“Mind-blowing,” is his pet adjective. Whether he’s up or down the mood ladder, he’s a constant optimist.
If anything rattles Anil Kapoor, it’s when he’s asked to cry out loud, “Jhakaaaas”, his memorable clarion call from the resolutely unmemorable film Yudh. In fact, last week, a princeling of a royal family air-dashed from Rajasthan to Bollywood town, wormed himself through a contact of a contact into the Kapoor residence in Juhu-Vile Parle, sprinted towards the actor and yelled at the top of his voice, “Ekdum jhakaaas!”
AK blushed tomato red, asked the household staff to serve the Rajkumar a cup of tea, and skedaddled from the scene. He had to get to the gym for his afternoon workout anyway.
Today, Anil Kapoor turns 59. There was a time, though, when he wasn’t exactly chuffed on being asked his age. Now, he’s cool about it, even permitting wife Sunita to host a celebratory pre-X’mas bash for the birthday boy. The paparazzi which gathers outside to click Bollywood’s power guest-list is treated with a rare courtesy, offered samosas, mithai and fizzies.
Yesterday’s coltishly restless Mr India has mellowed into Mr Congeniality.
And to be honest, he’s on the top of my power-list, essentially because here’s an actor who hasn’t altered with time, or cash-flow. He’s the same anxious aspiring star who was once shown the door by the senior staffers of Filmfare when he fetched up to ask if he could perform, gratis, at the magazine’s yearly award function.
I was a trainee, then. On being rejected, I saw his smile disappear like steam from a tea kettle. I rushed towards the elevator where he stood crestfallen, to say, “Sorry, Anil. I’m sure they’ll be running after you, sooner or later.”
Turned out to be much much later. He went through the grind of being nixed by all and sundry, showed up in a micro-mini part in the Shabana Azmi-Navin Nischol drama Ek Baar Kaho, a cameo in Shakti, a vaguinsh part in M S Sathyu’s Kahan Kahan se Guzar Gaya, was called by the then-equally basement-level director Mani Ratnam for a Kannada film, before making that life-defining impact with Woh Saat Din.
So why am I recalling facts which can be googled anyway? Just. For those who may have come in late, and aren’t aware that Anil Kapoor was a rank struggler, who hung around with school buddies sneaking a cigarette in a paint factory’s warehouse in Chembur. That’s till the warehouse caught fire. “There were four of us, good for nothing guys just doing time pass,” he tells me. “ We ran for our lives, leaping through gigantic flames. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been afraid of peforming action stunts.”
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AK can also confide that his gang of four would also do menial odd-jobs at pokey grocery shops and restaurant kitchens to earn a tenner at the end of the day. Erm, is he romanticising the past? “What!” he retorts. “Don’t use high-funda analysis on me. Really, when I see strugglers I can relate to them. I just lucked out.”
I still look sceptical. After all, his father the late Surendra Kapoor was a film production assistant and had even worked with the Mughal-e-Director K Asif.
“Right!” he concedes, opening up to recall, “Dad was very close to top actors, everyone knew him. But when he produced a film (Shehzada, featuring Rajesh Khanna-Raakhee), it didn’t do well. Conditions at home became difficult, very difficult.”
“Three of us brothers and a sister shared a small flat with our parents,” he elaborates. “We all had to do something which would make our dad proud of us. He was a quiet man who wouldn’t disclose his feelings. To make myself useful, I started learning music to become a playback singer. Actually, I didn’t think I had the looks of a hero. I had a moustache and a stubble which weren’t fashionable during the 1970s.”
Wasn’t his big brother Boney instrumental in charting his career? “Yes, of course,” is the answer. “He looked after the money aspects”
That’s where the answer stops.
How come Boney has backtracked since half a decade now? Prod him, and he grins,
Because he has his own life to lead. Frankly, it was high time that I took care of myself. And more than that of my family. Quite often I feel that I was so involved in my career that I couldn’t be an ideal husband and father. Currently, I’m making up for lost time. It’s been like falling madly in love with Sunita all over again. She’s my anchor.
About his daughter Sonam Kapoor, he states,
She’s all heart. Although she’s the eldest of our kids, she’s the most vulnerable and innocent, a baby. Rhea who’s doing an excellent job as a film producer, is all heart but mind too. And Harvardhan (due to make his acting debut in Mirzya next year) is all heart, mind and has the highest number of grey cells in the family. He’s different, someone who has a taste for Bollywood as well as world cinema. He can rattle of scenes from the films of Kurosawa, Fellini and Tarantino.
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Of his stock of performances over four decades, ask AK to pick out the ones he’s most proud of, and he groans, “That’s not for me to say. You tell me.”
I won’t, come on, pick the best, top-of the head. “Okay wait,” he throws caution to the wind and lists the toppers:
Woh Saat Din, Tezaab, Ram Lakhan, Lamhe, Mr India, 1942: A Love Story, Viraasat, Pukaar, Slumdog Millionaire, Dil Dhadakne Do and don’t you dare forget, my TV series 24 in which I can’t separate myself from my character of Jai Singh Rathore.Anil Kapoor
Cool. To rile him, I remind him that I still have a bone to pick with him. When Shyam Benegal had approached him for the lead in Zubeidaa, he had backed out. “Mind-blowing!” AK ripostes. “What’s your problem? You keep nagging me about this. Manoj Bajpayee as the maharaja was simply outstanding. But yes, in retrospect I do regret my decision…it would have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with Shyam sir.”
And what about the terrible films he’s done? Over the years, I’ve groused about quite a few of his films and performances, criticism which he has taken sportingly. “See, I do my job and you do yours. No hassles. I can take criticism” he asserts. “ In any case, which actor hasn’t been guilty of doing some wrong films? Everyone has from Mr Amitabh Bachchan to the Khans. I wouldn’t like to pinpoint any particular terrible film because that would be unprofessional.”
Pause. Striking eye contact then, he asks,
But why’re you badgering me? It’s my birthday today.
Touche.
That’s Anil Kapoor for you, the boy who was rejected from performing at an awards function.
(The writer is a film critic, filmmaker, theatre director and a weekend painter.)
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