(On the occasion of loved actor Farouque Sheikh’s 70th birth anniversary, The Quint is republishing this piece from its archives in his honour. First published on 25 March 2015.)
There is an image about stars. About them being distant and unavailable. Untouchableeven – and no I’m not talking about the ones in the night sky above Mumbai! Andyet, it couldn’t be further from the truth, at least for a man I knew, not toolong ago.
Hewould have been 67 today.
Geeta& I knew Farouque sahab as the star of our debut film for about ayear and then as one of our dearest friends for another two. There are enoughstories about his generosity, his ‘nice-ness’ and his tehzeeb, so I won’t bangon about it.
WhatI will say is that the man was an aberration, and one who wore his stardom onhis crisp white sleeve very, very lightly. Countless incidents have left indeliblememories, with no way of them fitting into a 400-word piece. But one of themost telling narratives about his inherent and very real humility goes likethis:
Duringthe promotions of our film Listen…Amaya,we were at our wits end because Farouque sahab refused to let us send him acar, always insisting that he’d get to the venue himself. By autorickshaw – his preferred mode of transport! After muchheartache, we finally managed to convince him to allow us to pickhim up and drive him wherever we were supposed to be going to. And even then, he couldn’t understand why wewere insisting in the first place.
Histwinkling eyes as he’d narrate an incident from his acting past with the doyensof Indian cinema, or when he would incessantly pull Deepti ji’s leg (on and offset). His full-throated laughter and his encyclopedic knowledge of where to getthe best gosht, or the nicest kheer anywhere in the world. His frequent textmessages which always began with three simple words, Adaab Avinash sahab. Which invariably translated to, “we haven’tmet in a while, so drop everything and come home for chai!”
Oreven his almost childlike innocence and confusion when it came to dealing withtechnology, be it a cell phone in New York or email in India! These arethings that I will hold onto as some of my dearest memories of a man whodeserved far more accolades than he wanted orcollected.
I have never had a friend who was closer in age to my parents than me and Iprobably never will do so again. But on this day, both Geeta and I raise atoast to a man who came into our lives like a breath of fresh air, and leftlike a tornado riding a whirlwind.
HappyBirthday Farouque sahab. It’s been a true honour and a privilege knowing you.
Adaab.
(Avinash Kumar Singh co-directed ‘Listen... Amaya’. Geeta Singh, who is mentioned in the piece, wrote the story.)
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