Remembering The Awara, Shri 420, Anari, Deewana & Joker!

Raj Kapoor was different things to different people.

To some, he was the greatest showman Indian Cinema had ever seen. Mr. Razzle-Dazzle who converted the simplest of occasions — Mahurats, Holy celebrations, parties — into major events. The last of the movie moguls who truly thought big — big budgets, big canvas, and of course, big women!

To some, he was one of the legendary trio — the other two being Dev Anand and Dilip Kumar — who formed the triumvirate that dominated the screen of the 1950s and 1960s.

To some, he was the smartie who localized the “Chaplin” hero to give us “Raju” — the evergreen, happy-go-lucky tramp — the charming and zany Awara and 420 who took the 1950s by storm, striking as much by his comic antics, his passionate romancing with his first (and greatest) R. K. heroine, Nargis, as also his strong social cinematic comment.

To some, he was the eternal optimist, the resilient, ne’er-say-die war horse, who was sometimes down, but never out. The ambitious, flamboyant gambler, who staked everything in what he believed — and to hell with current vogues!

Interestingly, the legend started small. The eldest son of the late Prithviraj Kapoor — a Pathan from Peshawar, stunningly built and spectacular looking, who abandoned a career in law for the magic of the screen and stage — Raj Kapoor’s first job was that of a clapper boy in a Kedar Sharma film in 1942. Hired by Ranjit Movietone at the princely sum of Rs 10 a month, Raj occasionally managed an extra rupee bonus whenever he was lucky enough to be selected as an “extra.” Bombay Talkies was his next stop. The money was better — Rs. 100 a month — but the queen who reigned over that studio, Devika Rani, wasn’t impressed. This rankled all the more when her eyes repeatedly sought out another aspirant for special attention. Name? Yusuf Khan — alias Dilip Kumar! Rumor has it that when Raj, after a year of steady “iceberg” treatment, finally approached the great lady for a job, she promptly fired him!

With the 1960s, came a change in focus. Romance gave way to flash, sensuousness gave way to blatant sex-appeal. And the R.K. masterpieces of the 1950s, with the exquisite Nargis as centre-piece, were gently soft-focused from sight to memory making way for films like Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hain with the heavy-hipped and bosomy Padmini. Now it was all super packaging. “Style” was the thing — not “substance.”

A spectacular flop (“too diverse a theme,” according to industry critics, “Too old fashioned, his kind of films are outdated”) he made Bobby, a love story with two newcomers, his son Rishi Kapoor and Dimple Kapadia. At a time when “multi-starrers” and “action” films were running into their own, Bobby appeared to be a very risky business proposition, completely out of sync with every conceivable formula ruling the roost — but Raj was undaunted. “Love can never date” declared its most passionate apostle. It proved to be one of the biggest megahits of its time — and Raj had struck again! Critics panned it, but as Raj caustically claimed, “Had it bombed, they would have called it a classic.”