
I’ve had numerous conversations with Fardeen Khan ever since he started out with Prem Aggan (1998). And I’ve teased him about his accent, which hasn’t changed in all these years. There’s an old school charm about him which is appealing. He has seen several ups and downs in life but talking to him now, I realise he has taken everything on the chin like a man and not let that get to him. There’s a quiet dignity to him, the grace of a man who has learnt from life and has managed to put the bitterness behind him. He moved to London for a while, and in due course got a grip on himself. He’s back to his best-looking self and his acting sure has matured with years. He’s raring to go as I question:
What has changed in your second innings, according to you?
What hasn’t changed? A lot changes in 12 years. You can start with me. I’ve changed.
What are the good and the bad changes?
You could call me wiser or less foolish. Life, if you choose to learn from it, teaches you a lot. I have more life experience now and I understand myself on a much deeper level. I’m no longer the quintessential party boy; I’ve left that behind me. I’m a father now, with two beautiful children. And for all practical purposes, I’m still a newcomer in the industry. That’s the mindset with which I came back after 12 years. So yes, a lot has changed. But I’m fortunate that some of the relationships I built, particularly with friends in the industry. have remained strong. These friendships have lasted.
Like whom? Give me an example of someone, then and now.
Someone I’ve stayed in touch with consistently is Ritesh Deshmukh. He’s someone who became really close to me,
even though I was away. That’s one example of a lasting friendship. I’ve also kept in touch with Ramesh Taurani and Sajid Nadiadwala over the years. Even though I was travelling a lot, particularly in London, the fondness and respect for them remained. Sajid Khan is someone else I’ve stayed connected with. Currently, I’m working on a project where three actors I’ve worked with before are involved. And of course, there’s Housefull 5. There’s Akshay (Kumar), with whom I’ve done one film. I’ve just finished another movie with him, Khel Khel Mein. There’s also Abhishek (Bachchan), who I worked with on Om Jai Jagdish and now we’re doing Housefull 5 together. We share a few years between us. I’m older, of course. We grew up together, and we connected during Om Jai Jagdish. Over time, life took us in different directions. He got married, settled down and we both got busy. But reconnecting now is wonderful. I’m extremely fond of him and it’s great to reconnect. I’m really enjoying this experience.

Let’s take you back to your childhood. You were born into an extremely flamboyant, notorious Khan family.
To be honest, it was a conscious decision on the part of my parents to shield us as much as possible. No film magazines were allowed in the house. We were in bed by eight, we were never allowed to stay up late. God knows what they were up to, what was happening, all the drama…which we only heard about much later. We’d meet a few close friends of theirs when they came over early, of course. But we were always packed off after introductions. My parents were conscious of wanting us to have as normal an upbringing as possible. Being born into a family where one parent is famous, people tend to feel entitled to the privileges that come with it. My parents were protective of us, especially me and my sister. They made sure it was as normal as possible.
I find it hard to buy into that ‘pretty normal’ rhetoric. Feroz Khan’s son lifestyle cannot be normal.
My father’s lifestyle wasn’t normal. But he had a tough upbringing himself. He lost his father at the age of 13 and was the eldest of five brothers and one sister. His mother ran a taxi in the 1940s to make ends meet. He started earning money by hustling as a snooker player. He was ranked in the top five in the Karnataka championship. His dream was always to become an actor. He came to Mumbai at a young age. After years of struggle, he was eventually able to bring his family down to the city, including his mother. They lived in a rented flat. He helped his brothers get their first jobs. Abbas Chacha and Sanjay Uncle got their first jobs through him. He got his brother Shah Rukh settled and even sent him to Canada for an MBA, which was a big deal at the time. He’d seen both the best and the worst of life. Whatever he did, he earned it. My father understood the value of sacrifice and hard work. He made sure we understood that too. He was a no-nonsense dad. He wouldn’t indulge us. We sometimes had to clean our plates and put them back in the kitchen. We had tasks and responsibilities around the house.
So you didn’t grow up entitled or privileged like many star kids?
There is an inherent entitlement and privilege just by virtue of being born into such a family. But we were never made
to feel that we were entitled to anything. We were never given privileges, none at all. We went to a normal school, our friends were mostly from outside the film industry. We were consciously shielded from that world. So when I say normal, I mean absolutely normal. Once a year, we’d have birthday parties, and our family holiday would be a trip to Srinagar, where my father’s sister lived. That was it. Back then, you went on holiday with your parents. And when he was filming, we’d accompany him if we had holidays. That’s when you got a sense of what it meant to be famous.

You never saw your father do a romantic scene?
In those days, what was a ‘romantic scene’? It was usually a song. My first memory of a song was Laila o Laila. It was my birthday and my father couldn’t make it home for the celebration. After the party, I took a cake to the set, where he cut it with me. That’s my first memory of a film song. I saw him giving Zeenat Khan these looks and I thought, “What’s going on here?” She was so stunning. I remember thinking, “She’s beautiful.” But of course, I was young. Still, you couldn’t help but be in awe of beauty, whether it’s human or otherwise. It was an interesting experience, orienting myself to the profession and everything that came with it.
What was your relationship with your mother like? She was a flight attendant, right?
She flew with Air India for eight years. She was an independent woman who looked after her parents and worked
hard during Air India’s glory days, when it was run by JRD Tata. She was part of that era. My father, on the other hand, was a formidable personality. He brought that energy home. He was a man who’d seen life for what it was, and he was tough. He showed love in his own way.

Was that a good thing for a child?
My father was protective but he wasn’t expressive. Once in a while, on my birthday, there’d be moments. He had his
own way of showing affection. But in everyday life, there was a certain formality. I always felt quite intimidated by him. I don’t know anyone who wasn’t. In a family, you see both the best and the worst of people. And it’s a different kind of relationship. You don’t just see what the world sees. That’s true for all of us. I was a mama’s boy. She was my foundation. I was also very close to my nanny, who was like my second mother. My mother, of course, was very close to my dad. I was a quiet, sensitive and introverted child. I didn’t express myself much. I knew where I needed to go to feel safe, it was a comfort thing. It was important to me, the dynamic between my father and me.
The story I’ve heard is that one day your father turned up at school on a horse.
No, that was me. My father loved horses. He had one named Rizal, which was stabled a few kilometres from the
house. On weekends, the horse would come to our place and he would ride it on the beach. Horse riding was big back then. My father started riding on the beach and wanted me to learn riding too. I was a bit big for the horse, also I was scared of it. I still remember riding it but I was terrified. He’d take the horse down the stairs to the beach. He wouldn’t walk it down; he’d ride it down with me on it. It was quite a sight, the horse and I both freaking out. One day, my father said, “Today, we’re going to school on the horse.” I thought it was ridiculous but I did it. The school and our house were owned by the same man, so there was a gate connecting the two. When I arrived at school, the other kids saw me on the horse and they were all excited. For them, it was a big deal. But I was embarrassed. They cheered. It was quite a moment for them.
You blossomed into this beautiful young man and decided to go to university.
It was important to my father to send me to university. He felt insecure about not having a formal education. So he wanted me to complete my degree. He was self-taught, a well-read man with a curious mind. His friends were industrialists and he had a passion for philosophy and poetry. He believed education was crucial for being a thinking man. He was keen for me to go abroad, to find my independence and discover myself. After partying in places like LA and New York, I ended up at the University of Massachusetts, where I did a business degree. It wasn’t my first choice but it was his. Looking back, those were some
of the best years of my life.

Did you realise your father was such a significant filmmaker in the ’70s, whether it was Dharmatma (1975) or Qurbani (1980)?
The first film premiere I attended was for Qurbani in Delhi. It was chaotic. Qurbani was the biggest hit of the year.
That was when my father’s life changed and he became a superstar. The crowds at the premiere were overwhelming,
and I was scared. People were reaching out to touch him. I have a picture of him holding onto me, looking scared too. After Qurbani, I began to understand his significance in the industry. I’d visited him on the sets before but it was after that film that I truly appreciated his contribution to cinema. I started to understand how much respect he received for his work. I was around six or seven and that was when I began to realise his place in the world of filmmaking.

That’s how you decided to become an actor after seeing the huge premiere?I didn’t decide to become an actor immediately. In the ’80s and the ’90s, acting wasn’t exactly considered ‘cool’. People would mock our films, English films were deemed much cooler. Hindi films just didn’t have that ‘cool factor’. But after I returned from university, there was a buzz around me. Bobby (Deol) had just become a big star, I was the next one in line. People kept saying, “What are you doing, Khan saab? You should be a hero!” And that’s how it all began – people saw an opportunity for me.

When you married Natasha Madhwani, was that real love? When did you realise you liked her?
I grew up in a dysfunctional home and didn’t really believe in marriage. I always thought the only reason to marry was to have a child. For me, it’s about responsibility, backed by law, with both parents equally involved. When
I decided to marry, I was feeling a huge void. I was seeking companionship. Being famous made me question whether people were attracted to me or just to the image of me. It was never easy to meet someone beyond the person I was married to.



Did the failure of your films and your career impact you?
When I look back, I realise I didn’t give the respect my opportunities deserved. I didn’t fully utilise them. While I had plenty of opportunities, I wasn’t invested in them. I have to take responsibility for that. I didn’t approach my work with the seriousness it required. The films felt superficial and I didn’t take them seriously.
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