SIR RICHARD ATTENBOROUGH GANDHI-II

Sir Richard was shooting a crowd scene in Dehlhi for his film, Gandhi, and a prop was upset, which agitated his secretary. He calmed her with kisses. But the other Unit members were still tense.
"Why don't you look where you are going, Smith ?" yelled a gentleman.
"I am sorry," said Smith.
"Being sorry doesn't help," said the gentleman severely.
My effort to help him reset the prop invited a curt comment : "In England, sir, we do only our allotted jobs."
I could not help retorting : "In our country, sir, we do not mind doing any number of jobs, as there are no strong trade unions to protect our interests."
"And," I was about to add, "employers generally accept the extra help in the same spirit as it is given - gratis."
But, meanwhile, he had said "fair enough" and moved on.
Copying Sir Richard, Saeed in the neighbourhood extended his fingertips, touched the camera and kissed them in reverence. Then he repeated the ritual with everything connected with the shooting that came his way : mike, camera stand, clapper board, name anything. So much so that one was afraid he might do the same thing to his actor colleagues, especially Surajit Sen, the famous newsreader at All India Radio then, who was also acting the role of Lokmanya Tilak in his enormous wardrobe. But Saeed limited himself to inanimate shooting objects, mercifully.
Earlier, St Nicholas (his real name was Nicholas; but I have put St before his name to make him Santa Claus, though he was very young) of wardrobe had selected my dress, and after change of costume, we, the extras, had been advised to procure our shoes from the shoe department, housed in a Delhi Transport Corparation (DTC) bus parked some distance away. (To Indo-British Films must go the credit for making the best use of DTC buses at that time. They had converted them into toilets and lavatories. )
While walking towards the "shoe bus", we had an Unit escort, who kept repeating the four-letter words to his all-male audience and telling us not to spoil the sets. As we approached the bus, I gave him a shock of his life. I said we don't use four-letter adjectives in polite society in India. Poor boy ! He had had the shock of his life. He thought we did not understand his vocabulary. Thereafter, he turned gentleman.

(To be Continued)