I know Zohraji is supposed to have said somewhere that she is the only person alive to have slapped three generations of the Kapoors—my grandfather Prithiviraj, Raj Kapoor and then Rishi—in plays she had performed with Prithivi Theatres. Now, I can’t confirm it, and if you take one look at her stabbing her 100th birthday cake (how I love this woman!), with that glint in her eyes, you will get an idea of how much of what she says you should take at face value. On the other hand, it may well be true. My most recent memory of Zohraji goes back to 2006 when we were organising the Prithiviraj Kapoor birth centenary celebrations. There was to be the Prithvi Festival inaugural performance by the theatre’s original actors. There were nine of them who had acted along with Prithiviraj Kapoor and Zohraji was amongst them, along with Uzra Appa, her younger sister, who was the leading lady of the company. We thought it would be a poignant, nostalgic trip down memory lane. But they all came five days before the event and demanded full rehearsals. All of whom remembered their lines to the last pause, this when many had quit the stage decades ago. And when this show finally happened, it was magical and left the audience teary-eyed and awestruck, ending with Zohraji’s inimitable Abhi To Mein Jawan Hoon.
Zohraji has a tremendous sense of humour, zestful creative energy, the unique ability to embrace life and face it square in the face, constantly reinventing herself yet always staying true to her core! She did go on to get international acclaim. Even today, if she walks down the streets of London, people recognise her. It’s a shame that people in India don’t know her so well as a theatre person, they only know her for a few films she’s done. Yet, Zohraji still regards her years in theatre as the most important period of her life. There is not going to be any curtain call to Zohraji’s act; she shall remain an inspiration for ever.
