The Sapphic Romance of Hema and Parveen

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The Sapphic Romance of Hema and Parveen

Khwaab ban kar koi aayega to neend aayegi

Hema Malini refused to lie down in bed with Parveen Babi.

‘What is this I hear Kamal saab?’ she said, ‘A chambermaid is romancing Razia?’

‘What is wrong with that? asked the director filming a song sequence.

‘What about my image Kamal saab? Mera role Sultan ka hai… al-Sultan al-Muazzam Raziyat al-Din bint al-Sultan,’ she said, trying to impress him with her clear pronunciation of the queen’s title and her own histrionics.

Kamal Amrohi looked blank because he had trained her to rote those words.

She continued falteringly, ‘Aur…aur main iss desh ki Dream Girl hoon. I represent the ideal fantasy woman. I cannot do such things.’

‘Exactly Hema, sirf ek Dream Girl hi aise khwab dikha sakti hai,’ he said.

‘Kaise?’ she asked.

‘Have you not heard the lyrics of the song?’ he said, referring to Jan Nisar Akhtar’s lucid words and Khayyam’s shimmering music.

‘Khwaab ban kar koyee aayega toh nind aayegee

Abb vahee aake sulaayega toh nind aayegee’

‘So?’ she said.

‘So, you don’t worry my dear, everything will look like a dream and your reputation will not be sullied. I promise you that.’ he said.

‘But I will not do anything am telling you Kamal saab?’ she said.

‘You don’t do anything anyways, it is a director’s medium, remember? Leave it to me. Just close your eyes and sleep.’ he said.

He instructed Parveen Babi to stroke her face with an outsized ostrich feather and lull her as she sang,

‘Baat jo sirf nigaaho se kahee jaatee hai

Koyee hontho se sunaayega toh nind aayegee’

He asked Hema to coyly look away to remind her viewers that she was thinking of them. She liked the idea and closed her eyes.

This is when the director quickly instructed Babi to move her hand across Hema’s face and shoulder for the next stanza.

‘Narm julfo kee mahak garm badan kee khushabu

Chupke chupke woh churaayega toh nind aayegee’

Hema squirmed with pleasure and enjoyed the strokes of tender affection.

‘One minute,’ she said. ‘Kamal sir, I am liking this a lot but I don’t want my fans to think I am like this, ok?’

‘Oh, you carry on; see those two little girls rowing the boat are the viewers. They disapprove, so you are safe.’

‘Then it’s fine,’ she said, ‘Let’s carry on then Parveen.’

A pleased Parveen placed the ostrich feather on them. She bent her head to kiss Hema on her lips.

The two girls rowing the boat gave the disapproving look. Audiences were going to be shocked by the vulgar passions of the queen.

Hema’s eyes dilated, her toes curled, she was in the throes, melting when Babi sang,

Jism haatho kee haraarat se pighal jaayega

Aag rag rag me lagaayega toh nind aayegee

That night, exhausted from the shoot, Hema went home to a drunk and happy Dharmendra.

In bed, hassled by his rough moves, she shoved him away, saying, ‘Uff, get way, cave man, no narmiyat you have is it?’

He slobbered. She walked to the window, looking at the sleepless sky adorned with a thousand blinking stars.

Choom kar raat jo sulaayegi to neend aayegi

Khwaab ban kar koi aayega to neend aayegi

Parveen’s touch had renewed her. She wanted more of it. She recalled the final stanza of the song. When torment feels like respite. When someone’s touch puts you to rest.