The Interview
Saba: Gulzar saab, let us begin with the beginning...
Gulzar: Yes. There is one thing that we should put on record – and that is – How did Aandhi get going? There is a little misconception about the whole thing in spite of the fact that it has been cleared in Kamleshwarji’s lifetime itself. Kamleshwarji and I were friends. I used to write and he published them in Sarika44. We had published Meenaji’s45 diaries too. We used to meet quite frequently – Om Shiv Puri, Bhushanji – we were common friends. So, one day he asked if I was willing to direct, and in which case, he had a story. A producer from the south wanted to do it.
I told him that it would be my privilege to direct his story, and decided to work out the screenplay. He soon arranged a meeting with one Mallik Arjun Rao whom we used to call Malli sahib. He was the producer. Mallik Arjun Rao was obliged to Kamleshwarji because when Kamleshwarji was working for the Censor Board, there was a movie Qeemat, by Mallik Arjun Rao, which he had cleared. So, he naturally wanted to pay back Kamleshwarji, whom he considered to be a very dear friend. We went along with Kamleshwarji, and Bhushanji also came with us. Then we ran into a predicament. It used to be called Madras in those days, not Chennai. The predicament was that Malli sahib had a friend, philosopher and guide who had produced a film by the name of Farz, the one with Jitendra. He was like a moral guide for him. Only if he liked the movie’s story, only then it was to be produced – this was Malli sahib’s only requisite, and not a big hurdle. But it turns out that he didn’t like the story which Kamleshwarji narrated to him, even though it was a very beautiful story. Set in a hotel, it depicted a cross-section of the society. The various kinds of people who come and go, and it could be very interesting. Since this person didn’t like it, we got stuck in an awkward stalemate. There were some stories which he had in mind that he suggested a remake. ‘Some Madras film could be remade’, etc.
So Bhushan had an idea, just an idea which was, I think inspired from a novel by A.J. Cronin. That idea clicked. He immediately said that it was the kind of subject he was looking for, and it was the story we could do. There was a bit of embarrassment, but Bhushan was a very devoted friend. He said that the story had to be developed and that they could develop the story into a film together, and we decided to do it.
At the time, I was writing Aandhi and I intended to go to Mahabalipuram and complete my script. All of us went off to Mahabalipuram, but we ended up developing a story which was eventually released as Mausam. We agreed that we would first develop that story, and that I would continue working on Aandhi on my own.
I would write Aandhi during the day, and it became the topic of discussion during the evening. We felt as if both stories had begun to sort of intermingle and we asked Kamleshwarji to write a novel on both the stories. I was writing the screenplay. It was then called Aagami Ateet.
I was the one to propose this kind of a title and he wrote a novel on both the stories.
When we returned and I had a fixed deadline, I had to narrate it to Suchitra Sen after about three to four weeks’ time. As much as I am a person who runs away from work, I am also enthusiastic about what I get to work on. Neither Bhushan nor Kamleshwarji did their work and finally the three of us set out to visit the main location in Bhopal. Then one day, I got fed up. One evening, when we were in Bhopal, I spoke up. ‘Look,’ I said – we had just had lunch – ‘this isn’t happening. It’s not working. I never miss deadlines. So I don’t like the way things are unfolding.’ As soon as I left the lunch table, I asked one of the hotel staff, ‘Can you get me a taxi? A long-distance taxi. I want to go to Delhi.’ (The Indian Airlines staff was on strike at the time.) He said, ‘Right now?’ I said, ‘Yes, right now.’ And I told my companions, ‘You two can continue with whatever you want to work on. I’m going to Delhi and that’s final.’ But they replied, ‘What will we do here? We’ll also leave.’ I quickly packed my things. I used to wear a lungi in those days and I got in the car, just like that, with the lungi on. I threw in my luggage … I was so irritated.
I headed towards to Delhi, Kamleshwarji went to Allahabad and Bhushan left for Bombay.
I dumped myself in Akbar Hotel and told myself, ‘I’ll go out only when I complete my script.’ There was a staff member there who worked tirelessly and took great care of me, day and night. I think he used to be around for twenty-four hours. I can’t forget him. His name was JK and I named the hero after him. ‘I’ll name the hero after you, JK,’ I told him. So, I finished my script and went away to Calcutta and soon the script was approved by the producer J. Om Prakash, Suchitraji and eventually everything was finalized.
Saba: Apparently there was this confusion that the story was written by Kamleshwarji but the script was written by you…
Gulzar: I told Kamleshwarji, ‘It is up to you. I’ll give you the title credit on the story. Go ahead and publish the novels based on your story.’ Eventually, a time came when even the shooting of the film was about to be wrapped up. He finished writing it in a hurry and named his novel Kali Aandhi because the name Aandhi we had already taken for the film, so he wanted to establish the connection between the two. I even have a copy of the book which says, ‘Your story dedicated to you.’
So this is how things were. Film is a medium in which changes happen all the time, sequences are changed … it happens a lot. So Kamleshwarji had once even complained to Bhushan: ‘Bhai says one thing and makes something else!’ He would call me ‘bhai’ and I would call him ‘bhai sahib’, that is all. And then in a hurry he wrote Aagami Ateet also. I told him that Aagami Ateet was entirely his and he could do as he pleased, but I won’t depend on that at all. So, that’s how I wrote both the scripts on my own and based on those he wrote his novels.
But there should be no misunderstanding here – this was a mutual arrangement, and it happens among writers. Say, I write a poem and he writes a story on it, or he writes a story on which I write a poem. It’s all in good faith. It is only the outside world that could interpret this as something disgraceful.
Kamleshwarji wanted me to continue working along with him apart from doing only Malli sahib’s story Mausam. ‘Let’s do it for Aandhi also,’ he told me. So I told
J. Om Prakash that we’ll be working together. Kamleshwarji was a well-established name – how could I refuse? So, this is how Aandhi happened and at the time it was not Indira Gandhi’s life story. But even today, there is no one like her, so she was the best persona to keep in mind. Accordingly, that was the reference one could offer to any actor – the way she used to walk, the way she used to descend a flight of stairs, the way she would come out of a helicopter. We used her traits in good taste – not because the character was based on her or her life. But then things happened – the opposition parties remarked that Aarti Devi’s character is shown to consume alcohol, and some decided to connect the two unrelated personalities. Further, seeing the advertisements and posters for the film, more trouble ensued. But for me, she was only a reference for personality traits and mannerisms. I think Kamleshwarji only took the name of Tarkeshwari Sinha46 to escape from a situation.
Saba: I read about the changes that were made later to the film. Tell us about the two scenes which were added.
Gulzar: Yes, after the Emergency.
Saba: One of the scenes was where the dialogue, ‘She is a role model’ had to be inserted...
Gulzar: They made us add that bit. They insisted. By then the movie was running in its twenty-third or twenty-fourth week.
Saba: By then everybody had already seen it.
Gulzar: And we got to know about this in Moscow. It was screened in the Moscow Film Festival. We got to know that the screening was going to be cancelled since the film had been banned in India. Sanjeev [Kumar] was also there with me. After we got back, J. Om Prakashji tried very hard to have the ban lifted. We were already in the twenty-fourth week, so we decided to modify two scenes.
Later, at another time when I went to Moscow, I met I.K. Gujral sahib. He was now the Ambassador. Gujral sahib told me that it was Sanjay [Gandhi] who had not taken the controversy well. Otherwise, there was no objection from the others. I remember my reply too, that it was just one of those things which happens in a democracy!47
Saba: The choice of actors, Gulzar saab. Why did you select Suchitra Sen?
Gulzar: There’s a story behind her selection too. J. Om Prakash, the producer, had called me for a story, which he wanted me to direct. Written by Sachin Bhowmik, it was a thriller set in a hospital or something, and he said that we could cast Sanjeev and Suchitra, and Sanjeev was, in any case, very keen to work with her. So Sachin Bhowmik had written the story accordingly, keeping the two actors in mind. In that meeting, Sachin Bhowmik, Sanjeev and J. Om Prakash were all present. I didn’t particularly like the story – it was ordinary, a typical bambaiya plot. So,
I said that it wouldn’t be right to call Suchitra Sen all the way to Bombay to hear that story. Why should she do such a film? The first person in that room to react to my comment was Sachin Bhowmik. He said, ‘You are right, absolutely right. This is Bombay, you can call many actors from here, but if you call Suchitra Sen, the story has to be something different.’ When he said this, everyone else in the room agreed.
Personally, I’d already been thinking about Aandhi for quite sometime, so I decided it was the right time to narrate the story to everyone in the room. So I told them what I had in mind – two characters and their relationship, how it gets broken, she becomes a politician and we didn’t have movies on politicians at the time, and viewers had not seen actual politics, how it worked behind the scenes.
I narrated just the basic plot and they all reacted positively. So J. Om Prakash said, ‘Do you have this story on paper? Can you write it?’ I asked for some time, and promised to share a synopsis in about two–three weeks. ‘If you like it, then we can work it out,’ I said. And he said, I will meet Suchitra Sen by the end of next month, or a month and a half or two months, or whatever. All this happened in that span of two months. As promised, I brought the synopsis in around two weeks’ time because I already had the basic premise in my mind, not the entire story, so I began working on it. And that’s how Suchitra Sen and Sanjeev Kumar came together to work in a film. So, filmmaking is full of many processes. It doesn’t happen that the story is just sitting there for you and things fall into place and we begin casting and shooting. It’s more complex than that. There are many questions: Who will play this role? When will we do this bit? There are hundreds of things which happen in making a film and it’s a big team which works together.
Saba: And everything develops side by side…
Gulzar: Later I published the screenplay also. Kamleshwarji had no objection to it – among friends, among writers these things happen. Bhushan for example, was another selfless man – he never bothered.
It is not far from the truth to say that the problem with most film critics, reviewers and writers is that they have never made a film or been part of the making process, so they don’t know how a film is made. Hundreds of things happen. An entire song is recorded and can later get cancelled! A male character is changed into a female character! So many things happen!
Saba: Tell us something about Sanjeevji, please. We know your equation with him – he is there in nearly all your films.
Gulzar: I knew Sanjeev – whom we called ‘Hari bhai’ – from the time he used to do theatre. I was in IPTA and he was in INT48. So, we met quite frequently at the Bholabhai Institute, Bombay and the two of us got along very well. We would perform together as well. He acted in Arthur Miller’s All My Sons where P.D. Shenoy was the director. He played the role of a father at the age of twenty-three or twenty-two and Leela Chitnis played his wife. Manavendra Chitnis, Leelaji’s son, was playing the son.
I had seen him play the role of an old man and he did a great job. It once happened that Papaji49 had come and we all had stepped out to see him off. He asked Sanjeev once he had gotten rid of his make-up: ‘That old man performed very well. Who was he?’ That was a great compliment!
I knew that Sanjeev could play the role of an old man. For me, he was always the right fit for any kind of role – young or old. I’ve had two such anchors in the film industry – Sanjeev and R.D. Burman Sir. Unless the producer thought otherwise, these were the two people who would do anything for me. But the first film in which we worked together was Sangharsh and his scene with Dilip sahib50 was the first shoot which I attended.
I was a writer in Sangharsh. Although I was a great fan of Dilip sahib, I was thrilled to see that Sanjeev performed so well. It was Hari’s scene all the way. ‘Spectacular job!’
I said. I was thrilled that my friend had done it. For anybody, even for Hari, it was an honour to work with Dilip sahib – before the scene and after the shot he touched Dilip sahib’s feet and showed his respect for him. Moreover, even Dilip sahib appreciated him. Hari was a great associate, a great friend.
Saba: All of Sanjeevji’s work is great, but in Aandhi, his performance is beyond his natural self. It’s very difficult to write on that film because now, I watch that film every morning. One gets carried away by his performance. It is just perfect – the way he sits down, gets up, the way he speaks.
Gulzar: Two renowned actors are in that film – Suchitra and Hari. Suchitra meets him after a long time, notices him and says, ‘You haven’t changed!’. ‘Gotten weak,’ he says. ‘Not weak,’ she says. ‘Thinner.’ I mean their eyes are playing, looking at each other, yet shying away from each other. They are avoiding each other, looking the other way and remarking.
Saba: And she is looking all over the house and says, ‘This place is really clean.’
Gulzar: ‘Is there another woman in this house?’ That’s the question at the back of her mind.
Saba: Yes, it is unsaid but it’s very apparent that she wants to know.
Gulzar: It is unsaid but it’s there in the script. In the script I’ve written it. In the script those instructions are given to the actor that a doubt should be apparent. And then, looking for Mannu, she wants to know if there is anybody else. I think there were enough moments for me to provide both actors, and knowing their stature I knew how to go about it.
Saba: And to lead them …
Gulzar: Yes. I mean that is what it is, what an actor needs. They are great actors but they need material to act and
I think there was enough for me to provide to them.
Saba: There was more than enough. Tell us a bit about the songs, Gulzar saab…
Gulzar: ‘Tere bina zindagi se koi shikva to nahi’ was the ideal song for the film. Both knew that it is their story being told and they could react to it. She takes his coat off and puts it away – that is such a lovely moment to start the music on. I had to create those moments to own the night.
Mattan is the name of that place, it is in Kashmir, on the way to Pahalgam. Gauri Prasanna was a celebrated Bengali songwriter. At the time, Pancham used to compose special songs during Durga Puja – in Bengal, it is a very big festival; new books are launched, new magazines released and new songs and albums are released. (To come out with a puja album once a year used to be a big thing.) So, Gauri da was working on a song for Durga Puja when I arrived with Pancham, who was working on a tune in Bangla. I was listening to him and ended up asking him if I could work on that tune. Pancham was surprised as it was a Puja song. I asked Gauri da also and he also did not have a problem. Pancham on the other hand, was relieved! ‘Now, I won’t have to work on the tune at least!’ – was his reaction. So, that is how ‘Tere bina zindagi se koi shikva to nahi’ was set to tune.
Saba: But I have a big confusion regarding this song – what exactly did you mean with this line? The interpretation is a bit ambiguous.
Gulzar: No, it’s a pun on the word.
Saba: Yes, I mean it’s a big pun and that is the reason that in my book I Swallowed the Moon, I did not quote this song since I just could not translate it.
Gulzar: If I say, ‘No other complaint I’ve got beside you in life…’
Saba: … It’s got two possible meanings, right?
Gulzar: But without you what is life worth anyway? It’s a way of saying, it’s a compliment. ‘Tere bina zindagi se aur koi shikva nahi’ except that you are not there. No complaint to life I have except that you yourself are not there, isn’t that a compliment? And a great expression of love? Without you I have no complaint regarding my life except that you are not a part of it. And without you what is life anyway? This is what it is. If you are not with me then that is all I can complain of. I’ll share a couplet, ‘Kisi ke jaane par humko koi gila to nahi/Bade qareeb se uth kar chala gaya koi’ (I have no objection if someone leaves/Someone sitting really close walked away). Doesn’t it hurt? There is objection in it, right? So, you did complain, but what did you say? I’ll recite another couplet ‘Ghairon se kaha tumne, ghairon se suna tumne/Kuch humse kaha hota to kuch humse suna hota’ (You spoke to others and they spoke back/Had you spoken to me, you would have heard from me). One verse, two ideas, said in two different ways.
Saba: And ended up saying a lot of things.
Gulzar: Yes, so that’s … that’s the beauty of this – Tere bina zindagi se shikva to nahi, but without you, life is not life, is it?
Saba: But it is very heavy. It is something very heavy in very simple words.
Gulzar: Yes, that is why. This is its characteristic. There are a lot of couplets, a lot of them … can’t recall them now, got some other on my mind.
Saba: In all the three romantic songs, I’ve tried to analyse the metaphor of travelling. Travelling appears in all three – turns, roads, these kinds of elements. So, I’ve linked the three songs and they are three different stages of life and there is a chapter in this book on the songwriting of the film where I’ve stated that the relationship has also travelled. So, when you write, do you consciously link the songs?
Gulzar: It’s all a process, a mental process. The analysis comes later. Instinctively, I assign the behaviour; when I say they were avoiding each other, avoiding looking at each other, and with a sigh she says that he has become weak but she isn’t looking at him. So, when I’m writing this, I haven’t analysed why she is avoiding him or that this character should look the other way and that their eyes shouldn’t meet. If I’m imagining it, I’m running along with the process – the characters and their growth. Whenever I write a screenplay, from the very onset it is this process that runs alongside the writing process – don’t mention it now, we’ll make it a point later when we reveal it. So, it is not that everything is planned. The story has to grow, the screenplay has to grow, and that growth happens only if you know the stages mentally. Then it happens … on its own.
Saba: But when you start a film, do you have something in mind – say, the film should be on certain lines. For example, all your films are largely about relationships.
Gulzar: Yes.
Saba: This is the best example of a film on relationships.
Gulzar: Yes.
Saba: The rest of the politics – it’s a backdrop and a commentary of sorts, but it’s about the meeting and then the separation and then the meeting again. So, when you start writing, do you also have the end product in mind?
Gulzar: One has the graph of the entire story. Then when one starts narrating it – each person has his own style – in my case, there are a lot of flashbacks because for me, it’s about the economy of time management that I go only to the dramatic moment, narrate it and return instead of narrating it from the beginning. I feel that the flashback is a more dramatic – and more effective – way of narrating instead of taking a story from the beginning. So, I try to pick up from a core or from a place in such a way that the entire story comes to light and that is an individual choice made by every writer. There can’t be a law or formula about it – that is why each one has a different kind of narration.
Another example – When I wrote Masoom, I started the film with the entry of a puppy at a home. And there is a shot of the kids with the puppy and they hide it. Papa warns that Mummy won’t like it. Now, how will Mummy react to it? And how to have ‘Papa convince her, please papa’ because he is so sweet. Come to think of it, I’ve narrated the entire story of Masoom in that one scene – I’ve defined the characters, I’ve defined the reactions to the third entry, of the child, what will happen when it enters – if the same thing happens but I’ve narrated the whole story with a puppy in one scene if you look at it. It’s a very clever way of telling you what’s coming – sometimes you want to say, sometimes you don’t but after you’ve seen the film for the second time, you will recognize and be aware of what’s going to happen. So, each time with every story there is a different way of narration. Right? I don’t know whether you consciously knew it or not but come to think of it, now I realize what I’ve done. It’s not a puppy for the sake of a puppy, there is a lot added to it, there is a lot more in it.
In Aandhi, when she finally confesses in front of the opposition party on stage by saying, ‘You are defaming me … let me introduce you to my husband. He is my husband. You should have asked me, I would have explained.’ To that audience, the people who were sitting there, for whom the whole episode is a scandal, she reveals all the details, that too publicly, she says, ‘He is my husband and we have a child. The years that I should have spent with him, with my child, I’ve given them to you.’ She changed the entire conversation and seemed truthful when doing so. But was she truthful? Or was she, as a politician, deploying a trick? So, that’s the duality and that’s the beauty of her character. Without it, where is the drama? There are layers upon layers – first, there is a straightforward interpretation, that she was truthful and people turned in her favour, but at the same time there is another layer for analysis, whether she had been honest. Or did she play politics because she knew what it entailed. So, without saying anything specific, each one can make his or her own judgement about her character, and that is the beauty of any good story. The fact that new meanings can emerge when you peel off the layers.
A man needs to be given a contradiction so that he can prove a point. The truth only makes sense when you have proven wrong something that you believe is wrong. That is the only way to prove the truth. The husband who says, ‘You are a wife, stay in your place, who are you working for? I don’t know because this house doesn’t need your money. For whom you’re earning is your business.’ He is not thinking of her status, he is too conservative, traditional. So, as a viewer, you’ll appreciate a change in his character and his positives only when you’ve seen his regressive side. Hence, JK’s closing lines: ‘No … I don’t want to see you defeated. Go finish your work. I’ll bring our child to you’ creates an emotional moment. So, unless one says, ‘Why is he saying this?’ you will not be able to solve its contradictions. If there is no contradiction, there is no drama in the character. If from the very onset ‘he used to believe in her’ then that is not life. Life is how you come out of a contradiction and prove a point. I mean, he might have been brought up in a traditional manner … maybe his problem was that she was giving more of her time to the father than she was giving to her own house. It is a complex life and it’s a complex character. There wouldn’t have been much of a story if one was loyal and the other was not. That is the reason of ‘Badi wafa se nibhai tumne humare thodi si bewafai’ (Very loyally you have played with my little disloyalty). You appreciate the layers. As you peel through those layers you find him saying, ‘No, I don’t want to see you defeated.’ I think there can’t be a bigger expression of love.
You enjoy something only when you’ve created a contradiction. That is how you create drama and storytelling is drama telling.
Saba: These two characters have shades of grey…
Gulzar: They are lovely characters. To wake someone up by dipping his hand in piping hot tea, it is very cruel!
Saba: ‘Is the sugar to taste?’
Gulzar: ‘Is the sugar to taste?’ You can’t call it cruel. It’s very intimate. To use logic there – but the tea was hot, so his finger got scorched – then you are reading algebra, you are not reading life.
Saba: And then you are not reading poetry.
Gulzar: Yes, it’s got a lot of layers. Another thing peculiar to Aandhi is that in the entire film – I don’t know whether you realized it – there is only one female character.
Saba: Yes, yes … not even another junior female artist.
Gulzar: Look at any cinema, any film which has got a female and not one more female character in the film, yet it’s (the whole thing) is so well balanced. It happens nowhere.
Saba: And it’s a feminist film.
Gulzar: And it’s a feminist film.
Saba: I’ve noticed that. Not even a junior artist in the background.
Gulzar: I mean there is not even a mother or a sister or a daughter. I don’t think even the daughter has been shown on screen.
Saba: Right. There is just a short scene from the childhood…
Gulzar: That had to be shown because of the censor … it had to be added later … otherwise it’s not there. But it’s the quality of the script, the screenplay in the entire film – there is an orchestration of the characters, right? Let’s add someone here, let’s add a mother here, a father there, distribute things – with one female and I’ve carried the entire film on it with all males around and it’s a feminist film. That’s the beauty of the craft which of course one can only analyse and see, otherwise it’s not so obvious. And if it were obvious, it wouldn’t be fun.
Saba: Something about the qawwali, Gulzar saab? Is this the first qawwali that you wrote?
Gulzar: I don’t remember if I’ve written any before. I don’t remember that but it was meant to be a street qawwali and meant to be a political qawwali.
Saba: It follows the perimeter of a qawwali very well that the first two lines don’t show up later … but largely qawwalis are romantic.
Gulzar: Yes, but other than the form, the main thing was the political comment it made. I’ve tried that from the beginning for my first film, Mere Apne also; ‘Haal chaal theek hai…’ (I am fine…). It was a political comment which
I wanted to make and it was effective too.
Saba: It’s very effective and these days it’s even more effective with the elections in the background. Recently there was a qawwali in Dedh Ishqiya.
Gulzar: Yes, right. In its climax.
Saba: But I couldn’t find any more qawwali. Have you written any more?
Gulzar: Umm … I don’t remember.
Saba: I didn’t find any.
Gulzar: About this film, I wanted to do away with a notion – here it’s always the vamp who drinks, it’s always the bad person who smokes. None of these are true, in fact, both presumptions are just ridiculous. So, I decided to do away with any scenes depicting the heroine smoking or enjoying a drink. There’s only one shot where she is seen writing and I’ve shown a cigarette on her table. That scene was exploited by propagandists who drew parallels with Indira Gandhi. In another scene, JK hits his leg against a glass kept near her feet. It is such a polite way of suggesting, ‘So what? Even in your career sometimes you have to make a drink and keep it there even if you are not drinking.’ We take so much time in coming out of traditions. So, I thought why not break a few traditions in our films also. I tried. Nothing wrong if you get one smoke; why not? Like, say, a live-in relationship – it was there in society but cinema had not used it. In Ijaazat, there is a live-in relationship which is pure, pious and everything is right.
Saba: The beauty of Ijaazat is that the other woman is not a wicked woman, she is as beautiful as a wife.
Gulzar: They are … all three are positive characters and each one is trying to bring comfort to the other two. It is its beauty that all three are positive characters.
Saba: There was a connection between Aandhi and Hu Tu Tu also. Just like it seems Maachis is a kind of a sequel to Mere Apne, Hu Tu Tu looks like it is a sequel to Aandhi.
Gulzar: True. I agree with you. It is indeed like an update. That’s what I say when people talk about remakes. A remake is not the same story once again, with tweaks to the characters’ professions or costumes. You must update – the boys from Mere Apne, who fight with cycle chains and hockey sticks, now carry guns. The politician was using them there also and the politician is using them here also. The youth is dealing with the world around them. So it’s fresh, but updated – that’s the way to make a remake.
Saba: When you make a film, you have all the roles – writing, screenplay, director…
Gulzar: I pass through every character, their emotions, their tragedies, joys, everything … and I am the one who suffers the most. I used to do my readings myself to all the actors because I experience everything. I know what is happening to each character emotionally and that tells me or teaches me communication – is it communicating or not, because the word written for a film or on a screenplay or in a scenario, in a scene is … not just a word. One has to understand the way it has been said and the weight that it carries with it, the emotion which is soaked in it. And the line means nothing if it does not carry that emotion. That’s why the dialogue which I write helps in the growth of a scene, or of the relationship. Words have no meaning if they are not carrying an emotion with them, a purpose or a tone with them. That’s very important.
I can tell you a few examples from different films. A character like Anand51 can’t sit idle – he must talk, he must do something, as he has to live the rest of his life within that period which he knows. But you can’t measure his reactions; he has to be that instinctive. When he enters the hospital, a man walks by him and he says, ‘Motey’, and nothing else. He cannot control himself - he has to say something – ‘Ae motey’ (Oye fatty) and runs away. It has got nothing to do with the theme of the story but it’s an instinct of the character. I had a little fear that maybe Hrishi da52 would edit it, seeing it as an extra shot for no reason, but he appreciated it. He said that it was going well with the character.
So, one has to travel with the character. For instance, in Aashirwad, I again had the fear if Hrishi da would keep or reject a particular scene. He was like another teacher for us – we kept on learning from him without even getting an idea … So there is this one scene in a park, where a number of activities are going on simultaneously. There is a person who is reading the newspaper, there is someone who is playing, there is another person who is eating, and then there is a little girl in the park whose chain is snatched. Someone screams, ‘chain snatcher’ and the people gather around the little girl. After they have gathered, there are comments ‘Dekhiyeji din dahade ye hogaya’ (See, this has happened in broad daylight), ‘ye kaise ho gaya yaar’ (How could this happen now), and the guy who has been resting till now says, gets up and says,‘Ye government nahi chal sakti’ (This government won’t work), and goes away! Whether the government would work or not has got nothing to do with it but these are the moments which happen in life. Hrishi da appreciated it so much that I felt fulfilled. Everytime, it is not a thought-out graph. Spontaneity has to go like this.
Saba: And how can you make two or three films together – Aandhi, Khushboo and Mausam?
Gulzar: No, they were not two-three together. I always completed one film and only then began working on another. I never shot two films at a time.
Saba: But they were released simultaneously.
Gulzar: That has happened because a film’s release often takes time and the dates differ. But Mausam and Aandhi share a coincidence. On the day of Aandhi’s premier I was beginning the shooting for Mausam. Later on, when the time for Mausam’s premier came, I was shooting for Aandhi again because of the censor and the changes that I had to make. Even today, I always say that on Aandhi’s premier I was shooting Mausam, and on Mausam’s premier I was shooting for Aandhi. But that’s only overlapping because of that censor work not otherwise. Koshish and Parichay, they were released with a gap of hardly a week or two – one at Metro, the other at Liberty in Bombay. In one, Sanjeev Kumar plays the husband, in the other he plays Jaya’s father. So, release timings could be unpredictable. But I always made only one film. There were never two films that released together – never.
Saba: Both Aandhi and Mausam were released in 1975. But 1975 was an amazing year for films – Deewar, Sholay, Julie, Jai Santoshi Maa, Nishant, Aandhi, Mausam all released that year. In this book, I have called 1975 a watershed year for Hindustani cinema. Thank you, Gulzar saab for the insightful interview.