The Palestinian Journalists' Syndicate calls for an Independent investigation to uncover the circumstances of the death of journalist Shatha
world1 hour ago
My first encounter with Rajinikanth was over breakfast at a Mumbai sea-facing hotel on the Juhu beachfront. That was around the early 1980s. He was trying to assimilate into the world of Bollywood, backed by clout-wielding directors such as Subhash Ghai and Ramesh Sippy.
That the Chennai-based film phenomenon couldn't quite find a permanent perch in Hindi language cinema wasn't surprising perhaps. Oddly enough, over time, several extremely popular actors from the film producing centres of south India couldn't firmly establish themselves in B-town despite their considerable talent. Prime examples: Kamal Haasan, Chiranjeevi, Daggubati Venkatesh, Nagarjuna and, more lately, Rana Daggubati.
In the course of the interview, Rajinikanth had stated diffidently, "I know it's going to be a tough slog to find success here but no pain, no gain." And when I'd remarked on his eye-catching wristwatch, he immediately took it off and offered it to me, smiling, "You like it, take it." Of course, that offer had to be refused right away, to which he smiled some more, saying, "Material things are of no use to me. Why not share what one has with others?"
"Sorry sir," I said, a tad embarrassed. "Journalists cannot accept gifts." Pouring out another cup of coffee, Rajinikanth then spoke at length about his days of struggle. Not a lot of people know that their favourite superstar was born Shivaji Rao Gaekward, son of a police constable. He had worked as a carpenter, a coolie and then as a bus conductor with the Bangalore Transport Company. Alongside, he had acted in stage plays, before being noticed by stalwart director K Balachander. Soon after, a superstar was born.
When I met him again over a decade later in Chennai, while he was at the acme of his popularity, he appeared
to be grounded, insisting that any visitor to the studio sets should share a cup of coffee and a mound-full of snacks
with him before leaving. Time hasn't altered the congenial 65-year-old Rajinikanth, who has now scored a record-breaking hit with the Tamil film Kabali, released to a worldwide audience last month.
The film's producers claimed that it had earned Rs 250 crore (2.5 billion) on its very first day, what with shows commencing in some towns as early as at 4am. Multiplexes in north India as well as Mumbai were packed to the rafters, too, indicating that the superstar's appeal has fanned out from the south to a national audience.
Indeed, at Mumbai's quaint, old-worldly Aurora Talkies, there was tremendous rejoicing by his fans, who clapped and whistled throughout the screenings showcasing Rajinikanth as a messiah of the underprivileged - in this case the Tamils who have migrated to Malaysia and have been subjected to racial prejudice.
Largely, the blitzkrieg of reviews singled out Rajinikanth's larger-than-life screen presence as the reason for watching the thriller featuring him as a do-gooder godfather beset by a personal family tragedy. The direction by Pa. Ranjith and the screenplay - combining action, emotional drama, dance and music - were panned though. It was recommended strictly for the legion of Rajinikanth fans, which has intensified to incredible proportions.
Come to think of it, the Rajini style means a reprise of his patented mannerisms: an acrobatic performance of stunts, a cool invincible attitude, punch-packed dialogue delivery and costumes which include three-piece suits, designer sunglasses and colourful shirts. Plus, the flashback device shows a youthful Rajini, so that viewers are assured that their dream idol is ageless and as physically agile as ever.
Incidentally, his cult status has been, willy-nilly, recognised steadily but surely by Bollywood's top echelons, as exemplified by his special appearance in the Shah Rukh Khan robot flick Ra:One, followed by the lungi dance, a tribute song in Chennai Express to the Rajini persona.
Moreover, on WhatsApp and online sites, the cult figure has sparked a series of wisecracks, the quintessential ones among them being, "Rajnikanth was shot today. Tomorrow is the bullet's funeral", "Rajinikanth has a statue of Madame Tussauds at his home" and "When Alexander Graham Bell first used his telephone, he already had two missed calls from Rajinikanth." It's a sign of his sense of humour that he has fielded such jokes - or should one say left-handed compliments? - sportingly.
But if you ask me, India's Superstar No. 1 has also had the last laugh. Rajinikanth has validated the point that there's so much more to Indian cinema than making it big in the narrow enclaves of Bollywood.
wknd@khaleejtimes.com
The Palestinian Journalists' Syndicate calls for an Independent investigation to uncover the circumstances of the death of journalist Shatha
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