'Feroz Khan could even charm a tree': Writer Suparn Verma celebrates mentor on his 13th death anniversary

"And now the end is here

And so, I face that final curtain

My friend I’ll make it clear…

I’ve lived a life that’s full

I travelled each and every highway

And more, much more

I did it, I did it my way…”

Frank Sinatra’s cult track was the blueprint of actor/filmmaker Feroz Khan’s life and also his oft-quoted. It lyricized his offbeat persona and perspective. Unwilling to be a caricature in commonplace scripts, Khan smashed stereotypes and ‘broke out’ in the ’70s to create cinema in sync with his swashbuckling swag. Stallions and bikes, ponchos and pelt boots, hats to boot. Feroz Khan was lavish testosterone. The bluster of Clint Eastwood, the pizzaz of John Wayne, the hi-jinks of James Bond. Feroz Khan was our home-grown buccaneer. What set him apart was that his real-life flamboyance translated on reel, making it difficult to isolate the two.

Alchemizing Hema Malini in Dharmatma, Zeenat Aman in Qurbani, Sridevi, and Dimple Kapadia in Janbaaz, his reel women mirrored his sensuous sensibilities. “The tragedy is that nothing lasts. But the sunset is beautiful,” once said Cowboy Khan before blending into the dusk, leaving behind a dazzling trail.

Co-writer of Feroz Khan’s Janasheen, director of his Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena, and more recently co-director of Family Man 2, Suparn Verma, shares memories of the late actor/filmmaker on his 13th death anniversary.

In Suparn Verma’s own words:

My earliest memory of Feroz Khan saab is that of watching the film Qurbani (1980) as a kid and dancing to my own version of the title song Qurbani qurbani, Allah ko pyaari hai qurbani… Through time, I watched his films Apradh (1970), Khote Sikkay (1974), Geeta Mera Naam (1974), Dharmatma (1975) … aired on DD1 and DD2. I was fascinated by his cowboy act. I thought he was a dude. His persona was mesmerizing.

In the early 2000s, I was writing a couple of films for Ram Gopal Varma. One day Ramu mentioned that Feroz Khan was working on Janasheen (2003). Khan saab already had a writer on board but he wanted someone to give him a fresh perspective. I went to meet Khan saab. I heard his story idea and liked it. But since I was doing a job as a journalist and also writing for Ramu, I said I didn’t have the time to write for him.

Khan saab laughed and said, “Okay let’s meet for lunch next week.” I went over the following Sunday. He had prepared yummy Afghani chicken. We discussed the film, world cinema, Oscar Wilde, everything under the sun… Then he asked me again whether I’d write for him. Once again, I declined saying I was busy. He said, “Okay let’s have another lunch next Sunday.” By the fourth lunch, I was completely in love with him.

Honestly, I have no clue what he saw in me. Though Fardeen (Khan) once mentioned, “Dad loves you like a son.” What could I have done for a legend like him? But he accorded me respect, dignity and showered unconditional love. He treated me as an equal. He was a mentor, a father figure, a friend, so much more. In fact, he was one of the greatest influences in my life. I’m blessed to have spent so many years with him.

After co-writing Janasheen, I was to direct my debut film Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena (EKEH, 2005). Khan saab agreed to work with an outside director after 18 years. Funnily, when he was the director and the producer of Janasheen, he’d arrive late on his own set. But where he was an actor, he’d be on the dot of time. He’d say, “There are only two people, Amitabh Bachchan and I, seeing whom you can set your watch.” His call time for EKEH was 9 am. Sharp at the dot of 9, his car would enter the Grand Hyatt location. So much so, that one day we hid behind the gate, just to see his car enter on the precise time. And it did, three days in a row. Khan saab was that punctual.

Fardeen’s childhood portions in Janasheen were shot at Khan saab’s farmhouse in Bangalore. I have stayed in that house. I even went to pay him my last respects there (27 April 2009). My best evenings have been spent in his den, half way on top of the pool. He’d jump into the pool and swim in the middle of the night at times. He’d play the songs of his under-production film and sway to them, enjoying every lyric, every note. For him making a film was a journey. It was a process to be enjoyed. He’d take time over it, not caring about his money being spent. But as I mentioned before, when someone else’s money was involved, he was careful.

His unit had been with him for the last 20-30 years. That speaks a lot about their loyalty towards him. He would care for the smallest person in his team. If someone goofed up on the set, he’d be angry and give him an earful. But he would call the same person to his suite at night, give him a bottle of Black Label, money… and make him feel good.

Khan saab was a self-educated man. Religion, politics, love, life, literature, poetry… he could converse on any subject. He quoted Oscar Wilde regularly. He knew the Bhagvad Gita and the Koran like the back of his hand. That’s why he had a problem with people, who quoted religious texts without having read them. He belonged to the generation, who could read Urdu. In fact, the script and dialogue of his films were given to him in Urdu.

He portrayed himself as a Casanova but I have never come across a perfect gentleman like him. Khan saab was a complete charmer. Women adored him. There’s something about male gaze, which a woman understands. His gaze was respectful. Having said that, he could make anyone blush. If Shah Rukh Khan can romance a tree, Khan saab could charm one.

He loved Frank Sinatra’s song My Way. He lived by it. He was not acting a part; he was the part. He was larger-than-life. His heart set him apart from the rest. I’ve never encountered a heart as giving and loving as his. He was a true Pathan. He could love and hate in equal measure. If he loved you, he loved you for life. If he didn’t, it was better to stay out of his way. I have no pictures with him. Instead what I have are memories and memories.

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