A still from Guide, starring Dev Anand and Waheeda Rehman

London, Dec. 4: First, M.F. Husain. And then, suddenly last night, Dev Anand. Two giants gone in not even six months, and that, too, in London.

MF was 95 when he died in a London hospital but his art lives on. Dev Anand died last night of cardiac arrest in his room at the Washington Hotel in Mayfair. He was 88.

People were talking of his film Guide and remembering such songs as Gaata rahe mera dil, Tere mere sapne, Kya se kya ho gaya, Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna, Piya to se naina and Wahan kaun hai tera. They are often described as the golden thread that ties the Indian diaspora.

Visitors going into the Washington Hotel in Curzon Street last night witnessed a dramatic flurry of activity at 10pm. All hotel staff appeared engaged in coping with an emergency as an ambulance screeched to a halt outside and paramedics raced in.

The cause of the crisis was not known until early this morning.

The Washington Hotel in London where Dev Anand died on Sunday. (AP)

“Devsaab could not be saved,” said a source. “He was taken to hospital but he had died almost immediately from his cardiac arrest. He had been in London for about a week — he had not been keeping well and was here for some medical checks. His son Suniel was with him when he passed away.”

There was a formal announcement. “It is with great sadness that the family of Mr. Dev Anand announces his death. He passed away in his sleep last night from a sudden cardiac arrest. The family requests privacy until further announcements are made.”

It came from: “Suniel Anand (son); Bonnie Sarin (sister); Raj Sarin (uncle); Tony Sarin (nephew); Kenny Muir (family friend).”

It is being assumed that as with MF, Dev Anand’s funeral will also take place in London.

“But only the family can take that call,” the source added. “His wife (Kalpana Karthik) and his daughter (Devina) are arriving tomorrow. They will decide.”

The first time I met Dev Anand was when he came to London to make his 1978 movie, Des Pardes. I suggested a couple of locations, including one on the River Cam in Cambridge. He took a shot of the young Karan Thapar punting on the river. We met again in Parliament Square in London where he wanted to take a shot of the Queen passing in her carriage for the State Opening of parliament.

A couple of years ago, I was in the Oberoi Hotel in Mumbai when there was a huge flap. Someone said Tina Ambani was on her way. She was preceded by 20 of her staff sweeping the corridor for security and clearing the path for her arrival.

I was presented to her. She offered a dainty hand in the manner royals do. Quite a different Tina from the teenager Dev Anand brought with him one evening to dinner at my home in London. It was her break in films. She did not forget the favour. When Dev Anand published his autobiography, Romancing With Life, in London in early 2008, Tina flew over to do the honours.

Over the years, whenever Dev Anand was in the UK, he invariably rang. Sometimes he rang from India just for the sake of ring — “Hi, Dev here...” The longest interview was in 2007 when he was just about to publish Romancing With Life. He had talked of the book for years and was proud he had written it all himself in longhand. We talked for two hours non-stop in one go.

I always called him if I was in Mumbai. He always said the same thing — “Come and see me at Navketan Studios.”

I did on one occasion when he was making his 2003 film, Love at Times Square. He was taking a shot of a man inside a mocked up aircraft cabin. The crew around him seemed thoroughly professional but there was no script — Dev Anand was making it up as he went along. Also present on set was a young actress, Heenee Kaushik, playing a character called Sweety. I think she told me that her “stage” name was not her own but had been given to her for the film.

After our first meeting in London, Dev Anand would always send a Christmas card. Its size always made my wife laugh — they were mega and the postman always had trouble squeezing it through the letter box. He made my wife giggle because he would talk to her as though he was about to take a shot of her.

We spent the best part of a week together in Cannes in 2008 when Guide was picked for “Cannes Classics”. Srichand Hinduja hosted one of his parties with Dev Anand as guest of honour. When Guide was screened at the festival, Dev Anand was in his element. He loved the glamour, the attention and the limelight and made a speech threatening to return with a new film for the main competition in Cannes.

Only two nights ago I said to my wife that Dev Anand was getting a little frail and perhaps we should go round sooner rather than later and pay a courtesy call on him. I rang the Washington Hotel switchboard.

Who did I want? No, they could not put calls through to him. I left a message. I was going to call him again today.

Dev Anand’s sense of optimism was infectious. He lifted the spirit. He was always talking about the next film he was going to do however much his previous enterprise had flopped. The concept of retirement did not exist for him.

There was a comment he made that I especially cherish. It was at the end of a trip to Mumbai.

“Even if you call me just before you are leaving, please make me feel as though I am the first person you have called.”

He breathed and lived cinema and enjoyed talking about his own films. He knew all the big names in Bollywood —many had got their first break from him. There was something about Dev Anand that inspired love.