Importance Of Being Hattangadi
Vasant Hattangadi, Virar
What's in a name?"so said Shakespeare—or was it really Shakespeare? Well, it
really doesn't matter who said that. But, whoever it was, I think the fellow didn't know what he was talking about. For, had he been born a Hattangadi, I am sure he would think twice before even making such an atrocious suggestion! To me, of course, my last name is the sweetest sound on earth, so simple and straight — at least, it is not as complicated as, for instance, Schwartzenneger or Moussorgonkowsky or nearer home Virupakshvalli Subramanyam! But, still, I have yet to meet a character who could get my name right at the very first attempt (with the exception of Bhanaps of course). It is always pronounced either as Hottongaadi or Hathgundi or even Hat-thengdy. To some of my American friends I am Mr. Hattington! A particular clerk in the Provident Fund office had once insisted that I am Muttongdi and none else because, according to him, that is how I have always signed my cheques!! Oh, how had I wished then if only I had been born a Burmese, with a short and sweet name like U Nu !!!
It was not until one fine morning in October 1982 that I first realized how important it was to be a Hattangadi. For, that morning I had reached my office a bit later than usual to find a cryptic note on my desk, which said that, the big boss wanted to see me immediately. At once I knew what I was heading for. I really don't know what it was that always seemed to work so efficiently — some telepathy or his 'spy network', but somehow he always seemed to ask for me on the very day that I was late to work, which was not very infrequent. However, to my great surprise and relief, on this occasion I was not greeted with the usual choicest Tamil expletives or 'flying files' but a very very cordial welcome, an offer of a seat and a cup of tea, to boot! As I slowly recovered from the shock, I realized that, that wide-angle grin, if rare, on the boss's face was caused by none other than the headlines in Times of India that morning. A particular Indian actress, one Ms. Rohini Hattangadi had been nominated for the Oscar for her role in the film, "Gandhi" and the boss wanted to know if I was in any way related to her. Like a great, impractical fool that I am, I missed this great opportunity to impress the boss by admitting to no such fortune for, alas, I am not even distantly related to her. I was promptly shown the door with a stern look of annoyance or, perhaps, disappointment!
That was just the beginning of my unprecedented popularity in the office. As I walked back from the boss's cabin to my own that day, I was greeted by so many colleagues and friends all with the same expectant look on their faces and the same question on their lips: "Is this Rohini Hattangadi related to you?" Since then, I must have been asked this very question at least a hundred times by all sorts of people —from colleagues to co-passengers, from constables to custom officers, from artists to scientists. However, being a sort of honest simpleton fellow, not used to stealing false credits, every time I have had to disappoint those poor souls with my stock reply: "No, sorry. We are not related." Once, I had to disappoint thus even a beautiful airhostess!
Very soon after, I was deputed to Australian National University, Canberra for ten weeks of equipment training. When I arrived in Canberra the film "Gandhi" had already been running there in a local theatre and I, naturally, expected the Australians to mob me with what was by now my most pet question, but, alas, to my great surprise and perhaps a little disappointment, no one did. So, I waited and waited, but, not a single Australian seemed to have any interest in knowing if and how I was related to Ms. Rohini Hattangadi. Finally, I accosted an Australian friend of mine and asked him point blank if he had seen the Gandhi film, which he said he had. I asked him if he had noticed the name of the actress who played Mrs. Gandhi and when he replied in the negative, I told him her name. Still, there was no reaction, whatsoever! I was flabbergasted at this singular lack of observation. So, I told him, "You see the lady who plays Mrs.Gandhi is one Rohini Hattangadi and she is not related to me! Okay?" "Okay, okay. I didn't say she was." said the bewildered Australian, putting his hands high up in the air.
It was while returning from the U.S, I think, that I first saw those most shocking and breathtaking headlines in an Indian newspaper, which a lady in the middle aisle in the third row ahead of mine in the plane, had been reading. "Hattangadi Takes U.S. By Storm" screamed the headlines! There must be a limit to which these paparazzi could go in snooping into the private lives of other people, I thought. But how on earth could they know about my escapades in the U.S.! I just had to find out how much they knew. So, I slowly sneaked to the third row, gently snatched the newspaper from the lady who had by now started dosing and returned to my seat to hurriedly go through the entire report. Ah! I should have known!. It was a news report about a show by Rohini Hattangadi which was then touring through U.S. and which had been highly acclaimed by the American audience wherever they went. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Once, when 1 was attending the wedding reception of Padmini, my close friend Narsingrao's daughter, I chanced to meet Dr. Singh, an ex-colleague of mine from B.A.R.C. After we had exchanged greetings and made customary inquiries about the welfare of each other's families, Dr. Singh casually asked me if, by any chance, I was related to Rohini Hattangadi. By now, I had got almost accustomed to this perennial question, but, then, I was also a little tired of my stock answer. So, I wondered what possible harm would befall if, for a change, I did say that, yes, she was indeed married to a distant cousin of mine! After all. a small innocent lie is no great sin, especially, if it brings some pleasure and happiness to others. Little did I realize then what endless trouble I would be letting myself into. For, as soon as I said, "Yes. She is my cousin's wife", Dr. Singh jumped with glee and with a broad grin on his face, he said " Aarre Bhaisaab. Great! Why don't you introduce me to her then?" "Certainly. Someday, I will do that." I said, still oblivious to the danger lying ahead. "Not someday, Bhaisaab. But, today. NOW!." pleaded Dr. Singh. "You see, she is here tonight." "She is HERE!" I almost screamed. "Yes, Look!" he said pointing triumphantly towards the dais, where to my great dismay and consternation, there stood Ms. Rohiniji and Mr. Jaidev Hattangadi, her husband, greeting the bride and the bridegroom!
There was no escape now, I told myself, from the dilemma I had so unwittingly brought upon myself. From that moment onwards, the Sardar stuck to me like a leach! Wherever I went around in the marriage hall, he followed me faithfully pestering me and beseeching me for an introduction to his favorite actress. I tried every single trick in the book to shake off my shadow, but in vain. Even after all the guests had left, Sardarji still hovered around me waiting very patiently for the promised "intro.". In the end, I had no other option but to walk upto Jaidevji and seek his help. I took him aside, introduced myself and in a very subdued tone told him in Konkani of my predicament. "As one good Hattangadi to another, you must help me, Jaidevji" I requested, " and please help me get this Sardar off my back! ". He did help me, but not before he had a very good hearty laugh. He then vanished somewhere instantly, only to reappear a little later with his beaming wife, who burst out on seeing me "Arre Bhaoji, it's been ages since we met! We are both so annoyed with you, you know. You come to Bandra so often but have no time for your good old cousin!" She certainly deserved an Oscar for that bit of acting, I thought to myself. As a reward, I introduced her to my 'long awaiting' friend, Dr.Singh who promptly bored her to death for the next half-hour!
I, on my part, profusely thanked Jaidevji later for his most timely help and promised him to return the favor, someday!
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Published in K.S , LXXXII, No.11, p36(nov. 2001)
