Aunty Pam: The collector of people

The first time I interacted with Mrs Parmeshwar Godrej (because in those days that is what she was to me) was at an India Today Conclave. She stood out like a star amongst all the suits and kurta pyjamas wearing her long, deep necked bandage dress.

I couldn't keep my eyes off her. The way she shined without giving a damn about propriety and yet commanding the respect of all the international business heads and the politicians was awe inspiring, nay, it was more than that - I wanted to be her.

May be because I was staring at her so openly, she called me over and whispered conspiratorially, "Let's make this fun". I was in before she uttered another syllable and that marked the beginning of an unlikely friendship with someone I loved very much and was never ever bored around.

Aunty Pam (as she quickly became for me) always had a plan - for business, charity and of course for pleasure. That first night at the India Today Conclave she recruited me as her as most willing henchwoman and we gathered all the suited CEOs, including my parents (who by this time were done making eyes at me), and bullied them into cars to go clubbing in Delhi.

I was sitting next to the lady herself and we were sandwiched between Nandan Nilekani and Anand Mahindra in a spruced up TATA Sumo with some Rothschild or other in the front. We ended up in a club in Mehrauli near where Indochine used to be called Lure.

She was the life of the party without ever being loud or ungraceful, in fact without ever leaving her spot on the sofa. Everyone hung around her like hoverflies.

The motley crew of the top tier of business that she had managed to lure into Lure looked like they were having the time of their lives. We danced, drank, giggled and conspired till the wee hours. With Aunty Pam by my side even my parents couldn't tame me.

Aunty Pam was always the funniest person in the room. She had energy and enthusiasm of a 16-year-old and not once did I feel she had been there, done that and seen it all and of course she had.

As accomplished and known a person as she was, she could be humble enough to be a nobody when required especially when she was on a mission and more often than not she was.

One night around 11pm I got a call from her; this is when I was living in Mumbai. I had to ask her to repeat herself several times before I understood. If you've had the privilege of speaking to Aunty Pam on the phone you know it was hard to follow because not only does she speak softly, but she's always in mid thought, mid plan and needs you to catch up fast.

She said, "Darling, where are you? I'm coming to get you. We are going to Salman's house." I readily agreed, I would happily go with her to Timbuktu. Twenty minutes later I was in a car with her and Akshay Kumar driving to Salman Khan's house.

She didn't know him well but wanted him to support her AIDS campaign. Apparently, eating midnight biryani at Salman's house was a way in. Why I was included in this plan, I didn't think to ask, I was just glad I was. It was around 3am, there was Salman, his girlfriend at the time, one loyal buddy, Aunty Pam and I, and she was working her magic.

Several whiskys were drunk, plates of biryani were eaten (her first solid meal of the day) and he was committing to doing anything she needed for her campaign. The night was an alcoholic haze (I was a single actor with no morning call) but I remember thinking that's how it's done.

Aunty Pam collected people. And people loved to be collected by her. She had an incredibly astute eye for anyone on the verge of exploding into the stratosphere.

Be it from films, sports, business, arts… she always knew who was on the brink of making it and she would bring them in. No one ever left because she would make them feel so special and always go that extra mile to let them know they mattered. Like the time she sent two magnum bottles of Dom Pérignon right to me on the red carpet for a premier of my film she couldn't attend.

Age was just a number to her. Gender and nationality were equally irrelevant. No one was just her friend; everyone was her dearest, closest friend because they really were. They would do things for her that they didn't do for anyone.

I was trying to get an interview for ages with Imran Khan back when he was on the cusp of really being the future of Pakistan. I had pulled every trick out of my bag and had gotten nowhere till I happened to mention this to Aunty Pam.

She waved her wand and boom he was sitting on my red couch in her incredibly beautiful seaside home in Walkeshwar answering whatever I asked him. She did this and more for anyone she cared about without expecting anything in return.

I moved out of Mumbai and many years passed without meeting her but when we did it was as if no time had passed at all. Perhaps because she nurtured so many friendships around the world, she had mastered the ability to pick up from exactly where she left off.

I bumped into her one glorious windy night on the terrace of AER at the Four Seasons in Mumbai. I invited her to a small, last minute, after-party at a friend's house in Bandra. I thought she would make excuses but I had forgotten who she was.

She readily accepted and began gathering the posse she was nurturing who followed her as though she was the piped piper.

In the elevator she tells me, "Darling, Bandra is quite far. Let's stop at the club floor and see what we can get." So we do just that and it's all dark due to be being closed. She walks around; stumbling in the dark, pressing and fiddling with random buttons till some lights come on.

She asks her group what we want to drink then helps herself to a few bottles and a couple of glasses. A distraught hotel staff and upon seeing who she is, bows to Mrs Godrej, while she tells him to just put it on her account.

This is what I loved about her. She could be a mischievous little girl and then turn into Mrs Godrej without changing a thing about herself.

When her body deceived her and got ill, she left no stone unturned to find a sustainable cure. She researched, tracked down and funded studies with doctors and scientists around the world to help her figure it out. She changed her lifestyle because she was not one to be defeated.

The last time I met her (much too long ago) at Ayesha and Nikesh's wedding, she looked younger than ever and was so full of zest and stories that I didn't want to leave her side in spite of repeatedly being called to the dance floor.

I wish I never had. I miss you Aunty Pam. I will always think of you as the brightest star I want to be.

Also read - Parmeshwar Godrej dies at 71: 5 things to know about her