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Rajesh Khanna: India's first matinee super-star no more

http://movies.ndtv.com/movie_story.aspx?ID=ENTEN20120209721&subcatg=MOVIESINDIA&keyword=bollywood&nid=244655&ch=rajesh


Rest in peace!

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RIP..

[ruchir]

RIP

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End of an era: Rajesh Khanna 1942-2012
Meena Iyer, TNN | Jul 19, 2012, 12.00AM IST


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)

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/bollywood/news-interviews/End-of-an-era-Rajesh-Khanna-1942-2012/articleshow/15030770.cms

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Amitabh Bachchan's full tribute to Rajesh Khanna on his blog
NDTVMovies.com | Thursday, July 19, 2012 (New Delhi)                                 


Amitabh Bachchan, who co-starred with late actor Rajesh Khanna in Anand and Namak Haraam, wrote a moving tribute to him on his blog:

I first saw him in a film magazine, perhaps Filmfare. He was the winner of the Filmfare-Madhuri Talent Contest, a contest that I had applied to in the coming year and been rejected. His film 'Aradhana' was my next meeting with him, at the Rivoli Theatre in Connaught Place in New Delhi, which my Mother took me along to see. The packed audience and their reactions to this young handsome man was impermeable.

The early, or shall I say preliminary rejection of my attempt to compete in the Filmfare-Madhuri contest, had made me leave my settled job in Calcutta. I had come away home to seek the possibilities of joining the Industry in some other way. But one look at Rajesh Khanna made me realize that with people like him around, there would be little chance or opportunity for me, in this new profession !

When I got my call for 'Saat Hindustani' I travelled to Bombay, got the role and went back to start its shooting. My friendship with one of the Hindustani's, Anwar Ali, brought me in the vicinity of his illustrious brother Mehmood. Mehmood bhaijaan's presence in the Industry and his own very large standing, gave me an opportunity to get an informal meet at one of the shootings of Rajesh Khanna. It was a very formal hand shake and that was it - a routine for him, an honor for me !

Soon after I was being cast opposite him in 'Anand'. This was like a miracle, God's own blessing and one that gave me 'reverse respect'. The moment that anyone came to know that I was working with THE Rajesh Khanna, my importance grew. And I gloated in its wake. During the breaks in the shooting of the film I would return to Delhi and gleefully describe the scenes and dialogues of the film, as also its music to all that I met - and I met many during that time ! There were no CD's then, just the spooled tapes, and getting Hrishi da to part with one such for me, was an exercise in futility. But I was able to get one and 'kahin dur jab din dhal jaae ..' played endlessly on my very repair stricken tape recorder.

He was simple and quiet. Would sit in the front seat of his modest Herald, driven by his man-friday Kabir. He would attract many visitors on set and was continuously surrounded by them - Hrishi da permitting ! The frenzy and the following he garnered was a sight to behold. In the 1970 era his fans came from Spain to meet him - a most unheard of occurrence then. In his trade mark Rajesh Khanna kurta pyjama, he almost always looked the boy next door, one that girls would want to take home to Mother. But amidst all this there was a quiet elegance within him. In his boyish plainness there was something that was regal in his demeanor. It was the magnet that attracted others to him - who at times were almost servile to him in nature.

My observation above, does not do justice to what I wish to explain. But then, that itself could be that unspoken accomplishment of his.

I visited his residence 'Aashirwad' just once when we were working together, to wish him on his birthday, only to realize when I reached their, that I had come in a day earlier. He was magnanimous enough to understand my awkwardness and asked me to stay back ; then after a while driving me to Shakti Samanta's ( who made 'Aaradhana' and many other films with him, and 'Great Gambler' and 'Barsaat ki ek Raat' with me ) house to join him for dinner ! The next day on his birthday he hosted me again. Many many years later he had called me to his office to seek the possibility of working for his production, which did not materialize. Then of course my last meeting with him was when IIFA decorated him with a LifeTime Achievement Award and asked me to present it. His gracious words for me still resound.

When the shooting of 'Anand' began at Mohan Studios, Hrishi da's favorite locale, now a concrete housing colony, the one moment that always worried me was, that last scene when I break down after his death and urge him emotionally to speak ! Not being able to find a method in my own very limited acting experience, I sought the help of Mehmood bhai, in who's house I was living with his brother Anwar Ali. And I still remember what he told me -

He said, "just think Amitabh, R- a- j- e- s- h K- h- a- n- n- a is dead !! and you will get everything right".

It was not so much a tutorial in acting that he expounded. It was an exalted acknowledgement of Rajesh Khanna's presence and position in the psyche of the nation, that he was drawing my attention to.

That is how Rajesh Khanna was looked upon from the day he started till his last breath. Times changed, people changed, circumstances changed, but Rajesh Khanna always remained his quiet, elegant, regal self !

As I sat at his home this afternoon, to pay my respects, soon after learning of his passing away, a close functionary of his, came up to me and told me in a choked voice what his last words were -

"time ho gaya hai ! Pack Up !"

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Rajesh Khanna's leading ladies share their memories
Mumbai Mirror | Jul 19, 2012, 09.09AM IST

Veteran actor Rajesh Khanna's leading ladies remember him fondly...

Shabana Azmi:
I haven't seen stardom like Rajesh Khanna's . We did several films together, and frequently filmed in South India. Women, whether young or old, would make a beeline for him. I remember this one girl who spotted him on a shoot, and screamed until she fainted out of exhaustion right before us. It was bizarre! From Thodisi Bewafaai to Avtaar, we were considered a successful pair. I believe he thought of me as his lucky mascot in the fag end of his film career. We got along really well. Although I had heard of his tantrums, I wasn't witness to any of them. To me, he was a gentleman with an endearing childlike quality. There were stars, and then there were the boys-nextdoor. Rajesh Khanna was a mix of both. Unattainable, yet approachable.
Once he arrived on set with a bandage around his ankle. He said he had fallen off a horse. I said, 'But Kakajee, you were shooting with me yesterday, and I didn't see any horse.' He muttered under his breath, asking me to shut up. When the others left, he said, 'Arre, my leg got entangled in my lungi, and I tripped. How could I have announced that?' I found that endearing.
Generosity came easily to him. He threw lavish parties on location, all at his own expense at a time when producers were expected to foot the bills. And underneath all that, he was a simple man. We were at Vaishno Devi to shoot a song for Avtaar, and he decided to sleep on the floor with little else but a blanket.
The last time I met him was at a recent awards function, where he failed to recognise me. I walked up to him and said, 'Kakajee, it's me. Don't you recognise me?' He looked me up and down, and within a second said, 'If you age in reverse, how will I recognise you?' That was Rajesh Khanna. Charming. When I returned to Mumbai from Chandigarh on Wednesday, I rushed to see him. Hundreds of people were waiting outside his home. A sight that proved he was a superstar to the end.

Hema Malini:
It's sad news. I didn't imagine he'd go away this soon. I first worked with him in Andaz, and the iconic song from that film that audiences will never forget, is also one of my favourites - Zindagi ek safar hai suhana, yahan kal kya ho kisne jana? As an actor, I'd say he was gifted. He'd learn his lines in a flash, and emote effortlessly. He was a temperamental man, and someone who kept to himself. There was this distance he'd maintain. He'd often report late on set. We were supposed to do quite a few films together, but they didn't materialise. And then came Prem Nagar. It was then that we gradually warmed up to each other. He never arrived alone. He was always surrounded by a coterie of eight to 10. That's what they call popularity. Often, it's these very guys who desert you once the limelight dims. That's what happened to him, too. He lived a lonely life, although it was good to see his family rally around him while he was unwell. I wasn't in touch with him in the last few years, but I've always carried warm memories of him."

We constantly argued - only about one thing
Sharmila Tagore:
The last time I met him was at a function in Kolkata. He had lost so much weight, I could barely recognise him. Because of his illness, he had become a tragic shadow of himself. We spoke warmly, and he asked about my family. Then, when I was leaving, I heard him giving a press interview. His wonderful voice hadn't changed a bit. It was that same voice, and the familiar twinkle in his eyes that made him a national rage. I was first-hand witness to the hysteria he had caused. When we did our first film, Aradhana together, I had no idea what was to unfold. Suddenly, it got impossible to walk from my makeup room to the set without getting mobbed. The entire area used to be crammed with girls who'd fall all over him. I hadn't, and haven't witnessed anything like it.
Did he change after the success? Of course he did. He'd arrive late on set. And still he didn't manage to beat Shatrughan Sinha and Sanjeev Kumar when it came to trouping in late. Although we worked together a lot, we didn't socialise. I was never the party-going actress. I preferred to finish my work and head home to my husband and children.
Although we had a great working relationship, and the films we did together were a success, we'd constantly argue about one thing. Both, Kaka and I liked to put forward the same profile - the left side of the face - before the camera. The cinematographers were driven up the wall trying to accommodate us both.
We vibed well because we were almost the same age; our birthdays were separated by just a few weeks in December. Sixty eight is not the best time to go. He saw his daughters settle down, and I believe Dimple was with him in the last few months. So, he lived the way he wanted to, and left in peace.

Kakaji and I did a train song, long before Chhaiya Chhaiya
Zeenat Aman:
Kakajee was already a big star when we did our first film, Ajnabee together. It was directed by Shakti Samanta, with whom he had worked on huge hits like Aradhana. So, I was this outsider, the newcomer. But not for a minute did he make me feel that.
He was reserved, yes. But so was I. We had some fun times together. We shot a song atop a train (Hum dono do premi) long before Shah Rukh's Chaiyya Chaiyya. Kakajee was so good with songs and romance. After Ajnabee, we did four films together, and got to know each other during Aashiq Hoon Baharon Ka, Chaila Babu, Jaanwar and Jaana: Let's Fall In Love. In Jaana..., there was this bit that I considered a high point. He sang a medley of all his evergreen romantic hits for me. Such wonderful music.
By the time we did our last film together, he had turned far more introspective. He confided in me about how he wanted to create a museum of his memorabilia. We didn't end up keeping in touch. So, I wasn't aware that he had fallen ill. It's been quite a while since we last met. And now, we won't ever. After Dev saab, another of my favourite heroes is gone.

Asha Parekh:
When we did our first film, Baharon Ke Sapne, he wasn't THE Rajesh Khanna. It was just his second film, and we were both playing deglamorised characters. I remember him as a shy, reserved man. By the time, we did our second film, Kati Patang, everything had changed. He was a superstar, the kind Indian cinema hasn't witnessed. Girls would run after him, tear his clothes, kiss his car, stand outside his bungalow for a darshan for hours. I thought it was fairly entertaining.
I remember this time we were shooting the song, Jis gali mein tera ghar na ho balma for Kati Patang in Nainital by a lake, and we had to stop because of the hordes that had gathered to see him. By the time we did Aan Milo Sajna, success had brought him confidence. He talked more, was far more expressive and fun. The song, Achcha to hum chalte hain in Aan Milo Sajna, was again hell to shoot because we wanted to capture the sunset, and light was playing hide and-seek. But Kaka was patient. He loved shooting songs. When we did our last film, Dharm Aur Kanoon in 1984, he had turned aloof and introverted. We hardly spoke after that.

He carried me on his shoulders for eight days
Mumtaz:
My jodi with Rajesh Khanna was lucky. We never suffered a flop. Our last film together, Aaina, didn't click but it was just a guest appearance for him. Do Raaste, our first film together was a big hit. The songs did it. Bindiya chamkegi and Chhup gaye saare nazaare became very popular. We did a whole lot of films after that right until I got married and quit the industry. That allowed me the chance to interact with him fairly closely. Shaadi mein jaise sitaare milaaye jaate hain, hum donon ki jodi ke sitaare milte the. Our onscreen pair seemed blessed by divinity.
He wasn't the over-friendly sort. He had a select group of friends that he hung around with. But to me, was always kind. Hamara rapport achcha tha. Often, we'd share acting tips, like when we'd picturise songs. We were shooting Chal dariya mein doob jayen for Prem Kahani, and he had a problem with the rhythm of the song. I'd nudge him to give him cues. We'd rehearse in advance for hours because tapes carrying the film's track would be sent over to our homes. It was a professional give-and-take. There was no room for the ego.
When we were shooting the climax of Manmohan Desai's Roti, he was meant to carry me on his shoulders and run through snow. Each morning when we'd start shooting, he'd say, 'Aye moti, chal aaja.' And I'd jump on to his shoulders. We did this for eight days. I stood tall at 5'7", and wasn't skinny, so by the end of it, he had a red patch on his left shoulder. We laughed through it all.
The way fans reacted to his stardom, they did with no one else. But success is transient. The biggest of stars has come and gone.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/bollywood/news-interviews/Rajesh-Khannas-leading-ladies-share-their-memories/articleshow/15039228.cms

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A short NDTV video showing clips of his famous BBC interview..

http://www.ndtv.com/video/player/news/fromndtv/239799

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Champagne star who gave my first bottle
- Yes, they did kiss his car and leave lipstick marks those days

BHARATHI S. PRADHAN


THE MOVIE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING: Rajesh Khanna with Sharmila Tagore in Aradhana
“Come home by 10.30, we’ll go to the studio together and talk on the way.”

It was the stock mise en scene for every interview conducted with Rajesh Khanna. It was also a given that you’d spend a minimum of two hours on the ground floor of Aashirwad, his sea-facing bungalow, downing cups of tea or lassi and chatting with Prashant, his errand-cum-office boy of many years who now does the same for Salman Khan’s family.

All the while Rajesh Khanna, or Kaka as all of us called him, would take his time getting ready for his shoot. Those were the nawabi days when stars fetched up at their workplace at their whim and had fawning darbars of yes-men accompanying them everywhere. In all this, Rajesh Khanna epitomised the superstar of the early 1970s, right down to his stylish ways.

My life’s first bottle of champagne came from Rajesh Khanna. He’d thrown a dinner party at his bungalow for a few people and had a few days earlier, asked me what I’d drink. A teenage-teetotaller, I’d recklessly said, champagne. He forgot all about it, I did too, but when he came to say “bye” at the gate, he suddenly remembered the champagne. He insisted that he’d asked for a bottle to be put on ice but had forgotten to serve it. While I blushed and made noises that it was okay, he’d have none of it. He despatched a domestic to bring the chilled bottle, wrapped it in a napkin and forced me to take it home. Being superstitious, he also asked me to give him one rupee for the napkin “so that we don’t end up fighting”.

Rajesh Khanna’s unstinted lavishness was a quality that all his women enjoyed, however short their tenure with him. After Dimple, the only woman he wed and had children with, left him for younger pastures, she once admitted that it took her a while to get used to the idea that he was no longer around to pick up her astounding bills. “Whenever I’d go abroad, wherever it was in the world, I’d automatically get booked into the best suite in the best hotel there,” she said. Once she had to foot her own bill, she realised just how extravagantly he had spent to keep her in style.

Another lovely looking co-star he lived with for a while before she left him to later become a rich industrialist’s wife couldn’t get over the way he spent lavishly on his staff. Those were the days when few people went abroad and “imported jeans” were flaunted as coveted fashion wear. This actress once told me that she’d have a minor heart attack every time he’d come back from a trip with brand new “imported jeans” for his loyal staff. Hand-me-downs for the staff were okay by her, but brand new “imported jeans” for them? It was unheard of but it came naturally to Rajesh Khanna to gift his people only the best.

And, to his eternal credit, one got to know about his flamboyant large-heartedness only when his women cribbed about it, never directly from him.

You didn’t have to be one of his women or a staffer to experience the generosity of Rajesh Khanna. If you were his guest, you deserved the best. Unlike celebrity hosts like Raj Kapoor who’d sit in a corner and expect guests to go up and speak to them, Rajesh Khanna was one superstar who circulated at his parties and personally ensured that every plate was filled with piping hot food. He had the Punjabi penchant for hot rotis and, irrespective of whether it was Dimple or any other partner, the woman by his side was expected to look after guests with equal attentiveness.

Once, while having dinner at his hotel suite, I was so busy talking that I didn’t notice that every time a fresh hot roti was brought in, Rajesh Khanna would quietly take the cold one from my plate and put it on his own, making sure that the garam rotis came to me. Honestly, I don’t know of any other superstar or even minor celebrity who could play host as wonderfully as Rajesh Khanna did.

Yes, he made you wait downstairs in his bungalow while he got ready. But once he came down to join you, he gave such good, quick copy that you never regretted going to interview him. It was during one such 15-minute interview while driving to the studio that he’d talked of his live-in arrangement with a beautiful co-star, topping it with the line, “We even share the same toothbrush.” That one line had gone completely viral.

Thin-skinned celebrities today who have layers of PR agents ensuring that not a single uncomplimentary word is written about them would have benefited knowing the way Rajesh Khanna handled the media. While going through an article I’d written on him, he remarked, “Idhar bahut maara,” “idhar bacha liya” and appreciated the fact that it was a balanced piece combining bouquets and brickbats in equal measure.

Once, after Dimple had made one of her many exits from Aashirwad (she regularly dumped him and returned to him all through their tempestuous marriage), she had come back to tell him that Manoj Kumar had approached her to work in his film. Rajesh Khanna had called me to Aashirwad and described his showdown with Manoj. “I was shaving in the morning when Dimpi was following me, trying to say something. I could see that she was hesitant, unsure of how to break it to me. And then it burst out from her that Manoj Kumar had offered her a film,” said Rajesh.

It had led to a classic clash between two Punjabi men, one of whom was determined that his wife would not work as an actress as long as she lived with him. Rajesh Khanna brooded over the offer to his wife and one night, after downing many pegs of his favourite whisky, he’d gone to Manoj Kumar’s bungalow, stood outside and hollered at the filmmaker, charging him with trying to break up his marriage.

He related the whole incident to me but before we could go into print, he called up to ask me not to carry the piece. Manoj Kumar and he had met and decided to call a truce. Rajesh Khanna never spoke about that incident again.

But he did it again when Rishi Kapoor went to Aashirwad to seek his permission just before doing Saagar with Dimple. Instead of giving him a green signal, Rajesh Khanna had ticked him off good and proper for helping to break up his marriage. This time Dimple chose Saagar and a comeback to films, leaving Aashirwad for the next two decades.

Truly, once Rajesh Khanna’s superstardom waned, dramatic colour, great copy and personalised celebration went out of the film industry. RIP Kaka.

http://www.telegraphindia.com/1120719/jsp/frontpage/story_15746033.jsp#.UAe_3GEe6SU

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Yeh kya hua, kaise hua, kyun hua...
July 19, 2012 13:02 IST

Sanjay Jha

What you see today in television re-runs is a mere rewind into shredded fading memories.

It was sheer madness, says Sanjay Jha.

In 2006, I wondered about my childhood obsession Rajesh Khanna. His celluloid comeback seemed a remote possibility; the commercial format of the Hindi film had changed dramatically not allowing for the familiar character-actor roles of the past.

His brief flirtations with even the idiot box were not really spectacular, befitting his grandiose halo. Khanna's political career had been in virtual hibernation ever since his defeat to Jagmohan in the New Delhi [ Images ] parliamentary polls. And one did not see him often gracing Page 3. So just where was the erstwhile charismatic man who got us addicted to matinee shows on Friday afternoons?

In the early 1970s, I was such a Khanna fan that I would surreptitiously call Bombay theatres like Maratha Mandir, Roxy, Super and Minerva etc from Poona on my father's official STD line on Friday evenings to gather if The Phenomenon's films were indeed running housefull.

It was the beginning of a crazy roller-coaster ride of a hero-unknown fan relationship, perplexing and inexplicable to the ordinary, but largely rational to those who can comprehend that inane sentiment that commands that rather quixotic equation.

Khanna's abrupt fall from halcyon heights left us die-hard mad-hatters devastated. Even years later, I thought Khanna deserved redemption. I called his home number at Aashirwaad ostensibly as a curious journalist wanting a sound byte.

In reality, I had a clear agenda; why doesn't Rajesh Khanna do an autobiography of an incredible career and byzantine life, peppered with those unknown secrets and hidden facts that explain the mind and heart of a lonely superstar in virtual exile, but one who was once the arrogant emperor with royal robes?

I wanted to offer to co-author the book with him. The house-help who answered said that Khanna was traveling, but could I call back? Alas I didn't, consumed by my daily travails. I wish I had.

Two weeks ago I was taking an early morning flight to Bangalore and as we headed towards the Western Express highway after crossing the Bandra-Worli sea link [ Images ], the famous mustard-colored Lilavati hospital gradually appeared in view. It felt acutely strange.

The Phenomenon was there somewhere on the 11th floor apparently struggling with an unknown, but surely, a debilitating illness. I believe there were few visitors. At close proximity stood several film studios where his appearance once created traffic jams and a commotion hard to contain.

Screaming fans sporting his trademark Guru-Kurta, film-photographers battling the mayhem, love-struck Juliet's ready to slash wrists and kiss his car's bonnet, curious onlookers simply amazed at the uncontrollable hysteria. Not too far away from that famous address in town either, Aashirwaad on Carter Road, where people from all parts of the world would come to just see where the King lived, at least momentarily fooling themselves that they were merely a few hundred feet away from the greatest superstar India [ Images ] had ever seen. Or will ever see -- Rajesh Khanna. Sorry, the late Rajesh Khanna.

I first saw Khanna in the ultimate romantic classic Aradhna in the memorable scene where Sharmila Tagore [ Images ] throws a bucket of cold water on him inadvertently. The audience went completely berserk.

It was to happen again in Andaz when he appeared suddenly on a Royal Enfield (Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana) with a scarf circumventing his neck, black goggles perched tantalisingly on his nose bridge as Hema Malini [ Images ] hung precariously as a pillion.

It was to be seen to be believed. And when he sang Vaada [ Images ] Tera Vaada in Dushman, a rogue truck-driver with a golden heart, people threw coins right on the aisle and danced alongside. Unparalleled, unprecedented, unmatched since.

To understand Khanna's maniacal craze, one needed to be have been born in the 1960s. What you see today in television re-runs is a mere rewind into shredded fading memories. It was sheer madness.

The golden phase of Khanna's career included sensational hits that came at breakneck speed and rapid succession; Do Raaste, Ittefaq, Bandhan, Kati Patang, Anand, Safar, Amar Prem, Roti and Sachcha Jhoota, a staggering 15 commercial bonanzas. It was intoxicating stuff and could drive the sanest cuckoo.

Khanna was but human. Worse, hugely egotistical, a toxic combination. A string of eminently forgettable films which turned out to be box-office turkeys abruptly halted that serendipitous honeymoon in the zenith.

Khanna made dying into an art form, and audiences wept inconsolably in deep throbs in Safar, Namak Haram and Aradhna. His haunting Babu Moshai in Anand's final scene can give you the goose-bumps even today.

But it was with Haathi Mere Saathi that Khanna captured those susceptible cuddly hearts, the entire young brat population as well. He was the fountainhead of family entertainment, with the sobbing-sentimental women and the young romantics queuing up for first day first show.

The Phenomenon was unassailable, invulnerable, insuperable. The R D Burman-Kishore Kumar-Khanna trio was a ready-made cocktail for the cash counters. The Khanna-Mumtaz pairing had all the spontaneous energy of impetuous lovers playing hard-to-get, while Sharmila Tagore added chemistry that can be best described as visceral love; whether it was the latent lust in Roop Tera Mastana or the 'I hate tears, Pushpa' in the legendary scene from Amar Prem.

He also experimented with some off-beat stuff in Aavishkar, besides playing a psychopath murderer in Red Rose. But only Kaka [ Images ] could destroy this glittering glassy hard-earned kingdom. He did. Perhaps he preferred splendid isolation to the gnawing insanity of it all.

Namak Haraam in 1973 became the turning point in Khanna's career, as it did for Amitabh Bachchan [ Images ], his real nemesis whom he had once contemptuously dismissed. Hrishikesh Mukherjee's film based on inter-class conflict between the license-Raj industrialist's wayward son and his labour-leader lower middle-class best friend was an epic drama.

But the author-backed role of a sulking, emotional fireball suited Bachchan. Khanna's mild-mannered, mature, mollifying character though brilliantly underplayed got murdered, like Shashi Kapoor's in Deewar. The superstar's reign had begun raining off as Bachchan became his direct adversary, who chose films with greater circumspection.

Fortuitous circumstances favoured the lanky Bachchan too, albeit immensely talented. One of them was the 1975 declaration of Emergency, which created an inimical, imperceptible anti-establishment mood. The aura of soft, charming romanticism gave way to violent, unrestrained tumult.

The Angry Young Man was born, intemperate, resolute, a muscular one man demolition squad. Bachchan's unusual towering height, impeccable baritone and long side-locks helped.

Concomitantly, Khanna chose pedestrian, egregiously bad films like Maalik, Hamshakal, Shehzada, Aaina, Maha Chor, Chalta Purza, Raja Rani etc. His attempts at production proved disastrous, plunging him into financial bankruptcy. One was Alag Alag and the other, a last-ditch attempt at career resuscitation called Jai Shiv Shankar, co-starring estranged wife Dimple Kapadia [ Images ]. It remains in the cans.

Khanna's strange marriage to teenager Dimple Kapadia looked like a trite script from a tyro filmmaker; including melodramatically taking his old steady girlfriend Anju Mahendroo on a false trail to Khandala.

Frankly, a starry-eyed Kapadia and a haloed superstar with quicksilver mood swings made odd bedfellows; the marriage, of course, created massive publicity deserving of heavenly misfits. The acrimonious break-up, and their respective high-profile dalliances with co-stars made equal mast-head copy.

Khanna's predicament was that a dissipating professional career was accentuated by a controversial private life; he stumbled and fell.

Bachchan lorded Bollywood becoming famously a 'one-man industry', Khanna had became a peripheral innocuous threat despite a late desperate surge with Souten, Fifty Fifty, Chhaila Babu and Avtaar. Jeetendra [ Images ], Rishi Kapoor [ Images ] and a resurrected Dharmendra [ Images ] and the like had also surreptitiously nibbled away at Khanna's core audience.

That era also coincided with a sudden spurt of multi-starrers which saw the re-emergence of mediocre heroes, but which Khanna's ego studiously, strictly forbade. His later choices in the same genre were terribly abysmal. But the truth is that as Khanna ebbed, the 1980s saw the worst of Hindi cinema, violent films, kitschy sets, rehashed formula stuff, and Himmatwala reigned.

When the erstwhile The Phenomenon entered electoral politics in 1991, it signalled his grudging acceptance of his fragility in tinsel-town. Here too fate dealt Khanna a lethal blow; he almost blew L K Advani [ Images ] off in New Delhi constituency finally losing by a mere 1,000 votes, although comeuppance happened in 1992 when he trounced Shatrughan Sinha [ Images ].

But by 1996 the Congress had become extremely wobbly, and he seemed caught in a dilemma between sporadic film roles or New Delhi. He floundered once again. The biggest romantic of Hindi cinema was also its biggest loner.

What you saw in the Havells ad is a nebulous apparition of a superstar that never can be replicated in a digital download, multi-screen multiplex age where a golden jubilee is an anachronism. There is no endurance anymore beyond two-weeks even if it is Rs 100 crores. But Rajesh Khanna's transitory madness has endured. His life is aptly captured by the song Zindagi Ka Safar Hai Ye Kaisa Safar, Koi Samjha Nahin Koi Jana Nahin.

Khanna's tale is somewhere incomplete. To have seen such dizzying heights of heady fame and then to experience such impenetrable oblivion requires some inner toughness. Anonymity can be dreadful for someone accustomed to being serenaded wherever, whenever. And now death. But as Bachchan's voice-over says in Anand, 'Anand mara nahin, Anand marte nahin'.

Khanna's life was colourful, complex, convoluted, and profoundly impactful. Even if he had lived another twenty years, the unfathomable vacuum of a rainy gray July 18, 2012 would have still felt the same. We would still say Yeh kya hua, kaise hua, kyun hua...

Goodbye Rajesh Khanna! And thank you for that dance-step, that inimitable tilting of the head, the beguiling romantic rendezvous with those magnetised maidens, and those tear-swelled susceptible eyes. Those innumerable magical moments, Kaka. They are endless. As are you.

Sanjay Jha is Executive Director, Dale Carnegie Training India.

[Blwe_torch]

Rajesh Khanna defined superstardom, yet 'Brand Kaka' was hardly leveraged

Charisma can inspire loyalty, even devotion. Stardom converts them brownies into fortune by way of endorsements. And Rajesh Khanna wallowed in both.

But then how do you explain the irony that the man who delivered 15 solo hits in a row in a period of three years, from 1969 to 1972, had to wait another 40 years for his first TV spot?

Sure, it was not the television age. But it was not as if there were no ads then either. "Well, actually, no one ever did ads then," says ad guru Prahlad Kakkar.

"The industry thumb rule was 'Jab aadmi bekaar ho jata hai toh woh ads karta hai...kangal hota hai toh hi' (You do ads means you're out of work... bankrupt)," he says.

"Dharmendra was the only actor who ever did ads...for a whisky brand, if I recall correctly. And that too I believe because they promised him a free supply of the whisky as a deal!


No money ever exchanged hands," says Kakkar.

Even the "one-man industry" Amitabh Bachchan took to ads only after his second-coming to Bollywood. He had refused ads in his heydays.

The stigma did not, however, extend to the female leads, so you did have a Leela Naidu doing a sari ad or an Anju Mahendroo doing a toothpaste one.

The biggest youth icon of the 1970s and'80s never endorsed a brand in his life till Havells roped him to star in a commercial for its electric fans, just months before he passed away.


"I spoke to him over the phone. He was reluctant at first; he said he hadn't featured in an advertisement ever, and then agreed when I said we will celebrate his fan-following in the ad," says Anil Gupta, MD of Havells India, a Delhi-based electrical and power distribution equipment company.

http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/news-by-industry/et-cetera/rajesh-khanna-defined-superstardom-yet-brand-kaka-was-hardly-leveraged/articleshow/15035955.cms

[Blwe_torch]

Rajesh Khanna: You are the reason I am an actor

Tom Alter, IBNLive.com


An afternoon in early 1970, the winter sunlight a song, my newfound friend, David, and I cycle from Jagadhri to Yamunanagar, through the fields, through the late afternoon, through time itself. We are young and lean and angled and the sun touches us with colour; the world is ours, we are the world’s in those days, there was a ten kilometre gap between Jagadhri and Yamunanagar and as we took the shortcut through the fields new for me, a childhood habit for David, I asked him 'Yaar, film ka hero kaun hai?' without looking back, but with that angle of the head which meant he knew something I didn't, David said, "Koi Rajesh Khanna karke hai."
And today he left us. David and I are still friends - no, not friends - we are 'yaars' in all that the word implies which only that word can imply but Rajesh Khanna is gone. Yes, he is gone, yes, the tape recorder plays on, but he is gone.
That film was Aradhana and I cycled five times that week from Jagadhri to Yamunanagar to see the film once more with David, four times alone. I wanted to be able to angle my head like David and say "Koi Rajesh Khanna karke hai". I wanted to sing ‘Mere Sapnon ki Rani' at the top of my voice as the wind through the fields ruffled my hair. I wanted to crinkle my eyes at beautiful women. I wanted to serenade Sharmila with snowclad mountains in the background I wanted to be able to charm the world with a smile and a style and walk and a tilt of neck and just the right emphasis never too much, never not enough on each word I spoke.

He left us today - Rajesh Khanna - as his last days drained him, what did he remember? Was he aware of all he had given us to remember?
He was shadow and sunlight, he was life and death, he was love and gentle lust, he was man and boy, he was lover and beloved, he was fragile and eternal, he could weep and laugh, he could turn a moment into a symphony, he could feel so effortlessly, and express so perfectly he could be cute, he could be dashing, Asha Parekh's sahelis loved him, all of India loved him.
When he was on song, he filled the screen - no, he filled the cinema hall, no - he filled all of us with a belief that anything was possible. He could die, and stay alive he could enter a room filled with confusion and doubt, and make things come true, he could wipe the tears of a mother, and caress the trembling hands of a daughter and when he sang oh, my when he sang, he could make women tremble, he could make men shiver.
His cheekbones, even when the weight of stardom took the edge off them, were like questions marks who had already answered the questions when he would get up from a chair, or from a bed, he would quickly pull down his shirt at the back, to subtly cover his posterior and yet, when he danced in fields, on trains, in jeeps, across meadows, down valleys his body moved with such subtle ease and rhythm that the universe swayed with him.
His walk almost a strut, with short mincing steps his hands moving, chiseling the air into his own notes pain was in his eyebrows, and desire in his eyes he was Rajesh Khanna, and yet he was all of us - no - he wasn’t - I take that back - he was Rajesh Khanna and there never will be, never was anyone like him.
Three times I travelled from Mussoorie by night bus to Delhi to see his films, on Friday, first day, first show, Anand, Dushman, and Amar Prem at Regal in Anand, just before he enters Ramesh Deo’s office, there is a closeup of the swinging door, and the crowd went berserk upon just seeing the door in Dushman, when he woos Bindu and tilts his cap, the entire cinema hall screamed in Amar Prem, when he sings to Sharmila on the studio created Hooghly, young and old alike sighed.

In the latter half of 1970, when he was becoming the Phenomenon and I was working at Woodstock School in Mussoorie, I had a 45 record of Kahin Door Jab Din Dhal Jaye, which I played from my small record player in my even smaller room. Day and night it would play, and people from sweepers to kitchen help to memsahibs would stop to listen, as Mukesh and Rajesh combined to make each evening a wonder. And when we played cricket on the Hostel field below my room, I would leave the windows open, so we could play in tune with the song and if we were truly blessed, it would be played on a loudspeaker from town, from where the clock tower used to be, and as the music swept across the valley and then over our field, we were hushed into such wonder that time herself stood still.
And in December of ’71, as Pakistan and India began their war, it was Rajesh Khanna that made sense of things through the peace of his films, and back in my room again, with pictures of Sharmila adorning the walls of my room and my heart, the nights would shiver and calm and I prayed for the war to end, even as I prayed for his songs to never end.

I came into films because of him - a truth which I will always acknowledge - and I was blessed beyond words to actually tell him this, as we shot together in Bangalore at the end of ’74 for a film called 'Naukri' - Rajesh Khanna, Raj Kapoor, Zaheera, Padma Khanna and Tom Alter - I could not believe it now, that is not true - I could believe it, because it was my dream and the film directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee.
The first morning of the shoot, I have been told to report in the lobby of the Ashoka Hotel by nine in the morning. I am there by 8:45. I stand at the entrance, looking out on the gardens. The minutes gently tick by. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, I feel a current of excitement up my spine. I spin around and there he stands, on the spiral stairs coming down from the first floor to the lobby there he stands. Rajesh Khanna looking at me.
I mean that it was like a bolt of lightning up and down my spine - it was him looking at me. And then he descended the stairs, and walked up to me and crinkled his eyes, and said "Mujhe Rajesh Khanna kahte hain." We already knew each other for years we talked and talked, and I went with him in the car to the park which was our location, and at lunch time I took my food into a corner under a tree, and he came up to me, and asked "Tum filmon mein kyon aaye?" and I answered, and the answer came from Jagadhri via Mussoorie via Poona via my heart "Aap ki wajah se".
As simple as that, as true as that.
Shadows and sunlight he was and he is gone.
What did he remember over those final days?
Those fields, and streams, and mountains of his mind and of his films of his life, those sweaty studios, where his charm could turn grimy walls into palaces - walking down Juhu Beach, balloons in hand, and then releasing them with a tilted and wistful smile, looking up to sky as if to say "You may be up there, but I am my own sky down here" and knowing, even as he smiled, that his safar was doomed on a motorcycle, with Hema in tow, taking the bends with a smile and such shining energy in black, romancing Asha Parekh, asking when she will come again, looking the handsomest he ever did on screen, hands in pocket, totally at ease, at the height of his powers romancing Mumtaz in the village of Meena Kumari, the pyaara dushman who takes on evil society and wins, and yet never loses his innocence.
In Sujit Kumar’s jeep, serenading the train to Darjeeling, Gorkha hat on his head, and a song on his lips never has romance been so real, so now, so complete. There was not a shaadi from ’70 - ’73 where Mere Sapnon ki Rani was not played. With graying hair, meeting Vinod Mehra at the end of the film, and crinkling his eyes through his glasses, and making us all believe that he was both young and old and with Waheeda again on the Hooghly, the real one this time, and the two of them as starcrossed as any lovers could be and in his thick sweater, he made a fashion statement which even the downcast beauty of Waheeda’s unbelievable eyes could not match.
With Mumtaz in a car, with the rain outside, and Rajesh in a cricket sweater, and the two of them so made for each other that you wished the rain would never end and with Sharmila, with her so tidily hiding in matching towels, and him still callow and on the verge of completeness, and the fire burning and the two of them circling it, and each other, and all of us, as her roop made him mastana and in darkened cinema halls from Mussoorie to Mangalore and back again, desire was no longer a dirty word, and we were freed and with Asit Sen in Anand, passing him on the stairs, and saying 'kyon mote' so swiftly and with such timing that the words were gone before they were said.
And back to Anand were it all began and will always end. Dara Singh who had to leave us the same time that Rajesh did, lifting up a local loafer over his head to allow Rajesh to meet not his own lady love, but Amitabh's for that moment on screen, you had the charm of gentle strength, and the charm of gentle energy together for a magical moment - and the boy Daraji lifted - Aditya - is still struggling as an actor in Bombay 42 years after that scene.
And now Rajesh Khanna has left us.
Yes, the tape recorder plays on a spooltape it is, not a CD, not even a cassette tape, but a spool, spinning and then finally speaking those immortal words the spool spins on, yes, but he is gone even though he is not. I am bereft, and yet fulfilled today.
He was my hero - always will be - it is as simple as that. The relationship between a hero and his fan is the most sacred relationship in the film world and for me, it will always be a late afternoon in early ’70, and David and I are cycling through the fields from Jagadhri to Yamunanagar to see Aradhana at Yamuna Talkies.

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/rajesh-khanna-you-are-the-reason-i-am-an-actor/272534-8-66.html

[LosingNow]

Nice collection blwe ..

[LosingNow]

Somewhat related to this ..

http://www.cricketvoice.com/cricketforum2/index.php/topic,29206.0.html

[Blwe_torch]

Rajesh Khanna left a recorded message, just like in Anand

'This dialogue made me a film star': Rajesh Khanna's recorded message
NDTVMovies.com | Tuesday, July 24, 2012 (New Delhi)                                 


The actor who romanced death on screen as often as he did heroines, left behind a special recorded message for his family, friends and fans. 40 years ago, in Anand, his character taped a message for Babumoshai or Amitabh Bachchan. In real life, the superstar's message was played at his chautha held over the weekend.

Here's the full transcript of his recorded message:

Mere pyaare dosto, bhaiyo aur beheno nostalgia mein rehene ki aadat nahi hai mujhe. Hamesha bhavishya ke baare mein hi sochna padta hai jo din guzar gaya hai, beet gaya hai ,uska kya sochna lekin jab jaane pehchane chehre anjaan se ek mehfil mein milte hai toh yaadein wapas tazaa ho jati hai.

( My dear friends, I'm not the one to get nostalgic. I've always looked ahead towards the future. Whatever has passed let it stay in the past, thinking about bygones doesn't help. But, when one suddenly comes across familiar faces in unfamiliar settings, the memories comes rushing back.)

Mera janam theatre se hua, mein aaj jo kuch bhi hu yeh stage yeh theatre ki badaulat hu. Mein jab filmo mein aya toh mera koi Godfather nahin tha, koi risthedar nahi the, koi sar par hath rakhnewala nahin tha. Main aya through the United Producers Filmfare Talent contest. Humko bulaya gaya that Times of India mein waha par bade-bade prodcuers the, chahe woh Chopra saab the, Bimal Roy the, Shakti Samnta the, bahut saare the. Unhone kaha ke humne aapko dailogue bheja hai, woh yaad kiya aapne? Mein saamne bhaitha tha aur woh ek badi si table mein line mein bhaite the. Mujhe aise lag raha tha ki court martial ho raha ha, jaise abhi yeh bandook nikalenge aur mujhe maar daalenge. Meine kaha ki dailogue toh yaad hai lekin yeh jo dailgoue hai, yeh aapne nahi bataya ki iska characterisation kya hai ki yeh hero jo hai woh aapni maa ko batata hai ki main ek nachnewali se shaadi karna chahta hiu aur usko teri ghar ki bahu banana chahta hu. Meine kaha, aapne na character bataya maa ka, na hero ka ki bhai amir hai, garib hai, maa sakt, kadak hai, naram hai, middle class hai, aadmi pada likha anpad hai? Toh Chopra saab ne jhat se kaha ki aap theatre se ho? Haan ji. Main kaha, dilgoue toh aapne bheej diya ki kis tarah maa ko convince karna hai, dialogue bolna hai aapne characterisation nahin bataya, yeh toh koi stage ka actor hi bol sakta hai. To bole theek hai achcha hai tum koi aapna hi dailogue sunao. Ab kato toh khoon nahin, pasina chut raha tha. Meine kaha kya daigloue bolu, mere saamne sab bade bade log, inki sab picture 10-10 baar dekhe hai, produce-direct ki hui. Jo dailogue, jiski wajah se mein filmo mein aaya, mujhe GP Sippy ne chance diya 40 saal pehle, Haan mein Kalakar hu, Haan mein Kalakar hun, kya karoge meri kahani sunkar.

(My journey began with theater, I owe my success to the stage. This theater where it all began when I joined the film industry, I had no God Father, no relatives or family that I could turn too. I came into the movies through the United Producers Filmfare Talent contest. We were called to the Times of India in the presencen of celeberated filmmakers like Chopra saab, Bimal Roy , Shakti Samanta and many others. They asked me we had sent you a dialogue, did you memorise it? I was sitting in front of the table where they were seated and felt I was undergoing a courtmartial. I thought they would take a gun and fire at me. I said, "I know the dialogue but you haven't told me what's the characterisation of the person who is to narrate this dialogue. Is he the hero who is announcing to his mother that he plans to marry a dancer and maker her the daughter-in-law of the house? You haven't told me whether this hero is rich , poor, a villianou character or a pleasant fellow, is he from the middle class?" So, Mr Chopra said, "You are from the stage so make your own characterisation how will you convince the mother." I said this is not a dialogue for a stage actor to mouth, so he said then you chose your own dialogue. I was nervously sweating and anxious wondering which dialogue should I impress them with. I had seen their movies several times and this is the dialogue I said which took me towards stardom. The dialogue was Yes I am an artist , yes I am artist, why would you want to hear my story, the dialogue which began my story in cinema.)

Doston aap ka ek hissedar mein bhi hu aur jaise maine pehli bhi kaha ki aap apna kimti waqt nikalkar, aap ka yeh pyaar tha ki aap majood hue aur itni bhaari ssankhya mein..meine yehi kahunga ki bahut-bahut sukhriya, thank you aur mera bahut-bahut salaam.

(Friends, I'm a part of you, and as I said, you have all taken time out for me. This is the love, your presence in numbers that I'm greatful for, thank you, thank you my salaam to you all.)

http://movies.ndtv.com/movie_story.aspx?section=Movies&Id=ENTEN20120210362&keyword=topstories&subcatg=MOVIESINDIA&nid=247190&pfrom=home-movies

[sanjeevk]

Rajesh Khanna "original superstar of bollywood industry".. He is no more in this world but he will remain in our hearts forever.
RIP Babu Moshai!!

Take a look at biography of this unbeatable acting legend:
http://www.movieplus.com/celebrity/rajesh-khanna-overview-15/
http://www.movieplus.com/article-details/rajesh-khanna-an-unbeatable-acting-legend-154/