Suchitra Sen, my mother… Moon Moon Sen remembers

Your mother, the legendary Suchitra Sen, would have turned 95 on April 6. Your thoughts?

She was much loved by everyone... It’s hard to imagine she is gone. She was my entire universe. Beautiful memories seem so painful at the moment. I think everyone’s mom is very special, but she was special to not just me, but to all of Bengal and beyond.

What was she like?

She was very undemanding as a person. She was the closest to me, but knew that I had my life to lead and came to terms with that. She liked being alone. But it’s not that she didn’t like meeting people. She liked meeting interesting people.

What are your memories of her as a child?

As a child, I remember her always working. I was put in a boarding school in Darjeeling and then in England. It was a big joy and privilege for me to come home every holiday — thrice a year — to spend time with her. Every time I was home, I realised how special she was. When I left for boarding school in Darjeeling and later in Surrey, she’d cry more than I did. I was very spoilt and pampered. Later, when I was studying in Kolkata, even when she was at work, she would ring up twice a day to check on me, my meals, etc.

When did you become aware your mother was ‘the Suchitra Sen’?

As I grew older, I realised how special she was. During my vacations, she’d bring me down from boarding school in England to any part of India. I remember my father driving me to the Taj hotel from the airport in Mumbai, where she was shooting for ‘Aandhi’. I had to be content with those three annual visits. During college, I lived with her in Kolkata. We were very, very close.

Then you got married. Did that distance you from her?

When I got married quite late and moved out, it must have been very difficult for her. I looked after her when I was there. My going away must have been very hard for her. But she never expressed her anguish. I had a very kind husband. I would go to see my mother every morning, and he would never mind. He always gave me a lot of space.

How do you define your mother’s legendary status?

My mother didn’t just deal with the film industry on her own terms; she also looked after home and me. She did everything that a man and a woman combined could do in a family. She was both father and mother to me. We slept in the same room, ate together and did everything together. I remember I’d be doing my studies and she would be in the next room — back from her shooting, relaxing, sipping tea and watching me. I can feel her presence even now. When I was not in boarding school, she would make sure she was home when I needed her, although she wouldn’t pick me up or drop me to school.

Why?

She didn’t have the time. We had a nanny for all that. Sometimes mother would come to school to pick me up. People would not accost her. They respected her privacy all her life in Kolkata.

When did you realise she was an iconic star?

As a child, I knew her as my mother at home and as an actress in the studio. She started the star system in Bengal. No one had an aura like hers. But our most fun times were when I was in boarding school in England. Both my parents would come to pick me up and we would drive to Scotland and other destinations. There was no question of her privacy being violated during those precious family holidays in and around England.

She is the most private star Indian cinema has known…

Even in India, everyone respected her need for privacy. But it’s a myth that she didn’t meet people. She met everyone she had to and was extremely polite and easy-going in her social interaction. Of course, she had a fierce temper, which my daughters and I have inherited. She was very choosy about her friends and a stickler for punctuality. If anything didn’t go well while shooting, my mother would be extremely upset and would make no effort to hide it.

She was very picky about her films?

That’s because she was very particular about the quality of her work. One reason why she quit acting in the 1970s was the kitschy mediocrity that overtook Bengali cinema in the 1970s and 1980s. Many of the directors she knew well and felt comfortable working with had passed away. The scripts that were offered to her were awful. When Uttam Kumar passed away, she said, ‘Whom am I going to work with?’ Once she left acting, she left it behind completely.

What was her response when you chose to work in films?

When I started acting, she would hardly ask about the film industry, except maybe an odd question about how Gulzar saab was doing. She was extremely fond of him. Otherwise, she was totally out of cinema.

Once she quit at her peak, she never looked back?

She let her stardom go quite easily. But stardom never let go of her. I remember being on a flight with Andhra Pradesh’s eminent producer D Rama Naidu. He said to me, ‘Tell your mother I’ve a blank cheque waiting for her.’ And Salim Khan saab told me she refused Yash Chopra’s ‘Deewar’. After she opted out, they changed the whole script. From being about a mother and her sons, it became just about sons... She missed the company of like-minded people. She had me, her aunts, sisters, nieces and very few friends.

Why are you so different from your mother?

I don’t know! That’s just the way it is. I am more outgoing. But when she was working, anyone could approach her. She looked after her makeup man’s schooling. She looked out for her entire staff, visited their homes if they were indisposed. Her charitable work was not tom-tommed. She was a very generous soul. She had a great deal of self-respect mixed with a whole lot of humility. But she never allowed outsiders to come close to her. She taught me so many values that I find so credible now. When we are younger, we want to discover everything on our own. As we grow older, we realise our parents were right.

Even the way you dress is very different from your mother.

She never put any restriction on the way I dressed or behaved. When I joined the Hindi film industry, many people smirked about Suchitra Sen’s daughter wearing a bathing costume. My mother always let us swim. And I’d move around the house wearing sun-suits. When I grew older, I wore mini-skirts. Not once did she comment on my clothes. She told me, ‘You aren’t comfortable wearing a saree? Don’t worry about it unless we’re going to a shraddh or something.’ It made no difference to me if the Hindi film industry thought I was wild because I wore a swimming suit.

After a point, I stopped working in Mumbai and moved back to Kolkata because I wanted to be with my mother. I felt she was lonely. Now I am without her... For her final journey, I dressed her up so beautifully. I made sure her face was covered from public view. What a pity that was! She was so beautiful to the end. She kept urging me to do a few more films and to write. Now she’s gone, leaving behind memories. These will never fade. I am certain of that.

— The writer is a film critic