What Shah Rukh Khan Says About His Mother

My mother was born and brought up in Hyderabad. She was a strong and beautiful woman. She resembles Waheeda Rehman. My father also was extremely handsome. I don't think I'm good-looking but they were a very good-looking couple. The met incidentally under strange circumstances. Injured in a car accident, my mother needed blood. My father who happened to be at the hospital at that time gave her blood. In this process of helping my mother to revive, they fell in love. And though my father was about eleven years older than my mother, her family consented because he had sort of saved the family. In bringing up my sister Shehnaz and me, my parents never made any difference, though I think my sister was closed to my parents because she is six years older to me. I was born at a time when my parents weren't doing well financially. But I don't remember facing any hardship on that account. My father was a chief engineer. My mother was a social worker, a first class magistrate. She had studied in Oxford. She was among the first few Muslim women to have achieved so much. She has been an executive magistrate for the longest tenure recorded. She used to deal with juvenile delinquents.

I was not a stubborn kid. But if I wanted something badly enough I would go out and get it. I was exposed to the Ram Leela; I acted in it as one of the monkey. I wrote short stories... shairis... my father made me recite them. I remember once there was this aunt who wore horrendously pink lipstick and I composed a corny poem in praise of her lipstick. I think she was secretly pleased. My parents let me do my own thing; they only wanted me to do well in my studies..., which I did. There were no restrictions. I could sleep at any time, go out anytime. If I bashed up some child's teeth, my father saw to it that I dealt with the child's father myself... I realized that parents weren't authority but they were friends. I would imitate Mumtaz, I would mimic people. I'm doing all this even today. And guess what? I'm being paid handsomely for it. An outgoing kind of person, mom took a lot of initiative in everything. I remember when my father was ill, he had cancer for eight months, and we lost everything we had. One injection used to cost about Rs 5000 and we had to organize about 23 injections in ten days. It was an expensive affair and our business went down. At that time my mother would work day and night. She would get the money some way. She really looked after my father. After his death in '81 she revived his business and ran it proficiently. I inherited workaholism from her. She never said no to anything. Like when I went to college, I said I wanted a car. And the next day, there was a car outside. She never forced me to do anything. She never even forced me to take over the big business that we had finally when she died. When I told her I wanted to act, join films she did not stop me. I wanted to do my masters in filmmaking. I was very good. I had got admission in NSD. I didn't want to do it but she told me, "Just get admission". So I gave my admission test and got in. I remember I used to be very bad in Hindi. I would get zero on ten. And she used to tell me, "If you get ten on ten, I'll take you for a film". And from that day to date I have topped in Hindi at all times I remember the first film she took me to see was Dev Anand's Joshilaa. Her favourite actors were Bishwajeet and Joy Mukherji. I think I inherited my sense of humour from my father, who too had a lot of respect for women. I remember once I had gone and blown somebody's letterbox. And this south Indian lady came down and complained to my father, "Your son troubles my daughter". He looked at her and said, "If she is as pretty as you are and if I was as young as my son, I'd probably do the same thing". She started laughing. He said it so gently and nicely. He was very respectful to women because he had an older sister and a mother whom he was very close to. He taught me how to be gentle with women. When my father died, I didn't cry. I thought it was heroic. I was one of the pall-bearers; I thought I had become a little big man. But I felt cheated despite the fact that he had prepared me for his death... And my mother's death made me realize that nothing is permanent. I stopped hoping for anything. I cried a lot. Nothing shocks me anymore.

It was the most painful moment of my life, when my mother died in my arms. She had become alright and suddenly she died. Just like Dad. Her blood had become septic. It was very painful. The first time I prayed to God was when she lay dying. I never prayed, that's the kind of family we were. A Muslim family that never forced you to pray. And it was the first time, I really prayed, but she died all the same.

I imbibed my basic values from her, learned a number of things from my mother. Like never cut down on your expenditure, increase your income. That's why I'm a spendthrift. Never acquire or want anything that has a bad feeling in it. In Urdu it is called manhoosiyat. Like if you ask someone for money and he says, "nahin yaar kal de dunga," just forget it. That's the reason why I still have not touched my mother's money. Because I know she would not want it that way. I only took a television set she had given me last when I came to Bombay. My property, my business, my cars, everything is still in Delhi. I haven't taken anything because if she's not there to give it to me, I don't want it. And she'll be happy if I don't take them and instead get the all on my own. She also taught me not to hurt anyone. Like I said she would slap people if she got angry with them, but she would love them at the same time. Neither she nor my father has ever hit me. They were very gentle people. My mother behaved like a true friend, when I told her I wanted to marry Gauri. Is she Muslim or Chinese? Nothing was asked. My mother taught me how to act, some really sweet expressions. But what's most important, she has given me my present philosophy of life. She has taught me that nothing is permanent, including herself. So, enjoy what you have this moment, for it can be taken away from you the next. Everything is transient. That is why I don't give a damn to anything. It's a very macho way of putting it. But the whole rationale is that if she could be taken away from me, then everything else can be taken away also. If I can leave with her absence then I can live with the absence of stardom, money or anything. And that is the closest you can come to being contended, you die. People say the only cure for life is death. May be at that moment that one second, when all thoughts of worry leave your mind, you die. I kept giving my mother a lot of worry, so she couldn't die. I kept pleading, "Please don't go".

I still believe she's there and she looks over me. Otherwise I would not have had all that I have. She is my STD to God because there is nothing in this world that I want and I don't get. I don't ask for anything for myself because she wouldn't like it. But whenever I have to pray for someone who is poor, unwell or sad, I just tell my mother and I'm sure she does something because most of the time something good works out. Whenever I'm very happy I cry, because I can't share my happiness with her.

My sister Shehnaz is very naïve and sweet. She is also very spoilt and pampered. I love her a lot. I've grown in her shadow, as she was the older child in the house. I'd look up to her. She is very quiet now, after my parent’s demise. She stays with me. She is an educated girl. She has done a management course; she used to work as an officer for the Indira Gandhi memorial. She has also done her MBA in psychology. She was extremely affected by our father's death. I was younger, so I think I got over Dad's death sooner. By the time she accepted our Dad's absence, our mother died. She went through a bad phase. She is my only connection to my parents. I see my father and mother in her. I keep telling Shehnaz, "You are just like mummy". Even she has her fits of anger. My mother still remains with me and my mother always taught me to work, she said, "it will help to tide you over anything". I retained that. As for my sister, before she could pick up this invaluable lesson, our mother expired. So she got much clammed. She was an outgoing girl before, now she has become very quiet and silent. I still look up to her.

My one regret is that my mother never really saw my work as an actor. She wasn't there when I won my first award. No, but she must have seen it. I miss her a lot. I think she is a star. Whenever I feel too sad, I just go to the terrace and cry. And I know she is watching me from somewhere. Because I wouldn't be what I am, had it not been for her blessings.