Rakshanda Khattak during the shooting of Jane Bond 008 Operation Karachi (1971)

Down a small lane on Victoria road, up an ancient flight of stairs, through an un-certain looking door and into Rakshanda’s “Hi, you’re late”. When I recover from the shock of seeing a disheveled face (my own) in the mirror, I manage a feeble Hello! But before the conversation run can gather much speed, I’m in for another shock. A flaming hungry red dragon seems to be giving me the look of a first good meal in months. As I back away from the picture I ram into an antique chair and a pair of mini lions OooH!! Add to this a cupboard of assorted shooting weapons and one can’t blame me for being just a bit flabbergasted.

And through all my nightmare, combining the best feature of a Burmese mother and a Pathan father, there is Rakshanda looking cool, stately and perfectly unperturbed “I did it all myself” – in a smug – satisfied tone when I looked round the room. Now that I had got my breath back I found it was a rather unusual but tasteful room Rakshanda and her husband Hussain Javeri’s interest in shooting and hunting accounted for all the weapons and wild things – “And I do all the cooking and sowing” she added more satisfied than, ever, seeing that I was incredulous. That is Rakshanda. She comes up with things she think will make you sit up. They are true of course. She does do a lot of housework, lots more of sowing and absolutely everything in interior decoration. I got it from my talented mother”.

Sounds quite different from the Jane Bond image doesn’t it? ‘How about all your karate and Judo’ “Oh I did learn it from the Iranian director for 2 months but I can’t say I’m keeping in practice now”. Seeing that her husband is a good 200 lbs of young male muscle, I can understand her playing safe. Trying it on anyone else. Not she’s too busy cooking. “Like entertaining?” I asked her over a glass of coke (we had a tea later and coffee after that). ‘Yes just a few friends for dinner and music is our usual entertainment for the day’. From what I gathered hunting, seeing movies, going out to dinners, visiting relatives all can be added to the list of entertainment. Making movies? Yes that too was like an entertainment for Rakshanda. For she’s been a successful model for years and film offers were always coming up. But she never cared for them. This Jane Bond one with Iranian director seemed like good fun. Her future movie plans? Very vague. She does not seem very much interested in a film career. “And you can’t continue this sort of thing for long” was her comment. Meaning that while you’re young and you’re a hit, it’s okay. But then what happens? All that frustration and oblivion… it’s not worth it.

It doesn’t mean Rakshanda’s fans need be disappointed. No! a tempting offer will definitely lure her from the comfortable niche she’s carved for herself – a doting husband, a fabulous house and a long string of glorious successes as a model. A role with Mohammed Ali will certainly see Rakshanda considering the matter very seriously? Why? ‘Oh, I like him amongst all the Pakistani actors. And I’d be the right size for him you know… with a mischievous smile. Does it seem like conceit? Well: I’d say it is just a frank admittance of her desirable height and alluring looks. Her looks are indeed very alluring when she wants them to be. Between our talk her husband came in with a reluctant “Darling I’ve got to go to work!” And she says “of course you must go to work … go now” and gave him a look which certainly must have made him want to never go to work or anywhere else.

Naturally we wanted lots of photographs of Rakshanda. As she obligingly got into dress after smart dress she kep mumbling. “Oh I’ve put on weight round the middle since I last wore this thing” (Do I hear pattering feet in the near future?). I asked her outright and she smiled. No comments. But I didn’t miss the dreamy look and the faint blush that crept up her expressive face. I could be wrong about the look of course and the orange curtains did give off a golden reflection now and then. And yet it could be the reason she’s not accepting any film offers.

Those who have seen Jane Bond certainly want to see more of Rakshanda specially in the film industry like ours where new faces and talents are in dearth. Rakshanda is a breath of fresh air in atmosphere heavily laden with actresses who neither know the art of grooming nor the knack of keeping themselves trimly in shape. (by Sarwar Peshiman)

Ajay Sahni

Way back in 1966  when producer Rajendra Bhatia was planning to make “Pavitra Papi,” he had in mind a young new director—Balraj Sahni’s son Parikshit. Parikshit had just returned after completing a five-year course in film direction at the Moscow Cinema Institute. Later, Rajendra Bhatia himself directed the film, apparently to enable Parikshit to concentrate on his acting in the title role.

Earlier, Parikshit had acted in “Anokhi Raat” and his portrayal of a painter had come in for a lot of praise. Incidentally, Sanjeev Kumar gave him the screen name Ajay, during the shooting, an easy name to remember, he had suggested.

Ajay’s performance in these two films totally changed the course of his career. The industry recognized the actor and forgot about the director. Maybe producers were not prepared to associate Ajay’s young and handsome looks with the routine personality of a Hindi film director.

“Pavitra Papi” was followed by Gemini’s “Samaj Ko Badal Dalo,” another good role, according to Ajay. There were two other films made in Madras (“Aansoo aur Muskan” and “Lagan”) but Ajay feels they are best forgotten. In any case he had hardly anything to do in them. He had accepted the roles at the instance of “experienced friends.”

Born at Murree, a hill station near Rawalpindi, Ajay had his early schooling at the Shri Shivaji Military School, Poona, later went to the famous Lawrence School at Sanawar (near Simla). He passed his B.A. with English literature from St. Stephen’s College, Delhi, and joined the J. J. School of Arts for a course in Fine Arts. This he had to give up after a year.

At the instance of his uncle Bhisham Sahni (Balraj’s younger brother) Ajay went to Moscow in 1960 to do a course in archi­tecture They told him he couldn’t possibly do that because he wasn’t really good enough in mathematics. After an aptitude test they advised him to join the Cinema Institute.

Back in India in 1966 Ajay felt he was at a disadvantage. “The facilities for film making obtain­ing in Bombay were so different from those in Moscow that it kept me at a loose end for a year. I thought I would not be able to find my feet.” For a moment he even thought of go­ing back to Moscow for good. He recalled the words of Hen­drik Ibsen:

“To a man his native land,

Is as unto the tree the root;

If there his labour fills no want,

His deeds are doomed, his music mute.”

It was better, Ajay thought, to humble oneself. If you have anything to give, give it to your country, his conscience told him. “That,” he says, “meant re-educating myself. I discarded the distorted glasses through which, like so many young people I saw my country on my return from abroad. Something told me that if there was any place on earth for making fabulous movies, it was India. Here’s a cauldron of activity—look at the wonderful things happening around us, I told myself.”

The “Anokhi_itaat” role was offered  to Ajay by director Asit Sen. They had met in Moscow where Sen was on a visit as a member of an Indian delegation. Ajay incidentally rates Asit Sen high among Indian directors. “He works hard and expects others to do the same. And it shows in the final result.” Strangely enough, Ajay thought he would get down to direction himself after this acting stint.

Among his forthcoming films, he expects “Arpana,” co-starring Mala Sinha, to turn out a good movie. He plays a business mag­nate’s sensitive son who has artistic inclinations but whom everybody regards as a lunatic. “It’s a different kind of role, I hope to do it well.” In “The Man From India,” Ajay plays Udham Singh, the revolutionary who shoots  Col. Michael O’Dwyer, the man behind the Jalianwalla Bagh massacre, right inside the British Parlia­ment. Other films are “Vandana” co-starring Sadhana, “Parineeta” and “Adarsh,” both co-starring Nanda and the just completed “Preet Ki Dori,” with Tanuja playing his leading lady.

“Do you sing duets?” we ask­ed. “Of course, I do. And I also fight the villain. I suppose I can’t help it, that’s the way it is.”

“Do you think our film making will ever change?”

“I strongly feel it will,” he re­plied. “It should. In fact it has already started with the new  film makers’ works receiving at­tention. I like their enthusiasm. They have got guts. I hope it catches on.”

Ajay saw “Sara Akash,” was impressed “immensely.” He has also seen Satyadev Dubey’s “Shantata! Court Chaloo Aahe” and liked it. “Sulabha Desh­pande is a terrific artiste.” He will soon be working in a low- budget film being made by a young film maker Sunil Ghosh, a Film Institute graduate. It is being financed by the Film Fin­ance Corporation and is based on a novel by Bimal Kar (author of “Balika Bodhu”). Madhabi Mukherjee is his co-star.

The best thing that has hap­pened to Indian films, Ajay says, is the recent influx of newcomers in every department. It has saved films from getting stale. He thinks a new artiste’s career is “like walking on a tightrope.” One has to be careful in selecting his films. One wrong film is likely to bring the career to a sudden end. He probably speaks from experience—he has had a narrow escape.

Last year Ajay got married to Aruna (niece of the Anand bro­thers—Chetan, Dev and Vijay). Their wedding was a real sur­prise. They didn’t send out any  formal invitations and didn’t hold any reception. “Marriage is something personal, something sacred.” It was a love marriage. He had known Aruna (she is affectionately called Munni) since they were kids. After his re­turn from Moscow they became friendly. “I hit off very well with the whole family.” The Ajay Sahnis live in a sixth floor flat in New Shiv Tirth on Bhula­bhai Desai Road.

“Do you want to make a film, after all?” we asked. “I definitely want to,” he said, But when, I don’t know.” He has already written the script. It deals with building construction laborers. He has been talking about his plans for quite sometime and one hopes he final­ly makes it. Till then he will have to be content with his act­ing career. Our films badly need good actors. And Ajay is un­doubtedly one – (As told to A. A. K. in 1971)

Bina Rai

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The years have treated her kindly. At the age of 64, Bina Rai stands erect. Dressed in a crisp silk saree, her snowy hair neatly tied at the nape of her neck, she evokes memories of the heroine who sang Jo waada kiya woh nibhana padega to Pradeep Kumar in Taj Mahal way back in 1963. There’s a touch of the regal looks despite the mandatory passage of time. Leading a reclusive life in her terrace flat on the eighth floor of Anita building on Malabar Hill, yesteryear’s Noor Jehan is rarely seen outside her abode. It’s almost as if she had seques­tered herself from the madding mob of Mumbai.

French windows lead from the terrace into a sparsely fur­nished living room; the sofa stretching from one side of the wall has obviously seen better days. Framed photographs of Premnath and Bina Rai with their sons’ children smile at the visitor.

Bina Rai had exuded a quiet presence when I’d gone to meet Premnath almost ten years ago. While he’d tripped down memory lane, she’d sat by silently, listening to him, content perhaps to bask in re­flected glory.

Today, loneliness has set in. Premnath passed away four years ago. Her sons, Prem Jun­ior and Monty, are busy with their careers and families.

As their mother begins to chat, I can sense that the ar­tiste in her is still very much alive. Since she has time on hand, she’d like to resume act­ing… or even turn to direction. “Whenever I tell my sons this, they quickly say, ‘Sure, come and work with us.’ As you know, they’re both producing TV serials,” Ma Rai beams. Although the spirit is willing, the once popular actress doesn’t quite seem to be up to the demands of making a comeback. A slight tremble on her lower lip and a twitch in her right arm are perceptible. “I have a nervous disorder,” she explains. “It’s something I inherited from my father.”

And such afflictions act up once in a while. “Sometimes there’s a violent twitch in my leg too. Then I have to take it easy and spend time in bed,” she narrates placidly. Besides, she suffers from diabetes.

Bina Rai doesn’t harp on her health snafus though. She’d rather talk about the kind of work she’d like to do. “I miss being a working woman,” she says firmly. “I’d love to play roles which suit my age.”

So far, no film-maker has approached her to return to acting. “Perhaps everyone feels I’ve given up acting for­ever,” reasons the heroine of 35 films. In any case, she won­ders whether she would be able to fit into today’s scheme of movies since they’ve changed so drastically from the way they were.

Why did she give up acting any­way?

“A hectic career and a home were difficult to handle,” she states sadly. “After a tiring day at the studio, I couldn’t cope with the household de­mands. My husband would let me take my own decisions. He would neither complain nor would he insist that I go off to the studios. I had to make my choice… Since my children needed me, I gave up acting after Taj Mahal and Wallah Kya Baat Hai…

“For a while, my husband and I did try to work things out in such a way that at least one of us would be at home. It just so happened that while his career was doing very well, I wasn’t so busy and vice versa. Finally, I had to make the sac­rifice… I opted to stay at home.”

She has a faraway look in her eyes when she flashbacks, “I was in love with the movies right from my childhood. My entire family loved watching films, we would often make an evening of going to the cinema hall. Khurshid was my favourite heroine. I’d collect photo­graphs of her and other film stars.”

After completing school in Lahore, she en rolled in a Lucknow college. “My father had a job with the Western Railways, he’d be transferred to different cities regularly, so I stayed in a hostel,” she reminisces. “I would devour articles on film stars, reading practically every word that was written about my favourites. Film magazines were banned in the hostel but once in a while a copy was smuggled in.”

Actor-producer-director Kishore Sahu had advertised in a magazine for a new hero­ine for his Kali Ghata. Impul­sively, Bina sent in her appli­cation. Laga to teer, was her attitude. To her delight, she was called for an audition. However, she had to write back stating that she couldn’t make it to Mumbai for a month… since she had to sit for her intermediate exams.

As luck would have it, her parents were scheduled to leave for the City of Dreams to select a bride for her brother. She joined them. Once in Mumbai, she gave her audi­tion and was finalized to play the heroine in Kishore Sahu’s project. She was paid Rs 25,000, an astronomical sum in those days. At the height of her career she was paid a princely Rs 1.5 lakhs for a film.

All this while, Bina Rai had kept her dreams of joining the movies a secret. She knew that her parents wouldn’t approve. She was right. She threatened to go on a hunger strike… her parents relented, giving her the go-ahead finally.

Krishna Sarin was given the screen name of Bina Rai. Right to this day, she is grateful to Kishore Sahu for giving her an excellent launching pad. She also remembers with affection Nandlal Jaswantlal who cast her in Anarkali and Ramanand Sagar who cast her in Ghunghat for which she won the Best Actress Filmfare Award in 1960.

The number 13 and the month of July have been sig­nificant for Bina Rai. She was born on July 13, 1932, she signed her first contract on the same day in 1950. Exactly two years later, she got en­gaged to Premnath.

Gently she recalls the role fate played in their marriage. Premnath and she first met on the sets of Aurat... before the film was complete, they had tied the knot.

At the time, Premnath was head over heels in love with Madhubala. But his father re­fused to accept a Muslim bahu. “The two even went to Haji Malang together,” reveals Bina Rai. But there were too many hurdles in the way. Premnath then met Bina Rai. And a new romance began. “We went for a shooting spell to Mysore… he’d take me on long drives to the Chamundi Hills,” she rewinds. “He had a good voice, he would sing songs of K.L.Saigal and Mukesh.

“Ours was partly a love and partly an arranged marriage. His family was on my side since I was a Hindu.”

Moreover, Premnath went on record to say, “Besides Bina’s pleasant nature and education, I was attracted to her because of her mother. She would pam­per me on the sets. It was like finding the mother I’d never had.”

The actor had been mother­less since the age of five.

Her parents knew that their strong-willed daughter would follow the dictates of her heart. They gave the couple their as­sent for marriage… only her elder brother raised some ob­jections. He didn’t want her to marry an actor since men from show business were notorious for their reckless lifestyles.

Premnath and Bina Rai did visit Madhubala when she was ill. “Yes they were in love. My husband was very upset about her condi­tion,” she says emotionally. “He couldn’t accept the fact that she was seriously ill. They must have shared something beautiful but things don’t al­ways work out. Love stories don’t always have happy endings…I’m told Madhubala was very disturbed on the day we got married.”

Their wedding became the talk of the town. The ceremony as well as the subse­quent parties hosted by their families were filmed and re­leased all over India by Kardar Films. Followed a six-month honeymoon around the world. “Both of us came from large joint families,” Bina Rai tells me. “We were eight brothers and sisters while my husband had 12 brothers and sisters. My father-in-law married thrice. So we decided to keep our family small.”

Now with four grandchil­dren, the Premnaths number ten.

My husband,” Bina Rai says frankly, “was the dominating type. Of course, he had his good points too. He was well-read, he was into philosophy. He was a very loving and caring man.”

With a tremble in her voice, she continues, “I miss him very much. There’s a big gap in my life, I realized how attached I was to him.”

According to film lore, Premnath was a difficult man to live with. “Aren’t all hus­bands difficult?” she retorts. “All marriages have their ups and downs. We had our set­backs too… yet the question of a divorce never occurred to either one of us. We made mutual adjustments and that’s how our marriage… and love survived.

“Going into production proved disastrous for us. Our films (Samundar, Prisoner Of Golconda) didn’t do well and I had to return to the studios to help out financially. My second innings didn’t last very long though. The pressures got to me and I suffered a nervous breakdown.”

Bina Rai is still on medica­tion to calm her nerves.

She believes in yoga and prayers as panaceas to any ailment… As I leave, she re­turns with measured footsteps to her room… and from what I can detect, a quiet, uncom­plaining loneliness – (As told to Meera Joshi in 1996).