'Amrishji had a fascination for the colour red and wanted it in every movie costume of his.'

Madhav Agasti has designed outfits for about 400 movies in the past 50 years.
Some of them have become quite iconic, and he writes about them in his memoir, Stitching Stardom For Icons, On And Offscreen.
Among them is the outfit that defined Mogambo, Amrish Puri's legendary character from Mr India.
An excerpt from the book:
The corner alcove of the Bandra shop, where I now sit, was also witness to one of the most monumental meetings of my career.
Amrish Puri was a regular customer and a constant source of encouragement and motivation.
Soon after my shop in Bandra opened, Amrishji met producer Boney Kapoor to talk about an upcoming project -- Mr India.
Filmmaker Shekhar Kapur and Boney Kapoor walked into my shop in 1985.
Baba Azmi, the cameraman, had accompanied them to brief me on their idea of the villain, played by Amrishji in Mr India.
I was specifically told that he should look Western, as well as like an Indian zamindar.
Initially, there was talk of roping in a foreign designer and getting the costume designed in England. However, Azmi, Amrishji, and Javed Akhtar, who wrote the screenplay for the film, showed faith in me.
It was not an easy task, though.
Getting the 'mixed look' right meant I had to do a lot of research -- going through foreign magazines, newspaper clippings, and encyclopaedias on film history.
After hearing the story, I decided to present Amrish Puri in a never-seen-before avatar -- to highlight his menacing side on screen, along with the glee he feels when things go in his favour.
I combined the look of an army general with that of a zamindar and came up with a costume. I wasn't satisfied with it, though, and decided to scrap it.

I had to start from scratch again. It was an ominous task, but I was enjoying the pressure to deliver. It was a happy burden to have.
Amrishji had a fascination for the colour red and wanted it in every movie costume of his.
I kept that in mind, but finally opted for an all-black coat with a golden monogram for him.
I complemented that with a long, frill shirt and big shoes to give him the look of an autocratic, merciless 'foreigner'. The zamindar feel came with the breeches.
There were skulls all over the coat and a general's insignia too, with a dash of the red colour -- to keep Amrishji happy.
And happy he was! Though he had come for measurements and trials at various stages of designing the costume, he had not seen the final work.
I had told Kapur (with whom I had previously worked during his modelling days for Digjam) that I would reveal the outfit only on set.
Puri's first sentence at RK Studios in Chembur when he saw the costume was 'Mogambo... khush hua!' -- the iconic lines he says in Mr India. His approval meant a lot to me.
The others too were delighted when they saw the embroidery on it, and the special rings and stick that I had designed as accessories for him.
It took me seven days to make the costume.
I bought the latest embroidery machine then and made it for Rs 25,000 in my Bandra store.
Once the film became a hit and Mogambo turned into a sensation, I started getting a lot of work.

The industry saw me with new respect, and the compliments kept pouring in. Boney loved the costume so much that he increased my remuneration by Rs 10,000 on the spot!
Funnily, I made a similar Mogambo-type costume for Aamir Khan in Ishq (1997).
Amrishji's entry in the film -- where only his fingers are seen tapping the armrest as his subordinates report to him -- is one of my many favourite scenes because the rings I had designed work perfectly with the action of the fingers going up and down, and with the general design of the set.
The get-up got a special mention in India Today on November 30, 1988, and so did I. It was a magnificent feeling to be written about in the same space as Amrishji.
For a long time after that, every time I designed a new costume for him, his default reaction would be 'Mogambo... khush hua!' and we would share a hearty laugh.
It was a delight to watch his face suddenly metamorphose into the hated villain from Mr India, just to say those three words, and then immediately change into the genial, elder brother who stood by me like a rock.

Working with Amrishji was always a challenge because he got the best of roles, which in turn required the most effective costumes.
For instance, his character Advocate Chaddha in Damini, was an older man in the film, and I suggested he wear padding under his costume for effect.
He agreed and the padding worked well with his performance.
Similarly, in Dil Tujhko Diya, his character was of a rowdy goon, and I designed a costume consisting of jeans and a cowrie jacket.
Only he could pull off both those looks with equal panache!
He also offered his insights on how his characters should appear, which I always endeavoured to incorporate to the best of my abilities.

For Gadar, he expressed a desire for his look to resemble that of Pakistan's General Zia-ul Haq.
I studied the general's appearance meticulously and, in addition to the clothing, added a fur cap.
Both Amrishji and Director Anil Sharma loved the idea, and Sharma decided to include it as part of Amrishji's costume throughout much of the film!
This incident reminded me of my own potential encounter with General Zia.

In 1989, I was designing costumes for the film Clerk, featuring Manoj Kumar, Rajendra Kumar and Prem Chopra.
Mohammad Ali, a Pakistani actor who was also part of the film, recommended me to General Zia for a suit.
I delivered what he needed, and Ali was impressed. He invited me to accompany him to Pakistan to tailor a sherwani for General Zia.
I politely declined, stating that I would not travel to Pakistan, but that I would be delighted to measure and create something for him should he ever visit India.
To my surprise, this incident was reported in the media. I was nervous about whether there would be any reactions to my refusal.
Excerpted from Stitching Stardom For Icons, On And Offscreen, by Madhav Agasti, with the kind permission of the publishers, Penguin India.







