Most memories are like dreams — intangible, fuzzy, fleeting and subliminal. However, sometimes, they have an exceptional timelessness that causes them to resurface at the mere hint of reflection. The collective national grief at Dharmendra’s demise impels me to go down memory lane — almost six decades in time. It was a lazy Sunday in the summer holidays of 1969. I sat with a pile of Enid Blytons in the outer courtyard of our old home on Station Road in Lucknow. A strapping ca
​ I was having breakfast in the canteen of the Film Nagar Cultural Centre ( FNCC) with my friend Chandra Shaker Reddy when K S Rama Rao, aka KSR, walked in. All stood up and greeted him​ as he slowly walked across the hall towards our table at the far end. KSR is one of the most respected producer of Telugu films and happens to be the president of FNCC and this is his fourth term. Chandra Shaker introduced him to me. ‘I don’t know Hindi,’ he said. I retorted in the same tone