The year was 1983. My sister Ragini insisted that I accompany her to her music guru’s home. It was a 300-sq ft room in Virar, a distant Mumbai suburb. As I entered, I heard chants of ‘Om’ emanating from the room. A lady, clad in a saffron-coloured sari, was doing her puja. Sitting next to her were her sons and a grandson. She was Nirmala Devi, a well-known thumri singer. Her children: producer Kirti Kumar and actor Govinda (Chi Chi).Ragini introduced me to the entire family. And, in the next few years, we got to know them quite well. Kirti, or Pappu bhaiya, as we called him, was full of stories. He wanted to be an actor and was struggling to get a foothold in the industry. Chi Chi was an introvert, but he smiled a lot. The teenager seemed to love dancing and I frequently spotted him practising his steps with a guitar borrowed from an acquaintance. When his elder brother wasn’t home, Chi Chi welcomed us. If Ramabai, their domestic help, wasn’t around, he prepared tea for everybody. Nirmala Devi never let anyone leave the house without having something to eat or drink.Clearly, those were tough days for the family. Nirmala Devi, who taught aspiring singers, was the only earning member. Once, we overheard Chi Chi in a heated argument with his mother. He wanted Rs 100 to take his friends out for a birthday treat.Chi Chi stayed away from girls. His weak point was his mother. He was extremely possessive of her and jealous of all those who grew close to her. So, obviously, he didn’t like it when we started spending time with her. Once, when we walked in, he even hid behind the door and yelled, “Yahoooo.” It scared us out of our wits and I decided to teach him a lesson. One day, when Ramabai had taken the day off, Pappu bhaiya and Chi Chi had to cook. When Nirmala Devi asked us to stay for lunch, we agreed — knowing full that it would be an inconvenience. We kept grinning all through lunch, praising the food to high heavens! The brothers were clearly upset. We stayed for tea as well. Chi Chi was seething as he made it. While placing the teacups in front of us, he remarked, “Bhaiya, main to is ghar ka bahu hoon” (I am the daughter-in-law of this house). Their mother had no idea what the banter was all about! But, pranks apart, Chi Chi was ever the gentleman. If Ragini and I got late, he would always accompanied us to Bhayandar.He was extremely popular with his friends. He would roam around Virar with his best friend, Deepak. Among his friends, was a gajrawallah, who sold jasmine garlands on trains. Our visits to his home continued until the mid-1980s, when Ragini stopped her music lessons.When I met Chi Chi after this, he was no longer the shy, gawky teenager I once knew. He had metamorphosed into a confident actor, who was a tad too formal with me. It was the effect of stardom. By then, I was working as a reporter with Screen, and we kept running into each other. But our interaction was strictly professional. The past was a closed book.
