On his 91st birth anniversary today, I am thinking of Sunil Dutt today for several reasons but two predominant ones—one his emotional demonstrativeness and the other inherent decency.
Of all movie stars I have met and interacted with in some substantive ways, actor, director, producer and politician Sunil Dutt was perhaps the most emotionally demonstrative and easily among the most decent. He was quite easily one of Hindi cinema’s biggest stars on his own merit and in his generation perhaps the most socially conscious and responsible.
Of and on I met and interviewed Dutt several times, especially at the height of his first parliamentary election campaign in the mid-1980s. I walked with him through Bombay’s many northwestern suburbs. A handsome, towering man Dutt had a surprisingly humble body language which he used well beseeching his constituents to vote for him. I could see that he was frequently awkward asking for a vote for himself. In a particularly memorable incident from one of his walk-throughs he stopped at what would in Bombay’s parlance be called a “kholi” or a hovel to talk to an elderly woman.
The woman asked in Marathi, “Nargis kasi aahe?” (How is Nargis?) referring to Dutt’s equally famous and illustrious star wife Nargis, who had been dead for about four years by then. The woman did not know that.
Dutt, stifling a rising lump in his throat but with moist eyes, replied as if she were still alive, “Nargisji theek hain.”
And then he said, “Mujhe karo no karo vote zaroor karna.” (You may or may not vote for me but please do vote.)
In 1985, while reporting the centennial session of the Indian National Congress, of which Dutt was a leading light and a Member of Parliament on its behalf from the Bombay North West constituency for five terms from 1984 onward, he and I talked about many things. I was then reporting for the associated Press (AP) and it was often that a lot of the stories were left cut on the floor as it were. I understood that limitation for an American wire service but I used the excuse to chat Dutt up. One remarkable aspect of his life was that he always talked in terms of reaching out those far less privileged and helping them. He also routinely held entertainment shows for the Indian army troops along the country’s border to boost their spirits.
“We have been blessed to be born in India, a country whose greatness I have experienced everyday of my life. It is my duty to do my bit in return. Varna shohrat aur paisa kis kam ka?” (Otherwise what use are fame and wealth?)”
I remember in 1987 when he was getting ready to embark on his 2,000-km peace march from Bombay to the Golden Temple in Amritsar, I spoke to him. “Achche khase jawan ho. Aap bhi chalo hamare saath (You are a healthy young man. Do join us.),” he told me. I wish I had. Dutt was prompted by his wish to traverse across India on foot and pray for peace at the height of the Sikh separatist violence at its peak in Punjab. “Punjab ka beta hoon. Apni ma ke paas ja raha hoon. Dar kis baat ka? (I am Punjab’s son returning to his mother. What do I have to fear?)” he said to me. Incidentally, he was born on a village called Khurd in Jhellum district.
