1983: 6 a.m.: Dawn. A slim Rekha in a tracksuit is jogging outside her house. Her neighbors bump into her now and then. She is friendly with them. They greet her warmly, she waves back politely. But the neighbors are not informal with her. Rekha does not encourage familiarity. ‘I don’t want friends,’ she explains to a well-wisher. ‘They’ll go and say nasty things about me. Why must I invite unnecessary tensions? I’m better off without friends.’

6.30 a.m.: Sea Rock. Health Club. Rekha is ready for the workout. Rama Bans, the beautician, seeing Rekha’s enthusiasm appoints her to conduct the morning classes. The hotel staff is accustomed to seeing Rekha in their premises. Once in a while she stops at the counter for a friendly chat inquires after their work.

On the sets, at her shootings, Rekha is two people. One who is very friendly. The other who is unapproachable, depending on her mood at that particular moment. Colleagues whom she had dismissed with a mere good morning last week, today, Rekha sits chatting for hours, discussing her career, her work. ‘I’m not a great actress, just a spontaneous one.

I portray the character I’m playing by instinct. When I played Supriya in Kalyug, I did not completely understand her. Today maybe, if I were to play Supriya, I would project her differently.’ The actress has matured, turned more analytical. It depresses her that she might pop off one day without giving her greatest performance.

The woman has mellowed. She no longer aspires to be a complete woman. The actress betrays her anxiety. The woman feels persecuted, exploited, yet refuses to give up. Her zeal is not extinguished. And yet, if Rekha appears defeated and drained, it’s because she is not herself anymore.

Those who’ve known her for long say that she has emerged as a new person. The Rekha one meets these days is not the real Rekha. Will Rekha ever be her old self again?

By Bhawana Sommaya