1944

To add to it Dadasaheb suffered from amnesia. He vividly remembered his childhood, his friends of those days. He would converse with some of his dead friends as if they were alive and sitting in front of him. But, unfortunately, he had lost the memory of the days of his active life. He was unable to talk about those days with any consistency. However, this condition improved substantially by medication. As his son-in-law, Mai's husband, was a medical practitioner and lived in Naskhik, he took maximum care of Dadasaheb.

On day, Dadasaheb's son, Prabhakar, said to him, " Dada, you have produced animated films like Fun with Matchsticks and Laxmi's Carpet. We have a Pathe camera at home. We shall produce cartoon films. I will do the work. You only be with me.

God knows how, but Dadasaheb again showed a spurt of enthusiasm. His mind egged him on: I should produce a movie for which I should choose such a subject as would holdup to view real Indian culture. The Indian audience should be told that this is our culture, not what you see in today;s movies.This means that although Dadasaheb was depressed, he had not retired. In those days of the Second World War, a government license was necessary for producing a movie and producers usually got it on application. Dadasaheb too sent a application to Delhi on 26th January 1944 for a license. There was no reason why any difficulty should have arisen in his getting a licence. He had produced and directed so many movies. He was, after all, the father of Indian Cinema.

Dadasaheb was all eyes, waiting for the license. Hehad planned to proceed with his movie immediately on receiving it. But, 'Oh, No!' Misfortune dealt him the final and fatal blow. On 14th February he received a letter from Delhi saying, 'It is not possible to grant you a license'. This unbearable shock completely enervated him. He was drained of energy. Grief-stricken he said,"Toiling and struggling for twenty-five years, I brought glory to Indian Cinema, neglected my family, contracted illness by the stress of financial worries. I am like a calf, which has lost its way. I have again realised that a penniless man is worth nothing."...

...Only a day later, even before the ink had dried on the government's negative reply, on 16th February, 1944, at the age of 74, the Father of Indian Cinema breathed his last in penury, in great mental agony. A play with dreams was over A life-long struggle came to an end.

from Bapu Watve's Dadasaheb Phalke, published by the National Book Trust