Filmmaker Raj Khosla at 100: A tale of Dutt, dacoits and a double life

He had numerous hits to his name, and even made a precursor to Sholay. In all, he made 26 films across a 35-year career. Why has he so faded from public memory?

He had the best possible start as an aspiring filmmaker, working as assistant to the great Guru Dutt. He went on to become one of Bollywood’s most versatile directors.

(Wikimedia)

In a 35-year career (1954-89), he directed 26 films, adroitly shifting between Bombay noir crime thrillers and spooky tales of mystery, love stories, family socials and dacoit dramas.

Raj Khosla grew up in Bombay, hero-worshipping the singer KL Saigal, who coincidentally lived close to the Khoslas’ home in Matunga.

Khosla, in fact, dreamed of being a playback singer. But, given the opportunity to sing a few songs in films such as Bhool Bhulaiyan (1949) and Aankhen (1950), he soon realised he could never stand out in a field dominated by the likes of Mohammed Rafi and Mukesh.

So, when Dev Anand — who describes Khosla in his autobiography as “my coffee-house friend from the days I was working at the military censor office” — recommended him to Dutt instead, Khosla accepted the offer.

Dutt, who was working on his directorial debut, Baazi (1951), took him on as one of his two assistant directors. Khosla assisted on his next three films too. In-between, he made his own directorial debut, with Milap (1955). The Dev Anand-Geeta Bali starrer, a tale of a poor country youth who comes into a big inheritance and falls prey to swindlers, flopped at the box office.

A still from Mera Gaon Mera Desh, a 1971 precursor to Sholay (1975), about a small-time thief and jailbird who must protect a village from a merciless daku.

Fortunately, Dutt stepped in and offered him the chance to direct his next production, the noir thriller CID (1956). CID was a huge hit.

Dutt would remain an important figure in Khosla’s life and much of his work reveals influences of his guru’s cinematic style. These influences are particularly clear in the way he used songs. They weren’t just embellishments but carried the story forward. And they were exquisite, truly deserving of the term “evergreen”.

It was Khosla’s films from the ’50s and ’60s that gave us Yeh Hai Bombay Meri Jaan (CID; OP Nayyar), Naina Barse Rim Jhim and Lag Ja Gale (Woh Kaun Thi; Madan Mohan), Mera Saaya and Jhumka Gira Re (Mera Saaya; Madan Mohan).

Many of Khosla’s films are remembered fondly even today: Do Raaste (1969; starring Rajesh Khanna and Mumtaz); Mera Gaon Mera Desh (1971, starring Dharmendra); Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki (1978; starring Asha Parekh and Nutan); Dostana (1980, starring Amitabh Bachchan).

Yet, oddly, the man himself has faded from public memory. In his centenary year — he was born in the same year as Guru Dutt — a new biography by Amborish Roychoudhury seeks to right this strange imbalance.

Jabbar Singh!

Two genres stand out in Khosla’s filmography: suspense and the dacoit drama.

In the former, the first two films of his famous trilogy — Woh Kaun Thi (1964), Mera Saaya (1966) and Anita (1967) – were almost Hitchcockian. The suspense is real, the plots taut. Both films keep the viewer on the edge of their seat. (The third was weak and faltered on plot and pace).

Among the dacoit dramas, Mera Gaon… foreshadows the blockbuster Sholay (1975): A small-time thief and jailbird Ajit (Dharmendra) must protect a village from the depredations of a merciless daku (who is called Jabbar Singh!). Khosla saw hits and success in his peak years.

Behind the scenes, however, a complex personal life was taking its toll.

Khosla had fallen in love outside his marriage. Amid the turmoil, he sank into alcoholism. “Going by several accounts, he was mentally disturbed... The double life he was leading sat heavily on his lean shoulders,” Roychoudhury writes in his biography.

Khosla’s later films, meanwhile, were neither commercially successful nor did they do justice to his talent. Soon, work started drying up. His time was over. He died in 1991, aged 66, forgotten by the industry.

Until the end, he kept a giant photograph of Guru Dutt in his office, Roychoudhury writes. “In the autumn of his life, it was not uncommon for journalists or assistants to walk in on him weeping in front of the portrait.”

Perhaps he was remembering his guru, perhaps he was remembering happier times, or perhaps it was a bit of both.

(Poonam Saxena is a writer and translator whose works include Dharmvir Bharati’s iconic Gunahon ka Devta, Rahi Masoom Raza’s Scene: 75 and Aleph’s Greatest Hindi Stories Ever Told)