“The sun shines bright
From a London sky
Anyone who knows
British weather
Will wonder why
Is it global warming
Or an Act of God
Anyhow in April
It’s decidedly and
persistently odd.”
From The Window’s Tale by Bachchoo
Anil Dharker wrote, in this very paper about being invited to meet the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Prince William and Kate, at an event in Mumbai. He was impressed by the royals’ ability to make small talk with every person to whom they were introduced, working the room with trivia. I know what he means. I once met Prince Charles on his visit to Mumbai some years ago. The British high commission thought it would be a good idea for him to be seen inaugurating the “shoot” of a film I’d written, variously called The Rising and Mangal Pandey.
The cast and crew of the film were present and the Prince was led to the stage with Aamir Khan and was filmed operating the first clapper-board! It was a sporting publicity stunt as the film is about the Indian Mutiny (Yes, Ok, First War of Hindupendance — oops! Independence!) against East India Company rule. After the clapper-board business, which was deliriously recorded by the clamouring photographers and camerapersons who were held by security and the police in a roped-off area of the hall, Charles was conducted down a row of the cast and crew of the film. Two equerries walked behind him. As the writer I was somewhere down the line. The chief equerry had passed down the line and instructed us to not venture any questions to Charles but to speak only when we were spoken to. When Charles came face to face with me, the producer Bobby Bedi introduced me by name, said I was the writer of the film and that I was a British citizen.
“Ah, from whereabouts?” Charles asked and I told him.
“So how long did it take you to write the screenplay?”
“Two weeks for the first draft, one year for the second,” I said.
He sort of got the joke.
“And ‘Farrukh’ would be a Muslim?” Charles asked.
“No, I am a Parsi,” I replied.
“Oh a Zoroastrian!” he knitted his brow. “So tell me, why are there so few of you?”
Instead of launching into a socio-historic reason, I said, “Maybe something to do with our sexual inclinations?” whereupon the equerries behind the Prince literally nudged his shoulder and moved him on to the next person in the line — I think it was our composer A.R. Rahman. My second encounter with British royalty was less formal and more consequential. Prince Edward, Charles’ youngest brother, had elected to start a TV production company with offices in London. His company had been commissioned by Channel 4, for which I worked at the time, to produce a situation-comedy series called Annie’s Bar about a pub for MPs, Lords, Ladies and guests within the Houses of Parliament.
After the transmission of several episodes of the series it became apparent to my colleagues and to Prince Edward and his partners that it was failing. It wasn’t getting decent audience figures and the commissioning editor and producers thought the scripts for the remaining episodes, which hadn’t been shot, were unacceptable. I had written sit-coms for TV before and my colleagues approached me saying I would be relieved of my office and commissioning duties for a few days if I would write a few episodes of Annie’s Bar and give it a boost.
It was a duty and a challenge and of course the channel would pay me to write them. The only tall order was that I had to produce the first script in 48 hours and the second in 72. I was driven to Prince Edward’s production office and studios to meet the producers and cast before getting to the computer. The first thing Edward asked me after polite introductions was what, in my opinion, would make the series a hit.
“Well, if you want instant success with your next episode, persuade your sisters-in-law, Princess Diana, and Duchess Fergie to make guest appearances, opening some event in the Houses of Parliament or through some other bit of plausible plot that I can easily invent.” Edward let out a deep breath, shaking his head and grinning. “Very good idea, but it won’t work. Fergie will want to dominate the show and Diana is a loose cannon.”
That put the particular suggestion to rest. I’d have to think of something else. That evening I wrote the week’s edition of this very column and included a version of the above anecdote. I sent it off and got down to scripting Annie’s Bar. It was a day when the rest of my colleagues at Channel 4 had gone away to a country conference centre to discuss the future programme mix of the channel for a few days and nights. I and the commissioning editor responsible for Annie’s Bar were to follow.
As we drove through the gates of the country venue, we noticed several press and TV vans parked on the lawns. It was intriguing. Surely the media weren’t interested in an internal Channel 4 conference? Our own press officer was anxiously waiting in the car park.
“Quick, Farrukh, get in the building. Run!”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“They’re after you. You made some stupid remark about Princess Diana in an Indian newspaper and the tabloid vultures are after a complete report and anything else you can tell them. Of course the boss is furious, so keep your head down and mouth shut.”
I walked into the conference room to loud jeers and mocking applause from my colleagues. It dawned on me that someone at The Asian Age had read the column, realised that it would be of interest to the British press and leaked it.
