I lost my father at the age of five: We were diwans and owned both land and horses; there was never a shortage of money at home. I was born as the eldest son of zamindar Raghunath Dutt in 1931, in the Jhelum district of Pakistan and named Balraj Dutt. My father passed away when I was just 5 years old and it was left to my mother, Kulwanti Devi, to bring up my brother, sister and me.
I learnt a lesson for life: When I was in class III or IV, I read a story with sketches about Alexander the Great who, after he was killed in the Jhelum valley, was shown inside a coffin with his hands outside. The caption said: the hands that once wanted to conquer the world are going back empty-handed. I realised that nothing in life — be it joy or sorrow — is permanent.
We lost everything to Partition: I was 16 when India was partitioned. We lost everything — our land, horses, luxury. Along with my mother and siblings, I fled to Jagadari in Punjab. I was a good student, but supporting the family became my priority. Around then, someone told me about a college in Bombay which offered a concession to refugees and held classes in the morning. I informed my mother and moved to Bombay.Destiny was on my side: I reached a cousin's place in Dadra with Rs 25 in my pocket. A habitual gambler at the race course, he took my life's savings, promising to return Rs 250 by evening. When there was no sign of him till night, his wife told me I should forget about the money. Penniless, I went to Jai Hind College — only to be told that admissions for the session were over. While I was arguing, a man directed an official to grant me admission — he was the principal! Half my college fees were waived and the other half was paid by an unknown benefactor.
I was scared of girls! I did so well that the principal introduced me to my batch as 'the future Prithviraj of the college.' When the history teacher praised my extensive notes in class, a group of girls sought to borrow my notebook. I was embarrassed and wanted the earth to open up and swallow me! The girls took the notebook — and I never saw it again!
Struggle made me a stronger person: Life in Bombay was tough. I lived in a chawl and had just two sets of kurta-pyjamas. I attended college in the morning and then, between 2:30 and 11:30 pm, I worked at a bus depot and earned Rs 100 per month. I shifted to a room at the back of an Iranian restaurant with eight others. At times, it was so hot inside that we slept on the footpath. In the morning
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