Raakhee Gulzar was my first movie star interview ever - for a Filmfare cover story - circa the late 1970s. Quite possibly it was the strangest one. At her high-walled bungalow’s gate, in the tree-embroidered lanes of Khar, I was met by a posse of dogs taller than me, barking away at the volume of a Bappi Lahiri disco beat. Escaping unscratched, I sneaked into a room where Raakhee ji was standing on her head.
That seemed like a yogic posture. She said, upside down, “Go away. I haven’t cooked any fish for you.”
Huh, whattt!
I was on a full stomach, I just needed to talk some.
“Go,” she repeated. “Come back tomorrow, same time. I don’t allow anyone to leave my house without food.”
Did I look starved? Maybe.
I returned the next noon, nearly had my head bitten off by the Alsatians and was immediately ushered by an amused attendant towards the dining room, its round table laden with maaccher jhol, green chillies, aaloo tikkis,cutlets, gulab jamuns, a spread lavish enough to feed an army.
“Eat!” she said. I did.
That’s a true-story, mandatory for a recall a la dopiaza, since I’m about to tabulate the short-list of the BEST HOSTS of Bollywood from those days to the right here, right now. And so, it’s the now-stubbornly reclusive Raakhee Gulzar who occupies the No. 1 position in the host power list.
Raakhee Gulzar and (occasionally) Gulzar
The cover story on Raakhee was approved by the editor with caveat: “Cut out all that khaana peena from the intro. Doesn’t seem to be nice that a journalist should stuff himself silly. If you ever criticise her in a review, you’ll be called namak haraam.”
Advice noted. Raakhee ji would then call me over, just for lunch and dinners. No shop talk.
On Gulzar saab’s birthday, she would hop over to his bungalow on Pali Hill with fish broiled, fried, curried. They had separated but not formally divorced. A cake would be sliced, a gluttony session was on. The ginger chicken, rustled by saab’s chef, would go untouched.
Next at the Bikaner shoot of JP Dutta’s Kshatriya, she’d spend days concocting a paneer kheer. Wah-wah-ed Sanjay Dutt, JP, and moi though the kheer was nothing like we’d ever tasted before.
“It’s very different,” was the verdict.
The point is: If you’ve never lucked upon Raakhee’s haath ka banaya hua khaana, you wouldn’t know that the way to a star’s heart is to relish her home cuisine. No forks, knives and cutlery necessary.
Rishi Kapoor and Neetu Singh Kapoor
There’s no one like the Kapoors when it comes to mehmaan nawaazi. Like his father, Raj Kapoor, Chintu sir will not permit you to leave a bottle of wine incomplete. If you do, he’ll yell, “Carry it home, finish it while driving home through the Bandra-Worli sea-link.”
Meanwhile, Neetu would have already WhatsApp’d you to inquire if your palate is in the mood for Indian or ‘conti’. “Anything will do” is not an answer.
The hors d’ouevres are a meal by themselves: Diced vegetables in diet-control dips, roasted almonds, shelled walnuts and chunks of goat cheese. The elegant branded plates are warmed and above all, the freewheeling conversation about the movies, politics and Twitterdom – no holds-barred with the proviso from Chintu sir, “Hey you’re here as a friend, not a journo.”
Oftentimes, big bro Randhir Kapoor drops by, once huffing, “Do you know that movie (Super Nani) I did with Rekha has flopped big-time? But I’m bearing the brunt. Chintu your gatekeeper just wouldn’t allow me to come inside.”
Ha! The evenings, stretching well past midnight, have been entertainment, GST-free.
Sunita and Anil Kapoor
If the ever-fit Anil craves a biryani – like he did once at Hyderabad’s Faluknama Palace Hotel, a call goes out to Sunita, “May I?” Response: “Okay but don’t over-do it.”
At their Juhu bungalow, lunch means serious business. Fries discouraged, roast chicken and salads are prioritised, preceded by clear soup and brown bread toast procured from a bakery known to vend the real thing. The coffee can be a cappuccino or black, you say. Neither the Kapoor kids nor the guests are hectored to “have this, have that.”
For the finale, a bunch of Belgian chocolates are the temptation. Shy away and you’re informed, “It’s dark chocolate, so stop making faces.”
The specialty of the house: the fluffy, mildly spiced akoori sandwiches. Ask for the recipe, and our Mubarakan man will grin, “That’s a family secret. Ask Sunita.”
Salim Khan and Salman Khan
Open-house. Lore goes that rank strangers have walked right into their first floor Galaxy Apartments on Bandra’s Carter Road, and dined with the Khan family.
The kitchen, run by khansamas, supervised by mom Salma Khan, wafts with the aroma of kheema biryani, kababs, daals, stir-fried veggies. And there would be days (don’t have an update on this) when retired police officers, cricketers, film distributors and friends from Bandra, would collect on the Galaxy balcony to raise toasts with Black Label scotch - this at a juncture when Salim Khan had retreated to the shadows after his split with Javed Akhtar. No great bank account, no worries. Khaatirdari has seen them through the bleakest times.
Vis-à-vis Salman... I think I went through an out-of-body experience when he called for biryani and mangoes with ice-cream. This was in his vanity van at the Film City. “The mangoes are straight from our Karjat farm. They’re awesome,” he said proudly. The offer couldn’t be refused.
As I left the van, Farah Khan chortled, “If he fed you mangoes, that means he likes you.” Really? Can’t be sure of that. But surely, dil mango more, in the quest of extracting a cool interview from the Bhaijaan.
Asha Bhosle
No restaurant or catered food allowed on the table.
The diva cooks – adapting her recipes on the menus of the chain of Asha Restaurants in the U.K. and Middle East. And if you can’t polish off the assortment of curries, chops and puran puri, the leftovers are packed up in containers to take home.
Shabana Azmi and Javed Akhtar
Urdu sher-shaayari, pleasant banter between the two, anecdotes from the milestone movies that were - all over a dining table equipped with a revolving tray.
The cuisine is essentially Mughlai, pulaos, shorbas, naans and phulkas. And if she’s feeling up to it, Shabana’s ammi, Shaukat Azmi, dressed in a crisp sari, laughs fondly at Javed’s sharp wisecracks. Ah, their Juhu oceanfront house, resonates with so, so many stories… and comfort food.
(The writer is a film critic, filmmaker, theatre director and weekend painter.)
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