A Bangalorean's ode to Shyam Benegal

It was a balmy afternoon of April 2016 in Bangalore, and I was busy as a first-time director of a film festival that was all set to celebrate the late Smita Patil, powerhouse actor of India's parallel cinema of the 1970s and 80s.

The phone rang, from a landline flashing Mumbai city code 022. "Hello", I said a bit strictly into the phone as one would to an unknown number. "I am Shyam Benegal," said the booming voice at the other end. I stood up from the chair, as if in attention at a school marchpast! "Mr Benegal, sorry I did not realise it was you. "That's okay.. aren't you the organiser who has invited me to Bangalore? Would it be possible to book me on a slightly later flight from Mumbai? Only now I noticed that it's 6-am departure.. I find it difficult these days to wake up so early."

"Of course sir," I said, instantly calling a colleague working on guest travel, to change the ticket. I then called him back with a bit of trepidation, having heard stories of tantrums of actors who have half a hit film to their credit but won't travel if not given a premium suite for them & their stylist. "Mr Benegal, I am so sorry. The team says there is no business class available later that day."

"Oh that's fine," he replied, "All I need is a place to sit on the flight."

And so Shyam Benegal came to the festival held at the stately NGMA National Gallery of Modern Art by 'cattle class'. He turned out like what he comes across via his films — polite, and principled. Four years later during Covid, I had this thought to record a podcast series with veterans, aces in their own field — and I sent an email to him. A one-line reply came the very next morning, thanking me for the interest, but gently refusing saying he wasn't in great health. One heard of his recent 90th birthday celebration and now his demise with a jab of sadness, but with gratitude that I got to meet such a man in the Yatra of life. 

(Vasanthi Hariprakash is a journalist podcaster and a media entrepreneur)