Satish Shah, Memories

Satish Shah, Memories

St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai, has a reputation for holding among the best annual cultural fests from the city’s 100+ colleges. It is called Mahar, so named because it takes place during the monsoon. Malhar started in 1979, and, to the best of my knowledge, continues. The college was also associated with a group simply called Theatre Group, founded in 1941, by Sultan ‘Bobby’ Padamsee and his brother, Alyque Padamsee. Personalities like Satyadev Dubey and Ameen Sayani honed their skills acting in plays performed by Theatre group, in the 1940s and 1950s. Bobby passed away early, but Alyque carried on doing theatre, in spite of being one of the topmost and busiest advertising executives in the country. Satyadev Dubey branched out to stage plays in Hindi, while Ameen Sayani became the crowned king of commercial broadcasting. During the 1960s and 1970s, Xavier’s had on its roll call names like Shabana Azmi, Farooq Shaikh, Pankaj Udhas, Sharda (later Kavitha) Krishnamurthy, Anuradha Paudwal, and, among others, Satish Shah.

As an alumnus of the college, Ameen Sayani, my Guru and Mentor, was often requested to compère cultural events of the college. I started compèring in 1969, at age 17, while still a student of National College, considered distinctly down-market. Xavier’s and National were words you would not normally use in the same sentence. When AmeenSaahab took me under his wings, he often took me along to co-compère several shows, the best hands-on experience one could hope to get to learn this fine art. One such show was at St. Xavier’s college, circa 1971. A student from National, compèring a show at Xavier’s? Most students would believe that this a big mistake.

We, AmeenSaahab and I, arrived early, as is the brief of any compère, to prepare for the assignment: making notes about the items to be performed, the students who would be performing, approximately how long would each performance last, who would give the introduction, who would deliver the vote of thanks, who would hand over prizes and certificates, would there be a break or not, if so, then for how long, where would the microphones be placed (pre cordless era), test those mikes, and much more. While doing all this, I met Satish Shah, who, if I recall correctly, was a core member of the organising committee.

He was rotund even then, though he put on more weight and gained more volume in the years to come. He was also jolly and ebullient. As I took notes from him, I remarked, “Satish, I can see an actor in you. A very good comedian. Do you intend pursuing an acting career after finishing your graduation?” He grinned, “Haven’t thought about it at all.” I probed, “From your surname, I presume you are a Gujarati.” “Yes. But I am a Kutchhi Gujarati, originally from Mandvi, but grew up in Indore, so I speak fluent Hindi as well.” My next question was, “Do you have any connection with films? Anybody in your family…”. “Well, not blood relations, but the late Yakub was married to my aunt.” Yakub was a character artiste and comedian par excellence, in the 40s and 50s. “I see. But take it from me, you will end up acting in films.” Satish laughed, in good humour.

Choosing the Film and Television and Institute of India as his route, Satish Shah returned to Mumbai in 1976, to try his luck in films. And started bagging roles almost immediately. His first few films were Arvind Desai Ki Ajeeb Dastaan, Gaman, Umrao Jaan, Albert Pinto Ko Gussa, Kyon Ata Hai      and Shakti. Then, in 1983, he played the Municipal Commissioner, D'Mello, in Kundan Shah’s Jaane Bhi Do Yaro. The movie was inspired by a French film, Pas de Problème (translation: No problem) and had a lot of FTII alumni associated with it, led by director Kundan Shah.

In the story, two newspaper photographers, who are commissioned by their editor to expose the scandalous activities of the rich, come across a corrupt builder, and accidentally photograph a murder. The man murdered is D’Mello. In the black comedy, the photographers decamp with the corpse and it, the dead body of D’Mello, is transported from place to place. For all these scenes, Satish had to remain looking like a corpse. His acting proved dead right, and several acting offers followed, including the milestone TV series, Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi (1984-85), directed (mainly) by, you guessed it, Kundan Shah. Satish played an amazing 55 different characters in the first 55 episodes of the serial.

Meanwhile, I was acting in both films and TV serials myself, but most of the roles I got were cameos, and nothing to write home about. Around 1987, I was offered a role in a serial named Dhamaal. It was to be directed by advertising and theatre personality, Bharat Dabholkar, who had written many of the Amul ads, seen on hoardings (billboards) across the city. This was the first serial to be aired in the morning. Hitherto, Doordarshan used to telecast its programmes in the evening and afternoon only, with breaks in between. The new slot was called Breakfast TV. Dabholkar was known for his wit, sarcasm and puns, and had never directed anything for TV or cinema. For his inaugural episode, Dabholkar decided to satirise Doordarshan’s own News broadcasts. The episode was called Some Achar, with Achar written in Devnagri script, the composite word being a pun on Samachar. Satish was dong the main role.

As soon as he arrived on the set and saw me, he addressed me as, “Siraj…you have come here to give me a complex with your perfect Urdu diction!” I took it as a compliment. Satish played a TV newsreader, who reads out funny pieces of news., wearing a formal kurta, or a shirt and tie, I forget, while sitting at a table. After the news is read out, and the cameras switched off, he gets-up, to reveal that under his upper formal wear, he is wearing shorts.

I played the Weatherman, with a monkey cap and the weathercock fitted on it, in the shape of an iron square. To predict the weather in different parts of the country, I spin the cock, and, based on where it stops spinning, announce the weather in that part of the country: north, south, east and west. Reading out temperatures recorded zone-wise, I go something like, “Maximum of 30 degrees Celsius in the North, 32 degrees in the West, 38 degrees in the east and 33 degrees in the South. So, the total temperature in the country was recorded as 133 degrees. Rain is likely in several parts of the country in the next few hours.” Then Satish asks me, “What about the weather here, in our area, in this studio?” I happily announce, “The weather  will be perfect in this area, with no chance of rain.” And, on cue, there is a shower inside the studio!

Some Achar was an instant hit. We had enjoyed doing it, and the few people we knew who had seen it told us that it was hilarious. But, would you believe it, it caused several major problems for both the makers and DD staff. Many ignorant viewers, who were not aware of the programme being a satire, assumed it to be the real news, and panicked. Phones started buzzing in DD offices. The committee that had passed the programme as suitable for viewing was severely pulled up, and it was decided not to show Dhamal or any such programme on DD ever. So, this was my first experience, working in a serial with Satish Shah.

Some 4-5 years later, Rajeev Khandelwal, who was the editor of Chanakya, wherein I played Mahamantri Sushen, got his break as a director, with a serial called Filmi Chakkar. Aware that I could do roles completely contrasting from my earlier serials, he cast me as con-man. Satish Shah and Ratna-Pathak Shah (no relation) played a loving couple. Satish is obsessed with films and everything he says, does or wears is inspired by some film scene or song or title. Hence the moniker, Filmi Chakkar. Satish’s father goes missing, and he inserts an advertisement in a newspaper, announcing a reward for whosoever can find him. Two con-men, small-time operators, Dinesh Hingoo and I, spot Satish somewhere, and believe that they have found the missing Papa, since they were lookalikes. They kidnap him, and take him to his house, to claim their reward. Here too, as soon as he saw me, he commented, “So, you are here to give me a complex again!”

While we were shooting the scene where Satish tries to run away from Dinesh and I, who are after him, to nab him and claim the prize money, Satish jumped a low fence and ran across the lawn, towards a bungalow. This was not in the script and we had not been told either Satish or the director that Satish would improvise, and we should follow him. Moreover, we were not even sure whether the camera was in a position to capture the shot of him digressing from the route that had been shown to us. Neither of us followed him into the bungalow’s lawns. After the scene was cut, Satish came over and pulled the two of us. “Why did you not follow me? Don’t you know about something called improvisation?” Since Satish was the star by then, I kept quiet. Shortly afterwards, when I got a chance to speak with Rajeev, I asked him, “Shouldn’t you be telling us what to do?” Rajeev gave a timid reply, “This is my first serial. I cannot afford to rub Satish the wrong way.” Anyway, the scenes were shot, and the programme remains a favourite, more than 30 years later.

When I was serving as Editor of TV&Video World, in 1987-88, we did a cover story on Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi (YJHZ), as a tribute to the most loved serial, after it had had its run. He called me home, at his Cumballa Hill Road residence, and re-lived the experience of YJHZ, one of the most popular serials ever shown on Doordarshan. I took him to Rajkamal Studios, where YJHZ was shot, and where we had taken him on a nostalgic trip. We shot photographs, as he went down memory lane.

My last meeting with him was a decade ago, at an FTII Alumni meet. I asked him what was the latest, and he told me, “I have been appointed by the Government as a member of the FTII society. This involves some policy-making and administrative work.” Last evening, I was attending a programme, organised by Cultural Kaarva’n, at the Veda Kunba Theatre, in Andheri West, and attended by some 200 art patrons, when an announcement was made about Satish’s passing away. I was deeply saddened. I asked the man behind the show, a Mr. Chauhan, that I would like to pay a tribute to Satush, if he would allow me exactly two minutes of time on the stage. The programme, which began at about 2 pm and went on till late at night, had several gaps, lasting up to 10 minutes, between events, where nothing was happening, but he refused outright. I felt hurt, but it was his show and his prerogative.

Satish Shah and I shared not only our initials, SS, but even our year of birth. Like several of his contemporaries at Xavier’s, he had accomplished a lot more than I could have guessed at that time, in a solid 50-year span before the cameras. He survived Covid, but was let down by his kidneys, five years later. I am not listing his roles in films and television here, because you must have seen most of them, and Google will give you pages and pages on SS. But I convey my condolences to his family, friends and fans. They will always remember his bubbly persona and his impressive portrayals of diverse screen characters.