One of my favourite moments in Mahesh Bhatt’s Arth is Raj Kiran. Long before Shahrukh Khan appropriated Raj, Raj Kiran was Raj. The reason why we go back today to “koi yeh kaise bataye,” “tum itna jo muskura rahe ho” and “jhuki jhuki si nazar” is because the magic of Kaifi Azmi, Jagjit Singh and the devastating brilliance of Shabana Azmi was not squandered by a lesser actor. Raj Kiran was the pixel that fitted perfectly in the big picture. We see him first in a torn kurta and faded jeans, strumming liquid pain as he watches a woman unravel and go to pieces slowly and surely at a party. We know he is no ordinary onlooker when his first spoken lines in the film tell Pooja (Azmi), the lost face in the crowd to stop pretending to smile because it is far easier to just be true.
And that is what Pooja progresses to do when she sees her estranged husband flaunting his actress girl friend. As Raj continues to sing about the fickleness of the heart and the shifting sands of love, Pooja gets more and more drunk and then creates the mother of all hysterical scenes. After she is done, it is Raj who picks up her pieces and brings her home. He does not know her but he does.
Why he rang so true in the film was because he was the only note of normalcy, optimism and love and he played that note without cloying sympathy, overdone enthusiasm or patented Bollywoodisms. He was just ordinary and the honest to goodness answer to every emotionally battered woman. There is this moment when he has coaxed Pooja out of her misery over freshly signed divorce papers, has made her cut a birthday cupcake and is just smiling in her eyes with the lines, ‘‘kya gham hai jisko chupa rahe ho.” He says it again and again and each time his eyes smile differently as if to say, “C’mon, you are not going to start again, are you?”
Or when he has the courage to say that he is in love with her before the only two other friends she has in the world and sings his heart out with “jhuki jhuki si nazar.” There is no other song or actor as perfect for the moment.
Raj Kiran in retrospect was one of the most underrated actors of his generation. Even in Karz where the histrionics of Rishi Kapoor and the melodrama of a reincarnation and overwrought revenge story ruled, he was the poignant memory of a doting husband being rammed by a murderous jeep into the hillside again and again. The reason why the rest of the film made sense.
In the late 80s, he put on weight and was relegated to playing the jealous villain in films like Ilzaam or the bad son in family dramas like Ghar Ek Mandir or the abusive, dissolute husband in Faasle where he sent a chill down your spine. But it was in his early years, when his eyes were full of sunshine, his smile soulful and his soul, as yet untouched by tragedy that he did some of his best work with film makers who recognised that he was an actor who could be real.
He was made to sing in Bhappi Lahiri’s voice in the Rajshri production Shiksha but he managed to imbue a lot of himself in Maan Abhimaan where he played a stubbornly-in-love aristocrat trying to win over a woman with a grudge. Some stroke of luck also saw him working in possibly India’s first sports based film, Prakash Jha’s Hip Hip Hurray. Raj played a young executive between jobs who, post a ruptured relationship, ends up mentoring a few lost souls into soccer and redemption. And in the process, finds himself and love. Even though I saw the film sometime in the 80s, I still remember how much integrity he lent to the role of a teacher trying to reach a violent young boy. And how much gentle humour he put in the moment when he proposes to Dipti Naval, she playfully refuses and he pulls her close and says, “Badmaash!”
The same Dipti Naval who recently posted a message on her Facebook wall, seeking information about his whereabouts. Years ago, after a long time in oblivion, Raj Kiran had burst back into limelight when the media discovered him behind bars in Bangalore’s Central Jail for over a month over some skirmish with a Godman’s ashram. He was unrecognisable by now. A greying lost soul looking for a home that was no longer there. His marriage had broken up and so it seems, had his mind.
The news that he is in an Atlanta asylum right is hugely saddening and reminds you also just what it takes to break the best amongst us. How would we deal with life if the boats we are rowing sank, if the success the world sets so much store by vanished and if there was neither family, nor a friend in sight to hold us through the storm?
Kaifi had not asked this question without a reason, “Koi yeh kaise bataye ki woh tanha kyon hai.”
Reema Moudgil is the author of Perfect Eight. (http://www.flipkart.com/perfect-eight-reema-moudgil-book-9380032870) .
Such a sad revelation..
By the way,the columnist’s writing style reminds me of Shobha De’s forthright take on the stars n silverscreen..bt the sensitive approach wid a a sense of respect 4 human values n sentiments behind the scenes is what makes Reema Moudgil’s articles worth applause.
“How would we deal with life if the boats we are rowing sank, if the success the world sets so much store by vanished ”
Very well written Reema! These lines remind me of days of 2002 when I had to shut down my steel rope wire unit, to which I had invested 6 years of my life and my parents life long savings, due to cheap chinese imports. I can never fprget those sleepless nights, those tense days when even school fee of my child was a burden. I was lucky I had a strong wife who stood like a rock in that storm, and pulled me out of that turmoil. I had no guts to start afresh again but she kept my nerves cool and encouraged me. Whatever I’ve achieved today, I owe it all to her.
Nice article, Reema 🙂