This blog post is a birthday gift for a very special person, who many many moons ago was swept up by the Rajesh Khanna hysteria. Mala Di, this one is for you.
My Rajesh Khanna moment, this. In 1991 when he contested Lok Sabha elections, Rajesh Khanna came to Delhi and stayed in Hotel Holiday Inn, whch was owned by Lalit Suri, who also happened to own the paper I was working for at that time, the Delhi Mid Day.
I was asked to interview Mr. Khanna who was contesting on a Congress party ticket. I had a clear mandate -- to make the man look good in the story. The cameraman had gone on another assignment, so I was wielding the camera as well.
He looked nice in spotless white khadi churidaar and kurta and black glasses. The interview was uneventful, if not downright boring. The man gave monosyllabic answers to the easiest questions. He was evidently clueless about Delhi politics. I was already worried -- how was I going to turn this into an interesting story.
The Rajesh Khanna moment, of course, happened after the interview was over. I picked up the camera after the interview was over and told him that I would take a few pictures of him , to go with the story And this is where it happened. My priceless Rajesh Khanna moment.
The moment I mentioned the word "picture", the man suddenly jumped up and stood in front of me, with a sideways pose, one hand in his waist, another over his head, the head tilted oddly, the famous Rajesh Khanna grin on his face. And then he said : "Ab click kar lo."
I was trying to suppress a laugh that was starting from deep within my belly. Among other things, I knew I could possibly lose my job if things didn't go right. My instinct for self preservation came a poor second that day, and I laughed out loud and laughed for long.
As I finally controlled my laughter, the man still stood in that pose in the middle of the room, and looked genuinely surprised, rather than offended. He asked me very sincerely: "Ye pose theek nahi hai kya?"
As far as I was concerned, that was it, the last straw. I realized another bout of laughter would surely cost me my job, if this one hadn't already. I politely told Mr. Khanna that the pose was fine, but I was a terrible photographer (and there is some truth in that too) and that I would shortly send over a professional photographer. Fortunately, by the time I returned to my office, our photographer had come back.
Next morning, I got phone calls from a few friends. "Nice story, Rajan, and nice pictures too."
1 comment:
Like the mischevious twist at the end. Again, a highly enjoyable piece. I know what you mean by 'the moment', Rajan. My magazine editor at one time, used to also teach me the art of waiting for something neurotic or eccentric ... even if it was for just a second... when a celebrity proved too dull. :-)
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