My parents were in Dalhousie when the 1947 riots broke out. Dr Fakeerchand, a friend, insisted they shift to his house. Subsequently, my brother, an officer in the Ahmednagar Armoured Corps, smuggled them under escort to Lahore. And where was I all this while? Safe in riot-free Bombay. Driving a green Hudson with fellow actresses Protima Dasgupta and Sushila Rani in it, lustily singing Vande Mataram on the streets of Bombay on the night of August 14. I remember serenading film publisher Baburao Patel with this in Umar Park at midnight. It was a good life.