Rekha honoured at Red Sea International Film Festival during Umrao Jaan showcase: 'Silent love rules'

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia: I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like tonight. The fifth edition of the Red Sea International Film Festival was already buzzing, but then she walked in. Rekha. The legendary, reclusive Bollywood icon who isn't a fan of public interactions. I had a perfect view from the row behind her at the cinema hall showcasing her 1981 classic 'Umrao Jaan', and I can honestly say — every detail mattered.

She wore an ivory-and-gold silk saree that seemed to glow under the lights, her hair in that signature bun with pearl and gold broche, large netted drop earrings framing her face. Her eyes and lips were dramatically lined and her bangles perfectly matched her sari. She looked every bit the cinematic royalty that decades of films have made her, yet she carried herself with a quiet humility. When fans swarmed around her asking for a selfie -- much to the annoyance of her rude and surly bodyguards -- she just smiled demurely. No other star - barring Aishwarya Rai Bachchan - had triggered such fan frenzy at the festival so far, but both actresses' seemed to handle it like a pro.

With Rekha, I noticed there was even a child-like glee in her eyes as she clapped when the Red Sea Festival logo appeared on the screen right before Umrao Jaan was screened.

I could see it clearly: she was genuinely thrilled. Films are her life, she said a few minutes later on stage, and watching her tonight in close quarters made that statement feel tangible. That love, that joy, hasn’t dimmed over time.

And when she was called on stage, she gingerly walked up to claim her glass trophy - almost confused at what to do no next. And as soon as she began speaking, the room erupted in cheers.

“I am not much of a talker. I think even with Umrao, the dialogues said barely half of what my eyes could feel ... My mother used to always say, you don’t talk about your achievements, you don’t talk about your feelings. You don’t teach people by telling them what to do. You just live by example. You live your best life and they can learn it all, especially what not to do.”

That’s Rekha distilled: lived experience, measured insight, quiet authority.

She went on, her voice soft, deliberate: “So that is what I will share with all of you. I learned what not to do. I took that leap of faith and said I am not going to miss this Red Sea International Film Festival. So I am here. Never again will I miss the opportunity to come to the Red Sea International Film Festival again and again and again, Inshallah.” But it was her next few words that had her fans up on their feet.

"Words are not enough for love. Silent love rules - sometime words just don't do justice.”

She also cknowledged the people who had influenced her, including the host who introduced her and her film to the festival goers: “So the same goes for every word that was spoken. There lies a silence that is better. So tonight, I very silently, humbly, with all my respects and love for my loved ones, my fans, my family, my friends, my great, great new friends ... Thank you for everything that you have felt for our films and for films in general!"

And then, finally, the cinematic magic. She recited lines from Umrao Jaan (1981), her 1981 classic that was being screened alongside director Muzaffar Ali. Her frenzied fans were mouthing those lines along with her. Suddenly the auditorium transformed into a rock concert where poetry ruled.

“Deewaar-o-dar ko gaur se pahachaan leejiye [You must come, time and again, to this assembly]; Learn to recognize every inch of the establishment
Dil cheez kyaa hai aap merii jaan leejiye [What thing is a heart anyway? Please take my life]"

Hearing her recite those lines, decades later, in the same way she did in the film, was almost spiritual. Every word, every pause, every inflection carried memory, emotion, and the weight of a career spent mastering craft.

She moved with a quiet joy that was contagious. The clapping, the sparkle in her eyes, the genuine excitement — you could see that films are her life, and always will be.

And in her presence, the festival felt like a celebration of that very idea — of patience, passion, dedication, and grace.

By the end, the applause was overwhelming, but even that couldn’t fully capture her presence.

She had been honoured, yes, but more than that, she had shared herself with us — her philosophy, her joy, her power. Watching her tonight was a reminder of why she remains timeless. Not just because of glamour or fame, but because of the quiet, deliberate, enduring force of a woman in love with her art.

And as I write this, from my seat behind her, I know tonight will remain with me. The sparkle in her eyes, the silent glee, the words she chose to share — it is the kind of memory that makes you understand why legends last.