Lahore is not just a city; it is a history, an era, and a culture. As one walks through its winding streets, glimpses of the past come to life. Remarkable people once emerged from the soil of Lahore and went on to shine like stars in many fields. Among them was the well-known subcontinental actor Prem Chopra, who was born in a house on Krishna Gali No. 5 in the old district of Gawalmandi, Lahore, and who continued to captivate Bollywood for six decades. It is said that Prem Chopra gave a new meaning to the role of the villain. His dialogues became legendary, still remembered long after many years.
Visiting old places and searching for shades of beauty in the fading light of history has always been my passion. That day, too, the lanes of Lahore beckoned me. It was a Sunday; on Sundays, the traffic on Lahore’s streets is relatively thin. My friend Ahmad Raza Punjabi and I were on our way to Gawalmandi’s densely populated quarter to find the ancestral house of Prem Chopra. We only knew the general area, but Ahmad Raza, as always, was confident that we would find it. It was no easy task. We wandered through several lanes, asking people along the way, but none could recall where Prem Chopra’s house once stood.
After quite some time wandering in Gawalmandi, we stopped at a corner. Suddenly, I noticed a school signboard ahead. Since it was Sunday, the school was closed. On the road nearby, we spotted two young men. Why not ask them? When we did, one of them replied, “That’s the lane right across there, where Prem Chopra’s house is.” Then, smiling, he added, “Come, I’ll take you there myself.”
On the way, he introduced himself as Saad Ali, a resident of the same lane where Prem Chopra’s house stood. We followed him, and soon we were standing before the two-storey house where the legendary actor of the subcontinent had opened his eyes to the world. The doors were of solid wood, beautifully carved, their grace untouched by the passage of time. I wondered how many times little Prem must have stepped across that threshold, how often he must have walked through this narrow street open on both sides. His father’s name was Ranbir Lal Chopra, and his mother’s was Roop Rani Chopra. Ranbir Lal worked in a law office. They had five children. Roop Rani longed for a daughter, and after many prayers, a girl was born. They named her Angelina, lovingly called Anju.
Though he had a job, Prem Chopra’s heart remained devoted to acting, dreaming on long train rides of the day a studio door would finally open for him
It was the beginning of the 1940s. The movement against British rule in India was gathering momentum. The Second World War was drawing to a close. Lahore was the centre of literary, cultural, intellectual, and political activity. Then came the historic announcement: the British would leave India, which would be divided into two countries. Muslim-majority areas would form Pakistan. The formal partition was to take place in August 1947, but long before that, riots had begun, growing fiercer by the day. The flames of violence soon reached Lahore. It was then that Ranbir Lal, Prem’s father, made the hardest decision of his life to leave Lahore before the riots intensified and travel became impossible. With his wife and six children, he bid a final farewell to their home in Krishna Gali No. 5 and left for Shimla, taking only a few belongings along.
Shimla, like Murree, was a hill station that served as the summer capital of the British. Hence, it had all the amenities of English life, the Mall Road, hotels, and theatres. Ranbir Lal admitted his children to a local school, and Prem Chopra enrolled at SD Senior Secondary School. Later, he pursued higher studies at Panjab University (India).
Ranbir Lal had great faith in his son’s abilities. He wanted Prem to become a doctor or join the Indian Civil Service. Prem did gain admission to medical school, but his heart was captivated by the Dramatic Club. He had a passion for theatre that bordered on obsession. He vividly remembered playing Shylock in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice during his college days. That day, when he won first prize in the intercollegiate drama competition, it became unforgettable for him. But medical studies demanded time and total devotion. Within six months, Prem realised his destiny was not to heal bodies but to act. When he told his father, the latter was disappointed but advised him, “If acting is your choice, then first complete your graduation.” Prem agreed.
Now his connection with the theatre grew stronger. In those days, important people stayed at the Clarkes Hotel in Shimla. One day, Prem learnt that two famous film actors were staying there. With some friends, he stood outside the hotel for hours, hoping for a glimpse of them. After graduating, he longed to go to Bombay, the city that held the open skies of his dreams. His father made it clear: he could go, but at his own expense. With the help of a few friends, he reached Bombay and began visiting studios. Tall, fair, and good-looking, he was confident he would soon find a role.
But every studio gave him the same response: “Leave your photograph, we’ll contact you when there’s work.” No contact ever came. Life in Bombay without money was tough; he took up small jobs to survive. Then fortune smiled, and he got a job at The Times of India in the Circulation Department. It required twenty days of travel a month to Bihar, Orissa, Bengal, meeting agents and managing circulation. Though he had a job, Prem Chopra’s heart remained devoted to acting, dreaming on long train rides of the day a studio door would finally open for him.
(To be continued)