Raakhee, who turns 77 on August 15, remains an enigma wrapped in a riddle.
Dinesh Raheja remembers Raakhee telling him how she loves the rains and how she would drive down to Tulsi Lake in the 1970s and float paper boats in the water. He would like to imagine that Raakhee still does that at her farmhouse.
Before I became the editor of Movie magazine in 1988, I spent a few years as a snap-happy photojournalist.
It was an exciting cinematic era when stars like Sridevi, Madhuri Dixit, Anil Kapoor, Dilip Kumar, Amitabh Bachchan, Rekha, Raakhee and Salman Khan strode the studios; and armed with my Nikon camera, I sought to capture their essence not just in words but also in images.
I begin this special series by sharing personal insights from my interactions with Raakhee as well as the outdoors picture I shot of her looking absolutely natural amidst verdant nature, and free of any film trappings or artifice.
I captured this image of the hazel-eyed beauty in 1988 at her Aptegaon farmhouse which she had given out for a shoot.
I was wary of the famously whimsical actress who had been a star for a dozen years before I had even entered journalism.
So the late Jagdish Mali, photographer extraordinaire, bluntly introduced me as, 'Raakheeji, Dinesh is afraid of you.'
She impishly asked me, 'Main tumko kha jaaungi?'
Instead, I was the one feasting because Raakhee cooked spicy biryani and delicious Bengali-style fish curry for the entire film unit.
The biryani was hot, the Bengali-style fish curry, cooked in mustard oil, a novelty for me (I turned vegetarian two years later, but that is another story). She took great pride in her culinary expertise, and deservedly so.
Later, while my friend Jaggi shot colour pictures, I excitedly shot black and whites of this gorgeous woman. She was shooting at her lush green farmhouse for director Vishwamitra's small-budget drama, Mere Baad, co-starring Anupam Kher.
I feel small talk reveals more about stars than recorded interviews.
In the post-lunch break, she retired with her hair dresser and constant companion Khatija to a room that had a creaky fan and no air conditioner.
Since we had finished with our interview, we made idle talk.
Raakhee told me that she never eats in banquet rooms or five-star hotels because she wasn't comfortable eating with a fork and knife.
'Mujhe haath se khaana achha lagta hai, so I starve at parties; I order room service when I am at location shootings.'
She also told me that she preferred to sit in the middle of the car in the backseat. 'I feel more secure that way.'
A gifted raconteur once she was comfortable, she shared how Satyen Bose, the director of her first Hindi film, Jeevan Mrityu, had slapped her when she couldn't get a shot right but had then consoled her and asked her not to cry because her tears were precious.
Dev Anand, whom she worked with in Banarasi Babu, Heera Panna and Lootmaar, was her favourite hero. She said, 'He doesn't have a single enemy in the industry -- a true blue gentleman.'
I shot more pictures of Raakhee at the outdoor shooting of Subhash Ghai's Ram Lakhan in 1988. Three actresses -- Raakhee, Dimple Kapadia and Madhuri Dixit -- were present, but each would retire to their chairs after every shot, barely exchanging more than a hello.
On one occasion, she flashed back to the early 1970s and revealed how any date with Gulzar had to be a long drive.
One day, Khatija and she mischievously flicked the keys of Gulzar's car and drove away to Thane only to be greeted on their return with an anxious Gulzar pacing on the road.
When I met Raakhee at her Bandra house over a decade ago, she mentioned, 'When I first came to Mumbai, I stayed with some Sindhi friends.'
So my wife packed Sindhi curry and aloo tuk for her.
While relishing the food, she told me she wasn't keen to do films anymore; she preferred spending her mornings reading newspapers from the first to the last page and busying herself with housework. 'And I love going to my farm.'
I lost touch with her after that day.
Raakhee turns 77 on August 15 but I won't call because even birthday messages have gone unanswered of late.
When her daughter Meghna Gulzar gracefully released my book 101 Haiku a few years back, she explained that her mother had limited her interactions.
Raakhee remains an enigma wrapped in a riddle.
Raakhee's birthday falls in the midst of the rainy season. SD Burman had lavished the burnished monsoon melody, Megha Chhaye Aadhi Raat on Raakhee in Sharmilee while junior Burman had created the lilting Saawan Ke Jhoole Pade, Tum Chale Aao for her in Jurmana.
I remember Raakhee telling me how she loves the rains and how she would drive down to Tulsi Lake in the 1970s and float paper boats in the water. I would like to imagine that Raakhee still does that at her farmhouse.
