Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; June 30, 2020)

On Sunday, June 28, Subhash Ghai rang in the 40th anniversary of Karz, tweeting that his first production had released in 1980 amid heavy rains. “We were looking 4 audience to come. Very few came. Disappointed.”

This confession from the showman about the film that he also directed, came as a surprise, because given the popularity of the chartbuster “Om Shanti Om”, one had always believed that Karz was a blockbuster. “Yeah, everyone believes that,” Subhash ji acknowledged, sighing that the downpour had washed away all their expectations. “Or maybe, as many of my distributors and exhibitors pointed out, the film came 10 years before its time.”

Conceived in the filmmaker’s living room of his two-bedroom apartment, which served as his office, he had ambitiously shot the entire film in cinemascope. But at the time of release, several distributors from Bengal, UP and other centres turned it down pointing out that out of the 200-odd theatres then, only 10 were equipped for cinemascope. “So, I had to spend more money converting it into a 35-mm print. Dejected, I hosted a preview show for some industry friends, among them Jeetendra and Salim Khan, who enjoyed the film but expressed doubts about whether it would be widely accepted given its subject and treatment.”

On Friday, June 27, 1980, Subhash ji and his assistant directors arrived at Bandra’s Galaxy cinema half an hour before the 3 pm show, expecting huge crowds. There were only a handful of people at the ticket window while Feroz Khan’s Qurbani, which had released a week earlier, ran to full houses. “We opened with 20 per cent collections,” he reminisces.

It got worse the next day, when his Delhi distributor admitted that the masses were not coming in as the characters were too urban and spoke more angrezi than comprehensible. The biggest shock came when the manager of a Uttar Pradesh theatre shared that people were walking out during the songs, even “Om Shanti Om”, put off by the psychedelic lights.

“It’s a good film, but people can’t understand why Rishi Kapoor needs to avenge Raj Kiran’s death. We know Monty is Ravi Verma reborn, but till now, in all Hindi reincarnation dramas, the hero returned with the same face. By going with another actor in the next life, you have merely compounded the confusion of rebirth,” he was told.

Subhash ji had tried calling his ‘hero’ on Friday and Saturday, but Rishi Kapoor didn’t answer the phone. “On Sunday, I learnt that he had been admitted to the hospital for depression. He had worked hard on every scene and was so proud of the film, requesting several preview shows for his friends before its release. The no-show came as a shock and I had to get Raj saab (his father Raj Kapoor) to reassure him that we’d made a good film irrespective of its commercial failure,” he flashbacked.

Collections picked up marginally on Sunday in cities like Mumbai, Delhi and Ahmedabad and many more after the Qurbani craze abated. But Subhash ji himself admits with refreshing candour that by 10-15 weeks, Karz’s run was over. “We stretched its life span in certain theatres so it could celebrate a silver jubilee, but paisa kuchh nahin banaye. It was Vidhaata with Dilip Kumar and Sanjay Dutt, followed by Hero with a new boy Jackie Shroff, that saved my production house,” he states.

Ironically, over the years, Karz , which was Tina Munim’s second film, attained cult status and four decades later, “Om Shanti Om” still reverberates in our collective memory. Its maker reveals that the song was always a part of the script and marked a turning point in the story. After his untimely death, Ravi Verma’s mother (Durga Khote) goes to the mandir and asks Kali Maa to give her son back. Soon after, pop star Monty is on stage singing “Om Shanti Om”. “As he stretches out the word ‘Om’, the oldest sound in human existence, which connects straight with the divine, he swoons and falls to the ground. In the hospital, he admits to seeing visuals of someone being killed, going on to realise that it was him in his previous birth. Since reincarnation is the work of God and not a human effort, I thought a song like ‘Om Shanti Om’ would be apt,” Subhash ji notes, adding that instead of a devotional bhajan during aarti, he worked with his composers, Laxmikant-Pyarelal, to make a pop song out of it. “Pyarelal ji gave me five-six haunting tunes from which I selected my theme music.”

Among its many hatke twists, Karz had a female antagonist at a time when villains were male and in the Gabbar Singh mould. “I decided on a love story which ends with the girl, Kamini, murdering the boy and going on to become Rani Sahiba. I wanted Simi ji (Garewal) to play her because she’s no ordinary vamp, but a sophisticated lady in a negative role. She finally agreed because I begged, but wondered if she was doing the right thing. It was only after watching the film, that she hugged me. Karz today is one of her most memorable performances,” says Subhash ji.

Rishi saab and he didn’t do another film but remained good friends. Today, Karz and “Om Shanti Om” are instantly associated with the late actor. “Even though Karz wasn’t a blockbuster, eventually it made us all proud,” he concludes.


Subhash Ghai, his leading man, Tina Munim and Simi Garewal at the film’s mahurat with Gulshan Rai, NN Sippy and Shatrughan Sinha, who gave the ceremonial first clap

MUMBAI MIRROR (May 1, 2020)

He wanted to live and die an actor - Subhash Ghai, Director, Karz and Kaanchi

For me, he was always Chintu, the hero of my first film as a producer, Karz, in 1980. Thirty-four years later, we did Kaanchi, my last film as a writer, producer and director With the passage of time, I have seen many actors looking old and jaded, but you cast them for the experience and nostalgia they bring to the screen. But Chintu surprised me. He brought to the Kaanchi song, “Thumka” the same zest and zing of Karz’s evergreen chartbuster, “Om Shanti Om”. There were rehearsals galore, 10-12 takes, but his energy never flagged. It spoke of the passion for cinema that he had inherited from his grandfather, Prithviraj Kapoor, a theatre legend, and his father Raj Kapoor, the greatest showman of Indian cinema. Chintu is a case study for future generations of actors on how to keep the magic alive and set the screen on fire, even after four decades.

Acting was in his genes, but he was a director’s actor. His never interfered and was always the obedient student. Also, he never acted, he simply reacted. To begin with, he was the proverbial chocolate box romantic hero. But in his second innings, when he returned after a decade, he was a revelation. He excelled in every role, be it that of the villain or an old man. Much like Amitabh Bachchan, who also came back with a bang.

Chintu was a doston ka dost who valued relationships. He had a lot of respect for my knowledge of cinema and my sense of drama. He’d reprimand me for not having made a film in five years. I had promised him that as soon as I got a script, I would make a film with him and a younger actor. He was excited, telling me he was waiting for the day.

I met him for breakfast in January and berated him for going to work. He replied saying he wanted to live and die an actor. He got his wish. The world will get more actors, but not another Chintu who was a wonderful human being.

—As told to Roshmila Bhattacharya
---------------------------------
Just one week after returning to Mumbai, he was reporting to work, on time - Emraan Hashmi, Co-star, The Body

It was my lifelong desire to work with Rishi Kapoor because I had grown up watching his films. I got my wish with The Body. We shot on a set in Mumbai for 45-50 days at a stretch, and I learned so much from him. He reinvented himself as an actor over the years and enlivened intense, conversational sequences in the film with his wit and spontaneity. We didn’t think he’d be able to allot dates for the promotions, but a week after returning to Mumbai from New York where he’d been undergoing cancer treatment, he was reporting to work on time.

Before he fell ill, he was asking after my son Ayan, who has beat cancer. It was bizarre because two months later he was diagnosed with cancer himself. When I went to meet him after his return, I thought he’d be frail from all the chemotherapy, but he looked super healthy and raring to go. I’m devastated today.

— As told to Ankita Chaurasia
---------------------------------

Whenever I was hurt, he would come running to check - Jaya Prada, Co-star, Sargam

Rishi ji may have been a hero for the world but for me, he was always my friend, Chintuji. He was my first Hindi film hero. On the first day of the film, I was both excited and nervous to be standing in front of a huge star who was smiling at me. He came up to talk to me and make me comfortable. He helped me get through long shoots. Since I had to dance barefeet, whenever I was hurt, he’d come running to check. He was fond of dancing and would give me a run for my money.

He was a brave man which is evident from the way he fought cancer. During his treatment in the US, I’d text him, assuring him that he’d be fine. It was a long journey, from Bobby to 102 Not Out. Each character seemed to have been written just for him.

—As told to Akash Bhatnagar
---------------------------------

He was a brilliant actor - Umesh Shukla, Director, All Is Well, 102 Not Out

He was a brilliant actor and a wonderful person with a great sense of humour. To me, he was like a friend and a brother. He’d say that he was enjoying his second innings as actor, adding, “Ab tak toh sweaters, pullovers pehen ke waadiyon mein gaane gaata tha...”

Rishi ji sought challenging roles and played them brilliantly, like Do Dooni Chaar and Kapoor & Sons. He was interested in new things and was encouraging of younger colleagues, like Jimit Trivedi, the chemist in 102 Not Out. If Jimit sat at some distance alone in between shots, Rishi ji would call him to sit with him and Amit ji. In the first half of the film, Rishi ji’s character is irritated with the chemist. But he helped make Jimit comfortable.

I visited him with writers Saumya Joshi and Abhijat Joshi when he was in New York for treatment. Rishi ji was so zindadil that we felt like patients in front of him. On March 18, I sounded him out on a new subject. He looked forward to resuming work.

—As told to Hiren Kotwani
---------------------------------

I was in college when Bobby released; a year later, it was still playing - David Dhawan, Director, Bol Radha Bol, Eena Meena Deeka, Yaarana, Yeh Hai Jalwa and Chashme Baddoor

Over the years, he became family. He was moohfat and would initiate a conversation rather than wait for you to start it. He was an endearing man who was passionate about films and food, in particular Chinese.

I was in college when Bobby released in 1973. When I joined FTII the following year, I’d pass the theatre and still see the film playing. My first film in Switzerland, Yaarana, was with him, and he insisted I buy a good watch as Swiss watches were the best.

He was very disciplined and quick to catch a mistake.

After his return from New York, we met him a few times.

—As told to Hiren Kotwani
---------------------------------
He was a Puckish prankster, rulate nahin the, bas chidate the - Poonam Dhillon, Co-star, Yeh Vaada Raha, Amiri Garibi, Tawaif

During our first film together, he was a big star and I was in awe of him. Once, while shooting a romantic song, he was doing silly things to distract me. You could never get into the ‘mood’ when he was around. He was such an effortless actor, the ultimate hero in romantic roles. People would tell me he was a bully, but for me he was a Puckish prankster, rulate nahin they, bas chidhaate they. His tweets reflected his wit and that he was upfront and outspoken. There was no diplomacy or artifice. He was professional in all his dealings and took his father’s legacy forward.

We can’t go to pay our last respects but we are there in spirit.

—As told to Hiren Kotwani
---------------------------------

He had love in his heart even for his enemies - Paresh Rawal, cast member, Aa Ab Laut Chalen

My first film with Rishi ji was his debut directorial. We shared a good rapport ever since and talked regularly. Few people in the industry are as frank as him. But he had love in his heart for everyone, even enemies.

I could see that he liked modern cinema and discussing new ideas. He was equally passionate about the cinema of yore. His one pet peeve was something he had christened “har jagah coverage”. If a director wanted to take a shot from different angles, Rishi ji would get agitated, arguing that the “spontaneity would be lost”. He also preferred dubbing over sync sound.

There was a certain ease in talking to him; one didn’t have to worry about being manipulated. He had a whacky sense of humour, but he was a seedha, raja person at heart.

—As told to Hiren Kotwani
---------------------------------

Chintuji was one of the reasons Shah Rukh came on board - Guddu Dhanoa, Producer, Deewana

When we narrated the film to Shah Rukh (Khan), he asked who was playing the lead character. On learning it was Rishi, he exulted, “He is my favourite actor, I’m doing the film.” Chintuji was one of the reasons he came on board.

When we were shooting with Chintuji and Divya (Bharti), in Ooty, in between shots, we’d play cards. We didn’t have enough chairs one day, so Divya sat on the ground. He looked at her and asked “Tumko maloom hai, main tumse kitna bada hoon? Twenty years.” Despite the jokes, the age difference didn’t show on screen as he was so handsome man.

I last spoke to him during the release of his autobiography. .

—As told to Himesh Mankad

Rishi Kapoor took stage-exit, just as he'd dived headlong into the most eclectic stage of his career!
Mayank Shekhar (MID-DAY; May 1, 2020)

Actor Rishi Kapoor died young, at 67. If he'd passed on few decades later, he would've still died young. And I don't mean that cliché about being 'young at heart' and all. I mean, literally, young in the head—where it counts.

Think he was between 25 to 30 years old; tops. This infused into his natural persona that casual aliveness of late youth—he's the guy you could chill at the corner-bar with, all through a party, as I did, couple of times. Feel blessed.

It also made him impulsive, tad impatient, moody, on occasion; unreasonable, even. Not an easy man to know and walk around, without care. Also he was therefore (mentally) a decade younger to me, and so there arose the minor/moral dilemma over what to call him! He didn't like Mr Kapoor ("Waddyathink, am an uncle or what?"). Rishi ji wouldn't cut it. He preferred Rishi. I carried on with Mr Kapoor.

In the hierarchy of naam-karan (naming ceremony) in Indian popular culture, the apex of the pyramid belongs to the person the public bestows upon a common nickname, short-form, or epithet. It's not so much a mark of honour as it denotes the level of familiarity the public feels with a public figure!

This cuts across professions. It is most common in films—whether that be Shahenshah or Big B for Amitabh Bachchan; or Baadshah, King Of Romance, King Khan or SRK for Shah Rukh Khan. Tells you something about their image too.

Rishi went by the short, cute sobriquet, Chintu, at best, Chintuji—eternally that boy, at any rate India's first 'chocolate hero', who debuted as the National Award winning child-star of Raj Kapoor's magnum opus, Mera Naam Joker (MNJ; 1970). In fact, if you observed him closely, when he spoke with that impish smile—he still had a sweetly chubby face—it was quite easy to transpose him into the little Raju, besotted by his teacher Mary (Simi Garewal), from MNJ.

Thereafter he held a list of firsts for Bollywood that may not occur to you instantly, if I don't bring them to mind here. For one, up until Rishi's debut as the lead actor in Bobby (1973), he told me, Bollywood's heroes and heroines used to be men and women—holding books and going to college in their 30s and 40s! It's true. Rishi was 21; his leading lady, Dimple Kapadia, after whose character the film is titled, was 16.

While Bobby gave birth to a super-hit romantic pair, Dimple got married, and quit movies altogether. This posed a peculiar problem for Rishi. He was left to swim around a leading ladies' pool—Zeenat Aman, Parveen Babi, etc—that was considerably older, and therefore unfit to be cast as his conventional, romantic leads. There was Neetu Singh, absolutely his perfect onscreen better-half— later his off-screen wife. "But then, how many films could I do with her? So it had to be Neetu, or a new girl," he said.

Don't know if such an entry is allowed into the Guinness book, Rishi held the glorious record of introducing 23 female leads as his on-screen partner in the movies. And even that number he wasn't sure about. Besides that he wished to add even Alia Bhatt (Student Of The Year; 2012), Taapsee Pannu (Chashme Baddoor; 2013), into the list, since they had debuted in Bollywood with him, although he wasn't the lead in those movies.

Did he even remember all those 23 heroines he worked with; was he in touch with any of them? "Don't know where's Kajal Kiran (Hum Kisise Kum Naheen; 1977), Shoma Anand (Barood; 1976), Bhavana Bhatt (Naya Daur; 1978)…" Gah! Would've been a great idea to click Rishi seated in the centre as the good old Gopi surrounded by his debuting leading ladies — an eclectic array, almost stacked up like sardines — to celebrate 50 years of his debut, which falls on September 28, 2020.

A mart is really how the movie business/trade has traditionally perceived itself — setting a price for what sells, and a sell-by-date for what doesn't. This is as true for stars as the image or genres associated with them. In that sense Rishi, although he liked to call himself the "right person at the wrong time", had an absolutely uninterrupted 25-year run at the movies — between 1973 and 1998 (averaging around five to six films a year) — which for its time is also a record of sorts: "Shelf life for a hero then was 20 years; 10 years for heroines."

He said the reason to quit films was also his. He had just got bored of the proverbial dancing around trees. Nothing exciting seemed to exist in the horizon. And so one fine day, he rounded up the four to five producers he owed advances to, and simply returned them their money.

This is when Rishi was 46. Shammi Kapoor, Rishi's uncle, and the seminal singing-dancing star of the generation he took over from, had retired at 37. Amitabh Bachchan, Rishi's older contemporary, left films (to return only much later) at 40. Of course none of these age restrictions/rules for retirement matter anymore. Shah Rukh Khan, 54, has currently taken a break to recalibrate his leading man's career.

Note: I mention Shahenshah, and Badshah or King Of Romance, again! This is because in the pantheon of Bollywood stars, Rishi saw himself sandwiched between the two: "I should've entered films in the '90s," he said. The year of Rishi's debut, 1973, is also when Prakash Mehra's Zanjeer proclaimed Amitabh Bachchan as the 'angry young man'— simultaneously killing that flowery phase of Rajesh Khanna romances; and gently pricking at the bud the romantic Rishi Kapoor from coming into full-potential, glorious bloom.

At the box office, Rishi, in many ways, would've been Rajesh Khanna's natural successor. In terms of a female fan-following, he sort of already was — with hordes of women, by his own account, taking their clothes off, so he could autograph their bras! And special 'Bobby buses', matched with theatre timings, plying between Punjab, Faridabad and (what was then) Gurgaon, so people from far-off towns could catch his first film.

Except the phase that followed, especially in the '80s, was full of, as he put it, "B and C centre maar-peet; Lahu Ke Khoon [both mean blood] kind of films, and some skin-show. The ambience, mahaul, was only for action." Rishi, on the other hand, had been secure enough in his masculinity to go drag with Rafoo Chakkar (1975). One such "totally wahiyaat (crappy)" film, he told me about, was called Hawalaat (1987), where he starred alongside the 'action types', Mithun Chakraborty and Shatrughan Sinha. He was of course the "guitar and dafli playing type." When it came to promoting the film, the producer asked him "to pose with a chaku (knife)" for the poster, to draw in audiences!

It is in this backdrop that one has to register the fact that Subhash Ghai's cracker musical Karz (1980) had tanked at the box-office. Ghai recently sold its remake rights for Rs. 3 crore, which is a sum he'd not even come close to with the original. Likewise, Rishi's Tina Munim, Poonam Dhillon, Rakhee Gulzar co-starrer, Yeh Vaada Raha (1982), based on Danielle Steele's novel The Promise, showed no promise either. Neither did Zehreela Insaan (1974). Nor was Ramesh Saagar (1985) quite the Sholay!

The above is merely a short Spotify playlist I'm making for you, so after you're through with the Hum Kisise Kum Naheen medley, you check out the opening riffs of Karz's Ek Hasina Thi, the title track of Yeh Vaada Raha, and the finest R D Burman number, O Hansini, from Zehreela Insaan, or O' Maria from Saagar. These soundtracks have been around us all along. Post Rajesh Khanna, R D arguably equalled Rishi, on screen. R D is very much alive. So will Rishi. Music is the medium through which Hindi movies survive public memory.

Also, only a proper desi film aesthete would be able to tell how Rishi was uniquely gifted at lip-syncing, to perfectly own a song, before the camera. It's called song-acting—a talent that has no use in any another film culture. The first time Rishi was asked to perform a track (Main shayar toh nahin, from Bobby), he recalled, his father, Raj Kapoor, allowed him no choreographer. The logic being the choreographer would give him steps that other stars had already performed to. He would automatically be compared to them!

Even as an actor, it can be argued, Rishi looked and behaved like no one else—of his time, or from the generations before. Let alone other Kapoors. None of whom seemed like shadows of each other — carving niches of their own — while being raised under the banyan tree of Prithviraj, a full-time theatre and later film-studio actor, who began a four-generational legacy that Rishi was a proud and aware progeny of.

Contrary to popular perception — mainly because so many get to take a shot at stardom in the first place — most superstar-kids don't make it in the movies. Comparisons do them in. What separated Rishi from his father Raj, for one, was the lack of being — a word he used himself — the "stylised" actor.

By which you mean certain tics, manners, or andaaz, as it were, that instantly marked out say Dilip Kumar, Raj Kapoor, Dev Anand, and others. Rishi didn't have that. And this is what made his return to "character-driven" or more realistic films, at a larger stage, easily possible. Which wasn't the case with most others before him. It's the lightheartedness of his films that rendered him an underrated actor—hardly ever taken seriously by the critical establishment; something that bothered him much. He told me comedian Johnny Lever had a bone to pick with him. Rishi was the only star who'd been around for so long, that Lever couldn't find a way to mimic on stage! Fair point.

In 2017, I had the honour to host Rishi's first (and as yet only) retrospective of films at the Jagran Film Festival. From a filmography of over 150, we had to pick five. This was impossible. Going back and forth with his suggestions, we kept widening the quota. Until we reached a point that we could no longer accommodate more than eight films. And yet, how could MNJ be left out? We decided to play eight and half films in all—the half comprising Rishi's section from the three-part MNJ!

To be fair, an artiste/entertainer's self-perception should be at the core of his fan-base. And for this moment, don't care what Rishi Kapoor gems you've found — let's make it about the jeweller foremost. According to him, besides Karz and Bobby, Rishi's greatest works were—Habib Faisal's Do Dooni Char (2010), Raj Kapoor's Prem Rog (1982), Karan Malhotra's Agneepath (2012), Shakun Batra's Kapoor & Sons (2016), Manmohan Desai's Amar Akbar Anthony (1977), and Yash Chopra's Chandni (1989).

Notice his latent bias towards more recent releases. You can gauge the phase he was enjoying the most — placing his acting chops on display. It doesn't seem as if fate had mortally attacked a man who's young or old — just someone with such vitality and zest for life, that he was looking to soar. That's what hurts far more. Rishi had battled leukemia for two years.

The reason for his return to films, he told me, was a lovers' tiff of sorts that he'd had with his filmmaker buddy Rakesh Roshan, who'd pricked his ego with some loose talk about his career (or the lack of it). The expectedly emotional Rishi reasoned that he had retired from stardom, yes, but not from acting. He decided to stage a comeback — also to prove a point to Roshan, who, along with Jeetendra, Prem Chopra, and his Campion schoolmate, director Rahul Rawail, were known to be his close friends.

Basically the Rishi Kapoor I observed from a private quarter was no different from the Rishi Kapoor one experiences from a distance, in public. Meaning, what you saw is what you got. No overt agendas as such. This often cofounded political coteries on social media, with a lot of his tweets driving traffic to the Right, and then swerving conveniently to the Left-Liberal, as they say!

Guess if you've lived your adult life entirely in the public eye, you'll either always fake it, or just stop caring beyond a point. Of course he also had a socially well-connected, mature, adult side to him, with an eye on the lay of the land. But for the most part, it seemed, Rishi kept it real.

With personal disclaimers, he had no qualms admitting to the world he'd frickin' bought the Filmfare Award, for Bobby! He wrote it in his book, and explained further at an interview with me before a live audience. What're you gonna shame him for?

As a Bollywood star, he didn't think twice before drunk-dialing me past midnight, referring to how I had obliquely compared his son Ranbir's performance in Rockstar (2011) to Amitabh Bachchan, Aamir Khan, Hrithik Roshan — "Abey, beta toh mera hai!" True.

He could get childishly excited even about wearing a delegate-badge at a film festival, given that he said, surprisingly (for me), he'd never been formally invited to one before. But then again, despite his first and only retrospective being held across 16 cities over three months, he could bail out a day before the all-important closing ceremony, for a conversation before a packed house.

Because? He had an issue with an absolutely random cartoon published in Mid-day, about the fire at R K Studio. No, you couldn't console him. Just couldn't. That was Rishi. His friends say the same. Everyone loved him just the way he was though. Good luck God. And thank you, Mr Kapoor.


Bobby (1973)

Rachit Gupta (BOMBAY TIMES; April 23, 2018)

Producer-director Indra Kumar’s next — Total Dhamaal, the third installment of his popular comedy franchise — is all about greed and people chasing money. Keeping in line with the theme of the film, Kumar and his team have revisited Paisa Yeh Paisa, a classic number from Subhash Ghai’s Karz (1980). We hear that the star-studded cast — Ajay Devgn, Anil Kapoor, Madhuri Dixit, Riteish Deshmukh, Arshad Warsi, Jaaved Jaaferi, Sanjay Mishra and Pitobash — had a great time matching steps to the yesteryear hit.

At a Mumbai studio, all the actors lined up in electric blue attires, with notes of Rs 2,000 being showered on them and the rejigged version of the song playing in the background. Anil Kapoor said, “It feels great to be dancing to this classic number. I am matching steps with all these young stars and it feels great to be able to give it your best.”

Madhuri Dixit cited Paisa Yeh Paisa as one of her all-time favourites. “I’m really happy that Indra Kumar has decided to revisit this classic number. It’s a song that I’ve grooved to for so many years. Even after so long, it retains its energy,” she said.

The actress, who is known for her dancing talent as much as for her acting chops, was modest when asked if she was the best dancer on the set. She replied, “I can’t say I’m the best, because we have Jaaved and Arshad, who are trained dancers and a lot better than me. But yes, you can say that I am the best woman dancer in the film (laughs!).”

Indra Kumar called Total Dhamaal his biggest film yet, both in terms of cast and budget. Explaining the reason behind recreating the 80s’ track, he said, “Subhash ji and his wonderful composers Laxmikant-Pyarelal ji created this song many years ago and it’s still relevant. Even now, people are chasing money. So, this song fits the theme of our film perfectly.”

Happy to have the hit jodi of Anil-Madhuri in his film, he added, “They’re an iconic pair and they still create an electric atmosphere on screen together.”

An adventure comedy, Total Dhamaal is touted to feature thrilling stunt sequences. Indra Kumar said, “We’ve used action-based situations to create humour. We also have four more songs to shoot, which we’ll do in the days to come.”

Total Dhamaal, presented by Fox Star Studios, produced by Ajay Devgn Ffilms, Indra Kumar, Ashok Thakeria, Sri Adhikari Brothers, Anand Pandit and Fox Star Studios, and co-produced by Jayantilal Gada and Sangeeta Ahir releases on December 7, 2018.

Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; November 23, 2017)

It was classical music that forged a ‘tuning’ between ‘zamindar’ Prem Nath and his on-screen son Subhash Ghai who were cast in the 1973 Punjabi musical Sherni which went on to celebrate a silver jubilee run. “We shot in Punjab for 40 days. He was a big star then while I was just a newcomer but the divide was quickly bridged when he discovered that I could sing and play the tabla. I became his favourite and he’d call me ‘Sonny’ off the sets too,” the ‘showman’ reminisces.

Three years later, ‘Sonny’ went on to direct the veteran actor in his first directorial, Kalicharan, in which Prem Nath played IG PN Khanna to Shatrughan Sinha’s Inspector Prabhakar/Kalicharan. Ghai remembers that Prem Nath was delighted when he learnt that his boy was making the transition to direction and loved the role even suggesting that the film be retitled I G Khanna since it was his story. Ghai told him he’d think about it but the next day was adamant that Kalicharan was an apt title. “I was afraid he might refuse the film, but he not only accepted the offer but enhanced the film with his performance,” exults a still ebullient Ghai.

Next up: Vishwanath in 1978 with the same team of Sahtrughan Sinha, Reena Roy and Prem Nath. This time played a multimillionaire, GNK, who travels with a convoy of 40 cars to show off his money power. He played the role with elan and Vishwanth was a bigger hit than Kalicharan .

Reciting a popular dialogue from the film, “Jali ko aag kehte hain, bhuji ko raakh kehte hain, jis raakh se barood bane, use Vishwanath kehte hain,” Ghai remembers the man he called Swamiji, saying, “Prem Nath ji was a real character who drank five different kinds of liquor with a ‘mala’ in his hand. In our 10 year association through five films— Kalicharan, Vishwanath, Gautam Govinda, Krodhi and Karz—I wrote diversely different characters for him that brought out the best in him.”

His best-remembered role is undoubtedly that of bad man Sir Judah from Karz. Ghai laughingly admits that he has no idea where the name cropped up from, but it suited the godfather Prem Nath played. “When I told him I wanted him to play a mute, he laughed and asked, ‘You are fed up of my vocal power now?’ Actually the reason was that the role wasn’t big in terms of screen time and I wanted to compensate length with strength. I gave him a sidekick to translate his telegram signals into words. It was a gamble making a powerful vocal actor like him speechless but he enjoyed the challenge,” Ghai beams.

He adds that his Swamiji was a musical, spiritual and loving man who was an impulsive philanthropist. He would insist that he be paid a lakh more than the hero and would decide on his remuneration depending on the day a filmmaker approached him. So, if it was December 6, his fee was Rs 6 lakh and if it was 29 th of the month, he asked for Rs 29 lakh. “But if a really needy person approached him on the set, Swamiji would take his instalment from the producer and give it to him to take care of his family,” he informs.

Prem Nath demise on November 3, 1992, broke the ‘tuning’ they shared. “Tuning was a word he used to describe if he was in sync with the director and happy to work with him. Agar tuning na ho to he was not open to a collaboration. It was a word that many others picked up later. As long as he lived, we were on the same page and even today, 25 years later, I miss that tuning,” says Ghai. He would have turned 91 on November 21.

Sanyukta Iyer (MUMBAI MIRROR; April 25, 2017)

Actress Simi Garewal, who seamlessly transitioned to the role of a talk show host with her eponymous show, Rendezvous, is gearing up for a comeback with a new season being picked up by Colors Infinity. “It’s going to be a brilliant line-up of stars,” promises the 69-year-old veteran star.

Meanwhile, Simi recently reunited with her Karz-director, Subhash Ghai, and co-star Rishi Kapoor for a ‘matinee show’ of the 1980 thriller that never had a premiere ahead of its theatrical release. In Ghai’s office, ahead of the screening, which was part of an endeavour to revive classics at Mumbai’s heritage theatre, New Excelsior, the trio reminisced how Karz had fallen short of a silver jubilee run but had gone on to become a cult film. “Karz has been cloned by many but they never worked since the original remains etched in the audience’s mind,” Simi reveals, recalling how during the recent screening, youngsters ran to the front of the screen, dancing to the film’s songs.

“Chintu and I agreed that we’ve never seen anything like it before!” But Simi contends that the occasion doesn’t qualify as a jog down memory lane as Rishi and she “meet all the time”. “My last episode of Rendezvous was with Chintu and Neetu in Melbourne. They’re the most honest couple, not worried about their image or celebrity-status. Chintu was at his wittiest,” she signs off with a smile.

In a forthcoming autobiography, the actor opens up on the Don and depression
THE TIMES OF INDIA (January 15, 2017)

Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; October 27, 2015)

Subhash Ghai reveals that Karz was conceived out of a need to retaliate against a comment he'd heard from the film fraternity that while he was an excellent director who could make blockbusters of crime thrillers like Kalicharan and Vishwanath, he had no sense of music. The observation haunted him and was the inception for this musical thriller which, 35 years after its release, still has six year olds crooning, "Om Shanti Om."

With the thought of a musical in his mind, Ghai stumbled upon a 1975 American supernatural suspense thriller, The Reincarnation of Peter Proud, directed by Cafe Fear maker J. Lee Thompson. "I didn't understand the film but I liked the idea of a mother recognising her son's soul even in a different body," reminisces the filmmaker, who, holding on to the thought, took off to Ooty alone, returning after 20 days with the first draft of Karz, which he narrated to his screenplay writer Sachin Bhowmick.

"Sachinda thought it was a good murder mystery in the mould of Vishwanath and Kalicharan. He was surprised when I told him I wanted to make it like a musical thriller. When he suggested I stick to doing what I was good at, I told him that I was good at many things, people just didn't know it. He smiled and asked for a second draft," recalls Ghai, who went back to Ooty to figure out how to integrate a musical theme into the plot and found his answer in Om.

Having studied Vedic science, he knew that Om was one word which vibrates in the soul. In a moment of epiphany, he decided to create a musical note which would be the soul of the film.

After completing the second draft he narrated the story to Laxmikant-Pyarelal, telling them he wanted them to compose the music. "But you are known for your traditional Indian scores, I want a more westernised orchestration," he told the duo, who accepted the challenge and came up with the first song, "Dard-E-Dil, Dard-E-Jigar", a ghazal penned by Anand Bakshi, which Rishi Kapoor aka Monty sings when he sees Tina (Munim) and falls in love with her at first sight.

"While we were recording this song, I asked Pyarelalji to give me some theme tunes. He played six of them for me on the piano. I picked number three, a haunting tune which played through the film as the script and music travelled together," says Ghai.

Besides music, he also used Hindu mythology and the concept of Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh being reborn as different avatars to tell a story of intrigue and murder, revenge and retribution which continues beyond death, into another life to climax at the same Kali temple where Part 1 ended. Rishi was Ghai's choice for Monty, the reincarnation of Ravi Verma, because "he's a great dancer and lover, and one of the best actors we have".

He was paired with an innocent Tina Munim. Ghai named her character Tina and told her to simply be herself.

The biggest casting challenge was Kamini. "I didn't want a conventional vamp to play the sly princess... the elegant countess, I wanted Simi. But she wasn't ready to accept a performance-oriented role because it had grey shades. It took two months to convince her," he admits.

Three decades later, Karz is unforgettable for Simi's class act and Rishi Kapoor's cult song, "Om Shanti Om". Ghai wanted to travel through Om to the film's theme and while his music directors loved the idea, they were at a loss to come up with a happy song about a man in love which began with the words "Om Shanti Om" and moved to "Mere Umar Ke Naujavanon" in the second line. But like their director and lyricist, they proved equal to the task and were rewarded with the Filmfare Award for Best Music Director. The trophy vindicated Subhash Ghai whose innate sense of music was never questioned again.

In 2008, Karz was remade by Himesh Reshammiya as Karzzzz. Quiz Ghai on it and he says once he sells the rights of a film, he never contributes, interferes with or even sees the remake. "It's a deal between two companies, my job is over once I sell the rights," he reasons, admitting he has never wanted to remake any of his films. "But a sequel to Karz is a definite possibility."