Showing posts with label Pramod Chakravorty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pramod Chakravorty. Show all posts
29 years of Phool Aur Kaante: When Ajay Devgn straddled two bikes to a blockbuster
8:10 AM
Posted by Fenil Seta
Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; November 20, 2020)
After assisting producer-director-actor Raj Kapoor for 11 years and working as second unit director to Rahul Rawail, his senior in the RK camp, on films like Betaab and Arjun, Kuku Kohli (below; left) finally landed a break as an independent director when Dinesh Patel agreed to invest in an action-packed love story and a pair of fresh faces. Akshay Kumar had been penciled in as the lead when he landed a big break in Pramod Chakravorty’s Deedar. “Since Pramod da was an established maker while I was a debutant, Akshay understandably gave priority to his film over mine. I was all charged up and my budget was tight, so, I wanted bulk dates. But he could only accommodate me for 2-3 days between Deedar’s shoot. Since, that did not work for me, I started looking around for another new boy,” reminisces Kuku ji.
Action director Veeru Devgan was a friend and he would drop by his office often. One day, a photograph of his son caught his eye and he told Veeru ji that he wanted to audition Ajay. The screen-test went off well, with the boy delivering his dialogue with aplomb and performing the scenes with impressive intensity. “I saw an emotional depth in his eyes that I wanted to bring to the screen and immediately signed him on,” recounts Kuku ji, who subsequently spent hours with a delighted Veeru ji discussing and planning the many fight sequences.
Twenty-nine years later, one still remembers Ajay Devgn’s explosive entry straddling two bikes and Kuku ji applauds the tireless, fearless actor who pulled off not just the most daredevil stunts without duplicates, cables or VFX, but also faced a seasoned performer like Amrish Puri, who played his father, an ageing don, in the film, in the emotionally dramatic scenes without missing a beat. “I knew then itself that he was destined for glory,” asserts the director.
However, since Ajay was still a newcomer then, finding a leading lady proved to be difficult. Undeterred by the many excuses and no-nos, Kuku ji put out an advertisement announcing Phool Aur Kaante with Ajay holding a girl whose face was not visible. “Soon after, Hema ji’s (Malini) niece, Madhoo, sent her photographs across to the office. She looked good and we signed her opposite Ajay. She turned out to be a good actress too,” he smiles.
While they were shooting Ajay’s entry on the bikes, a couple of big producers, friends of Dinesh Patel, had dropped by for a dekko. They would watch Kuku ji run, from left to right, and back, and wonder aloud what he was doing. But despite their misgivings, the film shaped up to everyone’s satisfaction and the response from the aam janta to the trailer also was phenomenal. Encouraged, a confident Kuku ji took another gamble, announcing that they would be releasing it on November 22, 1991, coming up against Yash Chopra’s Lamhe which featured Sridevi in a double role and Anil Kapoor, whom Kuku ji knew from his RK days. “Yash ji was a big filmmaker, Anil and Sridevi were superstars and Lamhe was an eagerly awaited film. Our film had only debutants and everyone laughed at our audacity, calling us mad,” narrates Kuku ji.
He admits that they were equally sure that Lamhe would run to full houses and were only hoping that the audience overflow would come to them. “No one had ever imagined that the reverse would happen. Phool Aur Kaante packed in the crowds for 74 straight weeks and would have easily celebrated a platinum jubilee had it not been pulled out to save on doling out bonuses. However, in its 76th week, it returned to the theatres and continued its triumphant run till the 81st week,” Kuku ji guffaws.
What’s more, despite all the maar-dhaad and rona-dhona, Nadeem-Shravan’s music was a rage, with romantic songs like “Tumse Milne Ko Dil Karta Hai”, “Dheere Dheere Pyaar Ko Badhana Hai” and “Maine Pyaar Tumhi Se Kiya Hai,” continuing to resonate even after almost three decades. So, is a sequel on the way? “I have a beautiful script ready with me. I have still to narrate it to him but if Ajay is interested and has the dates, I would love to return to Phool Aur Kaante,” Kuku ji signs off on an ebullient note.
Apparently I was crap, they removed me from Jo Jeeta Wahi Sikandar-Akshay Kumar
3:49 AM
Posted by Fenil Seta

mid-day's exclusive in-depth conversation series, Sit With Hitlist, started off with Aamir Khan. Akshay Kumar is a fine follow-up. Both being kings of box-office. Besides that they've being reigning over Bollywood since the '90s
Mayank Shekhar (MID-DAY; November 24, 2017)
Now since this is part of a conversation series, I was trying to look at stuff that links you and Aamir. But, of course, you haven't done a film together. An interesting bit of trivia that I suspect audiences may not be aware of is that you, in fact, had auditioned for Aamir's cult classic Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar [1993], and it didn't eventually work out, is that true?
So, I went there. Apna screen test diya maine, for Deepak Tijori's role [Tijori played the young anti-hero in the school-campus rom-com]. And they didn't like it. And, apparently, I was crap, so they removed me. So, there you go!
Were you auditioning a lot [and perhaps getting rejected] in those years?
Yeah, I had auditioned with B R Chopra, Ravi Chopra, Raj Sippy, Pramod Chakravorty. I didn't have money to get my own portfolio shot, so I assisted photographer Jay Seth, on the condition that one day, he'd shoot and make my portfolio for me. I worked for him without any pay. Then there was the producer Salim Aftab, who'd made lots of films, including Loha, that I gave an audition for.
So usually, in Mumbai, over 20,000 people come over every year with the expressed intention of working in films. And over the years...
Per year, no? In Bombay Central station itself, kariban 5,000 log roz utarte hai [get off everyday]. From the North, and the South, but mostly from the North. Of these, around 3,500 return, because nothing works out for them. That is the actual figure. And this is from one station.
So they step out of Bombay Central, and a lot of them head straight towards Lokhandwala, and adjoining areas...
Yes, Lokhandawa is the hub.
Most of them hang around in CCD [Café Coffee Day], Barista…. Was the scene very similar, when you were starting out? Was there like a CCD equivalent, where people would dress up, chill, discuss scripts...
Back then, there was nothing known as script. As for places, there was one called Bonbon. Have you heard of it? It's a shoe shop in Seven Bungalows [Andheri]. That's where everyone would gather. Aur, ikatthe bhi kaun hote thhe [and the ones who would gather would be] strugglers, with fight masters. So, they would sit there, talk about stuff. The fight masters would then take us to meet some producers, directors. Because every film had fights. I think, after every eight to ten scenes, there would be a fight. If you see films from those days, you'll realise how they used to be full of fights, and fights, and fights. Yaha tak ki, I've heard so many directors say, ki jab film ke screenplay mein dhalaan aaye [when the story peters down], toh fight dal do [put in a fight sequence], toh upar aa jayegi [the tempo will pick up]!
So you're saying these action directors were the casting agents, in their own ways, back then? That you look good, can fight well, let me take you to a producer/director?
Yes. For the entire day, Bon Bon would be our hub to meet up, because the fight masters were there.

Why outside a shoe store though?
Because uske baju mein [right next to it], kabab ki dukaan thi [there was a kabab shop]. All Punjabi fight masters used to go there, wahan kabab shabab khate the. But because the name of that kabab shop was not easy to pronounce, we used to refer to the place as Bonbon [for the shoe store next to it].
Because uske baju mein [right next to it], kabab ki dukaan thi [there was a kabab shop]. All Punjabi fight masters used to go there, wahan kabab shabab khate the. But because the name of that kabab shop was not easy to pronounce, we used to refer to the place as Bonbon [for the shoe store next to it].
Another really fascinating thing I came across, and I'm not sure how many people know this, has to do with your name. A lot of conversations have happened around why you decided to take up Akshay Kumar [his real name is Rajeev Bhatia]. There was a [little known] Mahesh Bhatt film called Aaj, that you worked in, where you were supposed to be a stunt-person...
Martial arts teacher.
And when you actually saw the film, your role had been snipped to about seven seconds. Is that correct?
No, it was always that long. I had shot for seven seconds!
And then, you realised that the hero of that film is called Akshay. So you started to call yourself Akshay as well. Is that really the story?
Yes. That is a true story. Kumar Gaurav was the hero in that film. He was called Akshay. And, I don't know why, it's not that I thought my name was bad. Rajeev is a very good name. Pata nahi, dimag mein koi chah aa jati hai [something just interests you in your head]. And I just wanted to go, and change my name, and I went to the court in Bandra East and did it. I have a full certificate as proof [of my name-change].

And on one fine day, you decided to have a visiting card with that name.
Yes, a yellow and white coloured card.
Do you have the card with you?
I'm sure it's lying around somewhere. It was yellow and white in colour, I still remember that. I put my [new] name on it, my address, baaki toh kuch ttha hi nahi [there was nothing else to put anyway]. I just wrote, black belt, under it. That's it.
And your life changed on that day!
Actually there's a long story behind this. You want me to say it?
Absolutely.
So, I woke up one morning to start my workout. At six in the evening that day, I was meant to go to Bangalore for a modelling assignment that I'd got. At 5.10 am, I got a call from the airport. The [modelling] agency guy asked me where I was. I said I was home. And then he blasted me, over how unprofessional I was. He said, "You will never succeed in life, I can guarantee you." I asked, "What happened?" And then I realised, the flight I had thought was for 6 pm, was actually for 6 am. I was actually in tears telling him, "Yaar, mein bhag ke, motorcycle pe abhi aata hoon [I can just rush in now]." Unfortunately, they didn't agree. Obviously, they were also right. They had to catch a flight as well. Ussi din, mera card bhi aa gaya chap ke [That's the day my visiting cards arrived from the printing press]. I was very low. My father had gone to work. I was talking to my mother, who said, as every mother says in their own language, "Puttar koi baat bahi. Jo honda hai, Rab theek karta hai [Whatever happens, happens for the good]." That line, I've heard so many times from my mother. So, I went to Natraj studio that day, where I met [filmmaker] Pramod Chakravorty's company's make-up man. He asked me, "Hero banna hai?" I said, "Haan yaar, banna hai [Yes, I want to be a hero]. He said, "Photo hai [You have pictures]?" At that time, we used to travel with such big photographs, in a huge album. Because directors, and producers, would not want to see a small picture. I don't know what they wanted to see - pores in your skin, or what. But they wanted to see everything closely. So, he took that album inside the office, Pramod Chakravorty saw it. I was called in. Much to my surprise, he gave me my first cheque, signed me up for three films, immediately. Right away. He gave me a cheque of Rs 5000, for the first film, Rs 50,000, for second film, and the third cheque had Rs 1.5 lakh on it. The exact time he gave me those cheques was 6 o'clock in the evening. It would have been a disaster, if I would have gone to Bangalore. Today, I would be a retired model somewhere. So yes, whatever happens is for the good.

So you didn't go to Bon Bon the next day?
I did.
To tell everyone, boss, I got my break?
You know how it is. Humare dimag mein yeh bhi ek rehta hai na, ki jab tak film shuru nahi hoti, tab tak kya pata [You're never sure until the film actually rolls]. So many slips happen so often. You just never know. When Dada [Chakravorty] started taking care of me, I became his family.
So that make-up man is still your make-up person?
Yes, he's still there. Since I entered the industry, my driver, spot-boy, everybody has been the same.
I'm assuming the film you got that day was Deedar, which was also supposed to be Karisma Kapoor's debut?
Actually, Nagma had given the screen test first. Then Karisma did, and Karisma got selected.
This would have been your first film on screen, but it wasn't. And it was a romantic film?
Yes.
So you would have started out as a romantic hero, rather than the 'action star' that you eventually became.
But it [Deedar] had lots of fights too!

The persona that stuck with you was that of 'Khiladi', which is from your third or fourth movie onwards. Your name itself became Khiladi. Correct me if I'm wrong, one of the tests for old-world stardom in Indian movies, is when the actor acquires a sobriquet: for instance, Amitabh Bachchan is Shahenshah, Shah Rukh is Badshah, or King Khan… After Khiladi, in particular, was there a moment when you finally realised or told yourself, "Boss, I'm finally a star"?
I have this habit of listening to lots of people's stories, and learning from their experiences. Like, I love hearing about what happened with Rajendra Kumar, or Sunil Dutt saab, or Rajesh Khanna, or some producer, and I've learnt from their experiences. And the fact remains, there's nothing called a star. Kyunki aaj hai, kal nahi [It's there today, gone tomorrow]. Yeh mein bahut jaldi seekh gaya [I learnt this quite early on]. So I never took the idea of stardom very seriously. Sure, they call me Khiladi viladi, and they still do. For the last 15 years in the industry, I haven't made a 'Khiladi' film, yet if I step out, people say, "Aye Khiladi!" Even if I do 50 more films, woh naam hatega hi nahi [that name won't disappear]. But, I have never taken the word 'star' seriously, because I'm very scared that this is all going to go away. Without taking names, I have even heard stories of people going mental, when this star [syndrome] has been taken seriously, and things have started falling apart. Because this is a very deadly industry. Kabhi bhi gira sakti hai [You can fall any minute]. Kuch bhi ho sakta hai [Anything can happen].
Any other stories you might want to tell in this regard, even if without taking names?
Actually, I've learnt a lot from Danny Denzongpa. He's the one guy I would always like my life to be like. He has never taken his stardom seriously. He has his own very straight and simple life. He has his small beer company, where he gets his money from.
Dansberg, yes. You don't drink, but it's a superb beer though!
Yeah, I don't drink, but I know what you mean. Similarly I would also like to have a small company, so money keeps coming in. Then for three months in the summers, he [Danny] doesn't work. In the winters, if there's work, he'll go there. For two months, he goes alone, taking his flute, and he's singing, swimming in lakes! He really spends a life, and he has a great family life too - a man without any stress. I look at him, and say I want to have a life like him. So I follow him, and try to ape him. I'm sure you didn't expect Danny Denzongpa's name.
As your idol?
Well, only for the way he leads his life.
Sure, not as a professional, because very few people have been as competitive as you. I mean you take your holidays, but you make sure that you do four films a year.
Well, I don't make sure. It is not science. I fail to understand why people think of four films as a big deal. It's 38 days, into 4, that's 152 days in a year, give it 10 days each for the film's promotional activities, the rest of the days are yours, ghumo firo! (chill).
The other thing about highs and lows, very few have seen that as much as you - strings of hits followed by string of flops - and you've done so many films that you've probably lost count yourself...
No, I count them. It's 131.
Does that include Aaj?
Yes.
Because, Aaj doesn't feature much online...
I actually have another film, even before Aaj, called Harjaee.
What did you do in that movie?
I'm throwing flowers at Randhir Kapoor, he's getting married! (Audience laughs)
So when you've done that many movies, clearly by now, you have a sense of chalegi ya nahin [will it work or not]?
No.
Not at all?
Kisika baap nahi bata sakta! I challenge anybody who can say, yeh chalegi [this will work].
So are you still stunned by arrey, yeh, chal gayi [wow, that worked]? Or the other way round?
I can only say that this film will make a name for itself. But I can't predict what kind of business it'll do. For example, with Toilet [Ek Prem Katha], I knew people are going to say that we've made a good film. But that it would make Rs 130 to 132 crore was shocking for me.
And 2017 has been your year again: two back-to-back massive hits.
Things have been very good. It's been like this from the beginning of my career. Flop chal raha hai toh chal hi raha hai. 14 flops ek saath marta hoon! [If films are flopping, then I hit 14 flops in a row!]. And if it's hits, toh 12 hits mari hai ek saath [then I've scored 12 hits in a row!] Right now, the number is six [hits in succession]. Between 2010 and '12, I had delivered six flops together.
So you're saying it's purely luck of the draw then. By now I'm certain you've the inherent instinct to figure the business out; I mean that's how you budget movies, isn't it?
Okay, chalo mein aapki baat maan leta hoon [Let me agree with you then]. Golmaal [Again] released. I bet Rs 2 lakh that the film will hit Rs 200-crore mark. And that number worked.

Who was the bet with? Ajay (Devgn)?
No, I'm not going to tell you; someone else.
That's another interesting relationship you have with Ajay Devgn. You were apparently chosen to star in his first [Phool Aur Kaante, 1991]. Is that true?
Yes, I was in Phool Aur Kaante. I sat in on the [music] sessions, with Nadeem-Shravan at Sunny Super Sound [recording studio]. Those days, there used to be 30-40 violin guys in every song, a separate orchestra. Ab toh, we finish off everything in an instant. So at night, I was readying my ice box. You had to do it on your own in those days - paani dalna, barf dalna [placing water, ice]. So I was getting ready for the first day's shoot. And then I get a call, ki bhaiya aap mat aana. Koi aur aa raha hai [You don't need to come for the shoot, someone else is].
Nepotism?
No. But around the same time, a few days later, I met Abbas-Mustan at Juhu Centaur. And got Khiladi [1992].
Now another thing you'd maintained throughout in your career, is that you will never turn into a producer, that you only want to remain an actor. But you first produced Waqt [2005], the earnings of which, if I'm not mistaken, you donated to a cancer hospital in Canada. It seemed like a one-off call. But now you're one of those most active producers. What led to that change?
See, it became very difficult for me after a point. Now a producer comes in and says, "Bhaiya, mein produce karna chahta hoon, aap kitna paise lete hain [How much do you charge]? I don't know what to charge. Because, actually, nobody can come to know what to charge. The best way then would be that I make my own film. And I don't charge anything. When the film releases, I take whatever the earnings are, the whole thing.
You take the whole thing?
Yes, because I'm producing it. Unless, agar aap paise laga rahe ho [you're putting in money], I have to pay you. I make most of my films at a budget of Rs 20-30 crore, say. That return is guaranteed. Beyond that, if the earnings are Rs 40, 50, or 60 crore, good. And if it totally doesn't work, and makes Rs 10 crore, even then I have not caused a loss to anyone. It's a very simple. Obviously a newcomer can't do this. You have to be in this industry for quite a while. But, this is my calculation behind producing films - the fact that I cannot quote a price on myself, to any producer. Because I don't know how much the film will make. And I don't know what is going to happen - sometimes satellite rates go up, digital rights numbers go down, music works, or Bhushan ji [T-Series' Bhushan Kumar] says ki nahi chali [didn't work]. Nobody knows what is happening. There is no certainty to anything. So, why not take the blame on myself? And if I earn, I earn. If not, I lose. And obviously, there's no chance of losing, because that much [of investment], you can always earn [recover].
Are you good with money, otherwise?
I'm very good with money. My father was an accountant. I can calculate money very fast.
Does money interest you a lot?
No. To a certain extent, yes. Earlier I used to work in films for money. But, now I don't - I want to make films, which make a difference to society. That's why you'll see my choices of films have changed. Yes, when I entered the industry, it was a pure and simple thing - paisa kamao, ghar jaao [earn and leave] - I just wanted Rs 10 crore in my bank. Ab, woh calculation bandh ho gaya. That money wire in my head has been cut off. Now my calculation is, what next.
That's such a huge change from how you used to be-from your subjects in films, to your approach to movies itself.
But then that wire got cut!
When that wire was there, what did you love about money most? Was there ever a moment when you bought something and that felt like worth earning for?
I had not seen much money since childhood. So there was certainly an attraction towards it. But when I bought my house, that felt good. It was later that I realised that it was the same place where I'd done a photo shoot, and the chowkidaar had thrown me out! It's just a coincidence that I bought that house. Not exactly a scene from Anitabh Bachchan's Deewar [1975]! I still have a photograph of me lying on the ledge, and it's the same place where I live now. I have memories of coming to that beach with my parents. We would spend family time together.
It seemed to me that [your wife] Twinkle [Khanna] also had a role to play in the change in your film choices. She happened to be in the room while I was having this conversation with you recently. She agreed and said, in jest, that she keeps whispering in your ears while you sleep: "Do good films. Win awards." You said that you whisper back into her ears, "Mela, Mela..."
I also tell her about Kuch Kuch Hota Hai [1998]. Even that was offered to her. She read the script, and she didn't understand it. Eventually, Rani [Mukerji] did that role. She still tells Rani, "Teri zindagi maine banayi [I made your life]." She'd actually thrown the script, and called it sh*t!
As a couple, you share fabulous chemistry in public. But you guys seem very different from each other otherwise. She is a popular writer, very vocal about her opinions. You are extremely diplomatic. Are you much of a reader?
I don't read anything, except my agreements. I am a movie person. I watch every film, and almost every day. Anything on TV catches my attention. Just the other day, I was watching a Malayalam film, with no subtitles. I wasn't understanding anything. But mentally, I was weaving my own story of what's playing, based on the visuals. A lot of the times we make movies, by looking at movies.

Do you usually also look for material to remake?
I don't remake films, I remake scenes. Earlier in Hindi films, we would copy a lot. Things became really strict over time. Earlier, copyright meant right to copy. But thankfully, now we've a lot of original scripts to choose from. With studios coming in, things have fallen in place. People are working towards original screenplays. When you watch new movies, you can feel this change in cinema - Vicky Donor [2012], Shubh Mangal Savdhan [2017]… Earlier, who would think of making a film on sperm donation?
That's also the mode you've picked: mainstream, entertaining movies, slightly high-pitched, with a strong message [Jolly LLB 2, Toilet - Ek Prem Katha].
You have to do that.
While you're extremely diplomatic on political affairs, I was watching an interview of yours, where you've said that you wouldn't mind being a sports or health minister. Really?
I know these two areas very well. I don't want to do politics, for the sake of politics. I know what a sportsman thinks. I know I can do something about it. Even if I am given a stadium, I know I can change things. All my life I have been into sport. I might not be that educated, but sports has provided me education all along.
So far as movies are concerned, the one thing that you can certainly take credit for is bringing about change in the lives of stuntmen. Awara Pagal Deewana [2002] was the first movie to introduce stunts, using cables. Back in the day stuntmen used to die, lose limbs during jumps. There was hardly any safety net from an insurance point of view either.
I am happy to say that every fighter now has insurance. Hindi films' stuntmen are the only insured people. This practise has yet to reach Tamil and Telugu industries. Those men also need to be insured. I remember, once I was wearing my knee pads on the sets, that I had got from Bangkok. The stunt-master came up to me and said, "Kya kar raha hai, beta. Chand pe jaa raha hai. Mera bhi ghutna toota hai, theek hai. [What're you doing, son? Are you going to the moon? Even I've broken my knee, it's okay!]." There was such lack of knowledge.
Have you seen a major mishap happen in front of your eyes?
I have seen someone die. I can never forget that. He was a young boy, doing a car stunt. He waved out at all of us. And then the crash happened. We all went running. But by the time we got him out, he had snapped his neck. People don't understand that there is a lot of physics behind stunts. You've to understand it better. Suppose, if someone has to jump from a highrise or even from a chopper, what you think is the middle point, where you have to land, is actually not the mid-point. You have to take into consideration the airspeed which will shift you from it. I remember someone had to jump from a height, and land on boxes, and he fell out of it. People blamed me for it, said he was trying to copy me. People need to understand that every stunt - be it jumps, or those involving fire, skidding on a motorcycle - can be calculated. Stuntmen don't take proper care. They've started to of late. Earlier, we used to lose our men, left, right, centre.

Another area that you've actively worked on is self-defense for women. I was quite stunned to learn that this year, you had 21,000 girls graduate from your school.
Well, there was a recent case as well. A guy tried to molest one of the girls trained from my school. Forget resisting the molestation, she was so powerful that she beat him black and blue. He is in jail now. It's not about learning martial arts. Women have to understand that they should be able to combat blows. What happens when someone holds a girl's hands, she freezes. She can't believe that someone has caught her like this [inappropriately]. She doesn't scream, move or shriek. That is when a man takes advantage of her. I am trying to teach them how to be more confident in real life, besides being able to get out of an unfortunate situation. I teach them that they have to scream. I never have them come to the school in track pants. If people go to work in saree, they should come to learn in a saree. When someone attacks, you won't say, "Ruko track pant pehen ke aane do [Wait, let me wear my track pants]." They practice in heels, shoes everything. We have all kinds of students -from CEOs, to maids -training, free of cost. They come, enjoy the classes, and win medals. My farewell gift to them is a keychain with a whistle on it. When a girl whistles, the guy withdraws, and gets shocked. It scares him. It's an Israeli tactic.
Final question, and coming back to films, and actually how we began this conversation, with the Aamir Khan connection. Your next huge film is Shankar's 2.0. Because Rajinikanth wasn't well at a point, he had called Aamir up to check if he might want to do his role in 2.0. And Aamir said this was the most kick-ass script he'd read in the longest time, and that it would to be the biggest hit of the year. Except, he couldn't imagine himself playing that part, he could only see Rajini, when he closed his eyes. That great?
Yes, it is something very different. As I always say, Shankar is not a director, he's a scientist. He discovers things. Once you watch the movie, you will wonder for a while, "Yeh hua kya?" The topic is great. And it's a superhero film, where you get emotional as well. I don't know how Shankar does it. I have no idea how he wrote it.
And this is one of those films that can actually go across India, Rajini, you - South, North?
Yes. It has the capacity to travel even outside India, in a big way.
(Excerpts of the conversation transcribed by Sonia Lulla, Mohar Basu and Sonil Dedhia)
I take my family on private jets. This is the only bad habit I have-Akshay Kumar
8:11 AM
Posted by Fenil Seta
‘One man industry’ Akshay Kumar talks money, movies, while taking us through an incredible joyride called ’90s Bollywood
Mayank Shekhar (MID-DAY; August 6, 2017)
There’s a story I’d heard from the beginning of Akshay Kumar’s career about his secretary negotiating with producer Mukesh Bhatt for a film. While displeased with the amount the secretary had demanded on Akshay’s behalf, Mukesh anyway asked him to come over and meet him at 11 am on a Sunday at JVPD Scheme in Juhu. The secy showed up on time. He called Mukesh to check where he was. Mukesh told him to look towards Amitabh Bachchan’s bungalow on that road. “You see the crowd outside (his house)? When Akshay gets the same crowd, negotiate with me,” Mukesh told the secy, and hung up!
There’s a reason I bring up this Bachchan analogy from so many years ago with Akshay, when we meet at his plush office, also in Juhu, in the same building as his massive, secluded villa, facing the beach/sea. Much about Bollywood has changed since the ’80s when Bachchan was famously the ‘one man industry’ — a term coined by Francois Truffaut to denote, among many things, Big B’s annual commercial output, which used to be huge for practically all top stars (three-four films a year) up until the late ’90s. All of them, younger ones included, let alone the three Khans, roll out, usually, a film a year.
If you were to pass on Bachchan’s ‘one man industry’ tag to anyone in Bollywood then, it’d simply have to be Akshay Kumar. “I think the others evolved. People say, you must. But I forgot to! I still remained the same. Maybe I’ve been one of the lucky ones in that respect. In 1990, I used to do four films a year. In 2017 as well, I’m doing four films. Every human being has his own way of working,” Akshay reasons.
The obvious positive outcome of this relentless harvest is that while other star-actors annually pin all their hopes on one film, often going into minor depression if it doesn’t cut it with the masses, as we speak, Akshay says, he already “has three films lying finished,” ready to be served! There ought to be a production model — that others are unable to adopt, or choose not to — which explains that spanning two and half decades, without a break, Akshay’s robustly commandeered a one-actor economy, delivering consistent quarterly results, with a fairly balanced P/L account, presently producing most of the films himself, assuring employment to hundreds every few months. What’s the fail-safe formula? He says, “I learnt something from a dear friend of mine, who makes buildings. He never sits and counts the bricks, cement, or gets into other nitty-gritty. He just buys the plot. Then he calls a big company, like a Larsen & Toubro, to build." He says he’ll be there — likewise (in my case) producing it, being the face of it.
“I ask the company how much they will charge. They quote Rs 10. I tell them, I’ll give you Rs 12. But you deliver the film on time. If you don’t, I’ll start subtracting your money. That’s why I work on six to seven films a year. But how many people work in my office? Five. I outsource. I don’t work much myself either, devoting around 180 days of the year for shoots — I take a vacation for a month and half, which I just returned from. I don’t work Sundays, Saturday’s and half- day...”
Death of the solo-producer
What’s equally remarkable about this business model is that, over the years, his films have inevitably scaled upwards, by way of size, polish and reach, starting off as he did with what can be called ‘B’ and ‘C-grade’ movies: “I’ve done films, which are not even C, they’ve gone to D and E! I still remember one incident from my life, should I tell you?” Akshay asks. Of course. “I was doing a film, where I play a disco-dancer. They got me white shirt and blue jeans to wear. The director said, ‘No, I want four changes (of clothes) for this (song) sequence.’ The producer got to know that the director’s gone mad (given the budgets)! He spoke into the cameraman’s ears, who just stared back at the producer, stunned, for two minutes. The cameraman then went up to the director to ask what colour shirts he was looking for. He put a blue gelatin paper on the lights, and along with my shirt, even I became completely blue, from head to toe! The director was like, ‘Yeh kya hai!’ You’ll not believe this. With Re 1 for that song, they bought four gelatin papers, aur charon colours mein dikha diya mujhe (he showed me in all four colours).” This is downright hilarious.
That song would be YouTube gold. Is it around, online? “Yes.” Akshay promises to pass on details, which he hasn’t yet. It’s stories like these that make conversations around desi films and showbiz deliciously fun. And something that, on this occasion, has naturally drawn us to the Punjabi, earthy raconteur, so he can take us through a whole generation of old-world Bollywood he’s been through.
Which was once controlled by colourful characters — mostly producers who ran showbiz like family, not out of nepotism, but simply as a homely enterprise, surely with its own version of kitchen politics. One such producer, Pramod Chakravorty, on the basis of portfolio pictures and a rudimentary screen-test, gave Rajeev Bhatia a break (Deedar, 1992) and the name Akshay, along with the caste-less moniker Kumar, in line with heroes with similar pseudonyms in the past (Dilip, Ashok, Rajendra, Manoj).
I bring up several producers’ names — Suneel Darshan, Keshu Ramsay — who Akshay would have done around a dozen films with. We rarely hear about them anymore: “It just happened one fine day, huh? Ek din ke andar khatam ho gaya sab kuch. Pata bhi nahin chala. Bahut kam jan reh gaye hain (There are few such individual producers left). I do miss them.” With solo producers, there would be ‘ghar ka khana’, coming from their homes, to the sets. Now there is a studio system, run by those doing 9 to 5 jobs. Ab wahan se khana toh aane se raha! Everything is impersonally corporate. Ab jo hai so hai (It is what it is). That’s why I enjoy working with a (traditional) producer like Sajid Nadiadwala — that personal touch is there.”
Akshay suggests it’s his loyalty towards the producer and his money that he’d vowed to be mindful of throughout his career that’s helped him tide over serious troughs, including the time he’d delivered “14 flops in a row”. That should put anyone outta business. When was this? “(Thinks hard) It was ’97, ’98, ’99. And then I gave eight hits one after the other. Then again I gave about six to seven flops! Even on my 14th flop, I had three movies ahead of me. Here’s what I tell newcomers, and those struggling to get into the industry: ‘Actor unnees-bees chal jayega. But if you’re a producer’s actor, you’ll keep getting films’.
But ‘14 frickin’ flops’ (I’ve heard 16 before)? “That’s fine, I would finish the films. The producer would say, ‘Do hero ka subject hai. Acting ke liye woh hero ko lete hain. Action ke liye isko (referring to himself) le lete hain. Jaldi khatam ho jayega. This is how it would work.”
What he loved most about that period, he says, laughing through it all (unless this is a slyly directed hint) was “the fact that you had to do no publicity. You were only visiting temples before a film’s release. No journalists, media, TV studios — kabhi Haji Ali, kabhi Siddhivinayak, aur kabhi Gurudwara.” With the film’s print, I ask. “If you’re the producer then the print would come to you. Otherwise you’d go on your own. And if the heroine was your girlfriend, then you took her along with you!”
’90s the new retro
The reason we’re harping on Akshay’s formative years in Bollywood is if you look online, you realise how the ’90s have become the most loved longing of our times — the new retro, as it were — with millenials, in particular, fishing out music, photos, and bizarre film clips from the decade, turning them into funny memes and viral videos. Also, you can sense, Akshay, 49, enjoys nostalgia. He reminisces with much fondness. A lot of the sharable stuff on the Internet is centred on the odd fashion of the era (yes, it’s an era now). Akshay recalls, “We had to wear jeans up till here (points to his navel). But everybody — from Ajay (Devgn) to Aamir (Khan) — was wearing it (like that). Belt was here (going up even further). I had my long boots. The jeans used to be tucked inside my sock! Collars up. Apna apna style thha sabka. Now, everything is about red carpets, slick look. There’s fashion police waiting to catch you, so you have to be in sync with Paris!”
While fashion is fairly cyclical by nature, and God knows those jeans tucked into socks might return, the general consensus over what we consider ‘good-riddance’ so far as the ‘90s are concerned, was the callous portrayal of women in Bollywood. Recently, when Akshay released the trailer of his next, Toilet - Ek Prem Katha, he got pulled up quite strongly for apparently stalking the heroine in his film. This eventually leads to the two getting married. Are we rightly getting sensitive over such matters? “Too sensitive,” Akshay asserts. “Well, in the film, she’s aware of what’s happening. He’s not a stalker. Par mere ko ek baat bata. Newspaper photographer jab khada hota hai, does he seek permission before taking a (celebrity’s) picture? Then you also treat it like baap ka maal and publish those photographs. Do you ask, ‘Beta permission liya?’ Woh bhi toh stalking hi kar raha hai.”
It’s at this point in the conversation that Akshay’s wife, celebrity writer Twinkle Khanna, walks into the room to hand over a speech she’s written for him to deliver at the Vogue Beauty Awards the following night. “Good timing,” Akshay says. “When the trailer released, even she said it was stalking. I was telling him, aren’t (press) photographers stalking as well?”
Hey, come on, it’s not the same thing as a girl being stalked by the local gunda or good-looking Joe, who was once shown as the hero in our films, unwittingly sending scary signals to audiences. “I think (back in the day) we were also not evolved, or aware of consequences, or happenings in the world. I think movies have evolved, along with us. So have people who work in the movies,” Twinkle agrees with me. Relief.
Which brings me to the other top oddity from the decade. This concerns a particular Akshay song, although it was a genre by itself: ‘Tip tip barsa pani’ (from Mohra, 1994). It’s raining. The heroine, Raveena Tandon, in wet yellow saree is dancing seductively. The hero doesn’t care. He looks insouciantly away. He sits and gets pampered incessantly still. I’m sorry what kinda hero is this? Did Akshay find it odd shooting this? Makes no sense. “Maybe they were married for 16 years,” Twinkle teasingly interjects, laughs, and leaves the room to run an errand. Okay then.
Awkward silence (in my head). “We didn’t think or understand much. Choreographer jo bolta tha kar lete the. I don’t think he thought much also,” Akshay says, in his usual, endearingly visceral response to most questions that attempt to dig deep.
The ’90s films though had a certain deep connect with vast masses that is hard to replicate for various reasons — perhaps one of them being multiple media vying for the same eyeballs. An exhibitor friend who runs a theatre in Purnea hasn’t stopped telling me over so many years the impact Akshay’s film Jaanwar had (it remains the biggest ever hit in his region), when it released in the winter of 1999 People from far-flung villages, covered in thick blankets, travelled in bullockcarts, to fill up his hall — registering 100 per cent attendance on all shows, for nearly 100 days flat! Akshay is suitably impressed, “I loved Jaanwar. It is one of my favourite movies. Usme mitti ki khushbu hai. I love doing mitti ki khushbu wali filmein, which appeals to all cinemagoers. The scene really changed with multiplex audiences coming in. But I never forget my single-screen audiences, who are also, slowly, changing, by the way.”
Money matters
Of all the phases he’s traversed as an actor, and God knows there’ve been far too many over 25 years — pure action, relationship-drama, action-comedy, pure comedy — the one furthest from Akshay’s predominant persona is the stage he’s currently in. He’s picks up what in trade-speak are called “high content” films (Special 26, Airlift, Jolly LLB 2, Rustom), playing key, well-defined characters rather than merely wearing stardom on his sleeve. It appears he even preps hard on the roles. Was there a pivotal moment when his career took a decisive turn, or U-turn, as it were? Akshay credits that turning point to Mahesh Bhatt’s Sangharsh (1999), which doesn’t quite tally with his trajectory thereafter.
I settle for Twinkle’s explanation instead: “His evolution is his own. He’s a fast learner. His sister (Alka) is also like that. They stay relevant with the times very easily. Which is most important.”
Also, Akshay argues, “The audiences now really want to see the hard work that you’ve put in a film. It’s become unbelievably hard to satisfy audiences for the cinema they’d like to see. I joined the industry with only one agenda in life — to earn money. Mere ko aur kuch nahin chahiye. Mere ko paisa kamaneka hai. That’s it. This isn’t the case anymore.”
Being a one-man-industry who’s generated an inventory of over 120 moves, his annual earnings estimated by Forbes at $80.5 million (80th richest celebrity in the world), I’m curious to know what Akshay does with his money. For instance, does he own a private jet, yet? “We don’t have a private jet. But I take my family on private jets. This is the only bad habit I have. I like going on private jets.” Twinkle admits, “We argue about this (extravagance).”
Does he own multiple homes, villas, maybe a private island tucked away instead? “I prefer keeping my money in bonds and deposits. I don’t do anything else. I like to live my life without any stress. I don’t deal in stocks or anything of the sort.”
This is quite in line with the general image of a teetotaler superstar, who goes to bed early, jogs and runs up stairs for exercise, is hardly known for throwing tent-pole celeb bashes, let alone drugs or rock ‘n roll. I’m sorry, but this is really boring for a showbiz rockstar. “I do these things not because I want to be a good boy. It’s just that I don’t enjoy the concept of parties. Mere ko maza hi nahin aata hai. I don’t enjoy drinking tea or coffee either,” Akshay says, while he’s been relishing a bowl of milk and cereals all through our conversation.
Has he ever had a drink though? “Yeah, I’ve had a glass of wine, on rare occasions, like my wife’s birthday, or mine.” Has he ever been through a phase of late-night excesses, that so many of us are prone to? “I’ve done so much of it in my life.” Thank you. There you go. That’s what I thought. “This is when I wasn’t in the film industry — working in Bangkok. There, everything is in front of your eyes. I’ve seen it in close proximity for five to six years. Everything is available to you. After that, when someone tells me, ‘Oh tujhe party accha nahin lagta?’ I’m like, beta tere se pachees guna zyada party dekh chuka hoon. Chal na!”
He’s had his fill then? “Well, then as well, I didn’t drink or anything. I was into martial arts. Also, I couldn’t even afford it at the time.”
Speaking of money, Akshay recounts for Twinkle the Mukesh Bhatt story we’d started our chat with. “So he was telling me about how Baliji got a call from Mukesh Bhatt… It didn’t happen, huh,” he laughs. “You told him about the producer who didn’t pay you? And what you did to him?” Twinkle asks. He laughs again. “Say,” she nudges him more.
Finally, he recounts: “Okay. So this guy (the producer) owed me some money. It wasn’t much, say, about Rs 75,000 or so. Picture released. Picture flopped. He said, ‘Paisa nahin hai. Flop ho gaya picture.’ I went and rang his bell. I needed the money very badly. He opened the door, looked at me. “He thought, ‘Abhi marega mujhe’ (laughs). I just walked inside the house. I looked around. I saw a National Panasonic two-in-one tape recorder that used to exist in those days. I took it. Then I took a small fan in the other hand. He didn’t a say word. I didn’t say a word. He let me go. I sold the stuff, and told him later, Rs 18,000 is still in balance.”
Even when I had 16 flops, I had four films in hand-Akshay Kumar
7:47 AM
Posted by Fenil Seta
Madhureeta Mukherjee (BOMBAY TIMES; February 9, 2017)
His swift moves and muscle
power at the box office are known. And proven. Any objections?
Overruled! Bollywood's original action hero, Akshay Kumar's heavy-duty
punches are more evident at the box office now. On screen, he's showing
his range as an actor like never before. The audience is witness, and
the filmmakers can testify. We caught the actor in a jolly good mood,
where he confessed, “I would have been thrown out of the industry long
ago,“ but he cracked the psychology of the producers, thus, surviving 25
long years. On the eve of the release of Subhash Kapoor-directed Jolly
LLB 2, where he plays a lawyer, he tells us about his success story,
survival and how he keeps secrets close to his heart. Akshay Kumar
haazir hain! All rise... and read...
Last year was great for you, with all your films doing well at the box office and some winning critical acclaim, too. There seems to be a conscious shift in the kind of films you are picking...
I've been working like this for five-six years. Before that, I have done so much commercial cinema - the typical hero kind of role where I beat the shit out of people, with the maa, baap, and rakhi ka bandhan angle. After doing all that, now when I'm narrated such stories, I get bored. Not that those stories are not good, in fact, they are an integral part of our cinema, like the so-called mitti ki khushboo. But films like Special 26, OMG Oh My God!, Baby, Airlift and Jolly LLB 2 attract me now. In Jolly LLB 2, I am playing the 15th assistant in a law firm in Lucknow, where I end up fighting the biggest case in the lower court. People will see the reality of the lower courts, and they'll be surprised to learn some facts. I learnt so much through this film. Earlier, even I would blame the judiciary because 10-15 saal tak cases chalte hain, but I realised it's not their fault. Do you know we have only 17,000 judges approximately hearing cases in our country? In contrast, America has approximately 104 judges for a few lakh cases. Obviously, the process will slow down here because of the number of cases. There are some corrupt people, but overload is the biggest reason justice is delayed. Movies like Airlift and Jolly LLB 2 are like opening a history book through entertainment.
So, these films have given you a chance to reinvent yourself...
More than reinventing, I have deconstructed myself. Long ago, I had constructed an image, which I dismantled and rebuilt all over again. It's like making a building, staying there for five-six years, razing the structure and rebuilding it. I can't bear to see myself doing the same thing repeatedly .Yes, there's risk involved, but that's the thrill. I love deconstructing myself.
Did you exchange notes with Arshad Warsi for the part?
Arshad made it easy, as he had already set the ground for the character. In Airlift, it took me two days to settle into the character, but in Jolly LLB 2, I settled in with the first shot. It was rumoured that Arshad is upset with me, but I've spoken to him, and it's all rubbish. There was no problem ever.
Your co-star Huma Qureshi says that she wants Jolly-like qualities in her husband...
That's because Jolly is the kind of husband who runs the house, cooks for his wife, makes a peg for her and even presses her feet. If she is referring to that kind of a husband, it will be tough for Huma to find one (laughs).
You were an all-out action hero, and were even called Action Kumar. Do you think the level and quality of action in Bollywood has gone notches higher?
Action has gone to another level, and it will soar higher, but that's not because we are doing better action, but because CG (computer graphics) is doing the action for us. Now, with geniuses sitting behind the computer screens, you can say that the technology has improved. Pehle hota tha real, solid action, without technology.
Today, you are among the most bankable actors in Bollywood. It's a big deal for someone who had delivered 16 flops at one point. Does that give you a kick?
What gives me a kick is that I have survived for 25 years on my terms and conditions, and without big names backing me. I've struggled hard, and my journey wasn't easy. To enter the industry is easier than surviving here. Every 10 years, there's a bus that drives into the next decade, and it's important to get on to that bus. To survive, you have to work in a way that you can hop on to that bus and be there for the next decade.
You didn't have big banners backing you, but you always call yourself a 'producer's actor'...
Yes, and I survived because of that. Or else, I would have been thrown out of the industry long ago. Earlier, when some producers would say, 'Usko hi le lete hain' there would be others telling him, 'Lekin uski film chali nahi'. But the filmmaker would say, 'Lekin woh time pe toh aa jata hai, yaar. Teen hero ki film hai, ek hero usko le lete hain. Action bhi kar lega'. The industry never gave up on me. Even when I had 16 flops, I had four films in hand. One of those worked and a new journey began. You have to understand the psychology of the producers. They don't mind if you are a lesser actor, but they would like their films to get completed on time. It is the biggest success tip I can give other actors. Producers are only interested in what kind of a person you are at work. Don't be manipulative, don't order them and they will come around. In this industry, you know people manipulate their releases. If you are a producer, you can manipulate because it's your money. You can't do that if the money belongs to someone else.
Being a producer must have given you more insight?
I had the insight right from the beginning. Pramod Chakravorty, the man who gave me my break, taught me a few things, one of which is to be a producer's hero. Back then, there were no mobiles and we would make calls from five-star hotels' landlines or the PCO. He told me, 'Beta, always remember to pay your own phone bills'. The producers generally didn't mind footing bills for food and drinks, but what would chew them up is the fact that actors would talk to their girlfriends for hours, and not pay their bills. I always pay my own phone bills, and I don't drink; so, I don't add to their alcohol expenses either. Punctuality is the other thing I'm particular about. These are some simple rules of life. For an actor, his way of life is important.
Ever thought of writing an autobiography?
No, I don't ever want to write an autobiography. I am an extremely closed man and I believe in keeping secrets. If a person has told me something, or I know things about a someone's life, it's my responsibility to keep it a secret. Biographies expose the people around you and often cause a lot of problem for them. If I have a secret, it will go with me to my grave. Yahan, main apni biography likh raha hoon, wahan kisi bechare ki duniya kharab kar di maine. Wah ji kya biography likhi hai! (laughs). I've seen so many cases where people have been affected by someone's biography.
Last year was great for you, with all your films doing well at the box office and some winning critical acclaim, too. There seems to be a conscious shift in the kind of films you are picking...
I've been working like this for five-six years. Before that, I have done so much commercial cinema - the typical hero kind of role where I beat the shit out of people, with the maa, baap, and rakhi ka bandhan angle. After doing all that, now when I'm narrated such stories, I get bored. Not that those stories are not good, in fact, they are an integral part of our cinema, like the so-called mitti ki khushboo. But films like Special 26, OMG Oh My God!, Baby, Airlift and Jolly LLB 2 attract me now. In Jolly LLB 2, I am playing the 15th assistant in a law firm in Lucknow, where I end up fighting the biggest case in the lower court. People will see the reality of the lower courts, and they'll be surprised to learn some facts. I learnt so much through this film. Earlier, even I would blame the judiciary because 10-15 saal tak cases chalte hain, but I realised it's not their fault. Do you know we have only 17,000 judges approximately hearing cases in our country? In contrast, America has approximately 104 judges for a few lakh cases. Obviously, the process will slow down here because of the number of cases. There are some corrupt people, but overload is the biggest reason justice is delayed. Movies like Airlift and Jolly LLB 2 are like opening a history book through entertainment.
So, these films have given you a chance to reinvent yourself...
More than reinventing, I have deconstructed myself. Long ago, I had constructed an image, which I dismantled and rebuilt all over again. It's like making a building, staying there for five-six years, razing the structure and rebuilding it. I can't bear to see myself doing the same thing repeatedly .Yes, there's risk involved, but that's the thrill. I love deconstructing myself.
Did you exchange notes with Arshad Warsi for the part?
Arshad made it easy, as he had already set the ground for the character. In Airlift, it took me two days to settle into the character, but in Jolly LLB 2, I settled in with the first shot. It was rumoured that Arshad is upset with me, but I've spoken to him, and it's all rubbish. There was no problem ever.
Your co-star Huma Qureshi says that she wants Jolly-like qualities in her husband...
That's because Jolly is the kind of husband who runs the house, cooks for his wife, makes a peg for her and even presses her feet. If she is referring to that kind of a husband, it will be tough for Huma to find one (laughs).
You were an all-out action hero, and were even called Action Kumar. Do you think the level and quality of action in Bollywood has gone notches higher?
Action has gone to another level, and it will soar higher, but that's not because we are doing better action, but because CG (computer graphics) is doing the action for us. Now, with geniuses sitting behind the computer screens, you can say that the technology has improved. Pehle hota tha real, solid action, without technology.
Today, you are among the most bankable actors in Bollywood. It's a big deal for someone who had delivered 16 flops at one point. Does that give you a kick?
What gives me a kick is that I have survived for 25 years on my terms and conditions, and without big names backing me. I've struggled hard, and my journey wasn't easy. To enter the industry is easier than surviving here. Every 10 years, there's a bus that drives into the next decade, and it's important to get on to that bus. To survive, you have to work in a way that you can hop on to that bus and be there for the next decade.
You didn't have big banners backing you, but you always call yourself a 'producer's actor'...
Yes, and I survived because of that. Or else, I would have been thrown out of the industry long ago. Earlier, when some producers would say, 'Usko hi le lete hain' there would be others telling him, 'Lekin uski film chali nahi'. But the filmmaker would say, 'Lekin woh time pe toh aa jata hai, yaar. Teen hero ki film hai, ek hero usko le lete hain. Action bhi kar lega'. The industry never gave up on me. Even when I had 16 flops, I had four films in hand. One of those worked and a new journey began. You have to understand the psychology of the producers. They don't mind if you are a lesser actor, but they would like their films to get completed on time. It is the biggest success tip I can give other actors. Producers are only interested in what kind of a person you are at work. Don't be manipulative, don't order them and they will come around. In this industry, you know people manipulate their releases. If you are a producer, you can manipulate because it's your money. You can't do that if the money belongs to someone else.
Being a producer must have given you more insight?
I had the insight right from the beginning. Pramod Chakravorty, the man who gave me my break, taught me a few things, one of which is to be a producer's hero. Back then, there were no mobiles and we would make calls from five-star hotels' landlines or the PCO. He told me, 'Beta, always remember to pay your own phone bills'. The producers generally didn't mind footing bills for food and drinks, but what would chew them up is the fact that actors would talk to their girlfriends for hours, and not pay their bills. I always pay my own phone bills, and I don't drink; so, I don't add to their alcohol expenses either. Punctuality is the other thing I'm particular about. These are some simple rules of life. For an actor, his way of life is important.
Ever thought of writing an autobiography?
No, I don't ever want to write an autobiography. I am an extremely closed man and I believe in keeping secrets. If a person has told me something, or I know things about a someone's life, it's my responsibility to keep it a secret. Biographies expose the people around you and often cause a lot of problem for them. If I have a secret, it will go with me to my grave. Yahan, main apni biography likh raha hoon, wahan kisi bechare ki duniya kharab kar di maine. Wah ji kya biography likhi hai! (laughs). I've seen so many cases where people have been affected by someone's biography.
In Japan the people would call Joy Samurai Mukherjee-Joy Mukherjee's wife
7:46 AM
Posted by Fenil Seta
Roshmilla Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; March 10, 2015)
Encouraged
by the success of Ziddi which was the fourth largest grosser of 1964,
producer-director Pramod Chakravorty planned another musical romance
with the hit jodi of Joy Mukherjee and Asha Parekh.
He whisked them off to Japan for three months and returned with another superhit two years later, Love In Tokyo.
Almost half a century later, Joy's wife, Neelam, still recalls the filmmaker's fascination with the country of cherry blossoms and its kimono-clad doll-like women. Her husband who helped buddy Pramod establish his production house with Ziddi, indulged his whim by helping him set up this love story in Tokyo.
"I hadn't planned on accompanying Joy to Tokyo and by the time I decided to fly down, it was too late because I discovered that I was pregnant. My doting husband however was always on the phone. He could talk for hours but I like to keep my telephone conversations short and would chide him for wasting time. Appalled, he would reprimand me saying I was supposed to tell him how much I loved and missed him, which I did," she laughs.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Joy was serenading Asha Parekh with the Mohd. Rafi chartbuster, Le gayi dil gudiya Japan ki. "The song begins with him running down the road with his heroine in his arms but once he reaches the pavement, he just drops her on the ground with a thud. Asha must have been taken by surprise by the prank planned by the 'boys', Pramod and Joy. You see her limping sulkily in the next few shots and I'd imagine some of that pain was for real," points out Neelam.
Fortunately, for Joy, his co-star was a friend who was more interested in finding an Indian restaurant in Tokyo, where her mother and she could finally order a hot vegetarian meal.
On his part, being a health-conscious star, perhaps the only one with a personal trainer at the time, Joy didn't mind the lunch boxes of sandwiches and cold salads or the early morning calls when their Japanese assistants would literally drag them out of bed and on to the set on the dot everyday.
He returned home with a three feet Japanese doll and trunk loads of kimonos made of the finest silk. "I would have been happier if he'd bought me some of the delicate china instead of the kimonos, some of which I cut up to wear as aschkans with churidars, but being a man's man shopping was never his forte," says Neelam.
Soon after the film's release, she remembers being chased by a group of urchins when she'd gone to Gopi Kishen's house for dance lessons one summer day. Having parked the car some distance away, she was walking down the street with her umbrella. "They followed me singing Le gayi dil gudiya Japan ki. The song followed me everywhere," Neelam smiles, mistyeyed.
Three years after the film opened, Joy took her to Tokyo and pointed out all the places where they had filmed. He also bought her a set of the most beautiful pearls that she treasures to this day. "He was a dreamer and would tell me he will buy tracts of land in Japan and Italy, build beautiful villas there and settle down in these countries. In Japan they'd call him Samurai Mukherjee and in Italy, Count Mukherjee," she laughs. "He was such a child, even in his later years."
The Japanese gudiyas had stolen his heart and the Indian movie star stole theirs by bringing Bollywood to Tokyo. The men admired him for his physique and the women drooled over his youthful good looks. And the romance continued over the years.
In 2011, he was invited by the Japanese consulate to a special gathering. He wasn't well at the time and eventually didn't go.
The next year, on March 9, at the age of 73, the man who'd brought Joy to thousands of cine buffs in the swinging '60s, bid the world sayonara. But even today, in Tokyo, the seductive strains of Aa ja re aa zara aa call him back...
He whisked them off to Japan for three months and returned with another superhit two years later, Love In Tokyo.
Almost half a century later, Joy's wife, Neelam, still recalls the filmmaker's fascination with the country of cherry blossoms and its kimono-clad doll-like women. Her husband who helped buddy Pramod establish his production house with Ziddi, indulged his whim by helping him set up this love story in Tokyo.
"I hadn't planned on accompanying Joy to Tokyo and by the time I decided to fly down, it was too late because I discovered that I was pregnant. My doting husband however was always on the phone. He could talk for hours but I like to keep my telephone conversations short and would chide him for wasting time. Appalled, he would reprimand me saying I was supposed to tell him how much I loved and missed him, which I did," she laughs.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Joy was serenading Asha Parekh with the Mohd. Rafi chartbuster, Le gayi dil gudiya Japan ki. "The song begins with him running down the road with his heroine in his arms but once he reaches the pavement, he just drops her on the ground with a thud. Asha must have been taken by surprise by the prank planned by the 'boys', Pramod and Joy. You see her limping sulkily in the next few shots and I'd imagine some of that pain was for real," points out Neelam.
Fortunately, for Joy, his co-star was a friend who was more interested in finding an Indian restaurant in Tokyo, where her mother and she could finally order a hot vegetarian meal.
On his part, being a health-conscious star, perhaps the only one with a personal trainer at the time, Joy didn't mind the lunch boxes of sandwiches and cold salads or the early morning calls when their Japanese assistants would literally drag them out of bed and on to the set on the dot everyday.
He returned home with a three feet Japanese doll and trunk loads of kimonos made of the finest silk. "I would have been happier if he'd bought me some of the delicate china instead of the kimonos, some of which I cut up to wear as aschkans with churidars, but being a man's man shopping was never his forte," says Neelam.
Soon after the film's release, she remembers being chased by a group of urchins when she'd gone to Gopi Kishen's house for dance lessons one summer day. Having parked the car some distance away, she was walking down the street with her umbrella. "They followed me singing Le gayi dil gudiya Japan ki. The song followed me everywhere," Neelam smiles, mistyeyed.
Three years after the film opened, Joy took her to Tokyo and pointed out all the places where they had filmed. He also bought her a set of the most beautiful pearls that she treasures to this day. "He was a dreamer and would tell me he will buy tracts of land in Japan and Italy, build beautiful villas there and settle down in these countries. In Japan they'd call him Samurai Mukherjee and in Italy, Count Mukherjee," she laughs. "He was such a child, even in his later years."
The Japanese gudiyas had stolen his heart and the Indian movie star stole theirs by bringing Bollywood to Tokyo. The men admired him for his physique and the women drooled over his youthful good looks. And the romance continued over the years.
In 2011, he was invited by the Japanese consulate to a special gathering. He wasn't well at the time and eventually didn't go.
The next year, on March 9, at the age of 73, the man who'd brought Joy to thousands of cine buffs in the swinging '60s, bid the world sayonara. But even today, in Tokyo, the seductive strains of Aa ja re aa zara aa call him back...
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