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Today marks the birth anniversary of late actor Saeed Jaffrey, one of the finest talents to come out of India. With memorable performances in Gandhi, Masoom, Shatranj Ke Khiladi and Henna, he was one of the first actors to take India to an international platform.
On hearing about her uncle Saeed Jaffrey’s passing away, Shaheen Aggarwal paid a touching tribute to the actor:
Many things are ‘wonderful’ in Saeed Jaffrey’s life, and quite a few things are ‘wonderful-wonderful’ (particularly the great actors he’s worked with, like Gladys Cooper, Sybil Thorndike and Ingrid Bergman).
He is not shy of telling you about his achievements, or of quoting his glowing reviews. Still, after only a couple of hours, you can only feel fond of someone who’ll draw you a cartoon, sing you a song, and burst into tears at the memory of a friend.
We’re here to talk about his new series on Channel 4, Little Napoleons. But straight after the Toucan story, Jaffrey is on to a second: ‘Similarly, what I was going to say . . .’ Quite ordinary events take on the dimensions of a fable. ‘By the way, remind me . . .’ he says. ‘I’ll come to that later on. Lovely story.’
Saeed trusts his heart, he says, and (pointing a finger to the sky) the Governor.
Saeed Jaffrey has two careers: he’s well-known in Britain, and he’s huge in India.
...Jaffrey is moist, engaging, round: he leaks expressiveness from every pore.
He has quite a repertoire of hand gestures. There’s the stately sweep of the palm, the defiant index finger that precludes any objection, and the equivocal fluttering of fingers as if he’s practising scales. Watching Little Napoleons you see that he almost doubles the size of his role by giving his fingers a lot to say.
He’s been an actor for nearly 40 years. ‘I’m a Capricorn,’ he says, with deliberation. ‘The years up to the age of 40 are Capricorn’s apprenticeship years, when you get to know love. Life. Letters. The world. After that comes achievement and recognition. Which is what we want. Like Ismail Merchant.’ His eyes light up. ‘I told you about Ismail Merchant? Introducing him to James Ivory?’ (No.) ‘No?’
And he’s off: explaining how he and his first wife knew a man who was very talented and very sensitive, but who was useless at selling himself. But they also knew another man who was ‘Sammy Glick from Bindi Bazaar in Bombay’. A man who could sell anything.
His career started in Delhi in the mid-Fifties with All-India Radio. Through the job (‘which paid for the YMCA room’) he met artists and writers: the musician Ravi Shankar, the writer Khushwant Singh, and his first wife, Madhur, the actress, who later became a television cook (that’s another story). They married in 1958, had three daughters (one of whom is an actress) and divorced in 1966. His second wife, Jennifer, is a casting director and his agent (‘so wonderful, so tough’). In Delhi, Jaffrey started the Unity Theatre, performing Wilde, Shaw, Priestley. Why English plays? ‘I was much more comfortable with the English language.’ His father, Dr Hamid Hussain Jaffrey, had been a medical officer in Uttar Pradesh, which meant the family moved somewhere different in the area every three or four years.
More directly, he inherited several talents from his mother. ‘One was to paint and sketch. One was to write - which I do - in Urdu, Hindi, English. One was mimicry, acting.’
His first wife, Madhur, wanted to go to Rada. ‘I said to her, look, as a mark of my love, I’ll stand down, so there’s no competition, and I’ll go next year.’ Next year, however, there wasn’t a scholarship available, so he got a Fulbright scholarship instead to the Catholic University of America, in Washington DC (Jon Voight was a fellow student). When the scholarship ended Jaffrey had three hungry months in Washington with hardly any money. A classmate invited him over one evening for a meal. He thought: ‘Why wait for supper, man? Let’s go now.’ But, with Mogul pride, he took out his diary to see if he was free.
At that time Jaffrey played mainly non-Indian characters, including the Charles Laughton role in Witness for the Prosecution. Later, when he came to England, ‘I said to myself it doesn’t matter if it’s a six-line part. If they offer it to you, take it - enrich it with your background, and everything - so much that people will never forget it. That became my religion.’
An example of a small part making a big point was the role of the punkah-wallah in a television series called The Regiment. In a single line he reversed, he says, the cliche ‘all wogs look alike’. When asked to identify the officer who has committed a rape, Jaffrey’s character declines, rolling his head and saying: ‘All sahibs look alike.’
The best directors he has worked for - Satyajit Ray (The Chess Players), Richard Attenborough (Gandhi), John Huston (The Man Who Would Be King) - have all been ‘gardeners’. They’ve nursed actors.
Jaffrey appears to be equally vulnerable to directors’ cruelty. When he was rehearsing Captain Brassbound’s Conversion in Brighton in 1971 this ‘ageing queer director was giving me the hardest time possible’. The show’s star, Ingrid Bergman, went to his defence. ‘At rehearsals, God bless her soul, the great tigress protecting her brood rose to her five-foot-10- and-a-half height and said: ‘Will you get off Saeed’s back!’ ‘ He then does a vicious impersonation of a simpering director backing down.
Each word from Jaffrey is now a struggle. ‘But the cancer had started to rise. Her fingers trembled and I could see the black marks.’ Bergman couldn’t stay long, she had to go to the hotel. It was the last time he saw her. ‘Great lady,’ he says, still in tears. He recovers a little from the memory, then the storyteller takes over again, and he reaches out for the next anecdote. ‘Years later, I was walking down Oxford Street...’
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a little look, into the man, my uncle, and the most ebullient of us all - Saeed Jaffrey.
(This article is from The Quint’s archives and was first published on November 16th, 2015, after the veteran actor passed away. It is being republished on the occasion of his birth anniversary.)
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