A struggling writer by day, bar singer at night

Like every little girl, I also dreamt that I would make it big someday. It is ironic that though I am a successful writer today, my own life has been nothing short of a story in itself. I belonged to a film family — my mother Anwari Begum was a well-known actress, who featured in 10 to 15 films, but gave up her career after marriage to look after her children.
When I was young, I hated going to school. It stemmed from the fact that I was poor in studies and kept failing in classes. Eventually, after failing in Class 7, I stopped making an attempt to study further. Going to school became the most torturous thought that made me cringe and crib. Soon, comparing me with other children who were performing well, my mother realised that studying was not my cup of tea. She finally realised that forcing me to study was pointless and at 12, I just dropped out of school.
I sat at home all day and did nothing. I had no goals or aims; I just idly saw my life passing by. In comparison, my elder sister Zaheeda was a brilliant student who fared well in all activities she participated in. After finishing school, following in my mother’s footsteps, she took up acting and did a few roles here and there.
Growing up like that, I lost a lot of friends who felt that I was good for nothing. I slowly realised that I was a shunned entity who nobody wanted to be associated with, not even our servants, who treated me very shoddily. It was then that I just stopped communicating with everyone around me and became a loner.
All day, all I did was sit and observe people around me — the shopkeepers, vendors, people on the streets, my own family — basically everyone I came in contact with. Slowly, I felt the need to hone my language skills and so I took to reading.
In the meantime, my sister married producer Brij Sadanah and gave up her career too and I started feeling that marriage comes in the way of a woman’s career. So, I made up my mind that I will not marry unless I make a career for myself.
Unfortunately for my family, the happiness of my sister’s marriage faded when she was shot dead by her husband who later shot himself. This loss struck my family very hard, especially my mother, who started worrying even more about my future and how we would survive.
In a bid to at least make me mobile and kickstart a dancing career if nothing else worked out, my mother sent me to Kathak and singing classes. She also dragged me to production houses so that I could audition for small roles, advertisements and earn some money. Even then my mother continued cribbing that I was a wastrel who was a burden. Through these times, my books never left my side and I kept piling my closet learning in my mind, and slowly was born the nascent idea that I wanted to be a writer one day.
However, I continued to struggle as an actress for some time. Alongside, I started writing serials for Doordarshan — some of the serials were pulled off air for want of TRPs, others just didn’t take off. At this time, I also managed to get some work as an assistant to Mahesh Bhatt when he was making the film Sir in 1993.
Bandra had not treated us well and at the earliest opportunity, we shifted to another part of Mumbai. I could never go back to those lanes; I hated the people around me. With my mother’s old age and finances tight, I became the sole breadwinner, and earning money became top priority.
A friend of mine suggested that while I struggled to make a foothold in writing during the day, at nights I could sing at bars to make ends meet. For ten years, I led the dual life of a struggling writer by day and a bar singer at night. Sometimes I earned `2,000 and sometimes anywhere between `10,000-`25,000. Realisation soon dawned on me that this was never going to be easy; Bollywood does not accept newcomers so easily. They don’t care if it is new or fresh talent.
Nonetheless, while I accepted rejection as a reality, it would still leave me disheartened and since I had no one to guide me, my only solace turned out to be my singing at the clubs. It became my outlet to vent all of my frustration and the pent up emotion. This solace came with its downside though. The late night singing meant travelling home late at night with a constant fear in my heart. I had watched enough girls being picked up and pushed into the flesh trade or being raped. It frightened me no end but I continued suffering silently.
It was then that I finally decided to take matters in my own hand and rewrite my destiny, starting off first with a change of job. For this, I decided to meet Mahesh Bhatt again, someone who I had worked with before. At the time, he was producing Kalyug. He asked me to write two scenes in the film. Those two scenes changed my life forever. Bhatt liked my scenes so much that he offered me their next film as a writer. My dream was coming true and I went on to become their in-house writer.
Five years down the line, I have come on my own. But because of my experiences, I now see to it that I don’t reject new writers when they come to me with scripts. I encourage them because I know how it feels to be rejected. I can never forget the pain of doors being slammed on my face.
Yes, I do get offers from other producers — not because of my talent — but because they are curious to meet a bar singer. The Bhatts, on the other hand, have treated me well and with respect. I am happy where I am, with Mahesh Bhatt as my mentor, who has pushed me and urged me to write my best.
Today, even if I go back to those lanes, which never let me live in peace, and to those who shunned me, I can’t forgive or forget them. They have scarred me for life.
As told to Shama Bhagat
Source: The Asian Age