The first blush of love in Tu mera jaanu hai, the yearning in Saajan mera uss paar hai, the conviction in Jeet jaayenge hum, and the promise in Jab koi baat bigad jaaye... lotus-eyed Meenakshi Sheshadri is as inseparable from these lyrical ditties as she is from the movie map. A pageant winner, a classical dancer, and an avid scholar, she forayed into films in the ’80s as an add-on to her creativity. Withstanding the initial professional stumps and troll tags of ‘jinx’ and ‘ice maiden’, the latter given her reserve in an image-driven industry, she scaled up the hierarchy to be the most sought-after actress of her time. With Meri Jung, Swati, Shahenshah, Jurm, and Raj Kumar Santoshi’s acclaimed trio Ghayal, Damini, and Ghatak, she had both detractors and audiences thawing to her talent. Rumours of Santoshi’s interest in her and the subsequent rancour couldn’t take away from the power of her performances or her dignified stance. Phase two was about marriage in 1995 to investment banker Harish Mysore, motherhood, and coming to terms with an isolated life in the US, away from the clamour and glamour of showbiz. With her children now on an independent course, Meenakshi is keen to pick up the abandoned threads of her trajectory. She’s ready to face the camera and add chapters to her chronicle as a woman who did it all her way.
“I had no sense of design, style, or fashion.”
I was in my final year of B.A. (English Literature) while I shot for my debuts, Painter Babu (1983) and Hero (1984). I’d take the local train from Bandra to Churchgate for my weekend classes as an external student of the college. People began recognizing me around the end of ’84, after Hero was released. It wasn’t possible to travel by train anymore. Coming from a background of dance, music, and theatre, I’d like to unlearn my theatrical mannerisms. Also, I’d have no sense of design, style, or fashion. Designers then were straddling between the ’70s and ’90s, trying to figure out what would work. Towards the end of my career, I did get to work with top designers like Manish Malhotra and Ashley Rebello.
“The media unkindly labelled me as a ‘jinx"
I’m not sure how I compared in terms of monetary compensation. But I enjoyed the creativity. Honestly, I may have been accepted as a leading performer, but my box office didn’t reflect that. I’m not pulling myself down. I’ve got great self-worth. But given that I did more than 80 films, I wish I’d had a 30 percent success rate. I went through a phase when the media unkindly labelled me as a ‘jinx’ as some of my early films (Love Marriage, Paisa Ye Paisa, Lover Boy) in a row didn’t do well. So when my films started doing well (including Meri Jung in 1985), I said, ‘You discredited me when my films sank. So now I’m taking full credit for the hits.’ Audiences wanted me to play meaningful women-centric roles, which I did in Swati Dahleez (1986), Satyamev Jayate (1987), Awaargi (1990), and Damini.The other side was that light, frothy rom-coms evaded me.
“I never imagined that one day I’d be riding on a bike with Amitji.”
I was honoured to work with Amitabh Bachchanji on three films (Shahenshah, Gangaa Jamunaa Saraswati, and Toofan) between 1988 and 1989. Once we were shooting the song, Hoga thanedar tu, in Ooty for Shahenshah, We were on a bike and riding into the sunset. I recalled an incident at that moment. Some years back, Amitji and Rekhaji were shooting montages for Yash Chopraji’s Silsila (1981) in Delhi. They were on a motorbike. I was in the school bus, driving along the same road. Our bus driver got excited about spotting them. So did the girls. They screamed, “Please gaadi rokiye!” Amitji was so amazing; he stopped for us despite being in a busy area like Shantipath. The moment we got down from the bus to meet them, Yashji came in a car, saying, ‘Amit shot ready hai’. Amitji said, ‘Sorry girls’ and left to continue the filming. I related this incident to Amitji that evening, saying I couldn’t have imagined that one day I’d be on a bike with him.
“Vinod Khanna encouraged me to listen to Rajneesh’s tapes.”
I did many films with Vinod Khanna, including Satyameva Jayate, Jurm, Police Mujrim, Kshatriya, and Humshakal (between 1987 and 1993). He’d listen to Osho Rajneesh’s tapes those days. He’d encourage me to listen to them, but he never forced me. Later, he married Kavita Daftary. I attended some of their parties, something rare for me as I never socialised. I’m not claiming that Vinodji was a great friend. But he was a gracious and inclusive person. On a lighter note, Vinodji brought out something in the Sheshadris. My dad loved attending my shoots when I was filming with Vinodji. We three would share naughty jokes. Others would wonder what we were laughing at. I shared a fun relationship with my father where we shared jokes, played word games, etc. With Vinodji, it was an extension of that. I wasn’t comfortable with anyone else showing this side of my personality. I have fond memories of Rishiji (Kapoor) too, who was my neighbour. I lived in Union Park in Bandra while he was at Pali Hill. I shared a comfort level with Neetuji (Kapoor). Rishiji would openly critique my work. To get feedback from such a fine actor was wonderful. He genuinely wanted me to improve. All our films were family-centric and performance-oriented (including Damini, Bade Ghar Ki Beti, Ghar Parivar, Gharana, and Apna Ghar between 1989 and 1993) and did well.
“Sunny Deol is a gentleman.”
The first film I did with Sunny was Dacait (1987). I found him to be an easygoing, ‘live and let live kind of person’. He’s a total gentleman. Kaam se matlab rakhte hai. A song in the film was to start with a kiss. As we kiss, the boat rocks, and the song Kiss Kiss Karan Naiya Dole begins. The scene was cut short by the censors. Actually, it was my first on-screen kiss. Sunny made me feel comfortable. Those days, I had a spot-boy named Tiger. Tiger would carry me to the boat and back to the shore as we filmed the song because I couldn’t afford to wet my costume. Sunny couldn’t stop laughing when he watched that. He found it hilarious.
“Rajkumar Santoshi and I forgot our individual issues.”
I did notable films, including Ghayal, Damini, and Ghatak with Sunny. But if one talks of these films, you can’t mention Sunny Deol and Meenakshi Sheshadri without mentioning director Rajkumar Santoshi. He was the karta dharta (doer), along with the creative team, who made such fantastic films. I was fortunate to be asked to play parts in those. What about a misunderstanding between Santoshiji and me? Regardless of any misunderstandings or temporary issues, we both tried to be professional and positive so that the movie projects came out at their best. We forgot about your individual issues. We worked for the audience. We could rise above things and get the job done well.
“I got the tag of ‘ice maiden’ because I was shy and an introvert.”
Until my early 30s, I didn’t feel the need to have a man in my life. I didn’t meet anyone I was attracted to or felt compatible with.
I got the tag of ‘ice maiden’ because I wasn’t looking for someone in my life. Secondly, because I was shy and an introvert, I went back and did my MA in Ancient Indian Culture. I gave dance performances, including Bharat Natyam, Kuchipudi, and Odissi, throughout the country. Did people show interest in me? I’ve got a short and sweet answer to that. Nobody got past my mother. Then there came a time when my mindset changed. I was ready for someone special in my life.
“The feeling of isolation is immense in the US.”
People known to Harish (Mysore) and me set us up. When I visited the US, we met each other. We hit it off from the word go. We felt strongly about each other. To his credit, he did try to see if he could relocate. But it was difficult for him. He’s an investment banker. It was a low-key registered marriage in 1995 in the city hall in Manhattan, New York. For a long time, journalists linked me with people. So I was adamant that I didn’t want anyone to know I was getting married. We settled in Dallas, Texas. Living in the US was a learning curve for me, as I was not self-sufficient for life there. You need to drive a car, manage your home, and even do your own repairs. The feeling of isolation is immense. Our street in Texas seemed so desolate. People drive their cars right into their garage. You hardly saw people, except for some dog walkers. Again, ‘lonely’ is not the word I’d use to describe my life in the US. But initially, I’d not integrated myself into the American way of life. Gradually, I began a dance school, which did extremely well. Later, it became hard because my children were growing up and needed me. My daughter, Kendra, now 25, is working. While my son Josh, 21, is studying.
“I missed creativity.”
Studio, camera, stage, lights, audience, etc. are just the framework of being an actor. I missed the core, which is creativity. I’ve been here in Pune for a year. I’m in self-improvement mode. I dance, swim, sing, exercise... My vicinity is surrounded by hills. My daily joy is climbing up the hill. It takes 45 minutes. From the top, I can see the contrast between the concrete jungle and nature on the other. I want to get back into the workforce. Till my kids were growing up, I put everything else on the backburner. Now I’ve got the support of my family. My children are in the US. We keep visiting each other.
I’m open to all options, whether films or the OTT. I’ve been considering some offers. My only regret is that I didn’t maintain my friendships. I left Bombay, and I didn’t make any effort to stay in touch. I was so excited about my new life. I distanced myself from the film fraternity. Magar koi baat nahi. My advice for women? Firstly, we should stop viewing it as a gender-based situation between men and women. The message lies in what my character in Swati asks: ‘Why do you say man-hours’?
Why can’t you say ‘woman-hours’? Why do you say manpower instead of woman power?’ Women deserve to be whatever they want to be in life. Professionally, I hope actresses in India, especially those of my age, get amazing work given their maturity. Like Hollywood’s Meryl Streep.
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