Sitting to discuss the story of the film, its characters and other
preliminaries afforded me an opportunity of knowing the man. Simplicity is his
virtue; so is humility. Everyone who knows Bharat superficially tells me that
he has one great failing—that of never being able to muster courage to say ‘no’
to anyone or anything. But I know to the contrary. It is not because of lack of
courage, but because life has mellowed him to the point of never wanting to
inflict pain. When, on rare occasions, he does say ‘no’ to someone, he is as
firm as a rock, while at the same time remaining gentle as a lamb.
Bharat is the supreme example of an Introvert. He is always
withdrawn and mostly takes refuge in a book. He is a man of few words, but when
he speaks, he impresses the listener deeply. To my mind Bharat’s personality
has been greatly influenced by the biographical roles he has played. There is
Kabir, the mystic poet-saint; Ghalib, the eloquent poet with a life time
devoted to the flavor of wine and the music of words; Chaitanya, the great
founder of the Krishna bhakti cult; Baiju, the singer who sang from his heart
and loved with his soul; and Kalidasa, Sanskrit’s supreme poet. While playing
the parts of these great men of the past, Bharat had an invaluable opportunity
to probe deeper into their hearts and souls; study their character, mannerisms
and the stuff they were made of. This in turn influenced his personality to a
great extent.
Whenever the youth of today calls to mind Kabir, Kalidasa,
Ghalib or Chaitanya, he immediately thinks of Bharat.
Once a film producer asked me for my photograph and I gave him
one from my album. On seeing the photo he said: “You don’t look like a poet in
it.” To this I had only one reply. “If you want a poet’s photo,” I said, “take
one of Bharat.”
His knowledge is profound, but he seldom displays it. I
remember a recent gathering at his residence when the topic of nuclear science
came up for discussion. The discussion was obscure to all the persons present,
but, curiously enough, Bharat was an interested listener. I thought he was
merely trying not to appear an ignoramus. He proved me wrong by interposing a
remark couched in such scientific terms that everyone looked at him in
surprise. Later on, he shamefacedly confessed to me that included in his
leisure- time reading were two or three scientific journals to which he was a
regular subscriber.
His collection of books is already a legend. His house is more
like a library than a home. This brings to my mind an incident which happened
not long ago. I was waiting for Bharat in his living-room. At last he returned
from his work. I asked him jokingly, “Whom do you want?” He paused a little and
said: “You are entitled to ask this question because this house looks more as
if it belongs to a writer than to a film star”
For years he has been in a position to ‘show off’ and throw his
weight around. But he has always risen above the cheap temptation to swank and
brag. He is allergic to social functions and crowds, also to suits and boots. A
simple shirt, a white trouser, a pair of chappals, have practically ruined his
social career!
Since his wife’s death Bharat has been lonely and the impression
one receives of meeting a sad, isolated man seems to have deepened. But no one
will deny that the man has borne his loss with the characteristic stoicism of
the philosopher. His devotion to his two daughters is tantamount to an
obsession worthy of going down in folklore. The absence of a life partner is
felt—sometimes acutely— but there is a strong disinclination to fill the void
in a hurry.
No two children could wish for a more considerate father. To be
capable of such extreme self-effacement, to be so careless of one’s own needs
and happiness, one has to be more than an ordinary man. One has to be a Bharat
Bhushan.
I wish I had a rupee to give myself for every song I have
conceived and written in the solitude of Bharat Bhushan's house — the one haven
of peace and calm for me ... - Sahir Ludhianvi
Whenever he finds time, he takes his children to the nearby
garden, to the sea-shore or the zoo, without even worrying that his numerous
fans would mob him. Once he had taken his children to the zoo and was telling
them, “This is an elephant and that one over there is a camel,” when he heard a
chorus: “And this is Bharat Bhushan.” A crowd of youngsters had gathered around
him and he was unaware of it till he heard his name.
At home he spends as much time with his daughters as he can,
reading children’s stories to them or playing games with them.
And that is how I have come to regard Bharat Bhushan in almost
every aspect. To me he is an extraordinary human being. Right from the way he
receives his dinner guests down to his treatment of his domestics, the man
displays patience, kindliness, generosity, considerateness and cool aplomb.
There is at least one excellent reason which accounts for the
strong affinity between Bharat and me. We are both shy of public and social
functions. But while I am blunt and outspoken in my antipathy to these
functions, Bharat is tactful and diplomatic.
But there is another strange reason why I am so fond of Bharat
Bhushan and seek him out so much and so frequently. Poetry, you see, hates
Noise. It seeks, loves and epitomizes Silence. And in no other man do I find
silence cultivated to such a fine art. I find inspiration in his unremitting
worship of Silence, in his uncompromising disdain of Noise.
Bharat is a genuine lover of poetry. His library is stocked with all the celebrated poets’ diwans and it is amazing how much he remembers of them. I was once trying to recite a poem of my own at his house and got stuck at a point. With the air of a man apologizing for the interruption, up came Bharat with the missing words. You might have thought he had read the poem yesterday! Or written it!
Bharat is a genuine lover of poetry. His library is stocked with all the celebrated poets’ diwans and it is amazing how much he remembers of them. I was once trying to recite a poem of my own at his house and got stuck at a point. With the air of a man apologizing for the interruption, up came Bharat with the missing words. You might have thought he had read the poem yesterday! Or written it!
Most film producers who engage me to write their songs are generally eager and anxious to give me all possible comforts and aids to good writing—a solitary, cool, well-furnished room, good food and so forth. But I wish I had a rupee to give myself for every song I have conceived and written in the solitude of Bharat Bhushan’s house—the one haven of peace and calm I most love to retire to, for work or pleasure. And the greatest single factor that contributes most largely to this peace and quiet, this blessed, ennobling, invigorating, activating silence is Bharat Bhushan himself!
Wherever he is, he becomes an island of Silence and it is in this island that I most yearn to take my poet’s refuge.
Courtsey : Shyam Goel - https://www.facebook.com/groups/550861121725169/permalink/1272058646272076/
(This article was written
by Sahir Ludhianvi in 1961).
