Some months back, filmmaker Anurag Kashyap had revealed in an interview about Nawazuddin Siddiqui's affair with a former Miss India. The video went viral as not much is known about the Gangs of Wasseypur actor's personal life so far. There is a great deal of interest about the romantic side of Nawazuddin Siddiqui's remarkable journey into Bollywood. The actor in his book, An Ordinary Life: A memoir has spoken extensively about his relationships, the women he loved and how he could be termed as a selfish person who only wanted a woman for his 'needs'. It is quite an expose if you consider how candidly he has spoken about the women. Here are top five revelations from excerpts of the chapter on relationships...
#Nawaz's passionate affair with Miss Lovely co-star Niharika Singh
One day, while we were shooting a dance scene, something happened to my co-star Niharika Singh. When the director said, ‘Cut!’, she quietly rushed to her vanity van and stayed there. Something seemed to have happened to her. She was suddenly cold, went out of her way to maintain a distance from me and began to keep mum. I was puzzled. What was wrong with her? What had happened? She used to be friendly, social and talk quite a bit. I thought it was best to ask her what had happened and so I did, not once, not twice, but several times, for several days. She responded that nothing had happened. I silenced my curiosity. I simply urged her to talk, be more social, that it was not healthy to be so quiet. After some days she began I invited her over for a home-cooked meal, a mutton dish which was my speciality. She politely agreed and came over. The dish I had made for her turned out to be absolutely terrible. But she was too well mannered to say so. Not only did she eat everything that was on her plate, but she praised it as well. ‘Now you come to my house, Nawaz. I will cook mutton for you,’ she said warmly. For the very first time I went to Niharika’s house. I rang the doorbell, slightly nervous. When she opened the door, revealing a glimpse of the house, I was speechless with amazement. A hundred, or so it seemed, little candles flickered beautifully. She wore soft faux fur, looking devastatingly gorgeous, her beauty illuminated even more in the candlelight. And I, being the lusty village bumpkin that I am, scooped her up in my arms and headed straight for the bedroom. We made passionate love. And just like that, out of the blue, I began a relationship with Niharika Singh, a relationship which I did not know then would last for almost one and a half years.
#His confession of being a selfish b*****d that led to Niharika breaking off with him
Like all girls, Niharika obviously expected some of the sweet conversations that lovers have, to take place between us. But I was quite a selfish bastard. I had a plain aim: go to her house, make out and leave. I could not talk lovey-dovey too much. It finally struck her that I was a rascal who cared only forhimself. (Actually, all the girls I have ever been with have had this same complaint about me. I would only come to them for my own needs. Otherwise, I might not even take their calls.) When I went to her place next, she was wearing a silk robe. I ran my hand over its coolness around her waist, grabbing her but she pushed me away. ‘No, Nawaz!’ she said. ‘I won’t meet you again. This is enough.’ I pleaded, I cried, I apologized. I said I wouldn’t repeat my mistakes again. I would be more thoughtful, a better lover. But she remained adamant. She had had enough. She had been hurt too many times. So that was that, we broke up cutting off all contact.
#Nawaz had a one night stand with a waitress in New York City
Strangely, the West was kinder to me first, both in terms of love and work. I gained recognition there through my films which travelled to most festivals. I was at a cafe once with my friend in New York City’s Soho area. The stunning waitress kept staring at me. ‘Boss, you’re all set!’ My friend chuckled. I was not used to such attention, especially from the female kind. ‘You? You are an actor?’ she asked a rhetorical
question. ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘Which film of mine did you see? Gangs of Wasseypur?’ She squinted, trying to remember, ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘Another film!’ After a few moments, she responded: ‘Lunchbox!’ We got talking and let’s just say what happens in New York stays in New York, at least in my case. As you can probably guess from the titles of
the films, this is a memory that happened way down the line when I had tasted the sweet nectar of success.
#How he once thought of marrying a Jewish girl called Suzanne
Before ( that came Suzanne: a lovely, dear Jewish girl from New Jersey, who lived in New York City. We met there and hit it off. She came to Mumbai and began to live with me. By then, Shamas and I had moved to Yari Road. Every few months, she kept extending her visa. It was a very sweet relationship. She was so lovely that the idea
of marriage had begun to cross my mind, first in fleeting thoughts, and then slowly they turned into a decision. At the very last minute when I was about to propose, as if reading my mind, Suzanne said, ‘In my country it is divorce season right now.’ It was winter, famous for festivals and infamous for breakups in the West. Her brother had
just gotten a divorce. Perhaps that was why she was afraid of marriage. ‘Let’s wait and watch what we want to do. Let’s see if we want to live together or not after a year,’ she said quietly. I was bewildered. Without telling her, I dropped the idea of marriage altogether. The shooting of Miss Lovely commenced. Suzanne used to accompany me there. Then came the day when her visa expired and she needed to return to New York to sort it out. She was gone for many months.
#The pain of his first love, Sunita suddenly leaving him
I was performing in a play in Mumbai which was when I finally had my first romantic relationship. Incidentally, she too happened to be an NSD graduate, though we had never met there. It was very sweet, like rain is after a very long spell of drought. Sunita had fallen madly in love with me. Every day, she would come over, hang out at
my house in Mira Road and scrawl our names in tiny font all over the wall. You remember those old-fashioned hearts with the names of lovers in it, sometimes with an arrow across it, sometimes without? Her doodles were something like that. It seemed to my roommates that every day she covered one wall with her art of love. We saw each other for about a year and a half. She was a Pahari girl. Then she went off on a holiday to her home town in the hills to see her folks. When she returned, Sunita would not take any of my calls. And when she did at last, I was flabbergasted. After such a deep,
passionate love, she simply said, ‘Nawaz, you focus on your career. And I will focus on my career.’ She cut off all contact after that and I plunged into another deep, deep depression. I took a bucket of fresh white paint and began to replace her artwork on my walls with the blank canvas that they were before. With every brushstroke, I tried to erase her off my heart as well. But, of course, the brush refused to do
double duty and erased only the marks on the walls, not the scars on
my heart. Living in Mira Road meant that the local train was our lifeline. We
were at the station almost all the time. Soon after her call, one day I was at the station and stood there staring at the tracks. A train was coming, screaming its arrival with a lusty horn. It would be simple and instant.Should I jump on to the tracks and end it all? End this struggle, end this life? I had nothing. No love, no work, no money. But some being woke up in me and gave me a metaphorical slap. ‘You know this is not
your department,’ the voice in my head said. ‘Then why? Why did you
go that way? Why!’ it screamed at me. The train sped away, screaming pompously, cutting through the air. Simultaneously, I cut off my emotions like doctors sever an
umbilical cord. I decided that I would never again be emotional in any relationship. And I kept my word. Never again did I allow myself to be vulnerable like that again, not even with my wife. Today, Sunita tells everybody that she was once together with me in a very serious relationship. Incredible, isn’t it? Life is beautiful, just
#How Niharika Singh caught him two timing with Suzanne
Stay tuned to BollywoodLife for the latest scoops and updates from Bollywood, Hollywood, South, TV and Web-Series.
Click to join us on Facebook, Twitter, Youtube and Instagram. Also follow us on Facebook Messenger for latest updates.
Anyway, coming back to the story, in the meantime, emails from Suzanne started coming. ‘Why are you not mailing me, Nawaz? What’s wrong?’ I did not respond, I did not have the courage to. I trusted my silence would convey what needed to be conveyed. When I was checking my inbox one day, Niharika happened to see one of
her emails. ‘Who is this?’ she inquired. ‘You know very well who it is,’ I said. ‘It’s Suzanne.’ ‘Wo-ow! It’s still going on between you two! Amazing!’Niharika
thundered in anger. ‘It is wrong. I hope you know that.’ ‘No, Niharika, nothing is going on between us. Sometimes her emails come, that’s all. Slowly she will realize that Nawaz is not interested and she will stop emailing,’ I explained softly.
‘No, Nawaz! You must maintain clarity,’ she said. ‘All right! I will email her clearly then,’ I said. ‘No, you won’t. So I will email her,’ she said sternly. From that day, Niharika began to send emails to Suzanne from my email address. She would type, ‘I cannot continue with you . . .’ and sign off as me. Imagine the shock for Suzanne. She would send heartbreaking replies like: ‘What happened, Nawaz? Please tell me,Nawaz! . . . I am crying, Nawaz! Tell me, please.’ It was absolutely awful. I simply could not endure it! It was as if she was screaming, crying out aloud helplessly in unbearable pain. It was apparent that the emails had some sort of a multiple personality disorder. After a few of these email exchanges, Suzanne figured that this was not my voice at all. ‘Who is this writing, Nawaz? I know this is not you. Somebody else is with you,’ she wrote back. Imagine her plight—helplessly trying to solve a mystery from another
continent and her only clues were those few emails. ‘Somebody else is
making you write these emails. Tell me who is this person?’ she wrote.
‘Who is she? Who is this bitch?’ ‘Bitch!’ That word infuriated Niharika so much that she made me end all correspondence with Suzanne forever, then and there.
I was very sad. Then I thought, so be it, it’s all right, I am with Niharika. My melancholy evaporated quickly.