Celebrity interviews are a booming industry. Thousands of magazines and newpapers covet sound bytes, photos, the glitz. Scores of TV and satellite channels crowd the already packed scenario. Result: the age-old star-journo relationship has been redefined, now geared essentially towards PRgiri. But she is one of the few surviving narrator of true tales, albeit sharply edited.

Rekha Ganesan, now into her 55th year, has kept a lower than low profile of late. She shows up at film award functions because she always has. Shell attend the Sadiyaan release party to be one with the cast and crew. Incidentally, Rishi Kapoor and she were the only uppers in that centuries-old-moth-eaten love story spanning two generations. Clearly, she has the screen presence and innate skill to keep the viewer hooked, never mind the dilapidated scenes assigned to her by the screenplay. Even if she falters, it is not quite possible to take your eyes off her..

Indeed, it was the worlds most celebrated critic and celebrity profile artiste, Kenneth Tynan, who once said that what most men see in women when theyre punch drunk, they see in Greta Garbo when theyre stone-cold sober.

I havent had to resort to such a Devdasian dilemma of going boozed out, but its been pretty close. Take a deeper breath than a sea diver, organise the wave of questions in a mental log-jam, await her entry at the desk in her bereft workplace apartment on Bandras oceanfront.

Maybe just maybe I'll get somewhere. A quotabe confession has to be negotiated to top the photograph selected after thought and contextual relevance, clicked by either of her glam-pic dependables Jagdish Mali or Jayesh Sheth. As for my personal camera favourites, Suresh Natarajan and Dabboo Ratnani, well no, theyre wonderful she'll convey that without articulating it in words, but if you dont mind KM,lets not get into that.

Fine. Anyway, why am I getting into Rekhology today? First, just because. Also because her extra-mint-strong performances linger. To take a random example. Her act in Goutam Ghoses Yatra in which she paired with Nana Patekar. Its been shown at international film festivals, as in London. Frankly,  I also want to remove the unpleasant taste of watching her in a Sex in the City hideo-clone titled Kudiyon ka hai Zamana. Hello, hello, what was she thinking of?

Its happened before,sure, it has happened to everyone from Meryl Streep to Meena Kumari. Yet I havent quite recovered from the Kudiyon Ka spectacle of Maam singing a sparser version of Din dhal jaaye (Guide)while trying to seduce Sachin Khedekar of all people looking like a frightened rabbit. A tad reminscent of Om Puri looking as if he was going good-golly-Miss Molly in Aastha.

Aah but if I were to ask what on earth happened there?Rekha would look me straight in the eye and laser, There are compulsions..and I never say anything bad about any of my films..you know that. Sure, which is why I havent been able to get a squelcher quote from her down the years even on such Razzies as  Madame X, Mother 99 and eoww Bachke Rehna Re Baba or some such Conversations are best with her perhaps when she knows I have an agenda. She strives not to disappoint. Now this subject alone could make a Stephen King-like thriller but since the readers attention is span is short, Ill reduce my 50 or so confabs with her to the four most representative ones..

Encounter No.1

She isn't talking to the press, which was quite a voguish thing to do back in the 1980s. She was shooting in Bangalore for Utsav, I was there to cover it, courtesy Shashi and Jennifer Kapoor. Will she talk? I quizzed before landing in beer pub country (now, of course its IT).

The shoot was at Ramanagram where Sholay was filmed.she didnt look at me, I pretended to be more interested in the life and times of  the then newcomer Shekhar Suman...believe me that took some Oscar-worthy piece of acting from me.

On summoning up enough courage to stammer, Ww..will you talk to me? she smiled like royalty, Kyon nahin? Baat karenge. This was over a noodle dinner in a Chinese restaurant. Next morning, scrubbed and shampooed I landed in her hotel suite, trying to trip her, bait her, ensnare her about talking about the magnificent obsession of her life.No free dinner for guessing WHO..right?

She gave veiled statements..which she continues to do to this day and age. And theres a confession. I used all the tricks in the book to get sensational copy. She was wise to my game, went so far no further. Fair enough, like a silent movie making its transition to sound, she had talked, at least.

Encounter No.2

This was a photo-shoot in Lake District, Manchester, UK. Ahem, ahem, Rekha, her trusted lieutenant Farzana, photographer Ashok Salian and I were there..Ashok laughed as if there was no tomorrow (he still does), Farzana was the cool and collected one, Re Maam was busy selecting the right costumes for the right locations (like a flowing scarf for a cliffside, a polo neck for a coffee shop).

For three days, it was click, click, click, click. If we talked at all, it must have been about costumes. I came away feeling as knowledgabale about fabrics, silhouettes and cuts as Bhanu Athaiya.

Encounter No.3

This was a script reading session. I read out my script to her, a talent which is as strange to me as French and Latin are to Subhash Ghai. It was a story of a woman lawyer.I gulped, sweated, sobbed somehow to the end of the 200-pager. I wanted her to play the lead. At the end of the three-hour session, there was pin drop silence.

Farzana looked at me expressionlessly. Doggy Shiva woofed, I looked for reaction. More silence..and then, When are we doing it? We have a lot of work to do decide on the look, details of the character..and so on.

Wow, she had said yes without saying yes. I was in blissland. But then life has its ajeeb mods..I was back on the print interview beat with her. Meaning I got myself a job as a journalist once again. The rest, as they say, isnt history.

Encounter No.4

This was the last one, with me, about two years ago. She hasnt called, neither have I. I leave a happy birthday message on her phones voice machine. This year she didnt replybut then she has assured me that we may not meet for quite a while, but that doesnt diminish the mutual regard.

I had approached her to play the role of the Rajmata, which she had essayed with perfection in Zubeidaa. This was for its sequel titled Rutba. Mam quoted a price that was equivalent to the films entire budget. I balked but there were no hard feelings. Correctly, she reasoned, Why should the producer gain advantage of the regard we have for each other. Perhaps we will produce it together some dayinshallah.

 As it happened, the project was put on the back-burner, owing to creative differences with the sequels producer. Just as well perhaps. Cause I can see no one else reprising the role of the elegant Rajmata, with a mind of her own.

We've talked periodically about doing a book. Snag: she will not speak about her private life. Now how can a biography be possible with a tomb-like silence on the many downers and uppers in her life? Maam Re is mysterious.Or is she? Like all of us, she clutches some secrets in her diary to her heart.No trespassing allowed.

By Khalid Mohamed