Actress Ratna Pathak Shah and educationist Ranna Pandya Graham believe Bombay eases sustaining distance-divided friendships
The friends at Ranna’s wedding, 2003
Ratna Pathak Shah, 64, actress
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Ranna Pandya Graham, 66, educationist
Over six decades. Across three continents. Sweeping spans of time and place.
Ratna Pathak and Ranna Pandya bridge the long years and miles of separation with the affectionate respect that befits and benefits an abiding bond.
At Ratna’s farm in Vangani, 1998
Ratna’s childhood was rooted in Dadar’s verdant Five Gardens. East Africa-born Ranna moved from Uganda to the UK in 1967, a few years before the exodus of Indian families forced by Idi Amin. The shift from Kampala, where her father owned hardware stores, to England, was for better education opportunities.
Their recollection of initially meeting varies in an endearing way. “I’m unclear how young we were. It may have been when I was about 10 and Ranna came holidaying to Bombay,” Ratna says.
In Paris, 2000, when Naseeruddin Shah toured with Peter Brook’s Hamlet
Ranna thinks they were six and four respectively when Ratna’s mother, actress-activist Dina Pathak, visited Africa. “My parents were seriously into amateur dramatics, garba-raas, all of that. Dina Masi came to adjudicate a series of plays. My dad and Ratu’s [Ratna} father, whom I called Baba—as hers were my adored surrogate parents subsequently in Bombay—got along great.”
The stage passion Dina and Baldev Pathak shared with Ansuya and Pritam Pandya was what introduced their daughters. After that, the girls’ paths kept happily crossing. Whether it was Ranna coming to Bombay, where she lived with her aunt in Santa Cruz, or Ratna’s first solo sojourn abroad, to London, there was mutual gratification in understanding they were always on the same wavelength.
In London, 1994
“We connected effortlessly. Discovering similar attitudes and views, we chatted for hours and wrote letters,” Ratna reveals. “Ranna really opened new worlds for me. She had a certain sensibility which added ballast to life. Friends returning from travels abroad with Camay soap got my goat. Ranna thoughtfully, tastefully, brought wine and cheese. Yet, while I presumed that she sat in London, very progressive, listening to the heppest music, she was dealing with stuff which was not so modern after all. Fending off arranged marriage proposals in a conservative set-up, for instance. A challenge to keep declining some Patel from Porbunder.”
Ranna eventually married Englishman Tony Graham, an insurance professional, with whom she has retired to Goa. A companionable quartet, the couples have enjoyed memorable vacations—like a Paris trip in 2000 when Ratna’s actor-director husband Naseeruddin Shah toured with Peter Brook’s Hamlet.
With Ratna’s sons Imaad and Vivaan
Flashback to Ranna realising her likely vocation ever since she “taught” nursery dolls as a child. Her teaching career started at a school in north London’s borough of Barnet. “Though confident in my choice of work, I envied Ratu’s creativity,” she confesses. “She inspires and influences.”
Time spent at the Pathak home, Laxmi Sadan next to Dadar Parsi Gymkhana, was special. “The best kind of parent, Dina Masi cared for me like a third daughter. She offered reassuring advice only when asked and even ticked me off with love. ‘What will I tell your mother?’ she’d teasingly scold.”
Neighbourhood udipis like Madras Cafe were their haunt. Before heading to NSD (“because I already knew nothing in my life was terribly divorced from theatre”), Ratna graduated from Elphinstone College. “Hanging together, I grew equally fond of her familiar addas: the Elphi canteen, Samovar and Chetana across the street,” Ranna says.
Somewhere between were the years of excitement, picnicking and cooking with Ratna’s family. Being around Baldev Pathak was an unending adventure. With breezy Punjabi exuberance he spontaneously whisked off his daughters with their friends for impromptu outings. The two of us and our sweet little sister Supriya would wake on Sundays, hearing him—‘Chalo, utho bacchho, let’s go to Lonavla.’ Off we’d drive, picking up Coke crates en route for a hamper basket heap full of food.”
Ratna digs up a delightful photo. Captioned “Baldev’s sous chefs”, it shows Supriya, her and Ranna in their teens, enthusiastically chopping veggies for a weekend meal. The friends still cook a wonderfully fragrant corn curry following his recipe. “I first heard the word ‘dungli’, meaning ‘onion’ in Kathiawadi Gujarati, in Ranna’s London home. We still refer to onion as ‘dungli’,” says Ratna.
“I’m basically secure in knowing Ranna won’t hold it against me if she disapproves of what I do. When my first child was born, I was totally consumed with the excitement of having him. As a result, I cut off. She never made me feel guilty, despite undergoing some tough times then, when I just wasn’t available for her.”
While Ranna’s former breaks in Bombay lasted for around a fortnight, in the mid-’80s she stayed five years at a stretch. “We were astounded she survived on a 1500-buck salary as a Green Lawns School teacher. Once she joined the American School, earning thrice that in dollars, suddenly it was her bailing us out!” Ratna remembers. Ranna admits it was rough at the beginning, especially faced with situations like a stolen wallet and rent unpaid.
Does distance not cause drift? “We simply pick up from where we’ve left,” Ratna says. “Bombay was my turf, which Ranna slipped into so easily. While she was here, I went in and out of town for shoots or plays, worrying she’d be lonely. But she fitted right in. The city accepts everyone without any judgement. I saw this most clearly through Ranna’s eyes and her experiences.”
Recalling her easy sync with Ratna and Naseeruddin’s theatre gang, Ranna says, “I was quite the groupie, partying with Motley and occasionally getting cast too – as Catherine Petkoff in Arms and the Man, probably because of my big nose. I also did a reading of The Odd Couple. The insular expat life was much less interesting than everything else Bombay so generously extends friends.”
Life full circling, Ratna’s sons quickly adopted Ranna as a mother figure. “From earliest years, they had a fantastic relationship. Before we could start a conversation,
Imaad promptly claimed Ranna’s attention. And as a baby, Vivaan would keep poking fingers into his favourite books, pointing she should read to him. They are truly lucky to have her.”
Author-publisher Meher Marfatia writes monthly on city friendships. You can reach her at meher.marfatia@mid-day.com/www.mehermarfatia.com
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