Rishi Kapoor breathed his last today after a prolonged battle with cancer. At the age of 67, the legendary actor and bonafide Bollywood superstar has been compelled to stop regaling us with his brilliant performances. No longer will there be another classic Rishi Kapoor movie playing on the big screen (at least a new one), where he knocks our socks off with yet another mesmerizing act. But, when it comes to such cinematic, the best things a movie-buff can do is celebrate their life through their works, difficult as that may be, rather than mope about their loss.
That's precisely what this diehard fan had done, when, on one rainy afternoon, in a dimly lit meeting room of a posh 5-star hotel in Mumbai, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet the veteran actor for an interview. As I was processing how to remain professional, restrain the diehard fan and allow only the journalist to surface, Rishiji walked in, sauntering gait et al, a shadow of his former onscreen-romantic-icon image. However, as the interview progressed, the superstar, the chocolate boy, the ladies man and musical hero of your slowly came to the forefront, all this time hidden merely beneath the wears and tears of a age and deteriorating health.
Our meeting was for a film called Patel Ki Punjabi Shaadi, an ill-received piece of cinema that had Pares hRawal as his costar. And as we both knew that the film was ill-fated, the conversation quickly veered toward the topics we both both wanted to discuss: His career, costars, films and what all happened behind the scenes. Now, Rishi Kapoor had a mixed reputation for being brash and hostile toward the media, especially during the second innings of his storied career, which included some of his finest work as an actor. Turned out, that reputation was pretty ill-conceived and probably reserved for journos asking frivolous questions, looking for controversial statement or not doing their homework.
As the conversation moved forward, and I ticked off my customary 2-3 questions about the film for the PR's hapiness, I began touching upon the things I wanted to pick his brain on — more so as a diehard fan disguised as a professional journalist, since these stories don't always work with modern-day readers and I had already got my headline to satisfy the powers that be at the portal I worked for back then. And boy, did the legend not leave me disappointed, offering up a buffet when I'd have been happy even with a warm plate of daal-chaaval.
From speaking about how Director Manmohan Desai (another legend) had told his father (a legend in himself, Raj Kapoor) to not cast Rishi for Bobby as he was too short, too baby-faced and didn't have the base voice of a hero to him almost refusing the same MKD's Amar Akbar Anthony as the filmmaker's first narration over the phone felt like he he was making a spook of the Arabic Nights meeting Roman history...
From explaining how his initial friction with Amitabh Bachchan (his costar of several of Indian cinema's biggest masala blockbusters) — partly due to him initially believing that the latter didn't speak enough about his co-actors when crediting his success as the action icon of that era and partly due to the Big B being left jaded for some time after Rishi had paid Rs. 30,000 to purchase his best Actor Filmfare Award for Bobby when Bachchan was the hot contender that year for Zanjeer — turned to admiration upon seeing the insane love of the masses for the biggest superstar of his time and gradually evolved to mutual love and respect between the two to diving deep into how he soured and mended relationship with his two best friends in the industry, Jeetendra and Rishi Kapoor, due to his brutally honest and, at times, stubborn nature...
And from opening up on how filmmakers found it difficult to cast him with the leading ladies of the time as he looked younger than them all — which is why he was responsible for launching as many as nineteen new heroines — to how he was finally recognized for his acting abilities in his second phase as a character actor, after years of his skills being overshadowed due to his superstar image in mainstream cinema — Rishi Kapoor showed to me that he was willing to open up to a complete stranger, leave alone a journalist, provided the person seated across him offered to respect his work, did not insult his intelligence and showed genuine interest in his cinematic journey rather than extracting controversial statements.
After our absorbing, immersive, beautiful conversation, I sheepishly stood up and requested a picture with him for posterity — it's not always that we get to meet yesteryear actors even as media scribes or editors — and he agreed without hesitation — another ill-conceived myth busted. Quickly I rummaged through my bag and Rishiji got curious what I was searching for as my phone was right there, having recorded our entire conversation. I almost tore my bag apart to retrieve what I wanted to show him as misconception or not, I did not want to test his temper, but it was worth the gleam in Chintooji's eyes to see my DVD collection of his movies and, moreover, his biography, Khullam Khulla, which I had read cover-to-cover, twice.
Seeing that the journalist had switched over to the diehard fan lurking beneath, he graciously signed them all, clicked a beautiful picture and bd me goodbye with memories that would last me for a lifetime — memories that I'll now reflect on for days on end as I mourn the loss of one of favourite actors and best celebrity encounters. Thank you for all the wonderful memories, Rishi Kapoor sir, both as a fan and a media professional. You'll live on forever through your work in our hearts and that of those who follow us for generations.
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