7 reasons why Rishi Kapoor’s memoir will make you love him more

Raise your hands all of you who had a secret crush on Rishi Kapoor in your youth. Who saw Karz whenever they could to watch the hipswinging "Om Shanti Om" with their hero dressed in what now looks like silver foil on a revolving stage? Who developed a sudden fondness for qawwalis when their hero sang one in Hum Kisi Se Kam Nahin, dressed in a frilly shirt and orange waistcoat? Or thought skivvies were cool on men when they saw our hero wearing one while romancing the adorable Neetu Singh in “Tere Chehre Se” in Kabhi Kabhie?

Anyone growing up in the ‘70s could have had only two heroes — Amitabh Bachchan or Rishi Kapoor. There was Bachchan, all brooding eyes and simmering intensity. And here was Rishi, all youthful energy and relaxed charm.

A lot of us were Rishi fans, especially of the ease with which he wooed his women, whether it was the gorgeous Dimple, who even promised she’d rather be eaten by a tiger than let the tiger eat the love of her life (yes, love was so passionate in the seventies, children); or Neetu Kapoor, who was pushed, pulled, snuggled up to and danced with in a string of movies that involved much singing and dancing.

Rishi seemed perfect — fair, dimpled, curly haired, perfect manners, with a nice wardrobe that didn’t hesitate to experiment with lavender pants and purple scarves. He also happens to have starred in several movies named after women — Bobby, Chandni, Henna were some of his biggest hits—and smiled cheerily through them all.

So when your hero writes his memoir, Khullam Khulla, it’s no surprise that it’s a delightful read. Written with a straight-up saltiness that marks his Twitter feed and personal disclosures, the memoir is like watching a vintage Rishi Kapoor movie — you enjoy it so much that it’s over before you know it.

It’s self deprecatory (his abiding memory of a particularly appalling film he’s done is that he wore women’s trousers in one scene — he had picked them up in Beirut and was very proud of them). It’s gossipy (on why he didn’t like Rajesh Khanna, for instance). It always gives reference to context (how, for instance, Jeetendra managed to recover money he’d lost on a movie by doing a string of southern remakes over five years). And most importantly, it is brutally honest, whether it is about his arrogance or his drinking.

 Here are seven ways Khullam Khulla reaffirms our faith in Bollywood and why it’s made us love Rishi Kapoor even more:

 1. He’s remarkably open about his depression

“I lost my nerve, sinking into a deep depression. I was so demoralised that I couldn’t face the camera anymore. I would tremble on the sets and feel faint. I’d sink into my chair, go to the makeup room and ask for water. The Karz vs Qurbani stand-off at the box-office happened in June 1980, five months after Neetu and I had got married. I now began to blame my marriage for my diminishing fan base. I believed that my acting days were numbered, that I had hit rock bottom. I felt every ounce of confidence drain out of me....

My father took me to our farmhouse in Loni. He thought a change of scene would do me good and give him the chance to have a heart-to-heart chat with me. HS Rawail stood by me like a parent would. Nasir Husain thought I was in financial difficulties, so he sent me Vitamin M (money). He actually sent across one lakh rupees, hoping to ease my troubles.

Manmohan Desai was in a fix. He only had a final day of shooting left on Naseeb. He called me to the Sea Rock Hotel to film just two shots, which I think he was perfectly justified in doing. I was forced to go and complete the film, but you can tell from my vacant expression in the shots that my mind was elsewhere. A qawwali was being shot at RK Studios for Deedar-e-Yaar with Reena Roy making a special appearance. She moved around her dates because I was indisposed. It was truly a kindness; she is reported to have said, ‘Whatever dates I have to adjust with Chintu, I will. Just let him recover.’

It dawned on me much later that my breakdown was the direct result of Karz’s unfortunate fate at the box-office. I would regain some of my lost confidence when I had a drink in the evening with my friends. But on set the next morning, I would tremble with fear. I became paranoid and kept fearing that one of the big set lights was going to fall on me. But in my brief moments of clarity I also knew that I had to pick myself up and get back to normal. And although the process was slow, I managed to climb out of it and regain normalcy.

Many months later, Amitabh (Bachchan) confessed to me that he had faced something similar. My father also recalled a time when Yusuf sa’ab had suffered a similar trauma and had torn off his own shirt while shooting for Dil Diya Dard Liya (1966). I had no idea that actors were prone to depression until I went through it myself.

As harrowing as it was for everyone concerned at the time, I realised that the situation was largely a product of my own imagination. In reality, my life was in perfectly good shape, I was working in the biggest projects of the day with the best-known directors of the time, and marriage had not dented my career in any way. My biggest learning from the experience was that problems are often created in one’s mind and are usually less overwhelming than they appear to be, although the fear and trauma are all too real and crippling while you are going through it.

Things soon sorted themselves out and the films I was working on released with mixed results, the usual package of hits and flops.”

2. He has no qualms admitting he is currently unemployed

 “If I have been jobless for the last six months, it’s because after being spoilt with an array of roles like Duggal (Do Dooni Chaar), Rauf Lala (Agneepath), Dawood (D-Day) and Dadaji (Kapoor & Sons), roles that challenged the actor in me, it is hard to play a regular daddy to a hero or heroine. I am proud to say I have reinvented myself. If there is no meat for me to sink my teeth into, I cannot be tempted."

 3. Even when it helps to tell a white lie, he doesn’t.

 “One evening in the 1980s, at a party hosted by socialite and entrepreneur Parmeshwar Godrej at China Garden, Sanjay Khan and I had a really ugly argument which could have ended in a police case. I can’t remember what triggered it. I have a vague memory of it being either because I spoke up for my friend Jeetendra, who was Sanjay’s contemporary and rival, or because I behaved obnoxiously. Whatever the reason, Sanjay flung a glass full of liquor at my face. It narrowly missed striking my eye and I escaped with only a cut. But I was furious. He was an actor himself and knew the extent to which our faces are our fortune."

 4. He picks fights with equals

"Javed (Akhtar) had claimed that Shailendra died because of the debts that piled up during the making of his film Teesri Kasam (1966), a film my dad worked in. He alleged that Papa had delayed the film with the result that Shailendra had run up those debts. I wonder what debts he was referring to because my father paid for everything and he was not paid for the film either. He even completed the film with his own funds. I wonder what debts he was referring to because my father paid for everything and he was not paid for the film either. He even completed the film with his own funds. The truth is that my father kept telling Shailendra not to make the film. Shailendra died because his own brother-in-law cheated him. My father took it upon himself to pay Shailendra’s hospital bills and cleared all his debts. I have checked this with all the senior people who worked with RK, I have asked my mother about it, I have interrogated everyone who was around at that time. I think Javed should publicly apologise."

5. He speaks his mind.

"I have opposed the beef ban and also the appointment of Gajendra Chauhan as the chairman of Film and Television Institute of India. I also spoke up against prohibition in Bihar. I’m a tax-paying citizen and I have a right to say what I feel. I may be right or wrong, it is open to debate.’"

6. Even he can be a fan

"On one of my several trips to Moscow, I travelled via London. When I was there I heard that Dustin Hoffman would be playing Shylock in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice at the West End. I’m a huge fan of his, so I booked myself a ticket and also a Rolls Royce to get me there. I went to the theatre, saw the play and even got a chance to meet Hoffman backstage. When he was leaving, I saw him call for his Ford Escort. I was so embarrassed. I thought to myself, he is Dustin Hoffman and he is travelling in a Ford Escort. And I’m an upstart with not half as many achievements to my name and I arrived in a Rolls Royce. Believe me, I was shamed of my vanity that night.’’

7. He is honest about his failings as a father 

‘’The distance that exists between us is similar to the one between my father and me. Ranbir and I see each other through this space but can’t feel each other. At least, I can’t. There are times when I feel I’ve missed out on being a friend to my son, I was a strict father because I was brought up to believe that’s how a father should be. In one of his interviews, Ranbir said, ‘My father is not a friend. He is a father. I can’t backslap him and joke around with him.’ He is a friend to Neetu but not to me, and that’s something I deeply regret."