“There was tension between Rajesh and Amitabh”

He’s one actor who first became an instructor at his Alma Mater, FTII, in order to survive while his silver dreams lay in waiting. Beginning with bit roles initially, Asrani found fame in Hrishikesh Mukehrjee’s films in the ’70s. Also, he became a cusp of sorts – in that he stood between two defining moments in Hindi film history. He witnessed the phenomenon of Rajesh Khanna, saw it fade and give way to the spectacle of the angry young man – Amitabh Bachchan. And the comedian was integral to both the superstars’ early films. Between 1975 and 1985, he went on to do nearly 80 films – including Abhimaan, Namak Haraam, Roti, Prem Nagar, Chupke Chupke and Sholay, which featured him opposite the stalwarts. “While big directors don’t really pay you, they exploit your talent beautifully,” says Asrani who later worked with filmmakers D Rama Naidu, BR Chopra, K Bapaiah, Narayana Rao Dasari, K Raghavendra Rao, Shakti Samanta, Manmohan Desai and Basu Chatterjee. An actor, whose struggles only buffed up his survival instinct, Asrani continued to meld into the millennium with the David Dhawan and Priyadarshan masala brands like Gharwali Baharwali, Bade Miyan Chote Miyan, Hera Pheri and Bhagam Bhag. Recently, he appeared in Rohit Shetty’s Bol Bachchan and Satish Kaushik’s Gang of Ghosts apart from several Gujarati films. At 70 plus, his bandwidth as an artiste is ample. When he’s not shooting for films or campaigning for political bigwigs, he’s happy doing theatre – Baap Ka Baap with Padmini Kolhapure being his recent outing. But the funny man’s candid that life in showbiz has not all been fun and games. Yet the let-downs have not made him a closet brooder. “That comedians are sad people is a wrong notion. Yes, I am an observer of life and that’s what has helped my art,” states the veteran. A throwback in time in his words...

With Amitabh Bachchan, AK Hangal, Rajesh Khanna and Rekha in Namak Haram

 
Hrishida and I
Although I had completed my acting course at the FTII in 1966, it was not a passport to acting as I believed. It was hard to find work. So I took up an instructor’s job at the institute. But for six years, every Friday evening, I’d take the Deccan Queen from Pune to Mumbai to look for acting opportunities. The ticket cost me six rupees and six annas. Once Hrishikesh Mukerjee happened to visit the institute along with Gulzar saab. I reminded him about giving me work (Asrani had done a bit role in his Satyakam, 1969). Hrishida said, “Dega kaam dega. Pehle yeh batao Jaya Bhaduri kaun hai?” Jaya was a student then. She was like electricity, aggressive and ambitious. She had done Mahanagar (1963) with Satyajit Ray. Ray had recommended her to Hrishida. Jaya was in the canteen having tea with Anil Dhawan and Danny Denzongpa. When she was told that Hrishida had come to meet her, she cried, “What! Hrishi kaku?” the cup almost falling off her hands. She ran to meet him. Hrishida put his hands over her shoulders and took her around the 20 acres of the institute, talking to her gently. I asked Gulzar saab why Hrishida had come. “Guddi dhoondh ne aaye hain! Tumhara koi chance nahin!” he answered. When Hrishida was about to leave, I asked him, “Dada mera? He shot back, “Tumhara kuch nahin. Come when I send a letter!”

Three months later a letter did come but it was for Jaya Bhaduri. It was put up on the notice board. There was hulchal at the institute. Eventually, I did get a two scene-role in Guddi – of a boy who comes to become a hero but ends up as a junior artiste. Hrishida even gave me the money to travel first class from Pune to Mumbai. Then on till Jurmana (1979), Hrishida included me in all his films. During his last days when I went to visit him at the hospital, he wrote, ‘Asrani Mukherji’ on a piece of paper and gave it to me. He meant to say, ‘you are like a son to me’.

(Clockwise) With Dharmendra in Chupke Chupke, With kajri in Balika Badhu, With Manisha, Rajesh and Jaya Bhadhuri in Bawarchi and with Rajesh in Namak Haram

RAJESH KHANNA’S SUPERSTARDOM
Rajesh Khanna was the Madhuri-Filmfare talent contest winner in 1965. There were three boxes kept at the Regal cinema, out of which came out the winners Subhash Ghai, Dheeraj Kumar and Rajesh Khanna! Then one day at Natraj Studio I saw a young lad, his face full of pimples, clad in an orange lungi kurta. I thought he was a sanyasi. But someone pointed out that he was Rajesh Khanna. His Baharon Ke Sapne (1967) had flopped. But it was soon followed by hits like Aradhana and Do Raaste in 1969 and Sachaa Jhutha and Safar in 1970. I remember witnessing the premiere of Do Raaste at Metro cinema. All the eight producers of the United Producers Council – Raj Khosla, J Om Prakash, FC Mehra, Mohan Sehgal, Nasir Hussain, Shakti Samanta, Pramod Chakravarthy and Hemant Kumar - suited and booted stood waiting to welcome him. There were swelling crowds outside and a full house inside. There was pandemonium when he arrived. As though ‘God’ had arrived. The suited filmmakers were pushed aside. The crowds from the streets barged into the theatre. There was lathi charge amongst cries of ‘Rajesh Khanna, Rajesh Khanna!’ Everyone wanted to touch him. It took him 40 minutes to reach the stage. When the song Bindiya chamkegi was played… there were whistles and coin throwing. He was whisked away even before the screening was complete. Then I met him on the set of Bawarchi (1972). At work, he kept a distance.  A swarm of directors, writers, producers and journalists would always be waiting for him. A bus full of fans, women and children, would arrive to meet him. They would be served soft drinks. I was in awe of him too.

TENSION ON THE NAMAK HARAM SET
Later, I worked with Rajesh in Hrishida’s Namak Haram (1973). He was paired opposite Amitabh Bachchan (the duo had worked in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Anand 1971), who had a string of flops behind him including Sanjog, Bandhe Haath, Bansi Birju... Zanjeer (1973) had not released then. There was a basic courtesy between the two but Rajesh suffered from a superiority complex. He believed ‘no one can shake me. I am too powerful’. Throughout the film there was palpable tension between the two.

At the onset Hrishda had asked both of them, which role they wanted to play. He had said, ‘There are two characters, one dies, one fights back! You decide’. Those days the trend was that the actor who died on screen won all the raves. Rajesh chose to die. On the final day of the shoot, Rajesh Khanna’s garlanded photo frame was hung up at Mohan Studio. Amitabh came much before 9.30 am, the reporting time, went to his make-up room and sat. At 10.30 am Hrishida came and sent his assistant Nitin Mukesh to call him for the shot. Nitin came back saying he was not opening the door. Apparently, Amitabh was lamenting his decision of ‘not dying’ in the film. He thought perhaps he’d be able to persuade Hrishida to change the end. But the garlanded frame was already put up and that had upset him.

Hrishida knocked loudly at his door and said, “Amit! Kya huwa?” He said, “Woh photo…” Hrishida shot back, “What do you mean? Tumko bola tha na, you chose that role. Now, you can’t back out. Or else I’ll remove Rajesh’s photograph and stop the film.” Amitabh came on the set and did the shot. But after that film he became a superstar. There’s a scene where Rajesh Khanna meets with an accident. Amitabh’s seething anger where he asks the crowd, “Kissne maara?” got the audiences clapping. Ironically, it was after Namak Haram that Rajesh Khanna’s downslide began. The ‘lover boy’ phase was over. The ‘angry young man’ had arrived.

Through the years my relationship with Rajesh remained cordial. He’d often invite me for drinks. But he never confided in anyone. I don’t think he was close to anyone. He liked to be with people who only spoke good things about him. He never accepted his downfall. Though I did sense frustration developing in him during the shoot of Anurodh. Years later, I was shooting for Aamdani Atthanni Kharcha Rupaiya (2001) in Hyderabad where I went to meet him at Banjara Hotels. He had the same style.

(on top):  With Tahir Hussain, wife Manju Bansal and Nasir Hussain, (on bottom) in Sholay



Amitabh-Jaya
Nargisji had asked Khwaja Ahmed Abbas to acquaint an aspiring Amitabh with theatre. So Abbas saab had brought him to the FTII where the play Shatranj Ke Khiladi was to be staged. There he met Jaya Bhaduri. Initially, he was signed for Guddi. But since Hrishida wanted a fresh face and he had already appeared in Saat Hindustani (1969), Samit Bhanja was taken. Amitabh’s clothes, which were already stitched, were altered for Samit.

I met Amitabh through Jaya. She lived on the floor below mine. He’d often come to meet her. Sometimes, when there would be producers in her house, he’d come up to mine and sit.  He never asked her to recommend him to producers. He comes from a cultured background. He was an introvert and kept to himself. Jaya was a great support to him during his difficult days.
I was one of the four ‘brothers of the bride’ at their wedding along with Gulzar saab, Ramesh Behl and a cousin. Sanjay Gandhi was also present at the private gathering. Even today when Jaya meets me, she calls me ‘Sir’ as I was once
her teacher.

PREPARING FOR SHOLAY
In order to prepare me for the role of the jailor in Sholay (1975) writers Salim and Javed showed me a World War II book, which had Adolf Hitler’s unseen pictures. Hitler was known to rehearse before every public speech and also have his pictures clicked in various costumes and poses. They asked me to pick a look from those photographs. Then wigmaker Kabir and Akbar from Gabbana was called to create the costume for me. Incidentally, acting institutes have Hitler’s recorded voice to train actors. He had hypnotised and provoked an entire nation with his voice modulation. My teacher, Roshan Taneja, enacted that voice for me. The manner in which Hitler said, ‘I am an Aryan!’ had a pitch and fall. I said the dialogue, “Hum angrez ke zamaane ke jailor hai!” emulating the same inflection. The sentence is followed by “Ha Ha!” That was inspired from Jack Lemmon’s act in The Great Race (1965). Even today I am asked to say these lines when I campaign during the elections.

FUNNYMAN KISHORE KUMAR
I shared a good rapport with Kishore Kumar. Once I was the anchor for a Kishore Kumar Nite at Netaji Subhash Chandra auditorium in Kolkata. Bappida (Lahiri) was also performing on stage and was just not leaving the mike. He kept singing one song after the other and sang almost nine songs. The public kept saying ‘Bappi jaa!’ but he thought it to be ‘Bappi aa!’ Kishoreda was getting restless backstage. He said ‘let me handle it’. He dashed on the stage singing Bappi re Bappi... gently held his hand and while singing and dancing brought Bappida down to his seat. Kishoreda also did the playback for me in my Gujarati directorial Amdavad No Rikshawalo (1974, Asrani played the hero). When Kishoreda sang the title song at Wembley in London, Indians in the audience got nostalgic and began crying.

LESSONS LEARNT
I hit my lowest phase when I wanted to direct Chala Murari Hero Banne (1977). I found no takers. Those very friends with whom I shared drinks didn’t want to do my film. I was okay as a co-actor not as a director. They started looking for escape routes. They’d say, “It’s a good script but work on it.” Actually, heroes suffer from a complex - he’s a comedian, why take orders from him? I even went to Gulshan Rai with the script. He gave me an honest advice, “The day you announce yourself as a director that day you will lose your credibility as an actor. Take the examples of IS Johar, Mehmood, Johny Walker, Deven Varma.” I understood. So even though I went ahead with Chala Murari... I eventually returned to acting. I realised the futility of socialising with your peers after work. You are with each other the whole day. Then you sit for drinks where you end up gossiping. It’s a waste of time and energy. The next day you have to see them again. You sap your creative energies by interacting too much. I realised this late but by then I had wasted many years. This is a cutthroat world. People are waiting to pull you down. So stay professional.n


MY OFFBEAT ROLES
The evil brother’s role in Koshish (1972) - Gulzar saab said, “I don’t see a comedian in you.”

The double role of a hippie and villager in LV Prasad’s Bidaai (1974)

A beedi peenewala, ganji sporting wastrel in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Chaitali (1975)

A romantic in BR Chopra’s Nikah (1982) who sang a qawwali like yesteryear actor Yakub

A pimp in KS Prakash Rao’s Prem Nagar (1974)