End of an era: Rajesh Khanna 1942-2012

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 wife Dimple 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 Khanna treatment". 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.' 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 Aman received 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 made women go weak in their knees, he made men imitate his distinct style. Be it the Gurkha topi from 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)

Listen to Rajesh Khanna's evergreen hits