As he grew up, he displayed a scientific bent of mind and intelligence that none of us had. He was not interested in playing around as much as in fixing television sets and repairing radios impromptu. We never needed an electrician with him around.
Circa 1994, when he was studying aeronautical engineering in Dehradun, I went to visit him. Faizi and Almas were there as well. His room was immaculate, with all his books stacked up neatly.
‘Shamas, is this how a studious person’s room should look like?’ I scolded him.
‘What, Bhaijaan?’ he fumbled.
‘When do you study? Stop decorating your room like girls do. A studious person’s room does not look like this,’ I said, walking over to his books.
‘No? Then what should it look like, Bhaijaan?’ Shamas nervously asked, knowing I was up to something.
I scattered the books everywhere, throwing them all over until the floor had become a stormy sea of books. I pointed proudly and said wisely, ‘This is what it looks like. It looks like the books are being studied.’ Shamas was pretty pissed off. His big brother had come to visit him just for a few days and here he was creating this massive mess. Being the clever lad he always has been, he came up with a solution on the spot.
‘Bhaijaan, if we don’t keep our things tidy, then cockroaches and spiders and rodents come.’
‘Really?’ I asked, a little scared.
‘Really, Bhaijaan,’ he said with a poker face. ‘And snakes too. If we were to randomly sort through this to pick one book, and if there is a beast hiding underneath to bite us, then?’
I was quiet. And quite scared.
‘You see, Bhaijaan, that’s why we need to keep everything settled and tidy.’
‘Right, Shamas. Let’s keep it that way then,’ I said timidly and we began to tidy up.
It was only many years later that I found out that he had made this up to escape from my unnecessary bullying.
* * *
After graduating from NSD, I did not take a single penny from home. My needs were completely basic; I managed. But in Mumbai, the very word difficulty touched new lows every week. I asked Ammi to send one of my brothers to Mumbai—ideally, Shamas, given his intelligence and technical bent of mind. The idea was that the brother could take care of basic but critical survival issues around food, shelter and money so that I could move my focus to the real thing that I had come to Mumbai to toil for—acting. He could study editing for a few months and then work as an editor for film or TV. These jobs were easier to come by and ensured a steady flow of income.
Shamas first visited me for a few months in the year 1998 when I lived in Mira Road. He accompanied me on shoots and became mesmerized with Mumbai, with this world. He was completely smitten with the central role of the director—the puppeteer who held all the strings. But when he finished his studies in Dehradun and returned some years later, around 2005, he skipped editing and almost immediately became an AD with the hopes of eventually becoming a director. We had moved to Malad by then. It was wonderful respite for a while as some money trickled in. His first gig was in assisting Adeep Singh for a film I was starring in called Adharm. The film sat with the censor board for a long time.
But then, as is common with ADs in our industry, especially those lowest in the hierarchy of ADs, the money stopped coming in and both of us were struggling. Those six or seven months were extremely painful for both of us. We lived in very dire circumstances. Shamas came and apologized to me, saying he should have listened to me and took up editing. The guilt has haunted him ever since. He has remained my constant shadow and prioritizes me above everything else. I am moved and humbled by his love. I can never express how grateful I am to him. He has inherited Abbu’s integrity. All of us brothers have in fact—none of us have ever duped anybody—but especially Shamas. In spite of all the treachery and the endless cruelty, Abbu had remained faithful to his stepbrother. Tau practically turned Abbu into a beggar and yet Abbu never spoke ill of him; indeed, he loved him dearly. One day Abbu told Shamas, ‘I did so much for my brother who never gave a damn about me. But you, Shamas, the brother you do so much for, he cares for you. That’s something. Remember that.’ Abbu is no more but Shamas remembers that all the time. He says it is the pivot his life revolves around. Words can never do justice, but Shamas is the greatest gift I have, my eternal guardian angel who ensures I have every single thing before I even realize the want for it.
He truly listens to me like a child listens to his parent. He had a girlfriend who was a famous actress in Mumbai. Her sister was a famous actress too. Her family was wealthy, modern, liberal, elitist, what we call ‘hi-fi’. Shamas was deeply in love with her and wanted to marry her. Although I understood and empathized with his feelings, I had to express my hesitation: she would never fit into our humble background; our highly conservative extended family with whom
