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Thursday, July 19, 2012

Rajesh Khanna:End of an era: Rajesh Khanna 1942-2012 for fans, the only and forever superstar



It was in the second half of the 1960s that I first saw Rajesh Khanna. He was dating Anju Mahendroo, who lived on the ground floor of Laxmi Niwas, one lane away from where I lived.
His car would be parked outside Anju's home all night long.


In the mornings, I would bump into Anju's Catholic maid servant who would be sent to the market by Anju's mother, Shanti Mahendroo, to buy eggs because "Kakaji wanted eggs for breakfast". Like me, another girl exactly my age, also followed Kaka's life quite closely. Her name was Tina Munim. She went to the Gujarati medium school right next to Anju's house. Like most teenagers, Tina too was fascinated by the country's phenomenon.

Years later, in the first half of the 80s, I was officially introduced to Rajesh Khanna. This time, he was Tina's co-star and I would hang around her home, which was also in my neighbourhood.
I remember that long before Tina and he were spoken about as a couple, he had brought his wifeDimple Kapadia to Tina's house for dinner. And all of us had stared in awe at Mrs Rajesh Khanna.

Sometime in 1983, I got an opportunity to interact with Khanna in my role as a reporter for Star & Style magazine. I was asked to do a cover story on him because two of his movies, Mohan Kumar's Avatar and Saawan Kumar Tak's Souten, had made a mark at the box office. This period was seen as his second coming. My first interview with Kaka took 20 odd days. He was shooting at Filmistan Studios for Sohanlal Kanwar's Paap Ki Duniya with Shatrughan Sinha. And it was the first time that I got a taste of, what I later learnt was "the Rajesh Khannatreatment". I went to the studio for 20 odd days continuously. Each day, I watched the ice melt (there was a huge ice cut-out on set) and made conversation with Shatrughan Sinha, who indulged me because he thought I was a starlet waiting for a Bollywood break.

Kakaji would come to the studio in the afternoon, see me waiting, ask his makeup man Rajaram to offer me chai, and then disappear into his van. In the evenings, I would be given a ride back to Khar in the superstar's car. But the interview didn't happen. Just when I was losing it, he summoned me to Aashirwad.

My ordeal of not getting the interview continued for another few days. Like me, countless producers would be seated in the office outside his bungalow, waiting for an audience with the man.

Prashant, Kaka's manager, would offer us chai and commiserations because his saab had no time for us. One day, my patience gave way and I broke into tears. Prashant promptly brought his master from the bungalow to attend to a bawling scribe. Teary-eyed, I recall vividly how Kaka came into his office in a striped silk lungi and kurta, followed by Tina. Both of them saw me sobbing, laughed and asked what the matter was.

Both of them saw me sobbing, laughed and asked, 'what the matter was.' After I had finished my outburst, Rajesh did my cover story in precisely 15 minutes. He announced in my story — "I'm back on the top.'' Yes, he did give Amitabh Bachchan, a few sleepless nights in that phase. From then on Kaka and I shared a very healthy relationship and respect for one another. We met often as scribe and superstar; and sometimes as friends. He drank Bacardi then; and used to often rib me saying, "Meena, you bring the coke, I'll bring the Bacardi. That way we will be equals."

I was with him when he announced Jai Jai Shiv Shankar, a movie with Dimple long after they had separated. I spent two whole days with him in Trinidad in 2006 where he and Zeenat Amanreceived Lifetime Achievement Awards at some local do. In fact Kaka and I sat next to each other in the Business Class from Trinidad to London and spent a good six hours going down memory lane. In his head, he was still a superstar. He believed he was King. I didn't correct him.
Instead I sat next do him observing how his neat his hands were. His nails were manicured perfectly and he seemed to enjoy his breakfast. His hand luggage was a small plastic sack with a carton of Dunhill cigarettes and his hair brush. And though his hair was thinning, he would run a brush through his hair very often.

Back in India, around the same time, he had run into some tax problems and was staying at his office on Linking Road above the Titan showroom because Aashirwad was attached by the tax authorities. I spoke to him several times on the phone. When he got very lonely in the evenings he would request his driver to take him to McDonalds on Linking Road for a chicken burger and a glass of strawberry milkshake.

Probably, the first signs of his illness were already there. Who knows? All I know is that Kakaji's biggest fear those days was that he would be alone when he passed away. Something he didn't want. Fortunately for him, his elder daughter Twinkle, who shares his birthday (29 December) and his son-in-law Akshay Kumar reached out to him. His estranged wife Dimple was also there for him these last two years, playing Florence Nightingale. And caring for a man who she married in 1973, separated from in the early 80s; but never divorced.

Kaka, the style icon of the seventies
All the hype and hysteria surrounding Rajesh Khanna in the 60s and 70s was also in part thanks to his iconic looks and mannerisms. After all, who can forget that trademark tilt of head, that mischievous wink? He melted a thousand female hearts with just one gesture. If Kaka madewomen go weak in their knees, he made men imitate his distinct style. Be it the Gurkha topifrom Aradhana (1969) or the round-collared short guru kurtas, mufflers or belts on shirts, Khanna was a fashion icon in his own sense. His fashion experiments and hairstyle were aped by the masses across in India. Be it his gait, dancing style or distinct sartorial leanings, they will forever be associated with India's first superstar.

His famous dialogues...
Kab, kaun, kaise uthega ye koi nahin bata sakta hai (Anand)
Babumoshai, zindagi aur maut uparwale ke haath hai. Usse na aap badal sakte hain, na main (Anand)
Yeh bhi toh nahin keh sakta, ki meri umar tujhe lag jaye! (Anand)
Main marne se pehle marna nahin chahta (Safar)
Yeh toh main hi jaanta hoon ki zindagi ke aakhri mod par kitna andhera hai (Safar)
Kisi badi khushi ke intezaar mein ... hum yeh chote chote khushiyon ke mauke kho dete hain (Bawarchi)
Yeh lo, phir tumhari aankho main paani! Maine tumse kitni baar kahan hai ki, Pushpa mujhse ye aansu dekhe nahi jaate. I hate tears. (Amar Prem)
Iss ek glass main ek majdoor ki ek mahine ki roti hai aur parivaar ki saans. Kabhi socha hai ki iss ek glass ko pite hi hum ek parivaar ko bhooka maar dete hai (Namak Haram)

 Once upon a time, there was a Rajesh Khanna. Men aped him. Women worshipped him. And girls married his photographs, smudged his car with lipsticks and waited late night outside hotels hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Once when he had fever, a group of college students spent hours taking turns to put ice water on his forehead in a photograph.






In the history of Hindi cinema, nobody has induced fan hysteria like Rajesh Khanna. And nobody has captured the nation's collective mindspace like the actor, who passed away at Ashirwad, his iconic Mumbai residence, on Wednesday. He was 69. The cause of his death has not been officially announced. But doctors treating him at Lilavati hospital hinted at cancer.


YouTube - Rajesh Khanna
http://www.youtube.com/actor/2uRUGxsk7hs/rajesh-khanna






Once he rode into a nation's heart serenading Sharmila Tagore with Mere sapnon ki raani in Aradhana (1969) and followed it up with another blockbuster Do Raaste a few weeks later,Rajesh Khanna rewrote box-office history. Between the years 1969 and 1972 almost everything he touched turned to gold — 15 consecutive hits of various degrees. No wonder producers chanted: Upar aaka, neeche Kaka (God above and Kaka, Khanna's pet name, below).



Nobody really knows how an actor of average build, middling height and a face often sprayed with pimples hypnotized India. May be, he was the last gasp of innocence when India was getting angry about unemployment and price rise, a hyphen between the simplicity of the years gone by and the uncertainty of the future. May be, it was just written. Unable to find a phrase that captured the phenomenon, the industry finally coined a new term: the superstar.



He behaved like a superstar too. BBC journalist Jack Pizzey described him as someone with the charisma of Rudolph Valentino and the arrogance of Napoleon. The star had missed his interview appointment five times.



The Amritsar-born actor was too big and too swept away by fame to care. Who wouldn't when even street fashion was defined by your personality? The belt slapped over shirt, the round-collared guru kurta, a smart ploy to hide a growing waistline, all became a rage. And even in those no-sat-TV days, his smile sold toothpaste (Macleans).



He was the king of romance; most at home shaking his head and crooning love nothings. Songs were the spine of his movies; he revived Kishore Kumar's singing career in Aradhana. But the actor brought no revolution to the art of celluloid love; he just gently blended the playfulness ofDev Anand with a fraction of Dilip Kumar's intensity; to this he added his own charm and style.

Critics loved him too for doing off-beat movies such as Ittefaq and Aavishkar. But the actor knew how to wet a handkerchief too. Few actors have milked tear ducts better than him and fewer have profited more from a broken heart. It is easy to empathize with the smiling cancerpatient in Anand or the large-hearted bhadrolok in Amar Prem. There is a style with which he says: "Pushpa, I hate tears." Rajesh's acting was defined by style. But in his later years, the style degenerated into a bundle of mannerisms. Like Dev Anand, Rajesh Khanna too became his own parody.



Once the action films' angry young man came with Amitabh Bachchan, Rajesh Khanna's romantic movies (typified by Shakti Samanta films) went out of fashion. A sudden marriage toDimple Kapadia, almost half his age, got him back in focus. But his attitude issues as an actor — coming late for shooting on sets, ego clashes with other stars — ensured that he lost big banners and good directors once the chips were down. After Mehbooba (1975) flopped, his superstar days were over.


But just when critics wrote him off, the actor made a comeback of sorts with Amardeep (1979). Right through the 1980s, he blended the occasional hit (Souten, Maqsad) with the rare blockbuster (Avtaar) and a stream of flops.

Joining the Congress in 1991 was a shrewd career move. The same year he contested the Lok Sabha election against BJP leader L K Advani, then on Cloud 9 following his Ayodhya rath yatra, and gave him the fright of his life. The actor lost by only 1,589 votes from the New Delhi Lok Sabha constituency. A few months later, he comfortably won the byelection beating fellow actor Shatrughan Sinha. But in politics, the actor sparkled like a shooting star only to vanish with the same speed.

The last two decades were disappointing for the ex-superstar. In 1997, he played a father in RK Productions' Aa Ab Laut Chalein. He also acted in forgettable television serials such as Ittefaq. When an ex-superstar ends up rubbing sun cream on the back of the likes of Laila Khan as he did in Wafaa (2008), you know he isn't doing too well. But then as the superstar might have said, Hum to sab rangmanch ki kathputliyan hain... And for his fans, Rajesh Khanna will always be the only and forever superstar.

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