Behind the Veil

This is the house actor-singer Suraiya Jamal Sheikh lived in most of her life. It was in the ’30s when the city was still being reclaimed from the sea and Englishmen rode black Buicks down to Bombay Gymkhana that Suraiya, then four, came here.

The only child of a couple from Lahore who had moved into town, her next door neighbours-turned-childhood mates included the young Nargis, Shakila and Nimmi. ‘‘Suraiya’s family were among the first tenants in the building,’’ says Amee Shah, a family friend.

There was not much of a childhood. Suraiya went to work at the age of 10. Visiting studios along with a maternal uncle, an actor of the ’40s called M Zahoor, she was spotted by a director.

By 12, she was picked out by composer Naushad who discovered the talents of the untrained singer. ‘‘God gave her a mellifluous voice. When she came to me in 1939, she wanted to be an actor. I told her she could be a good singer,’’ he recalls.

In a career spanning two decades (1942-63), she co-starred and sung in over 70 films with the likes of KL Saigal, Noorjehan, Surendranath and, most famously, Dev Anand. At the height of her career, Suraiya was the highest paid star and notorious for the traffic jams outside her residence.

‘‘There was this chap who came down from Pakistan… he wanted to marry her. For four days, he stood outside the house to propose to her,’’ laughs MA Butt, an old acquaintance, and a film historian-journalist. Life was an endless whirl of shootings, drives, and dos for the rising star who was groomed by an ambitious mother and her grandmom.

She abruptly gave it all up in the early ’60s. Offers were still streaming in, but Suraiya could not be persuaded to reconsider.

Music composer Ravi, among the few intimates the actress had, presents a picture of a woman keen to preserve the image of a youthful and vivacious star in the public’s imagination. ‘‘She wanted them to remember her the way she was. Once she gave up films, she would not even sing at parties,’’ he says.

It was a complete withdrawal. Retreating from the covers of gossip mags and the back seats of open Cadillacs, the charismatic star drew a veil over her life. She was 34 and single.

Over the next 20-odd years, the star made herself as scarce as possible. ‘‘She liked her solitude. Even if she went out, she would wear a burqa,’’ says Shah.

Suraiya and her mother, helped by long-serving domestic staff, led a retired life. A helper Shanti was by her side for 25 years.

Mumtaz Sheikh, though keen to see her daughter married, was wary of suitors who would have an eye on her wealth. Soon, apart from a small circle, Suraiya was not even entertaining phone calls from anyone.

To those who knew her well, she was a friendly woman who liked to be occasionally invited for get-togethers, but rarely chose to host parties herself. After her mother passed away in 1987, visitors without appointments found it was futile to ring the doorbell. Suraiya and her staff would never open the door.

‘‘I invited her for several music concerts abroad. But she was afraid of how people would measure her. She was very conscious of her fading looks and how people would regard her voice now,’’ says composer Ravi.