Sameer Gudhate Presents the Book Review of Khullam Khulla by Rishi Kapoor

I opened Khullam Khulla: Rishi Kapoor Uncensored expecting a polite Bollywood memoir — the kind that tiptoes around gossip and glosses over the messy bits. Instead, I found myself sitting beside Chintu, a glass of whiskey in hand, in a smoky green room, watching him spill every story, every feud, every heartbreak, in real time. It was intimate, electric, and occasionally, downright scandalous. This is not a tea-sipping chat with a movie star; this is a backstage pass to a life lived at full throttle.

Rishi Kapoor — son of Raj Kapoor, father of Ranbir Kapoor, and forever Bollywood’s quintessential lover boy — could have rested on legacy alone. But what makes Khullam Khulla magnetic is that he refuses to. From his gawky debut in Mera Naam Joker to the fevered romance of Bobby, from the shadow of family expectations to a mid-career brush with depression, Rishi lays it all bare. He is charming, arrogant, vulnerable, mischievous — sometimes all at once — and he invites you to see it without filters.

The book crackles with stories that feel stolen from real life. He confesses to buying his first Filmfare award, a revelation that rewires your understanding of Bollywood’s “glamour.” He shares icy encounters with Amitabh Bachchan, boozy spats with Shammi Kapoor and Feroz Khan, and nerve-wracking confrontations with Dawood Ibrahim — yes, the underworld. Each anecdote pops like a cinematic frame frozen in time, complete with laughter, tension, and the faint scent of whisky in the air.

Meena Iyer’s co-writing keeps the prose playful and lively, mimicking Rishi’s own rhythm of thought: quick quips, tangents, sudden flashes of introspection. It isn’t perfectly linear — one moment you’re at a party, the next in a family dispute — but that’s the point. Life, especially a Kapoor life, is never tidy. And in those unpolished, chaotic juxtapositions, the real Rishi Kapoor shines through.

What struck me most was the emotional honesty. Here is a man who lip-synced eternal love songs for decades, yet privately battled anxiety and self-doubt. He talks about depression without euphemism, about marriage and jealousy with frankness, about fame and failure with a wry grin. These moments linger long after the page is turned, reminding us that even the brightest stars cast shadows.

The book is a cinematic mosaic: tales of on-set rivalries, family eccentricities, romantic escapades, and the intoxicating buzz of Bollywood’s golden age. It’s messy, vivid, and unapologetically human. At times, the pacing dips — the nostalgia for old films or endless party anecdotes can feel indulgent — yet the highs are so high, so color-saturated, they make up for it.

Khullam Khulla is more than a biography; it’s a meditation on legacy, talent, luck, and courage. Rishi Kapoor teaches, often unintentionally, that honesty and vulnerability can be as dramatic and compelling as any blockbuster. For fans, it’s a treasure trove of behind-the-scenes revelations. For the casual reader, it’s a masterclass in candor, wit, and living boldly.

By the time I closed the book, I felt as if I’d spent a long night with a friend who refuses to lie to you — someone whose stories make you laugh, shiver, and sometimes, quietly reflect. Rishi Kapoor’s life, in all its contradictions, its highs and lows, leaves a glow that lingers.

Pick up Khullam Khulla, and let Rishi Kapoor pour you a drink of his life — neat, unfiltered, unforgettable.

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