Toot ki skaakh pe baitha koi
bunta hai resham ke taage
lamha lamha khol raha hai
patta patta been raha hai
ek-ek saans baja kar sunta hai saudayee
ek-ek saans ko kholke apne tan pe liptata jaata hai
apni hee saanson ka qaidi
resham ka shaayar ek din
apne hee tagon mein ghutkar mar jayega3
(Sitting on a mulberry branch
Weaves some silk threads
Unwrapping each moment
Picking each leaf
Listening to every breath
Drapes self with each breath
Prisoner of his own breath
This poet of silk
Will die smothered in his own threads)
Gulzar. The name says it all. The poet, who is also a lyricist, filmmaker and dialogue writer, has more layers to his persona that one can delve into. Author of several anthologies of poems (Kuch Aur Nazmein, Pukhraj, Raat Pashmine Ki, Triveni, Yaar Julahe and Pandra Paanch Pachchatar) and writer of short stories (Raavi Paar, Aththaniyan), he has not only written extensively for children (Bosky ka Panchantantra 1–5, Karadi Tales, Potli Baba ki, Mangoo aur Mangli, Bosky ke Taal Pataal, Hindi for Heart and many more), but has also been translating from Bengali, Marathi and English.
Gulzar’s mass appeal, however, is through cinema. Writing for Hindustani cinema for more than half a century, Gulzar started his career with assisting filmmaker Bimal Roy for Kabuliwala (1961). Based on a short story of the same name by Rabindranath Tagore, it was for this film that he also wrote the song ‘Ganga aaye kahan se’ (Ganga, where do you come from?). However, the song that got released first was from the film Bandini (1962); based on Vaishnavite poetry, the lyrics went: ‘Mora gora ang lei le, mohe shyam rang dei de’ (Take away my fair colour, give me the colour of Krishna). Gulzar calls this song his ‘entry pass’ into cinema. Although he was noticed with his very first song, it was with ‘Humne dekhi hai in aankhon ki mehakti khushboo’ (I have seen the fragrance in these eyes) from Khamoshi (1969) that he truly arrived. On the one hand he was applauded for the use of his unusual and juxtaposed imagery – which later became his signature style – and on the other, he was also criticized by traditional poets for this approach. Whatever the argument may have been, it was this song that brought Gulzar to the forefront of poetry writing in cinema.
Born in Deena (now in Pakistan) in 1934, Gulzar had witnessed the Partition from close quarters. It was amidst that turmoil that he crossed the border and came to Delhi, where he settled initially, before moving to Bombay. In his early days there, he worked at a garage, trying to fend for himself. But destiny had something else in store for him. After working in the garage for about seven years4, he found himself at the studio where Bimal Roy was at work and got his first break as his assistant. When someone gets trained under the adept directorship of someone like Bimal Roy, what else can one expect to imbibe but exceptional directorial skills? In Gulzar’s case, it was coupled with his poetic craft and a love of words.
A unique characteristic that distinguishes Gulzar the filmmaker, is that when he is at the helm, he goes beyond being just the director. He also writes the screenplay, dialogues and lyrics, taking full ownership of the film and makes it distinctly different from the work of other filmmakers. Viewers can notice his signature style in every frame. In over hundred years of Hindustani cinema, there have been only a handful of other filmmakers who have donned all these hats.
Gulzar’s journey as a film poet
Gulzar has experimented with several genres while penning poetry for cinema. It would not be wrong to say that he is the only poet in the industry who has such a versatile repertoire of work. Apart from his love songs, he has written political satires, hymns and prayers, songs for children – based on folklore and legends – and even philosophical ones. To sum up his songwriting in a brief category is being unjust to his oeuvre, but here are some of his more popular ones, categorized according to genres.
Love songs
Love and romance are perhaps the most popular themes in Hindustani cinema. It is, therefore, no surprise that most poets working in the industry have many love songs in their body of work. Gulzar is no exception to this: he has an enviable legacy of love songs. But what makes his work different from other lyricists, is his treatment of language and his use of imagery, both of which have a distinct and unique touch.
Just living the essence of love is apparent in Anubhav’s (1971) ‘Meri jaan mujhe jaan na kaho’ (My dear, don’t call me a dear) where a lover tells her partner not to call her by endearing names. Simple as the words may sound, they strike a chord with listeners and the underlying essence comes through. ‘Maine tere liye saat rang ke sapne bune’ (I’ve woven dreams of seven colours for you) from Anand (1971) reminds one of the pure and pristine love a lover bestows on his/her beloved. ‘Ek hasin nigah ka dil pe saaya hai’ (A beauty has cast its shadow on me) from Maya Memsaab (1993) communicates the inexplicable feeling of being in love in such a simplified verse. Another gem from the same film, ‘Iss dil mein bas kar dekho to’ (If you came and lived once in my heart) beckons the lover to come and love her.
If there is contentment and happiness in ‘Tum aa gaye ho, noor aa gaya hai’ (Your presence has brought light in my life) from Aandhi (1975) there are feelings of exuberance as expressed in ‘Aaj kal paon zameen par nahin padte’ (These days, I feel no ground beneath the feet) in Ghar (1977). ‘Do dewane ek shahar mein’ from Gharonda (1978) celebrates togetherness, and nothing more. Such companionship is also revealed in ‘Tu mere paas hai’ (You are with me) from Satya (1998). The unreleased film Libaas (1993) had two melodious songs, ‘Seeli hawa choo gayee’ (The damp breeze touched me) and ‘Khamosh sa afsana’ (The silent tale) which express love of the silent, unexpressed kind. Another song which indicates a quiet love which only Nature (the earth and the sky) is witness to, is ‘Chup chup ke, chori se’ (Quietly, silently…) from Bunty aur Babli (2005).
The naughtiness of a lover is aptly described in ‘Dil to bachcha hai jee’ (My heart is childlike) from Ishqiya (2010) where an elderly man is helplessly smitten by a woman much younger than him. ‘Dheere jalna’ (Smoulder slowly) from Paheli (2005) tries to capture the intimacy between lovers. The chartbuster ‘Chaiyya chaiyya’ from Dil Se (1998) takes love to another level altogether, transcending the boundaries of earthly love and spirituality, where the lover believes that if one is in love, paradise lies beneath their feet and compares his beloved to the kalma (the line which marks the acceptance of the Islamic faith) and wishes to keep her safe like a taveez (amulet).
The pining lover from Gulzar’s poetry leaves an everlasting impression on the hearts of listeners. If ‘Tum pukar lo’ (If only you would call) from Khamoshi (1969) beautifully captures the pathos of the lover and cries out for being remembered, ‘Koi hota jisko apna kehte’ (Wishing for someone I could call my own) from Mere Apne (1971) is about the desire to be loved by someone. Again, the song ‘Jab bhi yeh dil udaas hota hai’ (Every time this heart is sad) from Seema (1971) follows the same trajectory with as much intensity as the song ‘Tere bina jiya jaye na’ (Can’t live without you) from Ghar (1977). Another song about remembering the loved one is ‘Yaara seeli seeli, birah ki raat ka jalna’ (Oh the dampening embers of the night of parting) from Lekin (1990); the song ‘Tum gaye, sab gaya’ (You left, all was lost) from Maachis (1996) captures the same intensity using the simplest of words. There is also repentance as in the song ‘Hazar rahein mud ke dekhi’ (Searched a thousand paths) from Thodi si Bewafai (1980).
There are songs where nature is touched upon with a kind of reverence: ‘Hawaon pe likh do hawaon ke naam’ (Inscribe on the breeze, the name of the breeze) from Biwi aur Makaan (1966) or ‘Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi’ (That evening was strange) from Khamoshi (1969). In both these songs, the poet beckons different aspects of nature to be in tune with love and the lover. Similarly, the song ‘Gulmohar ’gar naam hota’ (Had your name been Gulmohar) from Devta (1978) connects the gulmohar tree and its beauty with that of the lover. Omkara’s (2006) ‘O saathi re’ is an example of lovers asking nature to conspire with their love and help them conceal it from others.
Political satires
In the world of songs in Hindustani cinema, where it is romance that rules, Gulzar penned a couple of memorable songs which are a commentary on the political situation of the country. ‘Haal chaal theek thaak hai’ (I am doing fine) from his directorial debut, Mere Apne (1971) is an ironic commentary about the conditions of the unemployed youth. Meanwhile, the song ‘Salaam kijiye’ (Pay your respects) from Aandhi (1975) is a satire when a politician who hasn’t brought about any significant change in the last five years of her rule, is taunted for she is back, asking for votes. Gulzar’s last film as director, Hu Tu Tu (1999) has the most number of political songs – all of them throwing light on different aspects of the political situation of the country. If ‘Jaago jaago jaagte raho’ (Wake up, keep awake) urges the common man to notice the wrongdoings of the politicians and the administration, ‘Ghapla hai’ (Something is fishy) emphasizes on loopholes in the system, and ‘Bandobast hai’ (We are prepared) is about how the common man has rolled up his sleeves to rise and fight against various social evils. Being a sensitive person, Gulzar has not remained untouched by India’s changing political climate. It doesn’t come across as a coincidence that all three films referred to here, have had him at the helm as director.
Songs for children
Gulzar admits that he has a special connection with children and one cannot deny that when he writes for them, the listener is transported to a world of innocence. Although the song ‘Ek tha bachpan’ (Once there was childhood) from Aashirwad (1969) is not for children per se, it peeks into childhood as no other song does, with reminiscences from a blissful past. Regarding songs for children, ‘Saare ke saare’ (All of us) from Parichay (1972) is a great example. It is playful and instructive, wrapped in a fun package introducing the basic musical notes and picturized with children at a picnic.
Then there are songs which showcase the effervescence of children and growing up. For example, ‘Master ji ki aa gai chitthi’ (The teacher has received a letter) from Kitaab (1978), ‘Lakdi ki kaathi, kaathi pe ghoda’ (A wooden horse) from Masoom (1982) and ‘Chupdi chupdi chachi’ (A sticky chachi) from Chachi 420 (1997). Makdee (2003) has two songs for children: ‘Chhutti hai’ is about the excitement children feel the moment they get a day off from school and ‘Panga na le’ (Don’t mess with us) warns elders to not underestimate children or mess with them.
Gulzar has also penned a prayer – ‘Hum ko mann ki shakti dena’ (Dear God, make our hearts strong) for the film Guddi (1971) which became so popular that even today it is taught and sung in morning assemblies in schools all over India. Similarly, the lullaby he wrote for Sadma (1983), ‘Surmaiyee akhiyon mein nanha munna ek sapna de jaa re’ (Put a tiny dream in these kohl-rimmed eyes), continues to be a favourite amongst mothers to put infants to bed. Gulzar has penned poems and stories for television, the most popular one being the opening song for the animated television series, Jungle Book. The lines go as, Jungle jungle baat chali hai, pata chala hai/Chaddi pahen ke phool khila hai, phool khila hai (There is a rumour, everyone in the jungle knows/
A fresh flower has bloomed in innocent nakedness). Many raised their eyebrows on the use of language – specifically, bringing in the word ‘chaddi’(underwear) in a children’s poem. The anecdote goes that the Board of the Children’s Film Society – the production house for this series – was against it and tried to persuade Gulzar to replace this particular word. Gulzar, as usual, had the same defence that he has had for the choice of words in his other film poetry – the circumstance. He defended the word and refused to give an alternative, saying that an abandoned child in the jungle could either be picturized in an underwear or in nothing! It was the then Chairperson of the Children’s Film Society, Jaya Bachchan who came to his rescue and helped let the song go as was originally composed. Of course, the song went on to become one of the most popular title songs to be used in any television series.5
These examples prove that Gulzar’s poetry for children wasn’t confined to the domain of cinema alone; it travelled and found its way in the lives of the masses. It is this connection that he has managed to establish, and that remains the source of his popularity.
Based on folklore, legends and classical poetry
On several occasions, Gulzar has taken the liberty to develop songs from couplets by his favourite Urdu poets – Ghalib, Mir and Amir Khusrau – aiming to connect the classical with the contemporary. The first example that comes to mind is ‘Dil dhoondta hai phir wohi fursat ke raat din’ (The heart seeks those days of leisure, once again) from Mausam (1976) where the opening couplet is Ghalib’s. ‘Sunai deti hai dil ki dhadkan’ (I can hear the heart beating) from Ghulami (1987) opens with a Persian couplet by Khusrau. Similarly, the song ‘Satrangi re’ (O the rainbow-hued one) from Dil Se (1998) has Ghalib’s couplet, ‘Ishq par zor nahin’ (There is no control over love), woven within the song. Another example is from Kaminey (2009) where he has used Jigar Moradabadi’s, ‘Yeh ishq nahin aasaan’ (Love isn’t easy) and moulded it as per the song’s requirement.
Gulzar referred to Waris Shah’s Heer Ranjha in the song, ‘Ranjha Ranjha na kar Heeriye’ (O Heer, don’t lament over Ranjha) from Raavan (2010). Again, he mentioned Heer along with Mirza Sahiba, another Punjabi folktale, in the song, ‘Heer’ from Jab Tak Hai Jaan (2011).
Philosophical songs
Intrigued about the vagaries of life, Gulzar has tried to make sense of its mysteries in his own inimitable way. One such example is the song ‘Tujhse naraaz nahin zindagi, hairan hoon main’ (O life, you do not upset me, but intrigue me) from Masoom (1982). ‘Aane wala pal jaane wala hai’ (The moment which is about to come, will soon be gone) from Gol Maal (1979) and ‘Yeh lamha filhaal jee lene de’ (Let me live this moment) from Filhaal (2002) reflect his philosophy of living in the present and making the most of it. The acceptance of life, with all its shortcomings, is what shines through in ‘Thoda hai, thode ki zaroorat hai’ (I have some, I need some) from Khatta Meetha (1977). But the song which beseeches life to embrace oneself is ‘Aye zindagi gale laga le’ (O life, embrace me) from Sadma (1983).
Gulzar has penned around five hundred songs and classifying and categorizing all of them is beyond the scope of this book. However, this was a small effort to bring a few of them together to understand his oeuvre. The best song to end this section on Gulzar’s journey as a film poet should be ‘Jai ho’ (Praise to be), from Slumdog Millionaire (2009) not because of the Grammy and the Oscar glory it earned, but because it is a song that truly celebrates life.
Gulzar’s journey as a filmmaker
Gulzar has directed seventeen films. His involvement in them has not just always been as that of a director. He has written the stories (many a time, he has even adapted them from classical Indian literature), the dialogues, screenplays and of course, the songs. Aandhi was made in 1975 and by then, he was already about eighty songs old, the prominent ones being from films like Biwi aur Makan (1966), Do Dooni Char (1968), Rahgir (1969), Khamoshi (1969), Aashirwad (1969), Guddi (1971), Seema (1971), Anubhav (1971) and Anand (1973).
As a director, Aandhi was Gulzar’s fifth film. He made his directorial debut with the critically acclaimed Mere Apne (1971). A remake of Tapan Sinha’s Apanjon, this was the story of a widow, Aanandi Devi (played by Meena Kumari – this was to be her last film) who moves to the city to live with her nephew. Later, she moves out when she realizes why her nephew and his wife had made her stay with them – to take care of their house and their little son. After she leaves, Nani maa, as she is fondly called by some street children, starts living with them and finds herself involved in a gang war of two unemployed young men – Shyam (played by Vinod Khanna) and Chhennu (played by Shatrughan Sinha). The film ends with the death of Nani maa as she is caught between the cross-firing of the two gangs.
Mere Apne was unique in several ways. The protagonist was in her eighties. There was hardly any romantic angle woven in the story. The emphasis was on the youth unrest in the early 1970s. Although the original film was set in Bengal, Gulzar’s adaptation took it to Allahabad.
The next venture was Achanak (1972), based on a story by Khwaja Ahmad Abbas, ‘The Thirteenth Victim’ (often mistakenly referred to as a film based on the famous Nanavati trial). A songless film, it talks of the strong intention of the filmmaker, as the producers and distributors, especially at that time, banked on the songs and their popularity for a film’s success. The film was about the emotional turbulence of a man who is deeply in love with his wife, only to discover that she is having an extramarital affair in his absence, which finally leads him to kill her. The highlight of the film’s screenplay is the change in the emotional graph of the protagonist.
Gulzar went on to make more ‘off-beat’ films like Parichay (1972) and Koshish (1972) before he made Aandhi. While Parichay (1972) was adapted from the Hollywood film, Sound of Music (1965), Koshish (1972) was based on the love, life and struggles of a couple who are mute and hearing impaired, brilliantly played by Sanjeev Kumar and Jaya Bachchan.
Both films were distinct in their own way, winning awards and the hearts of the masses. Parichay was the first film where Gulzar and music director R.D. Burman worked together, and thus began a memorable collaboration of fascinating melodies and profound lyrics. Koshish’s screenplay fetched Gulzar his first National Award. Despite back-to-back commercial successes, it is important to emphasize that Gulzar didn’t make these films using any templated commercial film formula. Neither were they completely off-beat films. It appeared as if he had even managed to confuse – and please – critics and audiences by making films that were in a unique and new genre of their own.
Gulzar’s next film was Aandhi in 1975, a year which happens to be an important one in the history of Hindustani cinema. It is quite apt to call it the watershed year of Hindustani cinema – prolific in terms of commercial successes and diverse in the kind of range it offered. It was as much a year of blockbusters like Sholay and Deewar as it was of superhits like Julie, Mili, Nishant, Amanush, Chupke Chupke and Jai Santoshi Maa. Amitabh Bachchan and Sanjeev Kumar were both vying for the award for the Best Actor and in spite of the success of Deewar, the Filmfare Award went to Sanjeev Kumar for his role in Aandhi. (Three years later, the two actors were once more in contest for the same award, except this time it was Amitabh Bachchan who received the honour for Amar Akbar Anthony [1978].)
Having said that, the year 1975 was Gulzar’s year – he had three releases, one after the other, all of them strikingly different and in a class of their own; all with the characteristic Gulzar stamp.
After Aandhi, Gulzar’s next film was Mausam (1975), in which he explored yet another dimension of the man-woman relationship. There’s a story behind the timing of both these films. Gulzar said, ‘On Aandhi’s premiere,
I was shooting for Mausam, and on Mausam’s premiere I was shooting for Aandhi.’6 It so happened that Gulzar finished shooting Aandhi and by the time it was about to release in theatres, he had started shooting for Mausam. However, when the controversy around Aandhi erupted (discussed at length in the next chapter), he had to make a couple of additions and deletions to the film. So, it was during this second session of shooting for Aandhi that Mausam had its premiere. Mausam was adapted from the novel, The Judas Tree by A.J. Cronin, a Scottish novelist. It fetched Gulzar the National Award for the Second Best Feature Film and the Filmfare Award for Direction while Aandhi got him the Filmfare Critics’ Award for Best Film.
Khushboo (1975), Gulzar’s third film that year was culled out from Saratchandra Chatterjee’s Bengali story ‘Pandit Moshay’. Instead of adapting the entire story, Gulzar extracted from it a linear storyline and wove the entire film around it. It is a story of a spirited woman, and the film can be labelled as one of the precursors of feminist cinema.
Kitaab (1978), which also happens to be one of Gulzar’s favourites, was also adapted from Bengali literature and this time, it was Samaresh Basu’s ‘Pothik’ (Traveller), a story about a young boy who stays with his sister and brother-in-law. It is narrated as seen from the eyes of the boy. Another story by Basu that Gulzar adapted for screen was ‘Akal Bashonto’ (Untimely Spring) which he named Namkeen (1981). What is characteristic of these films, like all of Gulzar’s work, is that they were not only strikingly different from the films his contemporaries were making at the time, but even individually, they were different from each other.
Kinara (1977) was based on Bhushan Banmali’s story, which in turn was inspired by a Hollywood film, Magnificent Obsession. The legend of Baaz Bahadur and Rani Roopmati has been woven beautifully in it, along with the love story of Inder and Arti. This film also received acclaim – both critically, as well as commercially.
Inspired by William Shakespeare’s A Comedy of Errors, Gulzar made Angoor (1980), a film now considered a timeless comedy. Although a film titled Do Dooni Chaar with a storyline similar to that of Angoor had already been made earlier in 1968 by Debu Sen, where Gulzar was involved as a writer, it was not commercially successful. Therefore Gulzar wanted to make it again. This time, his treatment helped the film successfully connect with the masses.
Gulzar delved into history too and the outcome was Meera (1979), the story of a sixteenth-century Rajasthani princess who was in love with Lord Krishna, and devoted her life singing hymns in his praise. Once again, it is the woman protagonist, whom Gulzar made all powerful and gave the strength to revolt against the existing norms of a royal family.
Gulzar’s Ijaazat (1986) is based on a Bengali short story by Subodh Ghosh, where for the first time in Hindustani cinema, an extramarital affair has been dealt with in a mature manner; the wife and the ‘other woman’, both seemed to be right in their own places and were equally loved by the audiences. The male hero too had the audience’s sympathy. The song ‘Mera kuch samaan’ (Some of my belongings) continues to be a favourite amongst listeners. It went on to win both the National Award and the Filmfare Award.
Lekin (1991) is based on a short story by Tagore, ‘Kshudito Pashaan’, and is about a government official (played by Vinod Khanna) posted in a village in Rajasthan, where he meets a woman, Reva (played by Dimple Kapadia). Her character, though, is shrouded in mystery and one keeps guessing if Reva is real or just a figment of his imagination. The film is a saga of time and birth, and took the audiences to Rajasthan, beautifully captured among the sand dunes and old havelis.
If Maachis is a sequel of sorts to Mere Apne, Hu Tu Tu seems to be a follow-up to Aandhi. It is not just the passing of time, but through his films, Gulzar has tried to bring to the forefront the changes that came about in the sociopolitical fabric of the country. The small-town politics, led by the unemployed youth who are dissatisfied with society at large in Mere Apne eventually go on to show how the same youth are exploited and revolt against the political establishment. Their level of anger seems to increase over time, keeping with the changing political scenario in the country. Maachis is also a telling statement of the political situation prevailing in Punjab at the time. It brought together the combination on Gulzar and Vishal Bhardwaj for the first time in films, which went on to give many memorable scores. Hu Tu Tu seems to take off twenty-five years following Aandhi. If there was a woman politician in the latter, who gave up her family life to continue her career in politics, Hu Tu Tu is from the perspective of the daughter of a politician who uses unscrupulous ways to reach the heights where she finally reached.
Having briefly touched upon the repository of Gulzar ’s work, let us come back to the film in focus, Aandhi.
Synopsis
Set against a political backdrop of the elections and politicking between various parties and politicians, Aandhi is a love story between a hotel manager and his ambitious wife who aspires to be a minister one day. If this man–woman relationship has love, humour and sacrifice on the one hand, there is ego and ambition on the other. The couple has differences due to their very contrasting personalities. Using the oft-used technique of the flashback, a favoured tool with Gulzar, the screenplay moves through different planes, comparing the two protagonists and revealing the contrasts in the way various issues are experienced by a married couple. Both the headstrong, individualistic protagonists develop into mature characters as the story enfolds.
The opening scene, when the credits are rolling, sets the tone of the film. Different parties are shown canvassing for their respective candidates. Finally, the attention is on the protagonist of the film, Aarti Devi, who plans to visit her constituency. As luck would have it, she comes to stay in the same hotel where JK, her estranged husband, is the manager, obviously oblivious to this fact. However, she is surprised to find things of her taste in the room she checks into (a surahi instead of a flask, chandan agarbattis and so on) puzzling her beyond words, till she comes face to face with him. She visits him in the evening and together they remember the days when they were together, and how they drifted apart. Soon, Aarti Devi’s visit to JK in the evening becomes a daily ritual during her stay at the hotel. They even go out. This portion of the film concentrates on the ebb and tide of their relationship, their first meeting, the entanglement and finally the reasons why they parted ways. Moving parallelly is the narrative of the changing dynamics of the political climate across the country. The role of the print media is particularly highlighted. Aarti Devi is attacked by a mob and gets hit on the forehead. The press conference that follows this attack, is a very interesting satire on the political situation of the country, the role of the opposition and the place of the aam janta, the masses. The opposition party gets a whiff of Aarti Devi’s meetings with JK and attempts to play up a scandal to tarnish her reputation. The film ends with Aarti giving a fiery speech about the sacrifices she had made in her personal life to be in politics, ‘to serve humanity’. She acknowledges the presence of her husband, who in turn sees her off as she proceeds to complete her election campaign.
The film was based on a story written by Kamleshwar, a popular Hindi author7 (with twelve novels including Kitne Pakistan [2000] and seventeen collections of short stories to his credit) and scriptwriter, who had composed other well-known films such as Mausam, Chhoti Si Baat and Amanush that released in the same year as Aandhi (1975). He also wrote the story of Rang Birangi (1983) and dialogues for The Burning Train (1980), Souten (1983), Yeh Desh (1984) and Preeti (1986), amongst others. He even penned serials like Chandrakanta and Yug for the state broadcaster, Doordarshan.
Forty years after its release, Aandhi is still remembered for the talent of Suchitra Sen, Sanjeev Kumar, R.D. Burman and, of course, Gulzar. Although it generated a controversy over the protagonist’s resemblance to the then prime minister, Indira Gandhi, and was even banned for a while, it is not a political film. Dealing with the relationship between a man and his wife, Aandhi is one of the finest films to explore the tussle between patriarchal and individualistic values, unravelling effortlessly the layers in a complex relationship.