The "Avtaar" of Rajesh Khanna

Raju Korti

Long before the 35-inch screen grappled to cope with his larger-than-life image and Jatin Khanna had shed his superficial skin to become Rajesh Khanna, I believed I knew the man well. But he never appealed to my limited aesthetic senses like he did to countless others as the quintessential romantic. Little did I imagine that there was much more to this man, who I recall in my college days, generated the kind of mass hysteria hitherto unseen in the annals of Indian cinema.
Having heard any number of stories about his airy flamboyance, casual and couldn't-care demeanour and rather intimidating presence, he was the unlikeliest of celebrities I would have chosen to bump into -- for professional or unprofessional reasons.
In fact, I took a sadistic delight in snubbing my friends who were his unabashed fans and worshipped him for whatever he did in the name of acting. At the height of one such moment -- when Khanna married the startlingly beautiful Dimple, who was almost half his age then -- I had wisecracked with an impudent and uncharitable headline "Pretty Dimple weds Popular Pimple", inviting more of frowns than chuckles from the other members of the newsroom.
Years later, I caught a glimpse of him at the Sun N Sand Hotel in Juhu, when he was still in his prime and attracting collective gasps from everyone within the vicinity. His disposition clearly betrayed an "I am the King of all that I survey" attitude with that characteristic nod of the head and eyes flickering somewhere between a blink and a wink.
It was only after he decided to contest the parliamentary elections that I decided to explore the man, who could have been a living example of all euphemisms. They called him reticent and reserved, but he could have been a snob, they called him blunt, but he could have been audacious and insolent. You could interpret Kaka Rajesh Khanna the way you looked at him.
I got to the point straight away. "You have had your grinding on Stage. Why did you allow yourself to become a slave of mannerisms and style?", I asked him. It was then I realised Kaka was quick on the uptake and that he saw through me fater than I could see through him. "Saaf kyon nahi kehte ke mere chamche mujhe ye sab seekhate hain", he replied with the same calculated calm of "I hate tears Pushpa". And then he let the words flow with the same tranquil : "I am Rajesh Khanna, the first and only superstar. Whatever I do defines acting."
To his credit, among the film personalities elected to Parliament, Kaka did much more than those of his ilk, but even in his new found avtaar, he remained self-styled and never ever lost the sight of the fact that he was and would be one of his kind. Through the small documentary of his life that he narrated to me with the precision a seasoned editor would be proud of, he laughed away all his travels and travails. It was difficult to believe that here was a man who had tasted heady success, held an unchallenged sway for two decades and wasn't able to come to grips with it. And if millions of his fans wanted him to be seen the way they wanted, who was even mighty Rajesh Khanna to refuse?
With Kaka, everything had to be brutally blunt. No hush hush affairs for him. He could obscure the line between real and reel simply because he was Rajesh Khanna on and off the screen. Now, even as I write this tribute-cum-obituary, I candidly admit my notions about him were pre-conceived. In hindsight, I felt rather than I saw in his eloquent eyes the sensitivity of an artiste and a generous human being.
I remember he told me the story of how he had cajoled the late Rajendra Kumar into selling his "Aashirwad" bungalow off Carter Road in Bandra when the latter had advised him against it, saying the place wasn't lucky. "I went ahead and bought the place. It is in this huge bungalow that my isolated heart has thudded for so many years."
Of course, Kaka hit the bottle hard in those years of self-imposed exile when everyone else distanced from him. But he didn't stoop to conquer. No ribbon cuts, no inaugurations and no rent-dancing at weddings. Not even desperation advertisements for survival even when the taxman came repeatedly knocking. And look at the supreme irony and stark message of the one and only advertisement that he did. Calculated to promote a fan, it instead stirred back to life, the memories of a hero, who made it clear to all Babumoshais that no none could snatch his fans away from him.
It could only be Rajesh Khanna's privilege to articulate:
Zindagi ko bahot pyaar hamne diya
Maut se bhi mohobbat nibhaayenge ham.