Remembering Rajesh Khanna: More Than A Superstar, A Reluctant Fashion Icon Who Still Inspires

Every generation has its icons, but few have the kind of hypnotic hold that Rajesh Khanna commanded at the peak of his stardom. He was India's first true superstar, an actor whose mere smile could cause mass hysteria, and whose romantic onscreen presence made millions believe in forever. But beyond the hysteria and box office records was a subtler influence that shaped everyday life, something that didn't play out on billboards, but on bodies.

As fans lit incense in his name and mimicked his dialogue delivery, they also subtly began to mirror the way he dressed. From college campuses to barber shops, his image was more than cinematic-it was aspirational. On the anniversary of his death, it's time to revisit an often overlooked legacy: the way 'Kaka' turned clothes into cultural currency.

Rajesh Khanna In The Rise Of The Guru Kurta

Before Rajesh Khanna, the guru kurta was hardly a statement piece. Associated with village elders or humble politicians, it was functional more than fashionable. But in the early '70s, when Khanna appeared in 'Andaz' and 'Kati Patang' wearing well-fitted, slightly flared kurtas with a touch of tailoring, the equation changed.

Rajesh Khanna Death Anniversary

Customised by his go-to designer Baldev Pathak, father of famous actress Supriya Pathak, these kurtas were fashion-forward reimaginings. Paired with slim trousers or cinched with a belt, they looked both rooted and modern. Soon, tailors across India started receiving a new kind of order: "Rajesh Khanna-style kurta, please."

Rajesh Khanna In Scarves, Shades And The Dhaka Hat

Rajesh Khanna Death Anniversary

Khanna understood the power of accessories that would add to his personality. His scarf in "Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana" wasn't just fluttering in the wind-it was a mood, a flirtation, a carefree spirit. His dark sunglasses in 'Andaaz', paired with traditional wear, created a hybrid style that appealed to both the old-school and the new wave.

Rajesh Khanna Death Anniversary

Then came the Dhaka topi. In the iconic Aradhana song "Mere Sapno Ki Rani," he wore the simple black hat while riding a jeep and the nation took note. Suddenly, a regional, culturally specific cap had national appeal. Barbers started donning it, shopkeepers kept one on standby, and fans styled their hair to fit neatly beneath it. It was a subtle influence, yet powerful.

Rajesh Khanna In Slim Fits And Safari Suits

In a decade where Bollywood's male fashion often leaned toward flared trousers and loud prints, Khanna kept things unfussy yet distinctive. His belted safari suits, which he often wore off-screen, became templates for middle-class formalwear. His shirts were often pale or pastel, his trousers narrow, his overall aesthetic-clean and coordinated.

Rajesh Khanna Death Anniversary

He didn't need to shout through his clothes. His style whispered and that whisper echoed across the country.

Rajesh Khanna In Designer Memory And Legacy

To this day, some of Bollywood's biggest names cite him as an enduring influence. Manish Malhotra called him "the most copied superstar" when it comes to men's fashion. Elements like soft kurta collars, structured ethnic wear, and tone-on-tone layering all trace their lineage to Khanna's understated elegance.

And more than what he wore, it was how he wore it. There was never an attempt to dazzle. Just presence. Poise. And quiet power.

Rajesh Khanna In the Eyes Of Everyday India

Rajesh Khanna didn't follow fashion, he made everyday things fashionable. At a time when style was rarely discussed outside elite circles, he brought it to the common man. Without saying a word about clothing, he made everyone from rickshaw drivers to college professors rethink how they dressed.

As we remember him today, it's worth acknowledging this legacy not as a footnote, but as a central chapter. He gave us unforgettable songs, soulful romances, and cinematic magic but he also gave us scarves, hats, and kurtas that told their own love story.

Even now, somewhere in a family photo from the '70s, someone's wearing a kurta just like his. And smiling just like him.