'Madhubala in Kala Pani looks divine and yet, she's not just there for glamour.'
'In Do Raaste, the character of Neelambari (played by Bindu) isn't a heroine in the traditional sense but she has such a pivotal role.'
'That Raj Khosla gave a non-heroine such a central role, instead of the heroine, says a lot about how he valued female characters.'
In the early days, Bollywood saw its actresses as 'Indian goddesses' -- women to be revered, placed on a pedestal, respected.
The lens was often shaped by the male gaze, and by conservative ideals.
In Do Raaste, Rajesh Khanna lectures his girlfriend for wearing western clothes, and she apologises.
In Dostana, there's the problematic dialogue from Amitabh Bachchan: 'Aap aise kapde pehen kar niklengi toh seeti nahi, mandir ki ghantiyaan bajengi?'
Raj Khosla's cinema saw all this but knew how to give the ladies their due as well.
On the director's birth centenary on May 31, his daughter Anita Khosla, along with author Amborish Roychoudhury, released Raj Khosla: The Authorized Biography, which provided remarkable insights into him and his movies.
"For a man with a conservative worldview, Raj Khosla gave his female characters remarkable depth. His cinema wasn't just about worshipping women," Amborish tells Patcy N/Rediff.
"He wasn't entirely comfortable with modernity -- his heroines were meant to be dignified, graceful, and within the boundaries of 'Indian culture' -- but he didn't turn them into doormats either."
Raj Khosla had a distinct way of projecting his heroines.
Yes, especially Sadhana.
In the song Lag Jaa Gale (Woh Kaun Thi), you see her face dappled with the shadow of leaves, singing with a deep, quiet melancholy just beneath the surface. It's not just the visual beauty, it's the emotional depth.
Then, there's Jo Humne Dastaan Apni Sunayi, another evocative song.
The sorrow in Lata Mangeshkar's voice is perfectly matched by Sadhana's expression and Manoj Kumar's reaction. That kind of cinematic harmony doesn't happen by accident, it is crafted.
Raj Khosla designed his heroines' look and presence with painstaking detail.
There's an anecdote I've included in the book, how he and Sadhana would spend hours discussing something as specific as how she should look away from the camera or smile in a particular scene.
This level of attention wasn't just cosmetic, it was integral to how he wanted his women to appear on screen -- elegant, ethereal, and emotionally resonant.
Look at his work with Asha Parekh: Chirag, Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki, Do Badan, Mera Gaon Mera Desh. In each film, she plays a woman with range and complexity.
Madhubala in Kala Pani looks divine and yet, she's not just there for glamour. Her presence has emotional weight.
In Do Raaste, the character of Neelambari (played by Bindu) isn't a heroine in the traditional sense but she has such a pivotal role.
The family falls apart largely because of her character.
It was Bindu's breakout, and her role had substance.
That Raj Khosla gave a non-heroine such a central role, instead of the heroine, says a lot about how he valued female characters.
He seemed to understand the female psyche to a certain extent.
But I wouldn't go as far as to call his lens fully feminist; it was still shaped by the male gaze, and often by conservative ideals.
Still, it wasn't simplistic either.
His worldview wasn't homogeneous, it was full of contradictions.
On one hand, he presented women as goddesses -- beautiful, graceful, idealised figures. But they were Indian goddesses -- women to be revered, placed on a pedestal, respected. Ironically, that also limited them. They weren't always given full agency.
You see this contradiction play out in Do Raaste. There's a scene where Rajesh Khanna lectures his girlfriend for wearing western clothes, and she apologises.
In Dostana, there's that problematic song, Bahut Khoobsurat Jawaan Ek Ladki , which defends stalking.
There's even a dialogue by Amitabh Bachchan later in the film: ''Aap aise kapde pehen kar niklengi toh seeti nahi, mandir ki ghantiyaan bajengi?'
That worldview -- paternalistic, and regressive -- was present.
But in Do Badan, when Asha Parekh's character marries the villain (Pran), and when he tries to force himself on her, she stands up to him. She delivers a powerful monologue about boundaries, not just for women, but men as well. That scene flips the narrative. It's bold and progressive for its time.
Raj Khosla wasn't making the kind of cinema where women were just caricatures.
For example, Sadhana plays a wife in Mera Saya, but the entire film revolves around her identity and her fight to be recognised.
In CID, Waheeda Rehman is a femme fatale, complex, mysterious.
In Mera Gaon Mera Desh, Lakshmi Chhaya plays a character whose loyalties shift. She's not just a vamp or a stock side character, she's layered. She arguably had more footage than Asha Parekh in that film, despite not being the lead.
In Chirag, Asha Parekh plays a blind woman, and the film hinges on her character.
In Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki, she plays the 'other woman' with grace, pain, and quiet dignity.
For a man with a conservative worldview, Khosla gave his female characters remarkable depth. His cinema wasn't just about worshipping women.
He wasn't entirely comfortable with modernity -- his heroines were meant to be dignified, graceful, and within the boundaries of 'Indian culture' -- but he didn't turn them into doormats either.
These contradictions were present in his personal life too. He did not allow his daughters to join the film industry.
Raj Khosla gave us some fine directors like Bappi Soni, Pramod Chakravarty, Manoj Kumar and Mahesh Bhatt.
Yes, they were people who passed through his mentorship at different points.
That doesn't mean they stayed with him long or absorbed everything he had to offer.
For instance, Pramod Chakravarty also worked with Guru Dutt.
Khosla belonged to a generation of filmmakers who didn't just direct films, they nurtured talent.
He influenced a whole bunch of people like Bappi Soni, Mahesh Bhatt, Padmanabh (who later directed Do Chor), and Johnny Bakshi.
Some of that comes from what Khosla himself had received from Guru Dutt, and it was his way of passing on that legacy. It was initially for the benefit of his own films, and eventually, as a gift to the next generation.
In the book, you mention multiple times that Raj Khosla had other women in his life, but you did not go into details. Was that a request from the family?
The family did not stop me from writing anything. That was actually refreshing for an authorised biography.
They gave me full freedom and even helped me reach out to people.
Still, I chose not to give names. One reason was emotional sensitivity. Doing so would have caused pain to people on both sides -- his family and others connected to him.
The second reason was privacy. I did reach out to people, and if anyone had given me permission to name them or tell their story, I might have considered it.
But I didn't get that and in their absence, I didn't think I had the right to intrude on anyone's privacy.
Also, Raj Khosla is not around to speak for himself.
I've spoken about certain relationships only in terms of how they impacted his filmmaking.
Beyond that, I wasn't interested in digging into his personal life.
Why was his last film Parda scrapped? There's a story in your book about Vinod Khanna locking himself up and not opening the door for days.
Parda was built around Vinod Khanna. It was an action film, quite different from the kind of films Khosla had been making.
But by then, Raj Khosla was already in a fragile state.
He wasn't at his peak.
He was dealing with health issues, family pressure, and alcoholism.
Despite those challenges, he had pulled this project together.
Then Vinod Khanna stopped showing up.
Eventually, Raj Khosla had to go to his house himself but Vinod Khanna walked out of the film.
At that point, Raj Khosla just didn't have the strength to start over. So the project was shelved.
What were Raj Khosla's final years like?
He had seen the heights of success, so experiencing the lows he faced towards the end of his career was a struggle for him.
One day, he was at the top of his game, and suddenly, one afternoon, he realised he didn't have it in him anymore.
That was a deeply troubling thought.
It began with what seemed like a minor accident.
He was returning from the Otters Club (in Bandra, northwest Mumbai), a place he often visited to play chess and socialise, when a cyclist bumped into him. At his age, the injury was severe.
He was bedridden for months.
The combination of his mental state, the emotional strain, and his deteriorating health kept him confined for a long time.
When he did recover, he tried to make a comeback.
But his personal struggles, coupled with his professional failures, wore him down.
He couldn't cope.
In his final years, he spoke constantly about projects he wanted to make.
He launched films that never took off, like Khana Badosh.
He managed to make Naqab, but it fared worse than his recent flops.
His family made an effort to wean him off the alcohol and he was admitted to hospital. But the treatment did not work.
Eventually, he passed away.
Those last years weren't easy.
Though he did spend quality time with his daughters, they were deeply difficult days.
