Veteran journalist Vinod Mehta’s biography of Meena Kumari, first published in 1972, finds it way back to the shelves again this month. Written at a time when biographies were few and far between, and stars still had a certain enigma, it is as relevant today as it was at that time.

“I wrote the book because as a copy writer I did not have too many options,” says Mehta wryly, adding, “I was just grateful that a publisher wanted me to do this… I knew very little about the film world, especially Meena Kumari.”

Being an outsider helped Mehta cast a dispassionate eye on one of Hindi cinema’s most enduring icons, who he addresses as “My Heroine” in the book. “Most star biographies at that time were puff jobs, hagiographies. My book set out to be objective. I wanted to give it some sort of a literary touch,” he says. It also helped that Mehta had just returned from the UK, sported Hippy hair and spoke with a ‘swank’ accent, he adds.

While most of Meena Kumari’s co-stars and colleagues easily opened up to the charismatic writer (except Dharmendra with whom she was rumoured to be having an affair), Mehta found the domestic helps, the drivers and the make-up artists to be the most resourceful. “They had no axe to grind, and I had no reason to disbelieve them,” he says.

During the four months that he researched for and wrote the book, Mehta was drawn to his heroine’s multi-faceted personality. “Unlike today’s stars, she had many dimensions – she read poetry, had literary friends, aspired to the higher life and was an alcoholic. She also represented that generation of young Muslim girls who were pushed into the film industry so that they could become their family’s meal tickets. Meena Kumari’s family too exploited her and felt betrayed when she married Kamal Amrohi” he says. Meena Kumari also thought of herself as a Marilyn Monroe, “unlucky and unloved,” says Mehta, adding that “she drank because she wanted to get drunk, not because she enjoyed it.”

It’s been more than 40 years since Mehta wrote about the tragedy queen, but he says “much of her sorrow was self-imposed.” Says he: “She felt that god had cursed her, and transferred the tragedy of her films to her make-believe life.”

Mehta recalls how Meena Kumari’s last film, Kamal Amrohi’s magnum opus Pakeezah flopped after its release. It took the tragedy of her death to draw the audiences to the theatre and fall in love with one of the most beautiful Hindi films ever made.

Excerpt
Meena-even after she had stopped seeing Dharmendra-had great regard for him.

There were two reasons for this:

One, Mr Dharam was her protege, her pupil. She had helped him enormously in the initial stages of his career, and she took legitimate pride when he made good. Dharam himself has never tried to minimise the debt he owes to Meena for making him what he is today.

Two, He was among the very few men who were genuinely good to her. In real life I believe he is a thoroughly decent and unpretentious guy, and he thought a lot of my heroine. (Each time he went to see her in Landmark, he would come out of her room crying. Khursheed once asked him why. ‘I can’t help it,’ was his simple and honest reply.)

The popular view is that Meena and Dharam were intimate for three years. The inside view is that the intimacy lasted no more than six months.

While it lasted, however, it glittered and in six months this couple had given rise to rumours enough for many years.

No denying that Dharam enjoyed the limelight. He was an unknown boy and his liaison with India’s foremost actress got him a lot of grantis publicity. Most of the time he was visibly at her side and when he was not, he made sure this news travelled.

He had gone to Delhi for the premiere of Kaajal, and at some party there downed a couple of excess drinks. When he arrived at the airport, the authorities noticing his inebriated state, refused to let him in the plane. ‘But I must get back to Bombay. I must,’ he entreated, ‘Meena is waiting for me’. This statement and incident were faithfully reported in the press the next day.

My heroine did not fall short either. She had gone in a convoy to a picnic with lots of friends among whom was Mr Dharmendra. While returning, somehow Dharam got inside a different car from Meena and whisked away. She was hysterical. She wanted to know why he wasn’t in the car beside her. She wanted to know whether he had run away. She wanted to know if something had possibly happened to him. The other picnicker s assured that all was well with Dharam and through an oversight he had left in one of the other cars. But this assurance wasn’t enough. Meena directed the driver of her car to stop. He did. Coolly she got out of the car and went onto the middle of the road. Here, cross-legged, she sat and began lamenting loudly, ‘Where is my Dharam? Where is my Dharam?’

If you were involved with Meena, that automatically meant that you were involved in fairy-tale fiction. Dharam received his share. A slapping incident is rumoured, a full-scale fist fight between Mrs Dharmendra and my heroine in Shrinagar is rumoured, a couple of drinking incidents where Meena had to stabilise her man are rumoured.