I don't quite remember when I first met Haribhai. It was probably on the sets of Shaandaar. He was already a big star. Our working equation began on a note of mutual respect and friendship. Shaandar was shot in 1974 in Chennai. The film industry there is extremely disciplined and strict about the language. Since Hindi is not their native tongue, they are very hesitant about changing even a single word of the dialogue that is sent from Bombay.

In one of the scenes, I had to say, “Mera dil huk uthega.” This to me sounded overly dramatic. I couldn’t identify with its sentiment. I got into a vehement argument. The director and the assistants tried to convince me that I had to say that line, but I wouldn’t listen. In those days there were no mobile phones, so they couldn’t get in touch with the dialogue writer in Bombay to suggest an alternative. Being a Bengali, I couldn’t come up with better suggestions either. This stalemate continued for a couple of hours at least. Finally, Haribhai came up to me and whispered, “Rinku, [my nickname] do you want to stay here all night? It doesn’t matter, whatever the dialogue is, if you say it with the right emotion, I am sure you will sound convincing, and the scene will also work.” I understood the wisdom of his words and did just that. That day I learnt an important lesson from him—that to make a scene work, one needs to cooperate. As long as you deliver your dialogue sincerely, the audience will also believe it.