Excerpts of the actress' chat with senior film journalist Khalid Mohamed in 1992
That was a given, perhaps, in an era when the hysterical and bombastic are a must to grab eyeballs. The coverage of the loss of Indian cinema's beloved Sridevi, who had acted in 300 films in various South Indian languages and in Hindi ever since she was four, is best deleted from the memory files.
I haven't. For me, there can be no beginning, no end. I'm every woman before the camera but myself. If I was ever asked to play myself, the character would be very boring, no one would go to the theatres to watch the film. The audience wants to see me as a bright, bubbly, chulbuli ladki (fun-loving girl). I act spontaneously. maybe because in our rush-rush system of filmmaking, there's no time for rehearsals.
See, when a husband, father or brother dies in a film, I cry and cry till my eyes hurt. But when my father (Ayyapan Yanger) died, there was no drama, no hysteria. In films, you have to convince the audience that you're grief-stricken. Perhaps you can cry for a death scene realistically only in an art movie. But I've never acted in art movies.
Before I retire, maybe. Just joking, I do not think I'll ever retire.
Very clearly, it was for the Tamil film Thunaivan (1969). I was hiding behind my mother's pallu (border of a saree). She said, "Pappi, there's nothing to be afraid of." I believed her and since then, acting has come naturally. It's said that child stars usually have a rough time. I didn't. There was another child, though, who had to cry along with me for a scene. I just broke into tears but the other child had to be pinched hard by his mother to cry out loud with pain. I played my first grown-up role in the Telugu film Anuragalu (1975), a remake of Anurag. I was playing a blind girl, so I made my eyes go blank. I was an obedient child, I guess.
That was completely false. He's so simple and straightforward. He wouldn't be involved in anything remotely shady. The incident took place in the hotel where we were staying and his name was wrongly mentioned. He's a mechanical engineer and looks after our family's factory in Sivakasi that manufactures plastic covers.
Yes, my father - he was a lawyer - would often narrate the story. My mother, Rajeshwari, was travelling in a car that met with an accident. There was some kind of a legal case and my mother had gone to a lawyer's office where she met him. Theirs was a love marriage. My father was so cute and jovial, he'd often tease my mother about their first meeting. I'm told I look and behave like him.
We all tried to dissuade him. But his brother was in politics and wasn't well enough to contest from Sivakasi. My uncle requested him to contest on the Congress ticket. Of course, he was very upset when he didn't win. I did campaign for him and some other Congress candidates. But I was really scared of the crowds, I would give the same speech at all the rallies. I have got feelers to join politics, but I know I just don't have the calibre to become a politician.
I'd love to play Mrs Indira Gandhi.
Sivaji Ganesan. There's a little element of him in every actor in the South today.
Amitabh Bachchanji has grace, Rishi Kapoor has style, Govinda freaks out, Anil Kapoor gets extremely enthusiastic, so you have to keep pace with him.
I don't think I could do the Dhak Dhak dance. Both of us have our own styles - all I know is that it wouldn't suit me. The song was well-picturised, she danced very well.
We weren't fighting a kushti (wrestling) match. But, I suppose, there was a sense of competitiveness. We'd try to act better than the other in the many films we did together, like Tohfa (1984), Mawaali (1983) and Maqsad (1984). She wouldn't speak to me, but all that's over now. She came over when my father died. She was caring and concerned; it was a very kind gesture.
wknd@khaleejtimes.com