EK CHOTE SE 'INTERVIEW' NE KAISE MERI ZINDAGI AUR JAHAN KO BADAL DIYA

I was not aware about writing being a profession and a passion till I was 18 years old. I lived in a village where people were mostly illiterate 'including my mother' and if anyone even finished school, all they could think of becoming were typists, bus conductors and clerks - ALI PETER JOHN

But by the time I was in the eighth standard, I started getting aware of my being able to write reasonably good english ,a belief which was fortified by my English teacher in the ninth standard who kept saying," Peter, what english you right, man".

I finished my SSC and my vocational guidance teacher told me that I was no good to tell anything in life and all I could aspire to be was a stenographer in one of the new companies.

I however kept writing, first in my school magazine, then in my college magazine and then in my campus paper called 'Campus Times' of which I was made the assistant editor, I still don't know why.

I was however asked to interview a great writer like Rajinder Singh Bedi and later Jaya Bhaduri.

And besides of this writing, I used to write applications for boys and girls in my village and also write love letters for them.

My articles in the campus times were appreciated by some of the leading writers and that is when I first realized that I could write and that I could even make writing my profession which would ultimately became my passion.

I wss still a vagabond not sure about what to do in life when I read an article written by a certain writer called K.A. Abbas.

I read one of his columns called the last page in a small hotel where I used to have my morning tea and I was so inspired by what he had written that I rushed to the Paanwaala shop , bought a postcard and wrote a four line note to this writer and just to tell him how much his column had charged me.

I forgot all about the postcard , but on the third day I received a letter for te first time in my life and it was written by Mr. K.A. Abbas.

He had thanked me for liking his column and had asked me if I could see him in his office in Juhu.

I couldn't believe what was happening to me and on the Saturday of that week I borrowed one rupee from Shantaram who was the manager of the little hotel where I had written the postcard and left on my most ambitious journey to reach the office of Mr. Abbas.

I used to go for picnics to the Juhu beach but I had never known any of the places around it except for the Sun n Sand hotel where my friends and me used to stand outside once in a way to watch stars coming and going. I reached the office of Mr. Abbas at 4 pm, almost walking half the way.

He had written his address on the envelope in which he had sent his letter to me. It still took me four hours to reach the North Bombay Housing Society where he had his office in one of the buildings on the fifth flour and there was no lift.

I was hungary, but I couldn't help but climb those five flours and reach the office of Mr. Abbas.

I saw a oldish man sitting on a steel table and writing something on a large table made of wood and a glasstop. I told a man sitting on a chair that I wanted to meet Mr. Abbas.

The man in the chair screamed and said," Arey baba, I am Abbas". I still remember how I trembled when I heard his voice but he soon put me at ease by asking me to sit down in front of him and said, " You look starved, haven't you eaten anything since morning?" I mumbled and said," I had only my tea".

He asked his man Jafar to get me some tea and a plate of biscuits and after having the delicacies, I was ready for the interview which was not an interview.

He didn't waste any time ( who was I for him to waste his time on? ). He didn't ask me anything about my educational qualifications.

He just asked me if I had written something and luckily for me I had taken with me copies of the 'Campus Times' which had my articles on Rajinder Singh bedi and Jaya Bhaduri in them.

He took one look at them and without making any comments about my writing, he surprised me with his next question when he asked me if I knew anyone in the film industry.

I had a neighbour who used to be an assistant director of Bedi and I told Mr. Abbas that I knew Mr. Z.D.Lari who worked for Bedi.

The 75 year old man who got up from his chair and screamed again," Do you know only all the rogues and criminals of the industry?

Do you know that this Lari has cheated Mr. Bedi for eight lakhs of rupees in the last weeks?"

As I waited for him to calm down , he asked for another cup of tea for himself and for me and I told myself, " Aaj ke din yeh do cup chai bhi agar mil gai toh bahut acha din hoga".

But in the very next minute as he was sipping his tea, he gave me another shock when he asked me, " Young man, Will you like to work with me?"

I could literally feel the ground slipping from below me and I wondered how I could say no to this great man.

And as I was thinking he said," I will pay you 100rs a month, you will get two cups of tea in a day and two bananas.

You have to make your own arrangements for your lunch". I didn't let my mind work for a few minutes and I asked him," When do you want me to join Sir?" .

And he said," If you are busy you can come anytime and if you are not so busy then come to my office on monday at 11'o clock in the morning. "

That was the beginning of a new life for me . I learnt what the importance of reading and writing was. I read some of the best books in Mr. Abbas's huge library.

I met great writers and poets who left a deep impression on me, the most prominent being the poet Sahir Ludhianvi.

I saw Raj kapoor and Sanjay Gandhi being lambasted by Mr. Abbas and I saw him interviewing Amitabh Bachan for two days before he signed him as one of the actors in his film Saat Hindustani just for Rs 5000. Mr. K.A. Abbas had become my house of prayer, my new school , new college and new University of life where I had learnt more than all that I had learnt in the twenty years to do my M.A. in English literature.

I didn't leave Mr. Abbas , he asked me to leave because he told me he couldn't see me making a living with just 100rs.

He just wrote a letter to the editor of Screen saying that he was sure that I could write good English but not sure about any of my other abilities.

The editor read his note and laughed aloud and instantly said," When can you join?". I made him wait for four months because I couldn't imagine working with anyone else except Mr. Abbas.

But it was the same Mr.Abbas who advised me to take up the job as I would be paid better than what he would have paid me and I could work hard and build a better future for myself.

On January 2nd of 1970 , I surrendered to Mr. Pillai , the editor of Screen and for the next fifty years I was a bhakt of Screen , a magazine which gave me all the freedom to learn what I wanted and write what I wanted.

The rest is a small slice of my life with plane bread at times and bread with some butter at other times.

I have tried to thank Mr. Abbas in many ways , but I finally succeeded in having a road named after him in Juhu next to his house and his office , opposite the JW Marriot hotel and I keep watching the plaque with his name on it and I feel satisfied that I have been able to do something for the man who had in his lifetime changed the lives of hundreds of men and women like me and even much greater than me.

LOG MUJHE POOCHTE HAIN KI TUM TUMHARE GURU KE BAARE MEIN BAAR BAAR KYU LIKHTE HO. MAIN UNKO KAISE BATAAOON KI AGAR MAINE BAAQI KI SAARI ZINDAGI BHI UNKE BAARE MEIN LIKHA TOH WOH UNKE QAABIL NAHI HO SAKTA. ABBAS SAHAB AAJ MAIN JO BHI HOON AAPKI WAJAH SE HOON AUR YEH HAQ AUR YEH KHUSHNASEEBI AUR KHUSHI MERE SE KOI NAHI CHEEN SAKTA, KHUDA BHI NAHI.