I almost tumble into Dimple Kapadia’s Juhu apartment and shoot a mortified look at her, trying to assess the level of anger she is at. I am half an hour late to our meeting, although through no fault of my own—unseasonal showers have brought traffic across Mumbai to a standstill and my cab broke down on the way here. Erring on the side of caution, I called ahead and informed her manager that I would be delayed, but if there’s one thing I have learnt from interviewing celebrities for over a decade, it’s that you wait on them—never the other way around. Come rain, shine or red alert.
I sit on the couch across from Kapadia, offering profuse apologies and bracing myself for a dressing-down. Instead, the star leans forward and asks, “Are you feeling okay?” Before I can respond, she follows up with another question: “Is the Uber driver okay?” Dumbstruck, I mumble a monosyllabic yes. “Good,” she says with a smile, genuinely pleased, almost as if she were sending out a prayer to tide him over the rest of the inclement day.
A week ago, when Kapadia walked onto the set at Mehboob Studios to shoot her first-ever Vogue India cover, she hoped the gods were smiling down similarly upon her. To be doubly sure, she bent down at the entrance to the studio, placed three fingers on the threshold, put them back to her lips and kissed them; then did the same with the camera. “Was that some sort of a pre-shoot ritual?” I now ask her. “That was a prayer to the universe to save my ass,” she says earnestly.
If that was the case, she certainly seems to have established a direct line to a higher power. Since making her dream debut as the demure titular character in Bobby 51 years ago, Kapadia has been one of those rare actors who has consistently put out good work, with performances in films such as Saagar (1985), Kaash (1987), Lekin...(1990), Rudaali (1993), Dil Chahta Hai (2001) and Tenet (2020), earning her both critical and box-office acclaim. Scroll through her filmography and you’ll see just a few years between 1984 and 2024 that remain unmarked by releases. During the ’80s and the early ’90s especially, it wasn’t unusual for Kapadia to appear in as many as eight movies in a single year. Even at 67, the icon continues to operate on Standard Hustle Time, starring in Pathaan, Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar, Teri Baaton Mein Aisa Uljha Jiya, Murder Mubarak and Saas, Bahu Aur Flamingo between 2023 and 2024 alone. Is it to make up for the highly publicised hiatus she was forced into after her whirlwind marriage to superstar Rajesh Khanna in 1973, the same year Bobby released and was declared a smash hit? Did her creative outlet, having been prematurely blocked for 13 years, finally burst—and has it not stopped overflowing ever since? “Cash flow,” the actor deadpans. I look at her expectantly, waiting for a punchline that never comes. “I work for the money. Otherwise I’d rather sit at home.” It is perhaps the confusion contorting my face that compels her to clarify she is joking. “I love what I do. It has allowed me to be so many people in one lifetime.”
That is Dimple Kapadia for you—humorous, hardworking, hopeful and honest to a fault. She is a terrific judge of character and will decide whether or not she likes you within five minutes of meeting you. She is taciturn one minute and talkative the next. Odes have been written to her beauty and anything I add to it will seem pleonastic, but seeing her in person really makes you wonder if God has favourites. I’m sitting close enough for every tiny wrinkle or blemish on her face to be visible, but even makeup-free, the sexagenarian’s skin looks like freshly whipped cream in a bowl. Her hair has a life of its own, fluttering cinematically even though all the windows in her home are shut to keep out the rain. In many ways, this is an analogy for her life—audiences have seen so much of her on-screen that they assume they know what she is like in reality, but the actor is like a house without windows. Her deep-set eyes, expressive as they are, only give away what she wishes to reveal. “I used to be less guarded, but over the years, the mask has come on and people have developed certain notions about me,” Kapadia confesses. “A lot of the time, they come up to me and say, ‘Oh, I thought you were very unapproachable.’ Actually, it’s the reverse. I find people unapproachable.”
I want to ask her more about that, but before I can, a golden retriever comes gambolling towards us from the next room, followed by her nephew, Karan. Although my neutral expression belies my fear of large dogs, Kapadia promptly stands up and puts herself between Freddy and me without a second’s hesitation. It feels oddly maternal, even though the actor herself doesn’t necessarily come across as motherly. No, she gives off more cool-aunt energy; the kind who would cover for you when you want to go out clubbing with your friends and need to give your mum a PG-13 alibi. Karan, who has lived with his aunt since he was 11, confirms my hypothesis. “Anything that I would be apprehensive about telling my mother, I could easily tell my aunt,” he admits. “She always created such a friendly and open environment that I felt like I could confide in her without feeling judged.”
I finally have a moment to look around Kapadia’s art-filled living room while she discusses her plans for the evening with Karan. Behind her, a cluster of palms, known as the Hand of Fatima and meant to ward off evil as per Islamic culture, stands guard. Further in the back, golden Nandi heads of varying sizes are welded onto a painted canvas. Vases big and small jostle for space on the floor. Resting against a chair is her cane—which she also carried to set the week before—the silver panther on its handle gleaming in the light. This, I think to myself, is a lived-in home. Although brimming with stuff, every single artefact in here can be accounted for. I could, for example, call out, “Candle with purple crystals,” and pat would come the reply from Kapadia: “Bookshelf, middle row.” “It’s very freeing being around Karan and Aarav [her grandson],” says the actor, looking fondly at her nephew’s retreating figure. My attention snaps back to her. “There’s always tension between a mother and her daughter,” she explains. “The mother is saying something that she thinks is good for the daughter and the daughter will rebel because she believes she knows better. Only when a daughter becomes a mother does she understand where her mother was coming from.” Was that the case with her daughters, Twinkle and Rinke? “No, I’m actually the child of the family,” she grins sheepishly. “My girls and my eldest grandson take care of me and protect me.” Later, over a call, Karan elaborates: “She’s like a kid when she’s sick. It’s impossible to get her to take her medication or even eat food on time. One of us will have to act like a parent and make sure she does what she’s supposed to do in order to get better.”
Revelling in her childishness despite being a grandmother; insisting that she is a homebody even though she dreams of getting lost in the mountains; announcing that she isn’t attached to material possessions when her home abounds with precious artefacts—it’s clear that Kapadia contains multitudes. “Are you a Gemini?” I ask her suddenly. She nods, her eyes lighting up. “My wardrobe for my films was always done by my sister, Simple. She was my costume designer until she passed away, and even back then, for every scene, she would have three options ready for me. I used to say, ‘Mera bharosa nahin hain, mai yeh pehnoogi, ya woh pehnoogi.’ Even Abu and Sandeep make fun of me for it.” She is, of course, referring to her dear friends, the designers Abu Jani and Sandeep Khosla, who, over the years, have dressed her for the screen as well as several special occasions. “One thing about Dimple that will surprise you is that a woman as beautiful as her is self-conscious about her appearance,” Khosla later reveals to me over text. “She’d try on something fabulous, come out of her room dressed like an absolute dream and ask her pet dog if she was looking alright. Abu and I were endlessly baffled by it. Even now, when we go shopping, Dimple will buy something only to exchange it for something else after a couple of days.”
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Luckily for Kapadia, she found a workaround to this sartorial indecisiveness early on. “I began layering in the ’70s and ’80s to camouflage my body because I didn’t think I had a good figure. Layering is my thing—even in my house, there are flowers in front of a statue, which is in front of a painting. Maybe it’s because I have a layered personality.” We both laugh at her feeble attempt at psychoanalysis, but I realise that we’re once again on the topic of her home. What are these ties that bind her so tightly to brick and mortar? “I’m a lazy bum and wake up when I feel like, but I enjoy shuffling things around the house because my home is my love—it’s where I read, listen to music and paint. All these antiques you see around the house? I spend 80 per cent of my time on the phone, looking at stuff to fill my home with and trying to procure it.”
If she is this homebound, how does she manage to network—a crucial component of celebrityhood—or carve out time to meet friends? According to fellow actor and longtime friend Amrita Singh, it’s by surrounding herself with kindred spirits. “If I set out from my house, I’ll make it a point to stop by Dimple’s and we’ll sit and talk about art, redo her living room or rearrange furniture together,” says Singh, who shares Kapadia’s love of art, flowers, music, jewellery, clothes and reclusion. When either of them is travelling, routine FaceTime calls make up for the lack of in-person meet-ups. “Once, I video-called her from the Musée Marmottan Monet in Paris and told her, ‘I think you could paint these flowers better than Monet,’” she recalls, laughing at the memory. “Another time, she called me when she was shopping at Portobello Road Market in London to ask if a set of cushions would look nice in a certain corner of her house. We pretty much connect like that wherever we are in the world.”
Over five decades, 88 films and two OTT series later, you would think that Kapadia practically floats through a shoot day on autopilot. If you know what to look for, you’ll notice that every character she has played still lives inside her: when she smiles, it is Bobby’s innocence that reaches her eyes; when she doesn’t like something, it’s Bijli (Mera Shikaar, 1988) who stands up for her; when she doesn’t want to rush into a decision, it’s Tara (Dil Chahta Hai, 2001) who guides her on how to proceed; when she’s low on confidence, it’s Nandini (Pathaan, 2023) who gives her a pep talk. There are so many different experiences to draw from and so many past avatars she can call upon. “I’m nervous the entire time I’m working,” the actor declares to my surprise. “Even when I’m making art, my jaw begins to hurt at the end of it and I realise it’s from clenching it all day. I know nobody is watching me do my thing at home, but I’m always watching myself. I’m very self-critical. That constant tightness in my stomach when I’m on set? It’s inherent and probably what makes me tick. The day I lose it, I lose something important.” Film director Homi Adajania, who has worked with Kapadia in Being Cyrus (2006), Cocktail (2012), Finding Fanny (2014), Angrezi Medium (2020), Saas, Bahu Aur Flamingo (2023) and Murder Mubarak (2024) discloses that she is always the hardest worker in a room and is never spotted the day before a critical scene because she is too busy preparing for it. “But you can’t miss her chilling with everyone on her days off,” he adds. “Dimple isn’t shackled by the burden of being Dimple Kapadia. Her generosity of spirit often makes you feel like she couldn’t care less.”
It’s been a beautiful life, by Kapadia’s own admission, even though the clouds of a premature marriage, a reluctant interlude in her early career, a very public separation and the untimely deaths of two beloved siblings have often obscured the sun in her sky. “God gave me more than my share very early on in life. The kind of heights I’ve seen—people would’ve killed for it,” the star acknowledges, her soft voice heavy with gratitude. “The one thing He didn’t give me is a brain. He probably thought, ‘This woman has everything. She’ll fly off the handle if she’s smart as well.’ Everything has been larger than life—my debut with Raj Kapoor, my marriage to Rajesh Khanna, my foray into Hollywood with Christopher Nolan. If He had not taken care of me, I would’ve been one arrogant bitch.”
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