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By Shantiswarup Tripathi
Seema Kapoor, a renowned writer, producer, and director of films and TV serials, has written an autobiography titled "Yun Guzri Hai Ab Tak," which is a reflection of her own life. Seema Kapoor has a unique identity. She was married to the late actor Om Puri and is the sister of actors Ranjit Kapoor, Annu Kapoor, and Nikhil Kapoor. Her father ran a theatre company named Bhopal Theatre, where actor Raghubir Yadav was also a part. This company became like a family to him. Seema Kapoor is Raghubir Yadav’s cousin, whom he affectionately calls Guddo.
At the launch of her book, Raghubir Yadav shared many stories about his bond with Seema Kapoor and her family. He acknowledged that whatever he is today, it is thanks to Seema Kapoor’s family, including her mother, father, and brothers. Here's a recount of the stories from Raghubir Yadav’s own words:
“I have always known Seema Kapoor as Guddo. I’m telling you the truth, when I joined Babu Ji’s (Seema Kapoor’s and Annu Kapoor’s father) theatre troupe, I was just a simple village boy from Bundelkhand, Jabalpur. I ran away from home with a friend named Naresh Suri. A little while ago, Guddo mentioned that Babu Ji never refused anyone; anyone could join his troupe. I had never heard of a theatre troupe before, but when I went there, I saw it for the first time. I had run away because I found out I was going to fail my 12th grade. I was embarrassed and didn’t know what to do.
Naresh Suri came to me and asked what was troubling me. I told him I was about to fail and didn’t know how to face my family. So, I thought about running away. That’s when he suggested we leave together. We got on a train, and on the way, he asked me if I wanted breakfast. I had no idea what ‘breakfast’ meant – we only knew the word ‘kaleva’ (snack). Eventually, we reached Lalitpur, where Babu Ji’s theatre company Bhopal Theatre was performing. I watched a play called Nagin there, and I was embarrassed to see a beautiful girl dancing with a bald man. We had tickets for 2.5 rupees and spent the night at the bus station. The next day, we went to Naresh Suri’s uncle’s house, who was in the katha (storytelling) business.
After staying there for a couple of days, Naresh ran away in the middle of the night, leaving me behind. So, I ended up at Babu Ji’s theatre company and met him. He asked me what I did, and I told him I sang songs. He asked me to sing something, and I sang a ghazal:
"Badli teri nazar toh, nazare badal gaye..."
Babu Ji said, “You sing very melodiously, but your taqalluf (pronunciation) is very poor.” I thought maybe it had something to do with the tabla. When I mentioned this, Babu Ji smiled and explained that taqalluf meant pronunciation. I felt embarrassed but told him that if I could sing with a tabla, I’d improve my taqalluf. He said, "No, it’s your pronunciation that needs work." He took me under his wing, and with his guidance, I learned Urdu and improved my pronunciation.
Soon, I was traveling with the theatre troupe from Lalitpur to Tikamgarh, then to Jatara, and finally Mahurani Pur, where I met Guddo, my sister. I’ve never been able to call her Seema; I’ve always called her Guddo. This Guddo made me get scolded and beaten by Mummy and Babu Ji many times. She would laugh non-stop, and I would end up getting punished because of her!
We both used to go for baths by the Chambal River, about a kilometer and a half away from where our troupe was performing. Guddo would convince me to bathe using Hansi Chaap soap, which was supposed to make us fairer. We would bath in the river, and after the bath, we’d sit and dry ourselves, hoping the soap would work. But it didn’t. We ended up becoming even darker and scratching ourselves because of the soap. Eventually, we switched to using Unt Chaap soap, which didn’t even work!
Once, Guddo found a coconut by the river and shouted, "Brother, look, a coconut!" When I tried to grab it, she stopped me, saying, "Don’t touch it, I’ll get it." She made a big fuss, claiming she had magical powers, and eventually, we all ate the coconut together. From then on, we started searching for coconuts every time we bathed. One day, Guddo found a red cloth, and she suggested that she would make it into underwear. I wanted it for myself, but eventually, we all argued about it. I went back and told Mummy everything, and we got into big trouble.
I remember Mummy scolding and punishing us both many times, especially when we laughed at the wrong moments. Once, when we were at the vegetable market, a woman praised me for my singing. Mummy asked her what I sang, and when she replied with, “Ja re kaare badra...”, Guddo burst out laughing. Mummy immediately grabbed her by the cheeks and gave her a good scolding. That day, I learned that we should be mindful of the songs we sing, and how our choice of words matters.
Through all these experiences, I learned valuable lessons from Mummy and Babu Ji about how to live life with respect and humility. These teachings helped me grow, and today, when I think of Guddo writing her autobiography, I feel like it’s time for me to start calling her Seema Di instead of Guddo.
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