Farooque Shaikh: The choosy, charming man who played 'aam aadmi' hero

Death is rarely predictable or expected, but some times its approach is stealthier than at others. Farooque Shaikh’s passing is one of those for which no one was prepared. Shaikh was 65, which may have qualified him for senior citizenship but with his mischievous grin and the twinkle in his eye, Shaikh never seemed old. A teetotaller and a foodie, Shaikh had no vices and to those who knew him, he embodied joie de vivre and grace. Professionally, he was making a fabulous comeback with small but key roles in films like Shanghai and Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani. As a mature actor, he was doing what he’d done so ably as a young man — performing roles with such sharp poignancy that even minor sub-plots became unforgettable parts of the films in which he appeared.

There were two very clear parts to Shaikh’s career. He made his debut in 1974 with Garam Hawa and enjoyed a long stretch of success, acting in both ‘art’ films as well as the odd masala blockbuster (remember Biwi Ho To Aisi?). Then, in the 1990s, Shaikh stepped away from cinema. He said he was too disappointed by the films he was being offered and instead worked in television and on stage. He was seen on TV and in plays like the immensely successful Tumhari Amrita, directed by Feroze Abbas Khan in which Shaikh was paired with his old friend Shabana Azmi.

Theatre has been a constant in Shaikh’s life ever since college, which was when he started acting seriously. Shaikh was a contemporary of Azmi’s at St Xavier’s College and became involved with Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) and theatre activism. Even as a college student, Shaikh had the reputation of being a charmer. His friend, director Ramesh Talwar, remembers Shaikh’s fan following in those years. Shaikh got Talwar to direct a play for St Xavier’s College and before the final performance, Talwar went backstage to find five young women helping Shaikh tie the dhoti he had to wear as a costume. “We never got that lucky,” Talwar had said in an interview, speaking of the other men in the theatre.

Shaikh’s ability to charm went beyond his college friends. As an actor, he won over both men, women and cinephiles. For men, he was the heartening, more relatable alternative to the glossy glam-doll heroes of commercial Bollywood. Most women melted at how cute he was, and for those who got past his physical appeal, Shaikh was a powerful actor. Look at Shaikh’s filmograpy and there’s an impressive variety of roles: he’s played nawabs, impoverished Romeos, the salaried everyman, and been entirely convincing in most of the roles he accepted.

It’s curious, though, that the tag that stuck to Shaikh was of being the Mild Young Man (as opposed to the Angry Young Man) and the ‘aam admi’ hero, because in reality Shaikh was hardly mild or lacking in privilege. This was a man who didn’t shy of saying quite bluntly that he hadn’t particularly enjoyed the experience of working with legendary director Satyajit Ray in Shatranj Ke Khiladi. When asked about Ray, Shaikh said, “Ray’s vision was just that. His. Leaving no room for the actor to improvise. There was such minute detailing with sketches and all – that it was like a mathematical equation.”

In stark contrast to the humble, middle class boys he often played, Shaikh came from an aristocratic lineage. His was a zamindar family that owned a fair bit of land and a palatial home near Vadodara, in Gujarat. He grew up in Mumbai, studying in prestigious institutions like St. Mary’s School and St. Xavier’s college. Not just that, Shaikh had a stellar academic record in both school and college, despite his enthusiasm for extra-curricular activities like cricket and theatre. Shaikh’s father was a successful lawyer and Shaikh was certain that he would follow suit. Shaikh studied to be a lawyer to this end and was a qualified lawyer when got the offer to act in Garam Hawa. Sathyu was looking for actors who wouldn’t mind working for free, and Shaikh said yes, much to his parents’ alarm.

(Not that he did Garam Hawa for free. Sathyu paid Shaikh Rs 750, over the course of five years, for playing the part of Sikander.)

Not being strictly dependent on acting for his income — aside from his comfortable financial background, Shaikh dabbled in businesses occasionally. He had a garment export business at one time — Shaikh had the luxury of being selective with his film projects, which he exercised fully. Even when he started taking acting seriously as a profession, Shaikh was no less choosy.

Onscreen, particularly in romantic comedies, Shaikh played nervous, timid heroes whose charm lay in the fact that they weren’t obviously charismatic. Who can forget Shaikh’s Siddharth’s adorable but awkward adoration of Miss Chamko? Or the infuriating meekness of Nawab Sultan who loves Umrao Jaan but can’t stand up to his family in her defence? In real life, however, Shaikh had no such hesitations. He was in college when he met the woman he’d eventually marry — Rupa Jain — and he wooed her with single-minded determination. Neither of them were deterred by the differences in their religious backgrounds and the couple dated for nine years before getting married.

In 2002, a talk show titled Jeena Isi Ka Naam Hai appeared on Zee TV in which celebrities, like Shah Rukh Khan and MF Husain, were interviewed by a host. The host at the start of the first season was Shaikh, who was returning to public life after a hiatus. Shaikh was one of the selling points of Jeena Isi Ka Naam Hai and suddenly, there were interviews and profiles of the actor in an array of publications. One interviewer asked him how he’d like to be remembered. Shaikh replied, “I would rather not be remembered. Everyone comes into and goes from this world. I have no great desire to be remembered after I am gone.”

And yet, when the news came this morning of Shaikh having suffered a lethal heart attack while holidaying in Dubai with his family, heartbreak cracked its way across Indian cinephiles because Shaikh embodied a certain old-world grace that is terribly rare today. He lived by an idealism and liberalism that was so much an integral part of Indian cinema in his generation and has almost entirely disappeared in the present. Regardless of what he may have imagined, for the work that he has done and the human being that he was in an industry of wannabes, Shaikh is immensely memorable. Rest in peace.