Black Widow
05-17-2008, 08:02 PM
If World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) is Middle America’s biggest joke on humanity, then The Great Khali is its biggest joker.
With an Arabian-themed entrance tune matching his waddle, a name plucked from Amrish Puri’s Kali-worshipping weirdo in Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and “Punjabi peace offerings” ranging from Ganga water to a goat, the 36-year-old is one of the star entertainers in a circus of vicious looking men with names like Umaga and Undertaker contesting in fervid face-offs called Raw and Smackdown.
It’s a status that has little to do with performance—since joining WWE in 2006, the Punjab Police sub-inspector on permanent medical-leave has been world heavyweight champion just once, after winning a 20-man battle last year.
But that hasn’t prevented the boy who grew too much from getting a hero’s welcome back home, fuelled by head-of-state-worthy coverage by hyperventilating news channels.
Dalip Singh Rana (yes, he is actually a former labourer from Himachal Pradesh) has suddenly become India’s most wanted guest— having a tete-e-tete with President Pratibha Patil, chatting with Sachin Tendulkar, Shweta Nanda and Robert Vadra’s children, and being invited for dinner to Shah Rukh Khan’s house at 2 a.m.
His iconic status in his home state is now assured. A special grant has been sanctioned from the MPLADs scheme to build a road to his native village, Naini Dhar, a hamlet of two-dozen houses in the interiors of Sirmour district, while Chief Minister Prem Kumar Dhumal has announced plans to felicitate the “son-of-the soil” at a special function.
Even the Punjab Police is toying with the idea of making Khali its brand ambassador.
But they will have to wait. Currently, Khali is shooting a song for a Tamil film near Madurai. He will then return to Mumbai to shoot three days for a children’s film, with Tanushree Dutta and Sahil Khan, called Rama: The Saviour before heading home.
In the US, a big release awaits him—a Steve Carell movie, Get Smart, which also stars a wrestling predecessor, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.
That he is not a particularly talented wrestler goes without saying.
To gauntlets thrown at him by domestic stars such as Commonwealth Games gold medalist Palwinder Singh Cheema or freestyle champion Parminder Dhoomchheri, he has only made humble comments: “I am not visiting my country to fight and prove my wrestling credentials.”
Quite apart from the s******s about WWE, his rise has been a struggle against circumstances.
A school dropout, Khali started working as a day-jobber, evoking ridicule for his physique, which forced him to escape to Shimla where he worked as a porter, truck-loader and even security guard.
It was in 1993 when Mehal Singh Bhullar, retired director-general of Punjab Police, first learnt about “an eight-foot tall wonder” from the local media. (See graphic: From Rana to Khali)
As the inspector-general of Punjab Armed Police, Bhullar was known for his passion for recruiting fresh blood into the force. He tracked down Rana and offered him a job as constable in the Punjab Police.
Rana was reluctant, but agreed when Bhullar offered to recruit his younger brother as well. “He was tall, awkwardly so, with a scrawny build, and appeared to be under-nourished,” recalls Bhullar.
He was first tried out in basketball but his reflexes were found to be slow. He then tried his hand at discus and showed promise but soon developed back pain.
He shifted to body-building and won a title at the national level. “He was very passionate and hard working,” adds Bhullar.
But with weak thigh and calf muscles, Bhullar realised Khali wouldn’t go far in body-building. He was struck by the idea of letting him try his luck with the WWE in the US, and sent him there in 1996.
A year-and-half of training at San Francisco honed Khali’s skills and started him off in the pro-wrestling circuit.
His first break was with the All Pro Wrestling and in 2001, he was signed by New Japan Pro Wrestling, the largest professional wrestling company in Asia. His stage name? Giant Singh.
But his real success came in January 2006 when he signed a contract for WWE, which registered his new name, The Great Khali.
They gave him 12 signature moves that are now part of most urban Indian children’s vocabulary— many of whom are glued to Ten Sports’ telecasts of WWE—and a fearsome back story to excite bloodthirsty Middle America.
But instant fame and stardom—a salary of $200,000 (Rs 85 lakh) a year from WWE plus $0.5 million to $2 million per Hollywood film—have not altered his modest lifestyle.
Rana and his wife, Harminder, live in a twin bedroom apartment at Mcdonough, a small town near Hick Central, Atlanta, Georgia.
As of now, with his hands full of celebrity invites and advertisement offers, he has a dream: to set up a training academy to produce “two or three Khalis before I retire”.
Till then, he’s quite happy to play up to the American stereotype of the barbaric Indian. He may be regarded as a circus exhibit, but he’s going to end up a very rich one.
indiatoday
With an Arabian-themed entrance tune matching his waddle, a name plucked from Amrish Puri’s Kali-worshipping weirdo in Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and “Punjabi peace offerings” ranging from Ganga water to a goat, the 36-year-old is one of the star entertainers in a circus of vicious looking men with names like Umaga and Undertaker contesting in fervid face-offs called Raw and Smackdown.
It’s a status that has little to do with performance—since joining WWE in 2006, the Punjab Police sub-inspector on permanent medical-leave has been world heavyweight champion just once, after winning a 20-man battle last year.
But that hasn’t prevented the boy who grew too much from getting a hero’s welcome back home, fuelled by head-of-state-worthy coverage by hyperventilating news channels.
Dalip Singh Rana (yes, he is actually a former labourer from Himachal Pradesh) has suddenly become India’s most wanted guest— having a tete-e-tete with President Pratibha Patil, chatting with Sachin Tendulkar, Shweta Nanda and Robert Vadra’s children, and being invited for dinner to Shah Rukh Khan’s house at 2 a.m.
His iconic status in his home state is now assured. A special grant has been sanctioned from the MPLADs scheme to build a road to his native village, Naini Dhar, a hamlet of two-dozen houses in the interiors of Sirmour district, while Chief Minister Prem Kumar Dhumal has announced plans to felicitate the “son-of-the soil” at a special function.
Even the Punjab Police is toying with the idea of making Khali its brand ambassador.
But they will have to wait. Currently, Khali is shooting a song for a Tamil film near Madurai. He will then return to Mumbai to shoot three days for a children’s film, with Tanushree Dutta and Sahil Khan, called Rama: The Saviour before heading home.
In the US, a big release awaits him—a Steve Carell movie, Get Smart, which also stars a wrestling predecessor, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.
That he is not a particularly talented wrestler goes without saying.
To gauntlets thrown at him by domestic stars such as Commonwealth Games gold medalist Palwinder Singh Cheema or freestyle champion Parminder Dhoomchheri, he has only made humble comments: “I am not visiting my country to fight and prove my wrestling credentials.”
Quite apart from the s******s about WWE, his rise has been a struggle against circumstances.
A school dropout, Khali started working as a day-jobber, evoking ridicule for his physique, which forced him to escape to Shimla where he worked as a porter, truck-loader and even security guard.
It was in 1993 when Mehal Singh Bhullar, retired director-general of Punjab Police, first learnt about “an eight-foot tall wonder” from the local media. (See graphic: From Rana to Khali)
As the inspector-general of Punjab Armed Police, Bhullar was known for his passion for recruiting fresh blood into the force. He tracked down Rana and offered him a job as constable in the Punjab Police.
Rana was reluctant, but agreed when Bhullar offered to recruit his younger brother as well. “He was tall, awkwardly so, with a scrawny build, and appeared to be under-nourished,” recalls Bhullar.
He was first tried out in basketball but his reflexes were found to be slow. He then tried his hand at discus and showed promise but soon developed back pain.
He shifted to body-building and won a title at the national level. “He was very passionate and hard working,” adds Bhullar.
But with weak thigh and calf muscles, Bhullar realised Khali wouldn’t go far in body-building. He was struck by the idea of letting him try his luck with the WWE in the US, and sent him there in 1996.
A year-and-half of training at San Francisco honed Khali’s skills and started him off in the pro-wrestling circuit.
His first break was with the All Pro Wrestling and in 2001, he was signed by New Japan Pro Wrestling, the largest professional wrestling company in Asia. His stage name? Giant Singh.
But his real success came in January 2006 when he signed a contract for WWE, which registered his new name, The Great Khali.
They gave him 12 signature moves that are now part of most urban Indian children’s vocabulary— many of whom are glued to Ten Sports’ telecasts of WWE—and a fearsome back story to excite bloodthirsty Middle America.
But instant fame and stardom—a salary of $200,000 (Rs 85 lakh) a year from WWE plus $0.5 million to $2 million per Hollywood film—have not altered his modest lifestyle.
Rana and his wife, Harminder, live in a twin bedroom apartment at Mcdonough, a small town near Hick Central, Atlanta, Georgia.
As of now, with his hands full of celebrity invites and advertisement offers, he has a dream: to set up a training academy to produce “two or three Khalis before I retire”.
Till then, he’s quite happy to play up to the American stereotype of the barbaric Indian. He may be regarded as a circus exhibit, but he’s going to end up a very rich one.
indiatoday