For actor Sambhaji Sasane who received widespread appreciation for his film Bol Bol Rani, the bond he shares with his sisters is more than just a sibling relationship—it is the foundation of his life. Raised in a home surrounded by five sisters and five cousin-sisters, Sambhaji says there was never a distinction between a “sister” and a “cousin.” They were simply one big family, growing up together under one roof and holding each other close through every phase of life.
While speaking about the one sibling who could instantly make his day better, Sambhaji fondly remembered his late sister, Meera, whom he lovingly called Meera Tai. Losing her in 2015 remains one of the most difficult moments of his life.
“I was raised by sisters—five of my own and five cousin-sisters, all of us one family under one roof, no line ever drawn between ‘sister’ and ‘cousin.’ In a house like that, you’re never alone, never unwatched, never unloved,” he shared.
Remembering Meera Tai, Sambhaji said, “I lost her in 2015. She was young, a mother of two, when she was declared brain-dead. I was a boy trying to understand an impossible sentence: how can someone who is breathing be called gone? I couldn’t hold it. I couldn’t argue myself out of it. The day she left, the house went completely silent, and I went silent with it. There was nothing left in me to say. I collapsed, and I kept collapsing, day after day, for a long time. Life has never been the same shape since.”
Yet, even today, it is Meera who continues to bring a smile to his face through the memories they created together. “Ask me what made my day better, and it’s still her. Meera Tai took me to the circus. She always had a way of finding tickets to things we couldn’t dream of affording. She sat with me and fixed my handwriting, letter by letter. I danced with her. I sang with her. She had a gift for turning an ordinary afternoon into something you’d remember for thirty years,” he said.
One of his most cherished childhood memories is of visiting the Rambo Circus with all his sisters. For a family that rarely had the opportunity to go out, the outing was nothing short of a celebration.
“The whole lot of us—me and all my sisters—going together. You have to understand what ‘going out’ meant for us. It happened maybe once a year. It wasn’t casual; it was an event, saved for and dreamed about. My sister had got hold of some free passes, and we collected every one we could lay our hands on,” he recalled.
He added, “We didn’t own much, so we owned our memories completely—and I still have every minute of that day.”
Growing up, Sambhaji witnessed immense patience and strength in his sisters. When their parents had to step out to look for work, the children often had to take care of one another, and his sisters naturally took on responsibilities far beyond their age.
“When Mother and Father went out to look for work—and they had to, often—the house was left to children. Just us. And my sisters simply became the parents. One would put the rice on. Another would take me by the hand to buy sambar. Then they’d sit together and count what money was left, and drop the last coins into the gullak for the days ahead,” he shared.
Reflecting on their resilience, the actor said, “Children, running a home, holding each other up, keeping a small boy fed and safe. I’ve played strong men on screen since. I have never seen strength like the strength in that kitchen.”
As the years have passed, the bond between Sambhaji and his sisters has only grown stronger. He says they continue to check on him constantly and celebrate every milestone in his career as if it were their own.
“My sisters call me constantly—just to check if I’ve eaten, if I’ve slept, if I’m alright. When a film of mine releases, it’s not my premiere, it’s theirs. They take their friends, their families, their whole world to the theatre, as if the film belongs to them. And it does,” he said.
“I can tell them anything. There’s no corner of my life I hide from them. They knew me before I was anyone—and that’s why I trust their love completely. They’ll love me exactly the same if I’m no one again.”
Among the many memories that remain close to his heart is a birthday surprise his sisters planned when he was around eight years old. Pooling their money together, they rented a bicycle for him for an entire day and then spent hours teaching him how to ride it.
“My sisters pooled their money—coin by coin, whatever they had—and rented me a bicycle for my birthday. It was a full-day rental. I had no idea any of it was coming; they’d planned it in secret, coordinated among themselves and saved for it,” he recalled.
“They spent the whole day teaching me to ride it. Falling, getting up, their hands on the seat, letting go, catching me. They couldn’t gift me a cycle to keep, so they gifted me a whole day on one—and taught me to ride it themselves. I’ve been given things since. I’ve never been given anything better.”
The biggest lesson Sambhaji says his sisters taught him was patience—a quality that was not preached but practised every day while growing up.
“Though they never once used the word as a lesson, they used it as survival. Dheer dhar, aai-baba ghari yetil. Dheer dhar, jevan hoil. Dheer dhar, goshti sudharlya ki baba aaplyala baher gheun jatil. That word held our whole childhood together,” he said.
He added, “You don’t promise a waiting child the thing—you promise them the waiting itself, and you teach them it’s bearable if you do it together. I carry that into every part of my life now, into a career built entirely on waiting. My sisters taught me how, without ever knowing they were teaching.”
This Rakshabandhan, Sambhaji does not have any elaborate plans. For him, simply being with his sisters is more than enough.
“Nothing grand. To be with them, in person. To sit with them, take my time, and give each of them a kiss on the cheek and say the one word I owe them a lifetime of—thank you,” he said emotionally.
“They chose to love me before the world had any reason to. Everything I have started in that house, with them.”
