Aur ahista reminds me of innocent times
My parents liked ghazals. The songs of Jagjit Singh and Pankaj Udhas always played in our house. I truly discovered Pankaj Udhas when I was given the chance to feature in ‘Aur ahista kijiye baatein’ (for his 1998 pop ghazal album ‘Stolen Moments’).
I heard the song on a scratch cassette and asked myself if I could do it. I did not have formal training in acting. I was expected to stand next to a foreigner on a harbour in Sydney, looking cute and coy in a salwar-kameez. I accepted the role because which 19-year-old would refuse an all-expense paid trip to Australia. However, I was nervous and cried all through my flight.
I could not meet Pankaj Udhas at the shoot because our schedules didn’t match. I met him much later, in Mumbai, after the song had become a hit. I thanked him for choosing me. But instead, he humbly gave me credit for working hard. I was young and scared but he made me feel I had played a part in the success of the song.
‘Is that you in the video?’, my colleagues would quiz me. At the time, I worked part time as a marketing executive. I was flooded with marriage proposals from across the country.
Years later, when I started acting in movies, I met him at a party in Mumbai. I told him, ‘Sir, your song launched my career’. Yet again, with a sweet smile, he said, ‘It was your destiny.’ He was polite, calm and a thorough gentleman, and his songs projected that.
‘Aur ahista’ is special to me in more ways than one. In the song, I fall in love with a biker and in real life, I married a man who runs a motorcycle business, something fans point out a lot. My son, Hans, is also aware of the biker connection.
When I heard the news of Pankaj Udhas’ passing from a reporter, I teared up. Struggling to find words, I asked my son, ‘You know mamma’s song?’ He said, ‘Oh! With that guy on the bike, like papa.’ He knows the song because I would play it a lot when he was born, to calm myself.