The Punjabi in Rishi Kapoor

The Punjabi in Rishi Kapoor

Rishi Kapoor, whom we lost recently at the age of 67, was one of the Bollywood’s most popular romantic heroes. He came from an illustrious family of four generations of stars who were “born to act”. 

The Kapoor family hailed from Peshawar in modern Pakistan and migrated to India after partition in 1947.

Rishi Kapoor’s grandfather ran a prominent theatre company. His father Raj Kapoor was regarded as one of the greatest actors and directors in Bollywood. He was also called the “showman of Indian cinema”. Rishi Kapoor-or Chintu (sweet one) as his family called him-was “forever youthful”.

Rishi Kapoor was a versatile actor whose appeal transcended linguistic and regional boundaries, but being a Punjabi by birth, he was often in his best form performing such a role. A chance meeting with him at the Heathrow airport in London, about a decade back, has been embedded in my mind till date.

Before boarding the aeroplane, I entered a customs-free shop at the airport to buy some perfume for my wife. Not knowing much about the varied brands of perfume on display, I found myself somewhat confused by the sheer range of offerings. Just as I was thinking about seeking help from the store assistant, I saw Rishi Kapoor entering the shop. I daresay I was a bit surprised that, in person, this larger-than-life Indian actor seemed rather more diminutive than I’d imagined.

I saw Rishi going about to a few counters and swiftly pick up three bottles of different perfume brands. My problem was solved, as I went to the same counters and picked up the same perfumes for my wife.

When I went to the counter to pay for the perfumes, Rishi Kapoor took a glance at my purchase and exclaimed, ‘Oh, you bought the same perfume!’ He smiled when I told him that I had purchased it as a gift for my wife, and said that he, too, had purchased the perfume for his wife, Neetu.

Finding him very cordial, I tried to continue the conversation, asking him how he happened to be in London. He explained that he was returning after several days of a movie-shoot in London. He asked whether I watched and liked his movies, and where I hailed from, in India. I told him that I was from Haryana and was very much a fan of his movies. To which Rishi immediately reacted, by exclaiming, “But you look to be a Punjabi?!” When I nodded to confirm that he was, in fact, right in his assessment, he urged me to definitely watch his upcoming movie for which he was there, shooting, in London. “You will like it!” he assured me. So, I enquired about the name and theme of the movie, and he told me that the movie would be named “Patiala House’, and that its story was about a second-generation Punjabi who had established himself well in the UK but continued to nurture an affinity to his country of birth, and culture thereof.

We bid goodbye after this short interaction, and I watched the movie on screen a few months later – I found that he had played the role of Gurtej Singh Kahlon in the movie immaculately, and credited this to his own Punjabi culture and heritage. This is the only movie in my life which I have seen four times, with the last time being soon after his recent death – the movie again reminded me of my meeting with a great actor who had no inhibitions in engaging with a stranger at an airport, in a foreign land.  

(Writer is Kurukshetra based senior journalist)