QUEEN'S ROAD: Over four decades after the release of Rajkumar's film Kasturi Nivasa, it was released again earlier this month, this time in colour. Fans went into a frenzy, and it drew a new generation of movie buffs, and is holding its own against newer films with young stars.
One thing is clear: the appeal of Rajkumar (1929-2006), the actor who grew into an icon, endures even eight years after his death. A lesson about his life and times, titled Natasarvabhouma, has just been included by the Maharashtra government in its Class 8 textbook.
One actor said on Rajkumar’s passing in 2006: "It seems as if everyone in the state has lost their patriarch." Deviating from the path taken by N T Rama Rao and M G Ramachandran, he did not convert his mass appeal into votes, although many political parties tried to woo him. He was not desperate to cash in on his popularity either: he wouldn't do scores of films simultaneously, like many others of his time.
In fact, in the 1970s, he started acting only under his home banner. He suddenly announced his retirement in the 1990s. He had always been devout, and practised yoga regularly, but he began talking increasingly about spirituality. His speeches, his thoughts, his actions reflected a philosophical bent of mind.
But his admirers would not accept his self-imposed exile. They laid siege to his house in Sadashivanagar every day to implore him to return to films. Even while his family was trying to deal with the pressure, it became imperative for Rajkumar to respond to his fans.
By then, his family had joined the chorus. And it took them, especially his wife Parvathamma, to persuade him to change his mind. Three films released after this three-year hiatus—Jeevana Chaitra, Akasmika and Odahuttidavaru—rewrote box-office records, proving yet again that he was matchless.
His popularity again became apparent when he was kidnapped by forest brigand Veerappan. Then into his 70s, Rajkumar accepted it all stoically. But his 108-day captivity almost brought Karnataka to a standstill. What is inexplicable to this day is why Veerappan chose to kidnap Rajkumar. Was it his gentle conduct that endeared him to the masses? Was it his humanity, his humility? He chose subjects that had no gratuitous violence or crude humour. He didn’t smoke or drink on screen, barring in a couple of films. He would say he saw no reason why he should promote those vices in reel life when in person he was averse to them. His fans didn’t want him to play negative roles either. In Daari Tappida Maga, he played a double role in which one of two sons goes astray. He also essayed the role of the demonic Hiranyakashipu in the mythological Bhakta Prahlada. But those were exceptions. Rajkumar campaigned for public causes, taking on the role of an arbiter admirably. The ultimate hero, as a film-maker once put it, has to be the ultimate son, brother, lover, husband and friend. Rajkumar played all these roles and more, and appealed to the collective consciousness of the audience.
As a playback singer, he tasted success. During his theatre days, he had practised music regularly, and could negotiate complex ragas, unlike his actor-peers. Rajkumar the singer surfaced with the film Sampattige Saval in 1976—and his song Yaare koogadali became a chart-buster. Till then, the legendary P B Srinivas was his voice. Rajkumar was crowned with the best national male playback singer award for the song Naadamaya in Jeevana Chaitra. The other national awards he got were the Padmabhushan and the Dadasaheb Phalke award.
At one time, no producer was willing to even look at him because they thought he had a disproportionately long nose. In fact, he was rejected when he went to audition for his debut film Bedara Kannappa. Actress Pandari Bai persuaded them to give him a chance. There was no looking back. His 208 films as hero spanned five decades, his last film being Shabdavedi.
His legacy continues through his sons Shivarajkumar and Puneet. His other son Raghavendra is now a producer. Rajkumar always remained the humble Muthuraj, the name his parents gave him. But he became Rajkumar, again thanks to his father Puttaswamaiah. It is said that Puttaswamaiah told the theatre stalwart Gubbi Veeranna, who was directing a film: "My son looks like a rajakumara (prince)." And that was the screen name given to him.
The millions who adore him say he was not just a rajakumara but a Bangarada Manushya (man with a golden heart).