![]() ![]() Perhaps, my mind couldn't handle the incestuous reek clinging to the feelings he evoked. I'm convinced that during my teens, some defence-mechanism erased all childhood memories of him. Of the third member of the holy trinity, I have no early recollections at all. Amidst the bustle and flurry of shooting, Dilip uncle leaned down and, lower lip jutting slightly, spoke respectfully, so gently, just as if I were Meena Kumari: " Aap kaisin hain? Badmaash, school nahin gayin?" I remember toddling down from the recording theatre of Mehboob Studios and sneaking into its musty sound-stage. As I darted to my aunt, Raj uncle nabbed me, and up, up, up into the air I was being lifted. One look at the sweaty man turning the lamb on spit, and I fled for dear life. I disengaged my hand from Didimavshi's (Lata Mangeshkar) and walked over to whence the embers flew. ![]() I remember the garden party at RK Studios in the winter of 1961 extremely well. ![]() This feature was first posted on on April 4, 1997. ![]()
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