DEV SAHAB AKHRI DINON MEIN KAAFI DUKHI THE .... BY ALI PETER JOHN

Those were some of the worst and last days of Dev Anand . He had to move out off his splendid pent house in "Anand" and had to shift into a little flat in a building called "Riddhi" on the ground floor - Ali Peter John

He used to come to this flat at 3 pm and sit in a chair before a table on which were sprawled some of his books , scripts , photographs and other colourful files which he used to write his scripts and had written his autobiography , "Romancing with life" in his own handwriting with felt pens which he loved to write with .

And it was first time I saw the man who was a dynamo of action sitting quietly and showing no interest in any work . It was shocking for me who had seen him running around his pent house and was rarely found sitting, to see him in this inert state and sometimes looking out of the window and sometimes looking at the ceiling .

His eyes tried to hide a sad feeling , but they couldn't succeed because there was a valcano in his eyes that was waiting to erupt .

The man who never had tea or any kind of snacks now was having cups of tea at regular intervals and sometimes ordered delicious snacks from Candies , his favourite pastry shop on Hill Road , especially when he had guests and I have had the privilege of having the snacks from Candies only when he ordered them in the evenings when he had nothing serious to do .

At the pent house , he used to sit way beyond midnight , but he couldn't sit beyond 6 pm and left the office unless he had called someone or had an appointment with a journalist, especially if the interview was about some significant problem associated with him , his company or the industry ......

He had his office in "Anand" , a bungalow gifted to him by Mr Larsen of the Larsen and Toubro company who was leaving India for good . Dev Sahab had converted the ground floor into a recording studio also called Anand Recording Studio which had the latest equipment in sound and was known as " the best Recording studio in Asia".

All was well for years and Dev Sahab was a happy and contented man with all his many achievements and records standing witness to his contribution to Indian Cinema .

It was his son , Suniel who came up with the Idea of selling off "Anand" and having a multi - storied Complex in its place. Dev Sahab resistet the idea for quite some time, but had to for the love of his only son surrender to the idea.

The builders had promised to complete the construction of the complex in the shortest possible time and had also promised to give him the entire 19th floor where they said he could have his studio and a better pent house than he had at " Anand". .

However the promises made to him were as shallow as most other promises made by politicians and builders and Dev Sahab was feeling betrayal , cheated and depressed for the first time in his life and career .

I used to visit him in his tiny flat almost every second afternoon and a time came when I too felt sad and depressed when I saw the great Dev Anand sitting alone and talking very little and even if he talked , his voice sounded very weak and almost like a whisper .

He kept telling me , " aaya karo , Ali , accha lagta hai tumhari baaten sunna " . Oh God , this was not the Dev Sahab I knew for forty years . My spirit was dying to meet him , but the flesh was not willing , but I still kept going to him because Dev Sahab had become a sweet addiction for me , an addiction I didn't want to break come what may .

One evening , I was not able to reach "Riddhi" because of some preoccupation, but Dev Sahab called me and said he wanted me to " come over ' . And how could an addict say no to his addiction.

That evening he had a meeting with a journalist from Italy who fortunately could speak good English and was knowledgeable about Hindi cinema . Dev Sahab wanted me to join him in the conversation.

I knew he was exhausted and was not the Dev Anand he was and made my own little contribution to the conversation . At the end of our talk , Dev Sahab introduced me to the Italian journalist and embracing me , he told the journalist " Ali is a journalist who works for leading film weekly but he is my son more than a journalist" and.

I could see tears welling up in his eyes . And as I sat down, I looked at a corner behind his table and saw some of his books shoved in a kind of basket and right on top and lying on its face was the photograph of the handsome face of Dev Sahab as he looked when he spoke those immortal lines in " Guide" in which he as the Swami who is aware that he is dying says, " na sukh hai, na dukh hai, na deen hai na duniya, bas main hoon , main hoon , main hoon.

"It was a painting of that image which had been lying there ever since Dev Sahab had shifted into that dingy little flat and no one , not even his son Suniel had tried to put the picture in a better place .

That one scene was enough for me to realise how the images of the greatest stars , superstars and legends were ephemeral and temporary and didn't last forever , so what if it was even Dev Sahab who my friend Dr Trinetra Bajpai called "'Dev Eternal Anand " in the exhaustive and enlightened biography of Dev Sahab ....

A few weeks later , it was Dev Sahab's birthday which he decided to celebrate only with journalists . The venue was the Sun N Sand Hotel in Juhu where he had lived and worked for twenty long years in Suite No 339 .

Every major journalist writing in every language was invited on Dev Sahab's instructions . He was occupying the same Suite no 339 . The journalists were waiting for him to come down , but his faithful driver Prem came to me and told me that Dev Sahab wanted me to meet him .

I went up and I had never seen the mentally strong Dev Sahab growing so very emotional . He kept hugging me and embracing me and I could feel how weak he had become . He surprised me totally when he kept saying , " Ali , you are my son , you are my son " and I was emotionally choked to react .

He told me he would be going to London soon . And he finally left with Suniel and checked into his favourite hotel, . One night, he was sitting with Suniel and asked Suniel to get him a glass of water .

And when Suniel came with the glass of water , the most amazing miracle of God ( Dev ) had gone just like he wanted to go , "like a drop of water in a rivulet slowly flowing into a river and then into the sea".

The mystery about why his body was not brought to Bombay and why he was given his last farewell only with a few men which included Suniel , Saharashri Subrata Roy and some other "friends " attending, is also a unsolved mystery .

When I saw the mortal remains of the immortal Dev , I was forced to think about futility of life . And believe me , my life too has not been the same ever since Dev Sahab left this life for another life which he liked to believe was a better life than this life with all its ups and downs , success and failure and complications and confusions.

Will Dev Sahab ever be forgotten ? I don't know about the world and people of the world, but for me , he is unforgettable and will be remembered by me at least till the end of this life and if there is any chance of there being another life .

DEV USS UPAR WAALE DEV SE HO SAKTA HAI ACCHE AUR AMAR THE AUR HAI. HUMNE USS UPAR WAALE DEV KO TOH NAHI DEKHA HAI AB TAK , LEKIN HUM KHUSHNASEEB HAI KI HUMNE HAMAARE DEV SAHAB KO DEKHA BHI HAI JAANA BHI HAI AUR MAANA BHI HAI