My mother was born and brought up in Hyderabad. She was a strong and beautiful woman. She resemble Waheeda Rehman. My father also was extremely handsome. I don't think I'm good-looking but they were a very good-looking couple. The met incidentally under strange circumstances. Injured in a car accident, my mother needed blood. My father who happened to be at the hospital at that time gave her blood. In this process of helping my mother to revive, they fell in love.

And though my father was about eleven years older than my mother, her family consented because he had sort of saved the family. In bringing up my sister Shehnaz and me, my parents never made any difference, though I think my sister was closed to my parents because she is six years older to me. I was born at a time when my parents weren't doing well financially. But I don't remember facing any hardship on that account. My father was a chief engineer. My mother was a social worker, a first class magistrate. She had studied in Oxford. She was among the first few Muslim women to have achieved so much. She has been an executive magistrate for the longest tenure recorded. She used to deal with juvenile delinquents. I was not a stubborn kid.

But if I wanted something badly enough I would go out and get it. I was exposed to the Ram Leela, I acted in it as one of the monkey. I wrote short stories.. shairis.. my father made me recite them. I remember once there was this aunt who wore horrendously pink lipstick and I composed a corny poem in praise of her lipstick. I think she was secretly pleased. My parents let me do my own thing, they only wanted me to do well in my studies...which I did. There were no restrictions. I could sleep at any time, go out anytime. If I bashed up some child's teeth, my father saw to it that I dealt with the child's father myself... I realized that parents weren't authority but they were friends. I would imitate Mumtaz, I would mimic people. I'm doing all this even today. And guess what? I'm being paid handsomely for it.

An outgoing kind of person, mom took a lot of initiative in everything. I remember when my father was ill, he had cancer for eight months, we lost everything we had.

One injection used to cost about Rs 5000 and we had to organise about 23 injections in ten days. It was an expensive affair and our business went down. At that time my mother would work day and night. She would get the money some way. She really looked after my father.

After his death in '81 she revived his business and ran it proficiently. I inherited workaholism from her. She never said no to anything. Like when I went to college, I said I wanted a car. And the next day, there was a car outside. She never forced me to do anything. She never even forced me to take over the big business that we had finally when she died.

When I told her I wanted to act, join films she did not stop me. I wanted to do my masters in film making. I was very good. I had got admission in NSD. I didn't want to do it but she told me, "just get admission". So I gave my admission test and got in. I remember I used to be very bad in Hindi. I would get zero on ten. And she used to tell me, "If you get ten on ten, I'll take you for a film". And from that day to date I have topped in Hindi at all times I remember the first film she took me to see was Dev Anand's Joshilaa. Her favourite actors were Bishwajeet and Joy Mukherji.

I think I inherited my sense of humour from my father, who too had a lot of respect for women. I remember once I had gone and blown somebody's letterbox. And this south indian lady came down and complained to my father, "Your son troubles my daughter". He looked at her and said, "If she is as pretty as you are and if I was as young as my son, I'd probably do the same thing". She started laughing. He said it so gently and nicely. He was very respectful to women because he had an older sister and a mother whom he was very close to. He taught me how to be gentle with women.

When my father died, I didn't cry. I thought it was heroic. I was one of the pall-bearers, I thought I had become a little big man. But I felt cheated despite the fact that he had prepared me for his death... And my mother's death made me realize that nothing is permanent. I stopped hoping for anything. I cried a lot. Nothing shocks me anymore.