It was a mad, mad, Madhuri world!

Madhuri Dixit as the titular character in a still from the web-series ‘Mrs Deshpande’; the actress in a still from ‘Tezaab’

It's a piece of desi pop-culture history, yet seldom told from the horse's mouth, I figure - as actor Madhuri Dixit, upon being prodded, reveals to me how she became India's sensation on the big screen.

While still in college, Dixit would do non-lead roles in films that allowed her to pursue both studies and an onscreen hobby.

One such was Sohanlal Kanwar's Awara Baap (1985), starring Meenakshi Sheshadri. Director Kanwar and ‘showman' Subhash Ghai were friends.

The former spoke highly of Dixit. Upon which, Ghai got young Dixit to dance for a scene in Karma (1986), which segues into a dream sequence, with the film's actual hero-heroine imagining themselves in the same song.

When Ghai saw that final footage, fully flabbergasted, he first pulled Dixit out of the walk-on part. He sent that same "showreel", originally shot in Kashmir, off to every producer he knew.

Telling each of them, that if they wished to sign on Dixit - they could send him over a cheque for Rs 5,000.

Soon, there were eight such cheques on Ghai's desk - who, in turn, released a multi-page ad in Screen (popular film-trade) magazine, announcing the new talent in town!

"Funny thing is, I didn't know how enormous this was," Dixit tells me. A film that she got onboard, as a result, was with Anil Kapoor, directed by Bapu, that she can't recall the name of, because it never released.

Scan the code to watch the full chat with Madhuri Dixit

The editor of this film was, one, N Chandra - who'd lately debuted as director with Ankush (1986). He was watching rushes of the ongoing Bapu movie, and instantly knew he'd found the lead for Tezaab, that he was gonna direct next.

Dixit had already signed up for Ghai's Ram Lakhan (1989), being shot simultaneously. But Tezaab (1988) released first.

Dixit was in the US for her sister's wedding then. Her secretary called to say, "The film's a hit!" She couldn't quite fathom what that realistically meant.

It's when she landed in Mumbai, heading to her modest "Maharashtrian middle-class" Andheri East home, that a couple of street kids gathered to wipe her car's windshield at the traffic signal.

They saw her face, slightly curious, began singing, "Ek do teen…" They asked for her autograph. She was signing Madhuri, but they noticed the ‘M', and cheered, "See? I told you, she's Mohini, Mohini…" A star was born.

Since age three, Dixit had been diligently rehearsing, learning kathak. "But dancing for the camera, that can capture micro-expressions, is very different," she says. Choreographer Saroj Khan taught her the art of Bollywood dancing, as it were, with Tezaab, foremost.

Shortly thereafter, Dixit and Khan developed, what in filmy language is termed, such "tuning", that they actually shot an entire song, ‘Dil dhak dhak karne laga' for the film Beta (1992), over three nights, straight.

The track was introduced by the director, Indra Kumar, in the last minute. Dixit was to head to Ooty for another shoot. Khan agreed to choreograph, on the condition that hers will be the final take.

And "action", and "cut", it went, between 7 pm to 2 am, thrice over. ‘Dhak Dhak' gave Dixit a new sobriquet.

Dixit had, of course, been on stage, through school, college. A family friend, Govind Moonis, had regularly watched her perform. Moonis worked with Rajshri Productions - a film studio that specialised in medium-budget family dramas.

He knew his bosses were looking to cast a newbie for the lead in their forthcoming rural film, Abodh (1984). He convinced the Dixits to allow their daughter, in her late teens, to test for the part.

She bagged it. And, thus, her onscreen debut, with relatively minor roles, or unmemorable movies, that followed (the likes of Swati, Maanav Hatya, Hifazat, Uttar Dakshin).

Dixit's mom would accompany her to the sets of Abodh. An assistant director (AD) would minutely observe Dixit, on occasion, and take notes on his writing pad, between her takes. She'd often ask her mom, who this kid was, and what notes was he taking, anyway?

That AD, in-charge of ensuring continuity in scenes/shots, was the Rajshri heir, Sooraj Barjatya, still learning the craft.

The family friend, Moonis, incidentally, had directed the Rajshri production, Nadiya Ke Paar (1982), which inspired what? Barjatya's Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! (HAHK, 1994).

"Oh, yes, yes, oh my God, big coincidence," Dixit sighs, when I remind her. Barjatya had debuted with Maine Pyar Kiya (1989). Dixit had loved that film. As did millions.

Barjatya narrated HAHK's script to Dixit, performing each character, playing the recorded songs, even singing one, over three and half hours of screen-time.

HAHK's Nisha, as per Dixit, "became a member of every Indian household: ideal sister, girlfriend, daughter, daughter-in-law…" The film's unmatched success, for an indoor family drama, had no precedence, and has no successor still.

A group of ladies at a "shoot in the North" would pull Dixit's cheeks: "Kinni soni hai, hamari Nisha." Raja (1995), right after, scored a box-office hit on Dixit's name alone.

There's a Madhuri Waterfall in Arunachal Pradesh for a song from Koyla (1997) she shot there once…

Last evening, watching Dixit, 58, as a quietly intelligent serial-killer in the show, Mrs Deshpande (Jio-Hotstar), I wondered, if current generations know what a legacy that charming face endures!

Mayank Shekhar attempts to make sense of mass culture.
He tweets @mayankw14 Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper.