While you were busy with your acting in Lahore, Pakistan, you were contacted from Bangladesh to act in Gazi Mazharul Anwar’s film Shondhi. It was 1987 and you were extremely busy in Pakistan. What were your thoughts about acting in a Bangladeshi film?
Shabnam: The feeling about working in a Bangla film, in my own language, is something special. Khoka Bhai (journalist Ahmed Zaman Chowdhury) persuaded me to act in the film and also told me the story. My younger brother-in-law, Ashok Ghosh, also encouraged me to do it. I agreed initially because of Khoka Bhai.
When I was first offered the role in Shondhi, I was in London, spending time with my son Rony. Khoka Bhai called and said, “Jharna, Gazi Bhai is a very good director. You should do the film. You’ll enjoy working on it.” I knew that Gazi Bhai wrote songs. Anyway, we spoke afterward, and I asked about the shooting dates. Gazi (Gazi Mazharul Anwar) Bhai told me that it would require a full month.
I felt a little disheartened. I thought, “Does this mean I’ll have to give up the chance to work in a film from my own country Bangladesh?” I then told Gazi Bhai, “Give me a little time. I’ll travel from London to Pakistan, check my diary, and let you know. I can’t say anything without seeing everyone’s shooting dates. I’ll check once I get to Lahore and then let you know.”
Gazi Bhai told me, “You have to do this film. Manage it somehow.” We were discussing everything over the telephone. I said, “Gazi Bhai, I’m ready to do it. We just need to adjust the dates.” He replied, “My hero is Razzak, and he’s at the top of his career right now. If I miss his dates, it will become very difficult.”
You had worked with the legendary actor Razzak before, hadn’t you?
Shabnam: Yes, we had worked together in Nacher Putul. After that, we didn’t do any other film together. When I got back to Lahore and checked my diary, it was a complete mess. I had no idea how I was going to find the time. Then I spoke to all the producers and directors there and somehow managed to free up some time. I didn’t tell anyone in Lahore that I was going to Dhaka. I adjusted everyone’s schedules and came to Dhaka. I didn’t cause any problems or losses for anyone. Then I completed the shooting here.
You had to adjust so many shooting schedules in Lahore to come to Dhaka and act in Gazi Mazharul Anwar’s Shondhi. What was the first day of shooting in Dhaka like?
Shabnam: I was extremely excited. I was shooting in my own country after so many years. And I was shooting at the Bangladesh Film Development Corporation (FDC). Razzak sahib and Zafar Iqbal were also there for the shoot; they were both playing heroes. It felt very different to be back and shooting after such a long time.
At that time, I was Pakistan’s top heroine, but here? Nothing. I got ready and went onto the set. Gazi Bhai came to the set and explained everything to me. I read the script two or three times and memorised it. But when I took my position for the shoot, I saw that someone was prompting me! I did one rehearsal with prompting. Then I said, “Gazi Bhai, I’m not going to do this film!”
“Why?”
“I’m not used to being prompted. After I’m prompted, my hero is prompted, and then I’m prompted again. It means I can’t really retain the emotion of the scene. I’m sorry, I won’t be able to do this. I’m not accustomed to working this way. If I’m going to do it, I have to memorise the script and perform it.”
Just because I had been offered a Bangla film didn’t mean I would do it under any circumstances.
That day’s shooting was canceled. Then Razzak sahib, Zafar, and everyone else held a meeting and decided that we would all memorise the script. Razzak said, “I’ll memorize it.” Zafar said, “I’ll memorise it too. This is our language. Why shouldn’t we memorise the script?” They pointed out that Madam (Shabnam) worked by memorising her lines, and that with prompting, you simply couldn’t get the same emotional depth.
So everyone memorised their lines. After that, we went on to complete Shondhi. The film was released in 1987.
The following year, I acted in Ashok Ghosh’s Julie. That same year, I worked in Moinul Hossain’s Jogajog. In 1989, two of my films were released on the same Eid: one was Subhash Dutta’s Sahadharmini, and the other was Gazi Mazharul Anwar’s Shart.
After that, I worked one after another in Hossain Anwar’s Sondeho, Ashok Ghosh’s Shomossha, Momtaz Ali’s Karon, F. A. Benu’s (Fazal Ahmed Benazir) Mohamilon, and Fazle Haque’s Shomporko.
Prem Shakti, produced by Rajlokkhi Productions, is one of the stories I particularly liked. Razzak both directed and acted in the film.
So, during that period, I continued working regularly in both Pakistan and Bangladesh.
So, does that mean you memorised the scripts for every film you acted in?
Shabnam: Absolutely. I always did. I felt that if I had the lines memorised, I could deliver the exact emotion required in each scene. But I don’t think that emotion comes through when you’re being prompted. In fact, it disrupts the performance.
Even after that, for every film I made in Bangladesh, I memorised the entire script. I acted in Kazi Hayat’s Ammajan, and I memorised the script for that too. Manna was my co-star in that film.
You have worked in both Bangladesh and Pakistan. From your perspective, how did the working environments and styles differ between the two countries?
Shabnam: When I went to Pakistan, Pakistan was in a better position than Bangladesh in terms of the film industry. Technically, Pakistan was more advanced. For example, they had the latest cameras.
But if you ask me about the overall quality of the films, I would say Bangladeshi cinema was better than Pakistani cinema. Pakistani films placed greater emphasis on the commercial side. They would build gorgeous sets, and the music was also quite good. The visuals on screen were pleasing to the eye. The dubbing in their films was also done quite well.
Compared with that, the sets and other aspects of Bangladeshi films looked a little modest, even somewhat poor. But when it came to storytelling, Bangladeshis were far ahead of Pakistan. Those stories stayed etched in people’s hearts.
When did you decide to return to Bangladesh permanently?
Shabnam: I had decided to move back to Bangladesh four or five years before I finished Rani Beti Raj Karegi. I had also decided that I would not sign any new films in Pakistan.
The film Aaina ran continuously for six years at Pakistan’s Bambino cinema. Its director was Bangladeshi Nazrul Islam, and the music was by Robin Ghosh. There was neither comedy nor fighting in the film. It was simply a story rooted in social realities, and yet it became a huge hit.
As far as I know, when you resumed working in Bangladesh, Shabana was dominating the industry. Some people say there was a rivalry between you and Shabana.
Shabnam: I don’t think the rivalry in Bangladesh was with Shabana; I think it was with her husband, Wahid Sadik. I knew everything that was going on, but I pretended not to know.
However, my relationship with Shabana was very good. She was my junior. She had worked as an extra, in a song, in Talash. Even now, whenever Shabana sees me, she treats me very warmly. And I do the same.
I had no problem with Shabana. Whatever happened was done by her husband. He even stopped the shooting of one of my films. Jasim was the hero, and the film, directed by Fazle Haque, was called Shomporko.
Prothom Alo :
Was Shabana’s producer-husband worried when you returned?
Shabnam: That’s how it seemed from the way Shabana’s husband behaved. Perhaps Wahid Sadik thought that Shabnam was now going to do all the films. But I had only just arrived.
The very first day I went to the FDC studio, I drove there myself. I still drive. As soon as I drove into the FDC, there was a commotion, everyone was saying, “The heroine drove herself here!”
My younger brother-in-law (director Ashok Ghosh) said, “What have you done? You drove into the FDC yourself!” I said, “I don’t have a driver. I have to get there early in the morning. The car is at home, so what am I supposed to do? Leave it there and come without it?” I had no problem driving myself there.
Prothom Alo :
When Wahid Sadik was doing these things, what were you thinking to yourself?
Shabnam: I really didn’t pay much attention to any of it. Around 1989, I was told by the FDC that I couldn’t work in Bangladesh without an NOC [No Objection Certificate]. I asked, “Is this a new rule?” They said yes. I said, “Okay, I’ll look into it.”
I went straight to Ershad (former President Hussain Muhammad Ershad). I had already been in contact with him before. When Ershad Sahib saw me, he said, “What’s the matter, Jharna? What brings you here?” I hadn’t even called him before going there. Of course, there weren’t that many restrictions at the time.
I said, “Ershad Bhai, what’s the procedure for working in films here? I’ve come to work, but I’m being told I need an NOC. I’m a daughter of this country. I shouldn’t have to follow these extra rules just to work here.”
He asked, “Who told you that?”
I said, “The FDC. They’ve stopped the shooting of my film.”
Ershad Bhai immediately called someone—I don’t remember whom. He sent a letter to the FDC. Later, everyone found out that Shabana’s husband had stopped the shooting of my film!
Ershad Bhai told me, “If anyone ever stops you from working again, let me know immediately. This is my personal phone number. Keep it.”
They issued the NOC immediately.
I never spoke about this until now. There was no need to. I also had confidence in myself. To be honest, no one in Bangladesh had ever questioned me about it like this, so I had never had a reason to talk about these things before.
Do you think Wahid Sadik ever realised what he had done?
Shabnam: I didn’t have much of a relationship with Shabana’s husband, just exchanging greetings, that’s all. But I would eat with Shabana, have tea with her, and chat with her. Surely he must have understood as well. Perhaps he would hide when he saw me. He must have felt some embarrassment or guilt too.
Gazi Bhai would tell me, “You came here and taught Shabana everything in the industry.”
I said, “What did I teach her?”
He told me, “You taught her how to drive. After seeing you, she learned to wear flowers in her hair. She learned this and that, so many things.”
I said, “If someone learns by watching me, that’s a good thing. It makes me happy.”
Among the actresses in Bangladesh, whom did you have close, cordial relationships with? And which male actors did you feel especially comfortable working with?
Shabnam: I wouldn’t say I had particularly close relationships with anyone. I had a good relationship with Nasima Khan. Kabori was younger at the time, and Shabana was also young. I worked with Babita as well. Whenever they saw me, they would call me “Apa” (older sister).
Among the male actors, I had good relationships with Rahman and later Razzak. They were simply relationships between co-stars. The funny thing is, when I worked with Rahman, everyone used to say that Rahman and I were in love! Yet Rahman himself called me “Apa.”
Once, while we were shooting in Sylhet, I told Rahman Bhai, “I don’t have a brother.” He replied, “From today, you’re my sister.”
Apart from them, I also worked with Khalil, Azim, Alamgir, and Jasim.
Why do you think there was so much talk about a romantic relationship between you and Rahman?
Shabnam: I believe it was entirely because of the popularity of our pairing. Back then, if you simply laughed and chatted with each other, people would say you had fallen in love. But love doesn’t really happen that way.
We worked together, so naturally there would be a friendship. You can’t exactly work together while keeping a stern face all the time. We worked, we laughed, and people would see that and immediately say we were in love.
On the silver screen, we mostly saw you in glamorous roles. But what was your life like away from the camera?
Shabnam: If I had to talk about the most painful experience of my life, it would be my child. I used to stay in Pakistan while leaving my son Rony, who was three or four years old, back home in Bangladesh. My son used to cry terribly.
Later, when I established a home there, I brought my parents over and took my son with me as well. After finishing work, I would think, “At least when I go home, I’ll be able to see my son.”
If there is anything I feel I missed out on in my life, it was not being able to spend enough time with my son. Other than that, by Allah’s grace, I have no hardships or regrets.
I made 50 films with Nadeem! We worked in so many films together that later, whenever we signed a film together, Nadeem would jokingly say, “I have to look at your face every morning. I’m getting tired of it.”
I would say, “I’m getting tired of looking at your face every day too.”
That kind of playful teasing was always part of our relationship.
You are 80 years old. Are there any particular memories that still make you emotional?
Shabnam: I feel sad whenever I think about my parents. My mother died in 1990. I was extremely busy at the time. I couldn’t be by the side of either of my parents when they passed away.
I was in a hill station near Lahore, shooting a film. I was in such a remote place that I couldn’t simply leave and come back immediately. From Lahore, even if I had set out in the morning, I would only have arrived at night, the distance was something like that.
My mother died in the morning, but I didn’t hear the news until that night. My father’s death was the following day. My elder sister deliberately didn’t tell me. She said, “Mother was very ill. She suddenly passed away, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I didn’t know where you were or what condition you were in.”
You won the Nigar Award 16 times in Pakistan for your acting. About a year ago, that country also awarded you the Sitara-i-Imtiaz. Even after receiving so many honours, do you still feel there is something left to achieve?
I have made it very clear to my son that under no circumstances should my body be taken to the FDC.
Shabnam: I don’t think any artiste ever feels that they have learned everything. Every artiste learns something new every day. Whenever an artiste is offered a different kind of role, they always want to take it on.
I would still act if I were offered such a role. Although I’m older now, sometimes I wonder whether I would still be able to do it. But I feel that once I stood in front of the camera, the courage would come back to me.
Then why aren’t you acting anymore?
Shabnam: I simply don’t get the kind of roles I’m looking for. Since Ammajan, I haven’t found a role that truly captivated me. I was actually speaking with Hayat Bhai (Kazi Hayat) just a few days ago.
The truth is, I was very selective about my work, and that is why I was able to remain in the industry for 40-45 years.
Prothom Alo :
Surely you received offers to act in films after Ammajan?
Shabnam: I did, but I wasn’t satisfied with the roles. So I didn’t take them. I haven’t come across a role that could surpass the character I played in Ammajan.
One day, perhaps you’ll hear that I have died. Then people at the FDC will become frantic, wanting to take my body there. I have made it very clear to my son that under no circumstances should my body be taken to the FDC.
Prothom Alo :
How do you spend your time at home in Baridhara these days?
Shabnam: I live with my son, so I enjoy my time quite a lot. The two of us, mother and son, go out together. We drive around the streets of Dhaka. If we feel like it, we’ll stop at a restaurant, have a good meal, and then return home.
I really enjoy going out like this. It’s something I hadn’t been able to do for many years. My son studied in London from a young age. I was so busy with film shoots that I couldn’t give him enough time. Occasionally, when I went to London, I would stay for 15 days or a month and then return. And when my son had holidays, he would come here too. That was about it.
So, for the past 26 years, my son and I have been having a wonderful time together in our country. I’m getting older now. Even if I wanted to, I can’t just travel somewhere far away whenever I feel like it. So we go around different parts of Dhaka and nearby areas.
I listen to Robin’s music. I also watch old films. I miss Robin terribly. When I listen to his music, I think about how, just as he did here at the beginning of his career, when he worked on films in Pakistan, at least one song from each film would become a super hit.
Music like that isn’t made anymore. At least, I don’t hear anything that draws me in. There was a sweetness, an intoxicating quality, to Robin’s music. No one after him has been able to captivate me in the same way.
Your last film was Ammajan. After finishing that film, did you never return to a film set again?
Shabnam: After Ammajan, I never went to a studio again. I attended only a handful of events.
There are many things I could talk about, but I can’t bring myself to speak openly about them. I won’t. And there would be no point anyway. I have completely closed that chapter.
I spent many years outside the country. After returning, I don’t want to speak about what I experienced or what I saw.
One day, perhaps you’ll hear that I have died. Then people at the FDC will become frantic, wanting to take my body there. I have made it very clear to my son that under no circumstances should my body be taken to the FDC.
Robin (Robin Ghosh, the renowned composer and music director and Shabnam’s husband) had said the same thing. His body was not taken there either.
Prothom Alo :
You spent so many years working at the FDC and so much of your life there. Why do you still feel so hurt or resentful toward the place?
Shabnam: There is certainly a reason. As I said, I’m not going to talk about it. Once I’m dead, they’ll put garlands of flowers on me, and that will be that, right?
I don’t want to give anyone that opportunity. I won’t allow anyone at the FDC to put on a show of mourning over my body. I’m happy living quietly in my own home, just as I am now. I’m at peace. I’m an artiste. I’m living life on my own terms. I’m very happy.
Do you get emotional watching old songs and scenes from your films?
Shabnam: Sometimes they make me laugh. I find myself thinking, “There were so many mistakes and shortcomings, yet people still liked me.”
If I were acting now, I might be able to do things a little better. I have more confidence now than I did back then. If I acted today, perhaps I could perform even better.
At that time, I had just gotten married, so I had to be very careful and restrained in my acting. I didn’t understand romantic matters all that well either.
Prothom Alo :
When did you come to understand romance?
Shabnam: I understood the concept of romance after I went to Pakistan. I realised that romance in Bengali films was very different from romance in Urdu films. Over there, romance was much more overt and expressive, whereas here it was almost the opposite.
There was also a challenge for me when I went there to work, but no one could ever say that Shabnam did anything vulgar. I never wore anything in a song that people would find distasteful. You wouldn’t find any such reports in the newspapers or magazines of that time either. I was a Bengali girl, and I always kept that in mind.
Prothom Alo :
Who is your closest friend between the two countries?
Shabnam: My closest friend is Zeba. She was also a heroine in Pakistan. We were contemporaries. We still keep in touch quite often. Whenever I go there, I visit her home. Even when I first started shooting in Lahore, she would invite me to her house.
Prothom Alo :
You were successful in cinema, and Robin Ghosh was successful in music. Yet your only child, Rony Ghosh, never entered either the film or music industry. Why was that?
Shabnam: He simply had no interest in it. Subhash Ghai once offered Rony an opportunity in India. I went with him, and Subhash Ghai hosted us for dinner and told Rony that he should work in films.
Rony said, “I won’t work until I finish my studies. If my first film flops, where will I go from there?”
He had probably just taken finished his school-leaving exams at the time. We also told him, “Whatever decision you make will be our decision too.”
He didn’t want to do it, so it didn’t happen. He studied business in London and is in business now.
You have had a long life in acting. Now, when you look back, what comes to mind? What did you gain, and what did you lose? Do you have any regrets about your life?
Shabnam: I wasn’t able to give my son enough time. That is the biggest thing I feel I missed in my life. At the time when he needed us the most, we couldn’t give him the time he needed. We couldn’t be there for him. We didn’t even fully understand it then. I understand that now. But I never wasted my time either.
Prothom Alo :
If you had devoted more time to your family, do you think you could have achieved this level of success as an actress?
Shabnam: I’ve always looked at it a little differently. Once I said yes to a producer for a project and accepted the payment, it became my responsibility to complete the work properly. I felt bound by that commitment.
That’s why I have some regrets about these things now.
Prothom Alo :
I want to ask you about something that, as far as I know, you have never spoken about. When Bangladesh became independent in 1971, many artistes and film professionals returned from Pakistan to Bangladesh and resumed working here. But you did not return, and there have been many stories and rumours about it. I would like to ask you directly: what was going through your mind that led you not to return?
Shabnam: That’s a very good question. I’ve actually never spoken about this before.
As I told you earlier, at one point I was shooting four films simultaneously. Bangladesh became independent during that period. There were many Bangladeshi artistes in Pakistan at the time. They probably sensed what was happening and left Karachi and returned home.
I was in Lahore, extremely busy shooting day and night. At that time, I couldn’t make a decision. I thought I would finish all my shooting and then leave. But I had no idea that “finishing” everything would end up taking me 30 years in Pakistan.
Anyway, at one point I began missing home terribly. I wanted to see my parents and everyone else. After Bangladesh became independent, an announcement was made that any artiste leaving Pakistan would need an NOC.
One day in 1974, Robin said, “It’s been three years, and we still haven’t received the NOC. We’ve been asking for one for three years, but we still haven’t got it. I can’t see my parents. I can’t go to my independent country.”
The minister then said, “No one has told me anything about this!”
He called his personal secretary and told him to find the file. When the secretary said he couldn’t locate it, the minister scolded him severely. Eventually, the file was found.
As soon as he opened it, he said, “Look at this. You weren’t being given the NOC because of this letter.”
I saw that it was a letter from the Producers’ Association. They had written that Shabnam should not be given an NOC because they had invested crores of rupees in me.
I was stunned when I saw the letter. All this happened in 1974. We had actually applied for the NOC back in 1971.
I said, “I’ve seen the letter, but will you give me the NOC or not?”
He said, “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Then please give it to me. I want to see my parents. I want to go home.”
And then I came back.
The first time, I went to Bangladesh with the NOC, stayed for a month, and returned. When I went back, everyone in Pakistan was astonished.
For me, commitment has always been a very important thing.
Thank you for giving us so much of your time.
Shabnam: Thank you too. We’ve talked about so many things. I’ve never spoken this much about them before.
End.