REMEMBERING PARTAP SHARMA - By Sandhya Divecha
The first time I saw Partap Sharma was on the silver screen, about forty odd years ago, playing the role of a dapper chivalrous young man in “Phir Bhi”, an early example of “new wave” cinema. I had no idea that I would meet him one day and we would eventually become colleagues and friends. For that matter, I then had no idea that I would be working in mass media.
Some years later, when I joined advertising in the mid 1970s, I met Partap at a recording. I suppose it was inevitable since he was “the voice of India” by then. Clients and agencies were unanimous that if one needed anything said in English for a radio spot or film, the voice must be Partap, and rightfully so. No one could match his diction, his deep rich gravelly voice or offer such a range of alternative deliveries. It was always a pleasure to record with him.
Over the years our association grew as I worked with him on a docu-drama about the British Raj, and other projects on a free lance basis. Partap was always cool, calm, collected. He liked to talk, but he always listened too. He was fair, reasonable, and humble about his many achievements. He was good company, told a story well, and had many of them to tell. Slowly I discovered Partap the individual.
As a boy, he had a mousy, squeaky thin voice. He wanted a deep rich voice, so he worked at it diligently, practising all the time. He did breathing exercises, learnt how to bring forth your voice from the pit of your stomach, and did it all on his own, guided only by his reading. His inspiration was Zul Velani.
As a young man, Partap joined a company, but decided within a few days that he was a free soul and couldn’t stand the thought of a nine to five job in a suit. He went ahead with his non conformist instincts and wrote a play called “A Touch of Brightness”, set in Kamathipura which brought out the spirituality of a sex worker. The authorities decided it was too bold and banned it. It was a long struggle to get the ban lifted, but finally it was lifted. The play went on to be performed all over the world to great critical acclaim, and he went on to become one of India’s leading playwrights. His last play, “Sammy”, about the development of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi from a man to a mahatma, offered new and unique insights into the internal life of Gandhi. The play deservedly won a national award. To me, it was really one of his finest achievements, especially when you consider how much has already been written and said about Gandhi, and how difficult it is to come up with a new angle and new insights.
Partap was truly a multidimensional creative personality. He lived life to the full with joy and interest. He bred German Shepherds, including dog detective Ranjha, who helped the police on various occasions. Partap and Ranjha were invited to schools to demonstrate, and Ranjha became immortal with Partap’s book on him. Partap went on to write more plays, and more books for children. He also made a documentary on Protima Bedi. His interests ranged far and wide. He was a judo black belt, and got interested in the origins of the martial arts, which led to his play “Zen Katha”. He wrote short stories, a novel “Days of The Turban” and assorted poetry. He was a voracious reader. Going to meet him in his study was entering wonderland for me. For years he was my free lending library and thanks to him I had hours and hours of joyful reading.
Gatherings at his home were always lots of fun, with very interesting people and lots of intellectually stimulating conversation.
About ten years ago, he went off to China to play Nehru in a Chinese film on the Bandung Conference. He came back with many stories of China. Unfortunately, soon after that he was diagnosed with emphysema, an incurable condition. Partap met this challenge with courage and determination. He continued writing, meeting friends and leading a normal life as long as he could. Later when he wasn’t keeping too well and I hadn’t met him for a while, I got a call one day from him. He said he had written a song in English and Hindi, for his grandson Zen, and he proceeded to sing it to me. He later recorded it and when I went to meet him in the ICU at Breach Candy last month a few days before his demise, he was listening to the same CD. Zen was the joy of his life.
Partap was many things to many people. To me, he was a kind generous friend, and an inspiring character. He taught me many things without actually teaching, but by being the person he was – upright, ethical, cheerful, courageous, courteous, and tolerant. That’s what I will always remember. |
