EXCLUSIVE: On Smita Patil’s death anniversary, remembering actor's unique bond with her mum Vidyatai Patil

“Sach kahoon to aaj ke din

Tujhe hona chahiye tha,

Kitni chaah thi tujhe

Saagar ke kinare ghar ki…

Aaj ki barsati hawa mein…

Tujhe samundar ki lehron ka taandav dekhna tha…”

…Once scribbled the late Vidyatai Patil in memory of her departed daughter, the late Smita Patil, as the rains lashed their sea contoured home in lush Bandra. Vidyatai could never overcome the grief of losing her daughter, who was as talented as she was troubled, short-changed both in life and death.

Shyam Benegal, Govind Nihalani, Ketan Desai, Muzaffar Ali, Dharamraj, Jabbar Patel and above all Mrinal Sen and Satyajit Ray… Smita Patil was the muse of several masters between the ’70s-’80s, bringing alive stories of exploitation and emancipation, of grief and grit. In fact, she was the only Asian cine-star to have the unique honour of a Retrospective held for her in Paris.

And then she fell in love… the feminist icon succumbed to the vagaries of the heart, far more complicated than she had imagined. The joy of motherhood was short-term, abruptly snuffed out due to post-partum complications. At 33, Smita bid adieu without notice… just like her unplanned visit in the world…

Time couldn’t heal Vidyatai’s heartache. Memories of Smita were always within reach – literally and metaphorically. She would pull out newspaper cuttings and photographs of her deceased daughter from drawers as easily as her eyes, though weary and wrinkled, would flood with Smita’s reminiscences.

“Use bachpan se khwahish thi maa banne ki. All she wanted was a small house, a loving husband and children. If there’s a God, I want to ask him why He did this to her. Kyun chalee gayee woh kachche mod par (why did she leave at such an incomplete turn)?” lamented Vidyatai in a throwback interview.

Here’s revisiting the mother-daughter bond through recollections of Vidyatai’s past interviews on Smita on the latter’s 35th death anniversary:

Unplanned Birth

In the mid ’50s, Vidyatai Patil was looking for a job as a nurse, when she conceived Smita. She wasn’t keen to have another baby as she already had older child Anita, to look after. Her husband, politician Shivajirao Girdhar Patil, was a Praja Samajwadi party worker. He could just about send Rs 30 a month those days. There were times when managing meals were a problem. To digress, years later, when Smita got to know that Vidyatai was reluctant to have her, she’d say in mock anger, “Tula mi nako hote na (you didn’t want me)’.”

Eventually, a pregnant Vidyatai procured a job as a nurse in Pune. She’d ride a bicycle for about five to six miles to reach the dispensary. Once she had a fall. Perhaps as a consequence, Smita was born premature on 17 October, 1955. She proved she was a fighter right from birth.

(Prateik Babbar/Instagram)

Being a cheerful baby, she was named Smita (the one with a smiling face). When Vidyatai had to resume work, she tried to wean little Smita. The reluctant baby, unwilling to adapt to the new normal, would push the feeding bottle away. A particular music would be played on the radio at 8 pm, around the time Vidyatai left for the night shift. Smita, who was now older, had begun to associate her mother’s going with that music. She would hold Vidyatai’s legs and cry, ‘Ma tu jao nako, maazi shala paalun tak, tujha dawakhana palun tak (Maa, don’t go, break down my school and your dispensary)!’

 In school, Smita loved enacting dramas and more so playing the legendary Jijabai wearing Vidyatai’s saris. Inherently soft-hearted, she would bring stray dogs and cats home and look after them. Once she carried tea every day for a new mother in Vidyatai’s hospital, who was ignored by her family for giving birth to a daughter.

Simple Star

When Shivajirao Patil became a Minister in the Maharashtra cabinet in the late ’60s, the family eventually shifted to Mumbai from Pune. Once, she happened to accompany a friend to Doordarshan. Dressed casually in jeans and chappals, a jhola on her shoulder, her hair carelessly knotted in a bun, she caught the attention of a director, who thought Smita had come for a test. He asked her to read the Hindi news. And soon she became a familiar face on TV.

Years later, her Aakhir Kyon? (1985) co-star, Rajesh Khanna, reportedly told Vidyatai, “When Smita appeared on the screen to read the news, I’d turn back from the door just to watch her. I told Dimple (Khanna) one day this girl will be on the big screen.”

It was Smita’s stunning face that appealed to filmmaker Shyam Benegal as well. He cast Smita in Charandas Chor, a children’s film, before casting her in Nishant (both in 1975). Smita’s quiet presence as the compassionate wife of the whimsical zamindar in Nishant was potent. Next, she did Shyam’s Manthan (1976), set against the backdrop of Gujarat’s dairy industry. Smita’s character in Bhumika (1977) was based on the life of Marathi actress Hansa Wadkar. Smita sensitively brought forth the protagonist’s contradictions and sexuality.

Story goes that once when Smita was shooting for Bhumika at Jyoti Studio, opposite her Tardeo home, Vidyatai got a call from Benegal asking her to drop in. There she learnt that Smita was unwilling to do the thrusts required in the song Mera ziskila balam. Vidyatai supposedly told her, “Whether your role is that of a prostitute or a goddess you have to play it with devotion.” Before Vidyatai reached home the shot was canned. The film won Smita the National Award.

Through the ’80s, Satyajit Ray’s television film Sadgati, Mrinal Sen’s Bengali film Akaler Sandhaney, Ketan Mehta’s Gujarati classic Bhavni Bhavai, Shyam Benegal’s Mandi, Govind Nihalani’s Aakrosh and Ardh Satya added heft to her resume. Jabbar Patel’s Umbartha (made in Hindi as Subah) won her a Filmfare Award and a National Award.  Other honours included a Filmfare Award for Muzaffar Ali’s Gaman and a National Award for Dharamraj’s Chakra.

Despite unpreceded fame, Smita’s demeanour remained rooted. In Vidyatai’s words, “Aaine (mirror) se uski dosti nahi thi. She used to dress like a bhikaran (tramp).” She’d team ‘a pair of jeans with kurta (even her father’s), slip into kolhapuri chappals, knot her hair into a bun and rush out. Once, as narrated by Vidyati, Smita went to meet a well-known editor for an interview at a restaurant. He couldn’t recognise her till she introduced herself.

Smita was unquestionably humane. Director Muzaffar Ali’s sweeper in Lucknow had played the role of Smita’s mother-in-law in Gaman. When the lady visited Mumbai with her children, Smita asked Vidyatai to serve them a sumptuous spread and shower them with gifts.

On set too, she carried no halo. She’d readily help to move the lights, fetch someone a glass of water and do odd jobs. While most stars would eat in their rooms, Smita, revealed Vidyatai, would invite everyone, from the spot boy to the clapper boy, to have lunch with her on the set.

When her building Rock Cliffe was under construction, Smita would go across to the roadside tea-stall and order tea and biscuits for the labourers. She’d even have tea with them. Once she found that the roof of her spot-boy’s house had caved in due to the rains. She emptied her purse and gave him all the money she was carrying that day. This incident was revealed to Vidyatai after Smita passed away by the same staff member.

Personal Turmoil

Smita, whose portrayal of feminist characters, left audiences inspired, fell in love with her married co-star Raj Babbar (he was married to actor Nadira Babbar). They first met on the sets of Bheegi Palkein (1982). Through the ’80s, Smita paired with Raj Babbar in Jawaab, Aaj Ki Awaaz and Dehleez among others. Ironically, in Pet Pyaar Aur Paap, her character bears the child of a married truck driver (Raj Babbar) and dies leaving the infant behind.

“People wonder why a woman, who played strong female characters, got into a relationship with a married man. Smita’s logic was... the man had told her that his relationship, his marriage was over. She believed she had not broken anyone’s sansar,” said Lalita Tamhane author of Smita’s biography Smita, Smit Ani Mi.

Smita was in an emotional labyrinth. Uncannily, those days she was playing Kavita the neurotic ‘other woman’ in Mahesh Bhatt’s Arth (1982). “While shooting Smita would say, ‘Oh my God, I have to live this damn life at night. And I have to shoot the same during the day. There’s no respite. What the hell! I’m going mad’,” shared Bhatt (Filmfare) about Smita’s real-life quandary.

Vidyatai, a lady of rare integrity, didn’t approve of Smita’s relationship with a married man and made her displeasure evident. Raj and Smita eventually got married. 

Motherhood and Smita

In 1986, Smita was delighted to find herself pregnant. Smita gave birth to son Prateik on November 28, 1986. Smita, who always loved mogras, would sing Sant Dyaneshwa’s abhang Mogra phoolla for her new-born. But within a week, she developed fever. So keen she was to breastfeed her child, that she’d put ice packs on her body before nursing him.

That critical night, when Smita vomited, it suggested internal bleeding. She was forcibly taken to the hospital though she didn’t want to leave her baby. On the way to the hospital, she slipped into a coma after developing septicaemia. Smita passed away that night on 13 December, 1986.

Apparently, Smita had a strong premonition that she wouldn’t live long. She had shared this with her younger sister Manya Patil. During the shooting of Situm (1984), a handwriting expert had predicted, “She won’t live long!” Smita had also told Mahesh Bhatt that the life line on her palm was short.

Smita’s Prateik

At 60, destiny required Vidyatai to be a mother once again when she was left with 14-day-old Prateik in her arms. Though Vidyatai embraced this challenge, she missed Smita at all times.  Prateik was a quiet child. “Had his mother been there he’d have been more playful, more talkative and expressive,” she was quoted saying. She didn’t believe in sugar-coating the truth either. She told him, ‘I’m your grandmother not your mother. Your mother has become a star’. Even after Prateik grew up, she had preserved his school books where his name read ‘Prateik Smit’. Just as she cherished the cards Prateik would gift her on Mother’s Day.

Prateik grew up with his mother’s photographs around him, her presence engraved in their lives. When her films would be played, he’d walk away because Vidyatai would begin to cry. Both of them were bonded by a similar pain. Though her love for Prateik was extreme, Vidyatai’s upbringing was stringent. “For me, whether he becomes a hero or a sweeper it’s the same. No work is any less from the other,” she said about wanting Prateik to come into his own. Years later when Prateik was warmly welcomed by the industry as an actor, Vidyatai couldn’t help but remark, “Smita’s behind him. He’s natural and soft-hearted like his mother.”

With time Vidyatai began suffering from breathing problems. Three days before she passed away, on 5 March 2015, the family had organised a get-together where Smita’s father, Dadasaheb Shivajirao Patil, spoke about his wife’s strong presence in their lives. That proved to be a precursor to the imminent farewell. Vidyatai passed away on March 8 at the age of 88… and perhaps crossed over to reunite with her long-lost daughter.