It’s now been three weeks since Rajesh Khanna passed away, and the accolades and tributes have dried up.
The last couple of years witnessed a number of celebrity deaths, and the tributes that follow a celebrity’s death always intrigue me. It’s such a funny thing, isn’t it?
We lead our lives under the illusion of control, doing what we do, making choices we make, going about it like we are the centre of the universe.
Yet, when we die, we have no control over how people will remember us. What will be said of our lives, and what it will be exalted, or reduced to.
Memories are funny things. We choose the bits we like, safely tucking away the rest under the blanket of our mind, never to be looked at again. Javagal Srinath, probably India’s greatest fast bowler, slogged his ass off for fifteen years, consistently clocking speeds of 140 kph on dusty, lifeless Indian tracks. And yet, when we are asked to pick one fast bowling moment from the 90’s, it will always be Venkatesh Prasad bowling out Aamir Sohail, off a lame delivery. Cruel, cruel things, these memories!
When Dev Anand passed away, people spoke about his evergreen spirit. When Dara Singh died, people spoke of a person with a golden heart.
When Rajesh Khanna died, there was no mention of his good deeds, of how he was a simple man who helped others, of his humility. Zilch. The tributes revolved around his superstar status, and the timeless songs in his films.
If you dug a little deeper, you’d find stories that revealed an egomaniac, conniving superstar who couldn’t come to terms with his decline, and who would go to any lengths to sabotage the careers of others. (Link)
I couldn’t believe these articles. Not that I doubted their credibility, but it was hard for me to digest the fact that the smiling, winking man who wooed women with his charm, could be a monster off the camera.
Does it change my opinion of the man? Not in the least.
As human beings, we judge people on the basis of how they treated us, and Rajesh Khanna gave me moments of pure joy.
Whether it was Yeh kya hua, the amar song from Amar Prem, a must sing song when I get drunk, or the melancholic Babumoshai moment in Anand, Rajesh Khanna held a special place in my heart. An image of the smiling, affable romantic hero.
But it all changed one night when I was watching late night TV.
The scene was of a typical retro disco number. Lights, rotating stage, trumpets, and in walked the man.
And on came the song.
Duniya mein, logon ko, dhoka kabhi ho jata hai….
I had found this song terribly cool, whether it was the original, or the way it was used in Vishal Bharadwaj’s Kaminey.
When I watched the song, I knew why it was legendary. And right then, a lasting impression of the man was imprinted in my mind.
Whether it is the way he turns to face the camera in a red, velvet blazer, as RD Burman screams “Heeeeeeeya……”
……or when he slides on to the dance floor…
…… or when he has all the women of the house dancing to his tunes…..
……. serenading the extremely sensuous Mumtaz with his moves.
Only someone at the peak of their superstardom could carry off a costume like that, and elevate a song to the levels of awesomeness that will remain bloody cool, even after forty years.
Not for me the white dhoti clad babu of Amar Prem, or the smiling chocolate boy of Aradhana. Rajesh Khanna was a player if there ever was one. He was in a string of relationships, and had a nation of girls swooning over him. Girls married his photographs, and wailed with grief when he married Dimple Kapadia, then merely 16 years old.
This song epitomises the player Rajesh Khanna was.
And this, will remain my memory of Rajesh Khanna.
Heartranjan's Blog 
he is surely one of the legends. I am a great fan, specially movies like bawarchi and anand are my favorite. apart i also like her daughter twinkle a lot, i don’t understand what stopped her from doing more movies. Good blog post, keep it up.
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