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ShareOm Puri speaks to Kareena N Gianani about boys becoming men, ageing myths and how the slow process of decay unnerves him
There's something very relaxed about Om Puri --right from the simplicity of his home down to his candidness when it comes to discussing his life.
He casually walks across his living room, whose walls are adorned with movie posters and black and white photographs, and seems eager to know what the discussion will be all about.
"Ageing?" he asks, looking interested. He lights a cigarette and looks into the distance.
"You know, I have never quite understood why age is such a touchy subject. Look around you -- at your car, at nature -- doesn't everything depreciate?
Come on, we are all in a process. Why not be rational about it, for a change?" he smiles.
Puri goes on to talk about the four stages of a man's life according to the Vedas -- brahmacharya, grihasta, vanaprastha and sanyasa, pointing out that they make a lot of sense.
"I am keen on having that kind of life, really." And what if his career still beckons at 70? "Oh, in that case, I'll work around it. I'll shuttle between Mumbai and my haven -- wherever I find it," he says matter-of-factly.
Three years ago, Puri was jolted by a sudden spine injury that changed him forever. He shakes his head as he relates the ordeal.
"I think it came too early. I didn't deserve that at 55." But Puri took it in his stride.
"That's what growing up is all about, isn't it? Accepting things and maturing all along. This I can work around. What really unnerves me is the slow process of decay.
Recently, I noticed Dilip saab at a function. He was quiet and found his place in a corner. I have grown up seeing him and he was always so animated and passionate about movies and life.
Today, he cannot exude the same force. This is irreversible and that's what I am scared of -- going downhill," he says, somewhat grimly.
Puri pauses, senses the serious turn the conversation has taken and changes the tone to lighten things up.
"At a set, I was sharing my van with Boman Irani and Paresh Rawal and it bore our names. I noticed my name was 'Om Puriji' while the others were spared the 'thoughtfulness'.
I remember another instance that took place four years ago. A 40-year-old woman addressed me as 'uncle'. I silently winced and called her 'beta' in spite of the non-existent age gap."
Needless to say, Puri didn't make a fan there. He shrugs and adds that generalisations about age abound -- it's up to the person to brood or laugh it off. Take it all in good spirit -- that's this veteran's style.
Puri's frankness extends to topics most seniors would shrug off -- like death. "Tell me, what is so ugly about death? Let me explain.
When I was younger and saw death, I got philosophical about it, but only momentarily, mind you. Today, I know that I am closer to it -- and it's fine by me."
That he is at ease with ageing shows. "I will live my life to the fullest and pass on peacefully. If I cannot fulfill all my dreams, I will still tell myself that I did my best."
He stops for a moment, then, suddenly, coming out of his reverie, he touches on another aspect he feels strongly about.
"Have you ever wondered that ageing is another ball game for women? I mean, menopause is such an abrupt reminder, as are the hormonal changes that follow. It's comparatively easier for men."
Puri's wife enters and the conversation takes an interesting turn. With a smile, Puri talks about how men view women and relationships differently as they mature.
"When I was younger, beauty was enough to make me fall head-over-heels in love with a woman." He catches his wife's smirk and blushes a little.
"Now, I seek much more. I actually want to hear a woman out to see what she is all about. Only then can I admire her for her attitude."
As for his marriage, he feels he's never been more in love with his wife as he is now.
"After the initial attraction and sex fizzles out, it is the care and friendship I cherish most with Nandita," says Puri.
Does he have any regrets?
"None, except one small complaint," he says. "I had a late marriage and my son is 10 years old. I wish I was young enough to accompany him to cricket and football matches. I feel a twinge of regret when I see fathers playing with their sons and I can't," he says with a wishful smile.
Puri sure has some famous ageing myths to bust. Getting back to his cheerful mood, he says, "Oh, it's the biggest myth that age brings maturity and wisdom in every person. It so does not. Look at our politicians. Is there anything they will not do to keep their egos intact? Give us a break, I say!"
