Waqt se din aur raat
Waqt se kal aur aaj
Waqt ki har shai gulaam
Waqt ka har shai pe raaj...
Sahir Ludhinavi may have penned this ode to time for BR Chopra’s classic Waqt in 1965. Decades later, his son, the late Ravi Chopra and his family literally played it out – wedged as they were in the vagaries of fortune. The opulent BR Chopra bungalow, which holds the place of pride on Juhu Tara Road, has been privy to the shenanigans of showbiz. While it must have been party to several golden jubilee celebrations, given the hits churned out by the BR banner, it also was a silent spectator when time chose to look the other way. Ravi Chopra, who’s best remembered for the epic TV series Mahabharat and more recently the Amitabh Bachchan superhit Baghban, suddenly found himself both in the throes of failing health and a financial downturn in the late 2000s.
While he took it on literally with ‘quiet’ fortitude (the ventilator attached to his wind pipe didn’t let him speak), wife Renu Chopra confides she had her own lessons to perfect. Being around her ailing husband and also taking on the company’s challenges, Renu had only her diehard spirit and Rhonda Byrne’s bestseller The Secret to rely upon. “When I had a question, I would open any page and it had some message for me. God doesn’t come personally, he gives you hints,” smiles Renu who still begins her mornings by referring to the daily teachings of the book.
There’s no trace of resentment in her. Instead, there’s serenity from having answered karma’s calling. She insists the dark phase only threw light on the rich heritage her sons Kapil and Abhay have to reinstate. “We have to bring the banner back,” asserts she. The recent success of their co-production Bhootnath Returns could well be a preview of ‘BR Returns’. After all, as Hal Borland wrote, “No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”
THE FILMMAKER
Destiny ‘arranged’ for Ravi and me to fall in love. Our families knew each other. We went around for more than a year. But Ravi was clear about making a mark for himself before we got married. He didn’t want to be known just as ‘BR Chopra’s son’ (he had assisted his father in Dastaan, 1972 and Dhund, 1973 and uncle Yash Chopra in Ittefaq 1969). We got married after he made Zameer (Amitabh Bachchan – Saira Banu starrer), on November 18, 1975.
All the Chopra women were encouraged to participate in filmmaking – be it Yash (Chopra) uncle’s wife Pam (Chopra) aunty or my mother-in-law (Prakash Chopra). We sat through recordings and also with writers when they came home. I even did the costume for some of Ravi’s films. Often I’d have lunch on the sets. The BR catering unit was famous for its homely Punjabi khana. From the spot-boys to the stars everyone enjoyed it. In fact, during the shoot of Mahabharat (1988-1990), Puneet Issar would have around 40 rotis in one go! Ravi never had alcohol. Not for any other reason but the fact that he didn’t like the taste. But he’d have coke after coke. The Chopras didn’t drink because they remained so involved with food!
Ravi went on to do a couple of films including The Burning Train (1980), Mazdoor (1983), Aaj Ki Awaaz (1984) and Dahleez (1986). For him, shooting was a picnic. The tension began when the film released. Friday, Saturday, Sunday… Ravi never met a soul. You just waited for the figures to come.
Initially, people discouraged Ravi from making Baghban (2003). They thought it was old-fashioned and that it had shades of Rajesh Khanna’s Avtaar and Sanjeev Kumar’s Zindagi. But Ravi insisted that it was the romance, which was the film’s heart. When Baghban released, for the first two days the response was poor. Naturally, Ravi was disturbed. But it picked up from Tuesday. Surprisingly, the film was liked by the young, those between 25-30. They went through guilt pangs for having neglected their parents. Some even said they had reconnected with their parents after years.
THE MAN
Ravi wasn’t a romantic husband in the usual sense. He wasn’t the type to express love but he was caring. We’d hold hands and walk. Not because he was romantic but because he always feared that I’d trip! He was a born flirt. He’d flirt in front of me. It was okay. That was his kick. The kick was to have the last word. Once an ambitious mother brought her young daughter to Ravi and said, “Raviji, she can do anything for you. But she won’t wear a two-piece.” Ravi, with characteristic humour said, “Okay then she can decide, which one she won’t wear – the top one or the lower one!” He said that was the only way to shut her up.
When he was doing Dehleez, I warned Ravi that Meenakshi Sheshadhri’s mother was strict and that the actress was known to be prudish. So he should be wary of cracking naughty jokes with her. “Agar main dirty jokes crack nahin karoon mujhse kaam nahin hota!” he had retorted. Then one day he told me, “You know what, today Meenakshi’s mother told me a naughty joke!”
Poonam Dhillon called him ‘Rovi’ for his ‘roving eye’. One day on the set of Baghban, Salman Khan mentioned to me, “Poonam aayee hai.” So when we broke for lunch,
I asked Ravi to call Poonam. But he said there was no Poonam there. I looked at Salman who grinned. I then remarked Poonam was a good friend of mine. “Don’t ever believe that! Helen aunty and my mother (Salma Khan) were once great friends too!” smirked Salman before we all burst out laughing. Salman is a genuine person. Through Ravi’s ill-health, he often visited him. He’d sit on the bed beside him and say, “Ravi Sir! Picture banate hain, utth jao!”
ROLL OF THE DICE
My life with Ravi was like a fairytale except the last few years when our financial crisis coincided with his failing health. The reason for the financial breakdown... well, it’s not right to blame anyone. It was just a couple of wrong decisions coinciding with unfavourable timing. Our film Banda Yeh Bindaas Hai never got released due to creative differences with the producers. Where our TV serials were concerned, we had a new CEO who wanted to go in for expansion. But the existing serials were not generating revenue. Also, Ravi was not up to the mark. Our sons, Kapil (a finance graduate) and Abhay (a film graduate) were studying abroad and somewhere Ravi slipped. Also, Babul (2006) didn’t take off. The audience didn’t like the thought of Salman dying. But through the dipping times, Ravi never lost his cool. His takiya kalam was ‘no problem’! Maybe it came from a false sense of bravado. he reason he developed health problems was also because of the mounting financial problems.
FAILING HEALTH
It was in 2009 when I first got a hint that something was wrong with Ravi. Someone who had the habit of sleeping on his stomach had begun sleeping on his side. His breathing was laboured. Earlier, he’d be working for 18 hours and yet not get tired. But now he was getting tired. He’d say, “Achha main thoda so jaata hoon.” Badminton was his passion but he began avoiding it. “I’m not playing well. I am spoiling the other’s game. I’m not able to run,” he’d say. Also, for Ravi to not eat was strange. He knocked off five to six kilos just like that. A year later, after some checkups, we came to know that his diaphragm was paralysed due to a damaged phrenic nerve. Consequently, his rib cage was stuck. A pipe was attached to his wind pipe, which was then attached to a portable ventilator (got from Sweden) to ease his breathing. As his windpipe was blocked he could not speak.
Yes, Ravi did not speak for four years. But I believe love needs no language. He had the iPad, he could write. But we didn’t need that. He was never frustrated, never angry, he never cried. He never asked why me. We spent a good deal of time together. We saw movies, the IPL matches and almost 40 Pakistani shows. He was a voracious reader. Even in his bath, the music was kept on. The staff, the nurses all gave him support and despite the long-drawn illness there was no sense of morbidity at home. But when Yashji passed away (October 21, 2012), Ravi was very upset because he and Yashji were like brothers. Yashji visited him at least thrice a week. He and Ravi shared the same birthdate. As bachelors they had lived together in the balcony-turned-bedroom in their house near Lido cinema.
FAILING FINANCES
Meanwhile, the financial mess was getting worse. Often I felt pushed to the edge but something would pull me out of it. In this industry just as there are well-wishers, there are vultures too. They wanted to take advantage of the BR Films’ library. We had signed a deal for a certain amount of crores in exchange of our films. The said person would dole out a few lakhs at a time, sometimes 25 lakhs, at times 50 lakhs. I asked for the money in one go as we had to take Ravi for treatment abroad. He said he’d do what he could and brushed it off. He then sold the deal ahead in three times the price. That was fine. But for the deal to sell ahead he required my signature. That’s when I said, ‘I’ll take my time to sign’. I reversed the deal. I returned the money and got back our library. That was divine justice. The rights are now with us including that of Mahabharat. Ravi’s dad would say, “Kookie (Ravi’s pet name) don’t worry, make Mahabharat with your heart (it was going over budget then), it will look after your generations to come.” Rightly so, during our bad times we were living off Mahabharat and our old films.
THE END
Over the years, Breach Candy Hospital became home to us. We were always given Room No. 5, which had glass on the three sides. It overlooked the sea. I’d tell Ravi ‘we are on a cruise’. It was 2 pm on that fateful November 12, 2014. I was having lunch when I told the nurse, ‘Why don’t you turn him? He must be tired lying on one side.” But the minute we turned Ravi, he had passed away. He went in a split second – even the monitor couldn’t register. I called up my sons and said, “Dad’s gone. He didn’t even give me a chance to say not now.”
I didn’t want to rub my grief onto the children. So, I tried to be as normal as possible. Every Saturday night, it’s customary for us family and friends to watch the latest film at Yash Raj Studio. I attended the screening the following weekend.
Now that Ravi is gone things are falling into place. Nothing miraculous, nothing spectacular, but things are moving. The only change is that time has changed. Through the bad phase we understood that patience does not mean accepting what comes your way but keeping on doing your best. That good deeds help you tide the bad times. I don’t know whether prayers can change anything. But they give you strength. It also made me tolerant towards the challenged and suffering. Earlier, I was impatient. Today, I’m a better human being. We understood life, the value of money and the legacy we have inherited. We hope to revive the banner.
Movie Milestones
Baghbaan
The Amitabh Bachchan-Hema Malini superhit was a tribute to mature love.
Aaj Ki Awaaz
The Smita Patil-Raj Babbar film was a political thriller.
Bhootnath Returns
This BR co-production is their recent hit
Zameer
This Amitabh Bachchan-Saira Banu musical was Ravi Chopra’s directorial debut.