“Those we love never truly leave us. There are things that death cannot touch.” – Jack Thorne
Mohnish Bahl looks back at his younger self with self-deprecating humour describing himself as ‘a rich spoilt kid from South Mumbai’. Being the only son of legendary actor Nutan and ex-naval Lieutenant – Commander Rajnish Bahl, he was born with the proverbial gilded spoon.
Yet, Mohnish had his own trajectory to carve, his own truth to unravel. The grief of losing his mother to cancer while she was just 54. The tragic death of his father in a fire that gutted an entire floor. The looming shadow of a legal battle between Nutan and her celebrated mother/actor Shobhna Samarth. Hearsay about domestic discord. It surely was a life more entwined, more exigent than a film script.
Commendably, Mohnish came out trumps. Deploying the same axiom of ‘acceptance’ that mother Nutan lived by. His resilience manifests the peace he’s made with the memories. His reserve, an expression of the heft he’s added to his character. His confidence bolstered by the women who make his world – wife Aarti and daughters Pranutan and Krishaa.
On mom Nutan’s 86th birth anniversary, Mohnish Bahl looks back at her with affection..in his own words.
Mom’s the word
I’ve always maintained that Mom was 100 times a better human being than she was an actor. And a 1000 times better mother than she was a human being. Hers was a benevolent presence. As an actor, she was respected for her incredible talent. As a star, she was said to possess the most photogenic face, a bone structure that looked beautiful from every angle. But for me, she was just my ‘Mom’, gorgeous anyways.
A distinct memory I have of her as a child is of the day when I came back from school to find her waiting at the door to surprise me. She was playing a foreigner in a film. For that she had worn blue contact lenses and a golden wig. At first, I didn’t recognize her. But when she spoke, I excitedly cried out, “Mom!”
As a mother, she was gentle and never raised her hand. The only time she whacked me was when I was around 10-11. We had a bungalow in Kalwa. Dad once mentioned that there was a lake on top of a mountain, a few kilometers away from our house. Once, our neighbours in South Bombay came for a stay over there. One morning, my two young neighbour friends and I along with our driver went looking for the lake without informing anyone at home. On finding that the kids, the driver and the car were missing, my parents panicked. On seeing us return, though both livid and relieved, Mom took a swing at me. I ducked and missed her and burst out laughing. Infuriated further, she slapped me hard with her left hand. That was a whack I still remember!
Mom’s finest quality was that she was non-judgmental. Through my growing years, if I made a mistake she’d say, “Timmy (Mohnish’s pet name) I understand where you’re coming from. But you must realize that because you did that, this was bound to happen.” It was communicated in a manner where I didn’t feel the need to defend my position. I wanted to rectify it not to seek her approval but to become a better version of myself. All the pains and tribulations of a teenager’s love life, all the heartbreaks I shared with her. “Time moves on, things pass. Life doesn’t end at any point,” would be her kind advice.
In keeping with the trend in the ’70s, I liked my hair long. She’d tell me, “Timmy (my pet name) you have a good looking face. Go cut your hair!” I didn’t want to because it took a long time to grow it. “A time will come when you will want to keep it short,” she said. I’ve been wearing the crew cut since the past 15-20 years.
I realized the respect she actually commanded when I myself entered the film industry in 1982. The warmth with which I was welcomed wherever I went, the fond memories that people shared of her with me… it was unbelievable. And this was much before she passed away. One such memory remains a flashpoint. This was after Maine Pyar Kiya (1989). Mom and I were driving back home when I stopped by at friend/producer Nitin Manmohan’s office. I walked in casually. But when the staff saw Mom walk in too there was a buzz. Everyone in the huge corporate-like workplace stood up in respect. I was like, ‘Woaah!’ When I joined films, Mom had told me, “Meri naak bahut lambi hai, kadam phoonk phoonk kar rakhna.” Her words rang in my ears that moment.
At home, she was hands-on. I loved the typical Maharashtrian-style chicken she prepared. If the help wasn’t around, she wouldn’t ask us to extend help. She’d do the dusting and sweeping herself. She would drive her own car and even hire a cab if needed. Once while I was driving the car, she was seated next to me. “Timmy how do you pull the brake so smoothly? When I halt the car, it jerks.” I explained that since it was an automatic car, you had to release the brake lightly. So here was my guru, someone who’d taught me driving, wanting to learn from me.
‘My mom, my mentor’
When my career floundered in the beginning, I’d vent about it to her till 2 am. She’d patiently listen. She recalled that when she began her career, people took potshots at her thin frame saying, ‘You want to draw Nutan? Draw a stick!’ Not getting work after her initial films, Nani (veteran Shobhna Samarth) sent Mom off to a finishing school in Switzerland. From there she’d send her pictures back home. Some producers saw those and Mom eventually got Seema (1955). “That’s life; you have to deal with it,” she’d advise me. On the other hand, Dad would say, “What do you need to work for? You’re well settled.” But I needed to know who I was. That was the time I went off to the US and tried to find a life there. But I missed my parents, my home and returned.
On a separate note, many star kids were introduced by big banners or their parents during the same time. Sanjay Dutt was introduced with Rocky (1981), Kumar Gaurav in Love Story (1981), Manoj Kumar’s son Kunal Goswami in Kalakaar (1983)… I was to be introduced by Raj Khoslaji. But the film fell through for reasons limited to Rajji’s own production issues. But word got around that Rajji didn’t want to launch me because there could be something wrong with me. That was a huge setback for me.
In fact, Rajji himself got me my first film Beqarar (1983). Unfortunately, it didn’t pan out as expected. Meri haalat buri hogayi thi… mentally! Like to go for a story sitting, you open your wardrobe. But you’re like ‘No yaar, I can’t wear this shirt. Last time, when I wore it, I lost the film’. You develop a kind of an obsessive compulsive disorder. (Laughs) Going by this, during the three-and-half-year period, I’d rejected my entire wardrobe! Through this phase, Mom had my back.
There’s another incident that brings out Mom’s sense of composure. I was returning from the shooting of Maine Pyar Kiya (1989) in Ooty. The only Indian Airlines flight left Coimbatore for Mumbai at 7 am. So, I drove down from Ooty during the night to catch the flight. The aircraft took off but was brought back to the tarmac due to a technical glitch. We stayed put at the terminal for an entire day surviving on wafers and sandwiches. Finally, it was announced that we’d have to spend the night in a hotel far from the airport. I called Mom and began ranting on the phone. Remember, here was a rich spoilt kid from South Mumbai, who’d suffered failure in his career as a hero and had finally got a part of a villain. My mind was full of negative thoughts. But her take was, “Iss mein bhi kucch achcha hoga.”
Next day, Mom came to the airport to receive me knowing I was upset. I continued my tirade. All she said was, “There’s a silver lining in everything.” A day later, the headlines read that a Mumbai-Ahmadabad flight had crashed in Gujarat. It was that same aircraft. That moment I understood Mom’s attitude of gratitude.
‘Courting controversies’
About people saying she was ‘unhappy’, I don’t agree with that. Perhaps it’s their perception of her detachment, the fact that she was comfortable in her own space. People form opinions and gossip about people they don’t actually know. They share information, which is ‘eyebrow raising’, so that they get importance.
Regarding the two-decade long court case between Mom and Nani (it was alleged that mother Shobhna had mishandled daughter Nutan’s funds), it was unfortunate. The families went through litigation purely due to taxation issues. There was nothing personal between them. You can’t blame anyone. When they sorted it in the early ’80s it was a huge relief for the family including Nani, aunts Chatura and Tanuja, Jaideep Mama (maternal uncle) and Mom.
I rue the fact that my cousins (Kajol and Tanishaa) and I didn’t grow up together. However hats off to Mom, Nani and Tanu aunty for not allowing their differences to affect us children in any way. Jaideep Mama, my aunts and I share an affectionate bond. That somewhat compensates for the missed years. Jaideep Mama helped me build a bungalow on the plot in Lonavala, which Mom and Nani had bought together. His bungalow is adjacent to mine. He has albums of photographs. It’s wonderful to catch up on those memories. Nani and Mom must be quite happy with this reunion.
Coming to my father, I don’t believe he was ‘controlling’ as alleged. He was an extremely liberal man. When he was asked whether his wife would continue acting after marriage, his answer was, “Had she been a painter I wouldn’t have asked her to stop painting. So why should I ask Nutan to stop acting?”
Dad was a navy man. He was part of World War II. His acquaintances belonged to the defence circle. He didn’t bond much with the film industry. He was straightforward. He was not being rude when something was not up to the mark and he merely put his point across.
Fight with Cancer
When Mom was first detected with carcinoma on July 16, 1989, she displayed the same outlook; “Iss mein bhi kuch achcha hoga!” A lumpectomy was done. For one month, we were just shuttling between the hospital and home. Sometimes when the cook wouldn’t turn up, I’d prepare her meals. So that she didn’t contract an infection from restaurant food.
Ironically, the doctors had said that if you were to choose a cancer, this (breast cancer) would be the best as it’s a slow growing one. But her deterioration was rapid. Around June-July 1990, the cancer spread to the liver. After chemo sessions, when she began losing hair in bunches she’d remark, “See Timmy, this is what happens.” At other times she’d say, “It feels like an iron rod is stuck in the left side of my body.”
On February 9, 1991, Mom was admitted to the hospital again. But she insisted I attend the schedule of Shola Aur Shabnam (1992) in Ooty. There was talk of shifting her to Sloane Kettering Institute in the US. But she didn’t want to leave the country. I reassured her that we’d make a decision once I returned. Return I did. But for her last rites. Mom passed away on 21 February 1991. She was an evolved soul, unattached to material things. We all have some desires to fulfill, that’s why we come into the world. Perhaps, she fulfilled those and left soon. Because 54, is hardly an age to go.
Missing mom
Aarti and I got married a year after Mom passed away. Aarti and I have 30 years of marriage behind us. We have two beautiful daughters (actor Pranutan Bahl and Krishaa). Uncannily, Aarti had met Mom when she was around 10. Once Mom happened to visit this garage on 14th Road in Khar, adjacent to the compound where Aarti played with her friends. Word went around that ‘Nutan’ had come and everyone gathered to see the car and her. Aarti recalled that Mom, on seeing her, ‘pulled her cheeks affectionately and adjusted her bob pin’. In retrospect, Aarti considers that gesture as a blessing.
It’s been three decades since Mom passed away. I never imagined I’d miss her so much. So much happened post her demise; I’d have loved to share all that with her. I cannot understand why my mother had to suffer from cancer and pass away at the age of 54. I cannot understand why there had to be a fire in the house in which my father suffered an electric shock and died. I don’t know whether I am stronger after these experiences. But I’m definitely more accepting of life. It’s also strengthened my faith that no matter what’s thrown at you, an inner power will see you through.