There were no further questions asked. He didn’t probe, didn’t want to know the details of what that meant. He trusted me enough to take me for my word and gave me his blessings. That was one of the most momentous decisions of my life. Had Abba said no, I wonder if I would have had the courage to defy him—not because I’m frightened of him but because in the most personal of matters he can be relied upon to make the most objective judgement. There are instances without number when I have turned to him for advice. He never gives an opinion unless it is asked for, which is a far cry from Mummy and me who can’t help but dole it out mostly to unwilling ears!

In the early years of my career I was so immersed in my films that I knew little about what was happening in the world outside and was content within my own bubble. I remember Tariq Ali and Saeed Akhtar Mirza expressing their dismay at my being such an unworthy daughter but Abba put no pressure on me or ever said, ‘You should do this or that.’ I think he was confident that meri mitti itni geeli thhi ke ankur to phootega hi. (My soil was so fertile that the plant would eventually take root.) And so it did.

My childhood was spent travelling with my mother’s Prithvi Theatre on one hand, and on the other, mazdoor kisan meetings in Madanpura with my father. There used to be red banners everywhere, a lot of naare-baazi and a lot of protest poetry. As a child I was only interested in these rallies because the labourers pampered me. Imperceptibly, however, my roots were catching soil. The films I was doing started leaving their imprint on me and I started getting involved with women’s issues, the rights of the homeless and the need for communal harmony. Today when I’m at a demonstration, participating in a padyatra or in a hunger strike, it is merely an extension of what I saw happening around me as a child.

In 1986, a big slum had been demolished at Cuffe Parade in Bombay to make way for a hostel for MLAs. The slum dwellers had knocked on every door to get alternative accommodation which was their due by law but no one was willing to pay any heed to them. I joined Anand Patwardhan and three slum dwellers from Sanjay Gandhi Nagar on an indefinite hunger strike. On the fourth day of the strike my blood pressure started falling and my mother was beside herself with fear. To her dismay, Abba, who was in Patna, sent me a telegram saying, ‘Best of luck, Comrade!’