Writing out that final homage or an obituary for an actor is tough. The words, never feel adequate. Especially, if the subject of your article is someone you have watched on the screen as a child, interacted and admired as a reporter and later, occasionally critiqued as an Editor and Film Critic. In this case, it is even more overwhelming, because of the actor in question is none other than Rishi Kapoor, the quintessential chocolate-romantic hero of the 1970s-80s, who, of late had found his groove as a powerful character actor with powerful roles that ranged from the comedic to the villainous.
I first met Rishi Kapoor, fittingly at the sprawling RK Studios in Chembur. At that time it was owned by the family and among the many things he said, one, in particular, stood out. When I quizzed him about being strict and following a diet to lose weight, he scoffed and in a booming voice said, “I believe there are all kinds of actors—good actors, bad actors, thin actors and fat actors, and I am a fat actor. I am happy being that way. I have had my fill of playing the romantic hero when I had to worry about being in shape but now, in this phase of my career, I don’t need to worry over it!” It was true. He was an Epicure with an appetite for good food. On another occasion when I took along a dozen cupcakes for him and informed him that I would hand it over to Mrs. Neetu Kapoor, his wife so that it didn’t interfere with his diet, he brushed aside my suggestion and decided to pick one and munch away.
Flamboyant, gregarious, entertaining, sometimes brusque, but always a kind heart-Rishi Kapoor was all of it. He never let stardom dull his personality. His brusque candor had taken me aback during my early interactions. But later I found it immensely endearing and it became a constant in all our future interactions as well. It was obviously a hallmark of his personality –to not mince words. What was even better was that he did not spare himself either.
During the course of one of our interviews he recalled how each time he was scolded or spanked by his mother, Krishna Raj Kapoor, for being naughty, he would stand in front of the mirror to watch his expressions. And when he heard his father tell his mother that he was going to cast him in Mera Naam Joker, the first thing, the then 16-year-old Rishi did was to slip quietly into his room to practice scrawling his autograph!
“You can imagine what a pompous little brat I was,” he chuckled adding, “The success of Bobby made me more brattish. I remember giving film-maker Manmohan Desai a harrowing time when he wanted to sign me for Amar Akbar Anthony, and making all kinds of excuses to Yash Chopra for Kabhi Kabhi as I was not keen to do a small part in it."
He had had a great start with the film Bobby in the early 1970s. And, then followed it up with a consistent run over the next two decades as the romantic hero even in times of the Angry Young Man. By the mid-90s boredom set in with doing the same roles over and over again. Then he took his wife and co-actor Neetu Kapoor’s advice and considered hanging up his boots. Only to make a comeback with strong, author-backed character roles in recent years.
In his last innings, he had grown to truly enjoy his work as an actor. “It’s a huge victory that a romantic hero like me was accepted as a common man in Do Dooni Chaar and as a villain in Agneepath. No one can say that Rishi Kapoor is a stylized actor. I want to look different and act different and am challenging myself to enter new zones. I am not the least bit interested in playing the regular characters (that of a father or an uncle), and the directors who want to cast me have to understand that. On my part I am ready to do anything for a meaty part, even lose weight!” he had told me when we were analysing his post-hero phase.
He delighted in working with young directors like Shakun Batra in Kapoor & Sons even though they did have many disagreements. In the reprised version of Agneepath starring Hrithik Roshan, he played the baddie Rauf Lala with chilling effect. It was in sharp contrast to his cherubic on-screen image, which he was known for. In Nikhil Advani’s D-Day which starred with Irrfan he even played Dawood Ibrahim! There was also Habib Faisal’s Do Dooni Chaar where he played a school teacher. And, of course, in Mulk, which starred him as the father of young Muslim terror accused, he excelled.
He was immensely proud of the Kapoor Khandan legacy and vocal about it too. As a father, he was fiercely protective about his children, especially Ranbir, always taking up cudgels on his behalf. By both their admission the father and son had shared a formal relationship until more recent years. But, Rishi Kapoor was a proud father and perhaps Ranbir’s biggest cheerleader when he got it right and a vocal critic when he got it wrong.
Ever since he was diagnosed with cancer he had been away for treatment in New York but through it all when he was away and on his return, he would stay in touch. A message would never go unanswered and we agreed to do an interview sometime at an opportune moment. Unfortunately, that moment never arrived. A message from his family only confirmed that he did not let cancer kill his joie de vivre. “The doctors and medical staff at the hospital said he kept them entertained to the last.”
Adieu, Rishi Sir. It is certain that heaven will be a more merry space with your presence there.
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