‘I Didn’t Feel The Need To Show Cleavage’ ‘This leading filmmaker told me: “Don’t let the industry cake you up with makeup and wigs. You are a breath of fresh air”.’

Deepti Naval has been an integral part of path-breaking cinema.

The celebrated actress, who turned 74 on February 3, picked and analysed her Top 10 films from her rich repertoire in this two-part interview.

“Naseer told me something that is very precious for me. He said, ‘Deepti, the best thing about you is that you’re not a trained actress. You don’t have a tareeka of acting. You just do it’.”                                                                                         Ek Baar Phir (1980): ‘Director Vinod Pande had conceived a tender kiss, but we implied it

In Ek Baar Phir, you became the first leading lady in Hindi films to take on a lover and demand a divorce from a dead marriage.

Yeah. Guide did touch upon it, but not directly. In Ek Baar Phir, my character Kalpana is married, but she falls in love with another man. I was lucky that I got to play this very contemporary woman in my very first film.

Despite the bold theme, you seemed to have a strict no-exposing policy in the bedroom scenes with both the husband (Suresh Oberoi) and the lover (Pradeep Verma).

I didn’t feel the need to show cleavage. I am a little inhibited. Director Vinod Pande had conceived a tender kiss in the film, but we implied it. The camera was positioned in such a way that I didn’t have to kiss my co-actor.

How did a non-trained actress, who had previously done only a small role in Junoon, land the film?

When I first came into the industry from New York, I met Farooque Shaikh when we both performed a half-an-hour play for Doordarshan. We got talking and exchanged numbers. Much later, I got a message from Farooque saying, ‘Please go and meet this young filmmaker from London, Vinod Pandey, who’s looking for a new girl with big eyes and long hair.’

I went to meet Vinod. I read three scenes and he said, ‘Done! You are Kalpana in my film. Now let’s go look for the 2 boys.’

Would you say you brought an international cinematic sensibility to Hindi films?

My acting style was different. I was an overnight success. I was the girl from New York, who they said was very natural, carried herself gracefully and looked intelligent. They said ‘She doesn’t deliver her dialogues in the deliberate manner of Hindi films.’The most memorable reaction you got?

Producer N C Sippysaab (Anand, Satte Pe Satta) called me home (which is now Amitabh Bachchan’s bungalow) and told me: ‘You don’t know how good an actress you are. Don’t let the industry cake you up with makeup and wigs and make you artificial. Remain real. You are a breath of fresh air.’ I was very flattered.

Favourite scene…

What convinced me about this role was the scene when she questions herself through a voiceover: ‘Am I being immoral by going with the man I am in love with or is it immoral to stay with the husband I do not love just because it’s socially acceptable?’

I was convinced that what was immoral was staying in a convenient comfort zone.

Would you say your forte is dramatic roles or comedy?

Comedy is not my forte at all. I am more drawn to the intense which brings out the emotional depth within me. I was a very introverted teenager; there was a whole world happening inside my head.

Yet, your rapid-fire delivery as Miss Chamko extolling a laundry detergent in Chashme Buddoor is a comic classic.

I didn’t have to do comedy in the Chamko scene. It is written in a way that it’s a sweet-funny scene. My timing may be perfect, but I’m not a comic character.

Are you a bit tired of being famous as Miss Chamko?

Mujhe bekaar lagta hai. It’s a role which I did well. But I did many more significant roles.

Do you research even your comic characters to get into their mental space?

Always. I’m very keen to know what is the education of the woman I am playing, whether her parents were educated, or is she downright poor. Keeping in mind her history helps you bring flavour in your performance. Like Neha of Chashme Buddoor — I knew yeh Dilliwali hai.

Farooque Shaikh and you went on to do half a dozen films together. Is that creatively fruitful?

We were so comfortable with each other. We were buddies.

What was your take on the parody song where you did a take off on older songs?

It was a delight. I loved recreating Asha Parekh’s Aa Aa Aaja.

Director Sai Paranjpye has referenced the song in Asha Parekh’s biography and said that though you were an extraordinarily sensitive actress, you were no dancer.

But I enjoyed dancing! I am a trained Kathak dancer.

There was a problem with the dress I was asked to wear for the part of the song on Zeenat Aman’s Aap Jaisa Koi. The dress designer brought me a georgette dress without any lining in it. So my undergarments were showing when the lights were on me! I put my foot down. I said I’m not going to shoot till you put a lining inside the dress. But what was instead told to Sai was that Deepti is unnerved about dancing like Zeenat Aman.

Did you see the 2013 remake with Taapsee Pannu?

No. I didn’t have any incentive to see it. People say it was no comparison to the original.

Favourite scene

The parody song where I re-enact songs of classic actresses.

The film was about how your husband (Farooque Shaikh) loses the principles you both once held dear. In your own life, do you feel you have abided by principles?I would never compromise. I have accepted films for meagre amounts of money, sometimes just Rs 50,000. All the art films that we chose to do, they would not be ready to pay. That’s why I have done fewer films.

In my journey, the body and face have been less important than intellect and upbringing. I’ve always told myself, I’m going to do things my way.

Saath Saath had wonderful Jagjit Singh compositions: Yeh Tera Ghar et al. Did you enjoy filming songs?

It’s a beautiful film and had beautiful songs. I love music and dance.

But you didn’t get a showcase for your dancing talents.

It just wasn’t explored because they gave me the New York-returned tag.

Favourite scene

In the end when she confronts her husband and tells him he has sold his soul. She’s ready to walk out of the marriage with her child.

Any butterflies while doing your first film with Naseeruddin Shah?

Ample. I had seen him during Junoon and knew he was a bloody solid actor. I was untrained, working only from instinct. The good part was I had confidence. I was never nervous about acting.

Naseer told me something that is very precious for me. He said, ‘Deepti, the best thing about you is that you’re not a trained actress. You don’t have a tareeka of acting. You just do it.’

Naseer is my favourite actor and my favourite co-star. We didn’t get many chances to work together. Katha was a dream come true.

Did you pick up acting tips from your seniors?

I learnt by observing how Naseer prepares for a scene. During Junoon, I would see Shabana Azmi’s approach. I would eagerly follow Naseer and observe that he stayed aloof while everybody was chatting.

Sai Paranjpye was the rare woman director those days. Was your relationship easy or stormy?

I love Sai, but at times, I think I ruffled her — like a naughty child scolded by a teacher, I have received zabardast scolding from Sai Paranjpye a couple of times. My fault.

I had got my hair permed which made it impossible for the wig I was wearing in the scene to stay on. Sai blew her top. I sat like a meek little mouse listening to everything because I knew it was my fault. I loved working on both Chashme Buddoor and Katha with her.

Favourite scene

When Naseer asks her not to add ‘jee‘ to his name, she replies ‘Aapki personality mein hi jee hai.’ And I put up his nameplate on the door.

How did you figure out the body language of a tribal girl, considering your urbanised background?

Kamla was a very challenging role. Sitting on my haunches, eating food from a thali on the floor… I did that all that so that I could feel more like her. And in New York, I used to run between one atelier to another as an art student!

You don’t start observing people because you are playing a role. You pull it out from your collective memory in your emotional reservoir. I had enough homework to fall back on.

I would try and emulate the women I had known. For example, my mind flashed back to my childhood and I would recollect how a woman I knew would sit on the floor and do lepa poti on the walls. I got to observe characters in the gully behind the house where I grew up in. You’re making mental notes all the time. You never know when you will tap into some observation.

Kamla enhanced my understanding and empathy for my bai who came home to work for me, definitely changed my attitude towards them.

As a strong thinking woman, how did you approach playing a character as a woman with no agency?

I was a doormat in Kamla but the film was pinpointing that, it was making a statement. The film should be saying something strong about women. Even Ghar Ho To Aisa — the only film I regret doing — had a scene where my mother-in-law thrusts my hand into boiling water, but it also had my school friend (Meenakshi Seshadri) entering my household and teaching my mother-in-law a lesson.

What was it like working with Shabana Azmi?

She’s such a competent actor!

Competitive too?

Yes but competitive in a very positive way. I like to be challenged.

Given the choice today, which role would you opt for in Kamla?

Director Jagmohan Mundhra told me he cast me because of my eyes. You don’t have many dialogue, but your eyes speak. So, I would have still played Kamla because it gave me something different and it was the title role.

Are you a switch-on switch-off actress?

I was not that well trained, and lacked the discipline of switch-on switch-off acting. I preferred staying in the mood of the character, and not being disturbed. During Kamla, I never sat in and chatted with Shabana, Marc Zuber and Jagmohan.

They were understanding?

Yes. Maybe they would laugh about it, but I think they could see how desperately I was trying to be Kamla (laughs).

Favourite scene

Kamla is sitting on the floor while Shabana is on a jhoola. I tell her, ‘ Maalik tumhein kitne mein khareeda? (How much did the master buy you for?)’ She doesn’t realise that the wife is not bought; she thinks all women are sold to men.