The Perfect Fit
Whether as a grandfather or as uncle, the talented actor believed in extensive preparation, says Rohini Hattangadi
Iknew him as a professional when I started my career as an actor but got to know him better only when we worked together on IPTA’s ( Indian People’s Theatre Association) play Hori in 1980, based on Munshi Premchand’s novel Godaan. He was playing Hori and I his wife Dhania.
During that time I learnt how dedicated he was to his work. He would analyse his role even during rehearsals and would stay in character throughout. He never thought of Hori as a character; he became Hori.
We had about six shows at a stretch and resumed after a break of a month and a half. When we regrouped and started rehearsals, he began explaining my character to me, even though we had already done six shows together. We went on discussing for a while when I realised we were alone. Everybody had left. The others knew his working style and had quietly slipped away rather than be drawn into a debate. I sometimes felt he was asking too many questions but later realised that’s how he plays his part so well.
He grew up in Peshawar and moved to Mumbai after Partition. He was a tailor but had begun doing plays as a teenager. He continued acting in Mumbai. It wasn’t till he was nearly 50 that he did his first film, Basu Bhattacharya’s Teesri Kasam in 1966. He went on to do over 200 films, most often playing a father, an uncle, or an old man like his memorable role of the blind Rahim Chacha in Sholay. His other noteworthy movies were Shaukeen, Bawarchi, Abhimaan and Namak Haraam.
He was more comfortable with Urdu than any other language and would rewrite his entire script in Urdu. Once I wanted to check something and asked him for his copy of the script. He told me I would not be able to understand it and said, “I am very comfortable with Urdu and can remember my lines better when I read them this way.” The most interesting thing about him was how he was always so well dressed. He cut his own clothes as flawlessly as he acted. Unfortunately I worked with him only once. He was more active in theatre before I moved to Mumbai, so I didn’t get to see much of his work in theatre. My husband Jaidev knew him from IPTA and we met socially. He was a great human being. I have heard he gave away half of what he earned towards the development of theatre. Organising plays for IPTA is not commercially viable and his dedication to it was one of his biggest contributions.
The length of a role did not bother him, it was the substance. He was prepared to become the character and would say, “Agar hum uske baare mein nahin sochenge toh aur kaun sochega ( If I don’t think about the character, then who will?)”
A. K. Hangal’s work is a big contribution to serious theatre. To stick to it despite the attractions of commercial cinema is proof of his dedication.