Book Review : And Then One Day : A Memoir by Naseeruddin Shah

Title: And Then One Day 

Author: Naseeruddin Shah
Publisher: Penguin Books
Genre: Memoir, Non-Fiction
Source: Kindle Edition
Pages: 369
Rating: 5/5

Autobiographies have their own charm. These are not merely inked words but a person, a compelling tale of someone’s whole life.

I was super excited when I started this memoir of Naseeruddin Sir; He did loads of movies, left us jaw-dropped. So, it was kind of treat to read him, to know him in his own words, This book gave me a feeling that Naseer Sahab   Reiterating  without any fear , he tore up pages of his life with such an honesty like it a sort of game. Must say he played elegantly.  Respect!

In his memoir he talked about his family members how he was so connected with his mother, about his school days fun, addiction for movies since childhood. His struggle while he was trying to make a space for himself in that Dreamy world, Bollywood.  His love life and failures.The way he called himself ‘raw boned face’. Where his damn classic humor make you laugh, on the other way his dark side left you amazed with a bit tears. When he mentioned his time with Om Puri, Shabana Azami, Gulzar Saab and Shyam Benegal, You try hard to imagine behind the scenes.

Sharing Few Lines here...  This made me surprise “is he a professional writer?”

·         First wonder goes deepest; wonder after that fits in the impression made by the first.

·         There can be this kind of exchange of energies between actor and audience. The finest definition of theatre that I have come across is ‘one actor-one audience’. Implying of course that any meaningful interaction between two people anywhere fits the definition of ideal theatre, with the same qualities needed of both participants as are required from them in an actual theatre. Theatre really is a one-on-one experience.

·          I have been grappling for years with the question of whether experiencing difficulty dealing with real life is what drives people to become actors. Though it is far from resolved in my head, looking back at some very worthwhile actors I have known closely, almost every one of them seems to conform to this pattern. It does seem like an aberration of behavior to want to be someone else all the time, and I think it happens to people who, like me, can find no self-worth early in life and thus find fulfillment in hiding behind make-believe.

·         Now I was actually standing behind the curtain. I was there! I took a long while savouring the feeling that there were people out there who were curious about what we were doing, about what I was doing. I kicked the hem of the curtain to make it billow and make them wonder even more. That’s what the inside of a mother’s womb must feel like. Warm, safe, comfortable. You have no weight, no cares. The outside world is outside. It can get to you only when you let it. Then the curtain opened. Suddenly, the womb was gone and I was staring into a black void. Never having been onstage before, I was blinded by the intensity of the lighting, but then I felt the boards under my feet.

·         the opportunity to lead their lives the way they had chosen to. Seldom have I encountered such contentment in people at the end of the road; the complete satisfaction of knowing you have done whatever you could with your life.

·         The only thing that interested me about life, I remember, was watching how people behaved. If I had been blessed with any ‘gift’ at all, it was an ear for the spoken word. I can still actually recall the grains in a voice I have heard fifty years ago.

·         An actor’s output hinges totally on being cast right, on how the scene is written, what the character is asked to do, how he is guided to do it, often even on how he is lit.

·         I have always had doubts about the existence of God but I do believe in the power of prayer; praying not as in groveling for something but exuding positive energy, and the prayer is answered by receiving it in return.

·         But though I have to live with the knowledge that the scar tissue of my earlier indifference will never disappear.

A classic Read!