Today, we are in Cuff Parade, in a very expensive shop which sells saris. She looks at hundreds of them for over two hours, then she buys three for fifty thousand rupees, which is almost equal to my salary for two years. As we are stepping out of the air-conditioned showroom, a group of girls dressed in school uniform approaches her. They look very excited. 'Excuse me, are you Neelima Kumari, the actress?' asks one of them.
'Yes,' says Neelima, looking quite pleased.
'See,' the girl screams to her friends. 'I told you she is Neelima.' Then she turns to us again.
'Neelimaji, we are great fans of yours. Seeing you is like a dream come true. We are not carrying autograph books, but will you please sign our exercise books?'
'Of course, with pleasure,' says Neelima and takes a pen from her handbag. One by one the girls hold out their exercise books, thrilled to bits. Neelima asks each one her name and then records in her sprawling handwriting, 'To Ritu with love, Neelima.' 'To Indu with love, Neelima.' 'To Malti with love, Neelima.' 'To Roshni with love, Neelima.' The girls read their inscriptions and squeal with delight.
Neelima is positively glowing from all this adulation. This is the first time I have seen anyone recognize her and I marvel at the impact it has on her. Suddenly she looks at me with concern, sweating in the heat, holding a heavy shopping bag. 'Ram, you must be feeling quite hungry by now. Come, let's have an ice cream,' she says. I squeal with delight.
* * *
From time to time, Neelima teaches me about the art of film-making. She tells me about the various technicians involved in the making of a film. 'People think that a film is made only by the actors and the director. They don't know about the thousands of people behind the scenes, without whose efforts the film would never be made. It is only after these technicians have done their work that a director can snap his fingers and tell his actors, "Lights, camera, action!"' She tells me about sets and props and lighting and make-up and stunt men and spot boys.
Then she teaches me about genres. 'I hate the movies they make these days, in which they try to cram everything – tragedy, comedy, action and melodrama. No. A good film has to respect its genre. I always used to choose my films carefully, after fully understanding what the story meant and what it involved for me. You will never catch me singing and dancing in one scene and dying two reels later. No, Ram. A character has to be consistent. Just as a great painter is identified by his unique signature style, an actor is known for his unique niche. A genre of his own. A great artist is not one who merely fits into a genre, but one who defines the genre. Did you see the review of that new film Relationship of the Heart in the Times of India? The reviewer wrote that Pooja, the actress, made a complete hash of the death scene. "How I wish Neelima Kumari had been in this film to do justice to the character. The young actresses of today should learn their craft from legends like her." It really gladdened my heart to read this. To be held out as an example, as the epitome of a genre, is the ultimate compliment an actor can receive. I am getting the review framed.'
'So what was your unique style?'
She smiles. 'I know you are too young to know that Neelima Kumari is called the Tragedy Queen of India. Come, let me show you something.'
She takes me to her bedroom and opens a metal almirah. My eyes almost pop out because the almirah is crammed with video cassettes. 'Do you know that all these cassettes are of films in which I have actually played a part?'
'Really? So how many cassettes are here?'
'One hundred and fourteen. That is the number of films I worked in over a career spanning twenty years.' She points out the first row. 'These are among my earliest films. Most of them are slapstick comedies. I am sure you know what comedy films are, right?'
I nod my head vigorously. 'Yes. Like the ones Govinda acts in.'
Neelima indicates the next two rows. 'These are films from my middle period. Mostly family dramas. But I also did the famous thriller Name the Murderer and the classic horror film Thirty Years Later.'
Finally she points out the remaining four rows. 'And all these are tragedies. You see the hundreds of awards and trophies I have received over the years? Almost all of them are for films in this section. My favourite is this one.' She taps a cassette. I read the label. It says Mumtaz Mahal.
'This is the film in which I played the role of a lifetime, that of Emperor Shahjahan's wife Mumtaz Mahal. I even received the National Award for my performance. See that trophy in the centre? I received it from the hands of the President of India.'
'So, Madam, was that the greatest role you ever played?'
She sighs. 'It was a good role, no doubt, with a lot of potential for emotion, but I feel that I have yet to play the greatest .'
* * *
