The year 1976 arrived. Having recovered from the abscess, I turned all my attention to Shatranj Ke Khilari, laying the groundwork for contacts, locations, casting, etc.— the many small details that go into the preparation of a film. I was becoming increasingly excited as we approached the start of filming when catastrophe struck: Sanjeev Kumar, one of our lead actors who was to play the nobleman Mirza, suffered a major heart attack. Fortunately, he survived, but he needed over four months to recover. And no sooner had he been well than Amjad Khan, set to play the nawab of Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah, had a near-fatal car crash. His chest was crushed and he almost died. It took him over three to four months to recover.
Though I felt terrible for both men, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself as well, wondering if our production was jinxed and if I would ever be able to bring this project to fruition. Right through the making of the film, I couldn’t shrug off the fear of things falling through and my dream of making a film with Ray not being realized. I guess it is human nature to fear the worst when you wish for something with all your heart. Setting such negative thoughts aside, I continued to do my bit every day, trying to procure what was needed and completing the tasks that I was responsible for. Meanwhile, the many correspondences on various aspects of the film continued.
Shri Suresh Jindal,
Lucknow
16 February 1976
Dear Shri Jindal,
I acknowledge the receipt of your letter dated the 12. I was in Delhi since the 9 of this month and have returned only this morning, so I could not reply to your letter earlier. You are most welcome at my place along with Shri Satyajit Ray and Shri Rajendra Yadav.1 I shall be happy to serve you with whatever little knowledge I have of my home town.
Best regards,
Yours sincerely,
Amritlal Nagar2
12 February 1976
My dear Manik-da,
Namaskar. As discussed with you over the phone, I hope we can go to Lucknow on Monday, 23 February. I have already got in touch with some people I know there who will be able to help and guide us during our stay there. Please confirm if this date is suitable for you. Also do let me know the status of your trip to the USA.
I hope by the time I meet you we will be able to finalize the cast of the film. In this connection, I would like to make a suggestion that we take a known star as one of our leading ladies. I do not know how you feel about it, but would it be possible for us to cast Raakhee? I venture to make this suggestion since selecting her will not affect the artistic integrity of the film, and yet would also make it commercially more viable in view of our large budget.
Also, I understand you were very impressed by the performance of Amjad Khan in Sholay. Will it be possible to cast him in the role of Wajid Ali Shah?
The minor operation I had undergone was for a fissure which had been bothering me for a long time, and now that it is over, I will be absolutely healthy to devote all my time to our upcoming project.
My best regards to you and your family.
Yours sincerely,
Suresh
Calcutta
16 February 1976
Dear Suresh,
Many thanks for your letter. I’m delighted to know you are up and about again. I’m afraid Lucknow is impossible for the 23. I’m just about to start a short film on Balasaraswati3 (I may have told you about it). We go to Madras on the 26 and shoot from 1 to 15 March. A good date for Lucknow would be 20 March. This is no problem since the Harvard trip has been postponed by a year. Let me know if 20 suits you.
As I told you, things will really get going on The Chess Players from June. I understand your impatience but I see no cause for alarm. Five months is ample time for any preparations we may want to do for the film. So don’t start worrying about the cast yet. I can assure you that I’m not going to use unknowns in the two female parts … Amjad is a good tip for Wajid, but I can only decide after a personal encounter. The rest we shall discuss when we meet. By the way, I think it’ll have to be the writer you suggested for the collaboration (was it Nagore?),4 rather than Kaifi.5 Kaifi doesn’t know a word of English, let alone Bengali.
All the best.
Yours,
Manik-da
18 February 1976
My dear Manik-da,
Thank you for your kind letter dated 16 February 1976, which I just received. I am out of hospital and am perfectly fit. The date 20 March 1976 suggested by you for our visit to Lucknow will be suitable for me.
I have noted what you have to say on the other points.
With best regards,
Yours sincerely,
Suresh
My dear Manik-da,
I had got in touch with Mr Amritlal Nagar and enclose herein a copy of his letter to me. I have informed him regarding the postponement of our trip. If you so wish I can sound him out on the possibility that we would like the dialogues of The Chess Players to be written by him. So far I have not mentioned this matter. I have only asked him to help us with the general research.
Could you please send me the reference of the English translation of Guzeshta Lucknow, as my brother is leaving for England on Sunday, 22 February 1976? I shall ask him to send a copy.
My best wishes for your success of Jana Aranya.
Yours sincerely,
Suresh
21/2/76
Dear Suresh,
Thanks for your letter. You don’t have to tell Nagar just now that he’ll write the dialogue. Let him give expert advice at this stage. If I find him good and easy to work with then he could be assigned to translate my dialogues and add embellishments if necessary.
Here are the details on the English version of Guzeshta Lucknow:
Lucknow: The Last Phase of an Oriental Culture by Abdul Halim Sharar (translated and edited by E.S. Harcourt and Fakhir Hussain) (published by Elek at £12.50)
Jana Aranya opened yesterday. Reports so far are very good. Sorry for the rush.
Yours,
Manik-da
As I was beginning to find out, Ray was a tireless and outstanding researcher. His capacity and love for it was prodigious. His mind was like a steel trap, focused only on the subject at hand. Every available space in his study was now piled high with books on chess, James Outram’s Blue Books from the National Library, books and reproductions of Company School paintings, the Daniells and other master printmakers and painters of Indian landscapes and architecture, miscellaneous travelogues and every other possible kind of information on the ambience, food, clothing, mannerisms, music, etc. of the period in which the story was set. When it came to research and learning anything new, he had the curiosity and inquisitiveness of a child.
I observed him immerse himself in the preparation of the film. Just accompanying him to meetings with scholars, academicians, experts and specialists in music, art, architecture and military history was an amazing experience and taught me a great deal. We also went to museums, the havelis of aristocratic Lucknawis and the thakur baris of north Calcutta. From the Imperial War Museum and the India Office Library to the Falaknuma Palace of the nizams of Hyderabad and the City Palace Museum in Jaipur—it was like researching the period for a PhD. One evening we would be having dinner with the Rajmata of Jaipur and the next morning searching for an expert on the Shia namaz in the winding alleys of old Lucknow. It was like a magical mystery tour: psychedelic all the way, in every way.
And what was always most evident was the utmost respect he bestowed on anyone who helped widen his knowledge. His impeccable reputation opened many doors for us, but he was always genuinely grateful that people were so kind, perhaps because he didn’t fully grasp his own greatness and fame.
Delhi
4 March 1976
My dear Manik-da,
I hope the shooting of the documentary has been completed and everything is going on smoothly. I am leaving for Bombay tomorrow and will be back in Delhi by the 10. In case there is some matter on which you want to contact me before I return, my address in Bombay is as follows:
Suresh Jindal
C/o Taj Mahal Hotel
Bombay - 400 001
Yours sincerely,
Suresh
4/3/76
Dear Suresh,
I’m here in Madras working on the documentary on Balasaraswati. We expect to be back in Calcutta around the 16 or so. I shall certainly be in a position to make the Lucknow trip on the 20. I hope you will make necessary arrangements in the meantime. Must thing for you would be to give me a call on the 18 or so, and let me know if everything’s OK.
I hope this finds you well.
Yours,
Manik-da
Everywhere we went people were awed by Ray’s talent and fame. When we finally managed to coordinate our schedules and reach Amritlal Nagar’s house in Lucknow, the aged writer welcomed us with delight and these words: ‘This is the happiest day for this small house of mine. I feel deeply respected and obliged by your visit.’ As always, Manik-da shied away from the praise, never quite able to decide what to do on these occasions.
Nagar-ji showed us around his haveli where it is believed Wajid Ali Shah spent his last evening. He also showed us his research room, which resembled an intellectual’s den from the Middle Ages. Of particular interest was a raised platform covered by a green sheet on which sat his low Indian-style desk where he had composed and written many great novels. During the visit, Ray and Nagar discussed Premchand and Shatranj Ke Khilari, Wajid Ali Shah, the costumes and fashion of the period, as well as the manner of life and social relationships in nineteenth-century Lucknow. Nagar-ji showed us his paintings, prints, photos and an original brick from Ayodhya’s famed Laxman ka Teela. He bowed his head and prayed in front of photographs of Premchand and Saratchandra Chatterjee, telling us that they were his gurus.
Since Ray and Nagar were both experts in Bengali, they immediately formed a close bond, and I could see Manik-da’s delight at such a rare exchange of ideas. As we left, he remarked: ‘Suresh, every film is like an adventure!’ In fact, for him it was more: It was a secret journey into his own creative world. His quest was not only for knowledge but also for wisdom and personal growth.
Long after our visit, the two men kept up a friendly correspondence. In later years, whenever I visited Lucknow and stopped off at Nagar-ji’s, the first thing he would ask about was Manik-da’s well-being and activities.
12 April 1976
New Delhi
My dear Manik-da,
I have written to Pustak Kendra, Lucknow, to send you a set of the Rare India series. I have also sent them the payment, so please do not pay if they inadvertently send you a bill.
As the starting time for The Chess Players is getting closer, I would like to make you privy to a few thoughts:
1. I am hoping that by now a more complete budget can be set down. Maybe your production manager Mr Anil Choudhury can start on it. Since a lot of our shooting is to be done in the studios, an idea of the set costs is important. In this matter I have no experience, as Rajnigandha had no sets. In this case, we have to allow for some extravagance on Bansi-da’s part. Everyone agrees he is a fine set designer (perhaps the best we have) but everyone also agrees on his extravagance.
2. Regarding casting: a rough sale price would work out as follows:
If negative cost is 35 lakhs6
Cost of quota prints and levy would be 10 lakhs
Total: 45 lakhs
The cost of each territory (there are six, including overseas) comes to 7.5 lakhs at break even. To that has to be added 20 per cent for interest payments, production publicity, unforeseen contingencies and producer’s profit. This is a rough rule of thumb. Therefore, the sales cost comes to about 9 lakhs.
For a film of this kind, the territories of CPCI (i.e., Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and parts of Maharashtra) and Punjab (comprising of Punjab, Haryana, Himachal and Jammu & Kashmir) may be hard to sell initially. Even later, they may have to be given at a lower price. This necessitates asking a higher price for the other circuits, say 10 lakhs.
An asking price of 10 lakhs requires some padding in the casting. Sanjeev and Saeed have been finalized as the chess players. I hope Amjad Khan can be fixed for Wajid Ali’s role, since apart from being an actor of promise, he is also becoming more ‘saleable’. That leaves us some leeway only in the female casting. Even though the female roles are not very long in the film, for the distributors a big name on the marquee has an initial draw.
In Lucknow we had discussed the possibility of using Hema Malini. You had felt that perhaps the role may not be attractive to her as it is small. If you feel that in other ways she can fit the bill, I am sure she will be willing. Unless you feel she may be totally incongruous in the role, I request we give her a try.
I know it will be ideal if we could get Muslim girls to do the roles, but unfortunately, the choice is very restricted. The Muslim girls we have are Zeenat Aman and Shabana Azmi. Another person who could be considered is Vidya Sinha.7
3. Regarding the laboratory: in Bombay films a lot of laboratory credit is given, which, as you can well appreciate, is a great relief on the resources available for production. Famous Cine Laboratories and Studios, Mahalaxmi, had given me a 50 per cent credit for Rajnigandha because I was a new producer using all newcomers. The owner, Shri Roongta, has been after me for this project, and I can get very advantageous terms. Besides that they have excellent editing facilities with four brand new Steinbecks. Also, my working relation with them is excellent and they gave me very fair treatment in my rough times. I do not know what terms Gemini8 will be willing to give us. From what I hear, they give very little or no credit. All the same, on hearing from you, I will write to them to see what they can do. Further, a lab in Bombay will also be easier logistically speaking.
4. A schedule of the outlay of funds: this could be easily worked out along with the budget. Pre-shooting expenses will mainly be on the signing amounts, preparation of costumes, general research and development. According to my calculations, our expenditures will start by June.
I write this in complete trust and frankness so as to arrive at a closer working relationship. I do hope it does not intrude upon the work at hand.
My best regards,
Yours sincerely,
Suresh
Calcutta
18 April ’76
Dear Suresh,
Many thanks for your letter. The books arrived safely. A most useful bunch, and a most generous gift for which I am truly grateful. I hope you won’t make a habit of this kind of generosity; it’s a trait that a film producer must learn to do without!
Your letter presents the financial aspects of the production very clearly. Although I hadn’t worked out the details myself, I had a hunch that this is what it would look like on paper. It only serves to strengthen the feeling that we haven’t perhaps made the ideal choice in The Chess Players. It must be clear to you that, being a period piece involving Wajid as well as the British, the low-budget approach was ruled out automatically. The cost would be high regardless of casting. And since it would be high, the rules of the game demand a further addition by way of stars to ensure the film’s saleability. But even here there are problems.
Amjad is a very good choice for Wajid, but for all I know he may have already been typed as a villain. (What has he done since Sholay?) In our film there won’t be a trace of villainy in his part.
Hema has the drawback of looking a south Indian from a mile away. As such she would be a slur on my reputation for meticulous casting. It’s true that there are quite a number of big name stars in Bombay who wouldn’t mind playing comparatively small roles for me; but what about afterwards, when the public finds out they’ve been had? My feeling is that this sort of thing often works against a film.
My biggest stumbling block, however, is the growing impression in my mind that the story is intractable from a script point of view, or at best can make an arty, intellectual type of film which would put off the distributors. The reason for this is that I am finding it extremely difficult to put across the idea of addiction on which the development as well as the denouement of the story hangs. There would be no problem at all if we were dealing with gambling instead of chess. The idea of addiction to an intellectual game would remain at a level of abstraction—except to chess addicts—no matter how much you tried to make it psychologically believable. And the moment you got down to the business of showing the game, silence and inaction would descend upon the screen—with what consequences you may well imagine. One would be on safer grounds if the quiet moments of the play could come between scenes of strong action. Unfortunately, the annexation itself was an anti-climax—with the nawab laying down arms and the British virtually walking in and taking over.
I want another fortnight to decide whether a way out of the impasse can be found. If not, I suggest that we abandon this particular project, disregarding the publicity it has already received. I think I told you in the beginning of my habit of announcing a project only after finishing the screenplay. I’ve scrapped dozens of stories after a period of initial enthusiasm just because they proved unscriptable. I had to break the rule in the present instance primarily because of Sanjeev. The time has now come to decide whether we should plunge into a 50-lakh project without the backing of total conviction that it is viable. Let me know what you think.
Best,
Manik-da
Shri Satyajit Ray,
Calcutta
6 May 1976
My dear Manik-da,
I have received your letter dated 18 April 1976 and have been pondering over it ever since. Further discussion on this can better be done by meeting personally.
I am leaving for Bombay tonight. As my own flat is still not completely ready for occupation, I will be staying with Tinnu. Kindly drop me a line care of Tinnu or Bansi-da regarding your programme for Bombay. I will be in Bombay for at least three weeks.
My best regards to you and your family.
Yours sincerely,
Suresh
I was not privy to how Manik-da resolved the problem he mentions in the previous letter. I know he did not want to disappoint me since he was acutely aware that I had my heart and soul invested in the project. But then, he too must have had a lot at stake—his first film in Hindi. He must have wanted to do it or he would have gone in another direction. I only know I was ever so grateful when he let me know that he had solved the problem and we could move forward.
With the exception of boarding school and my studies abroad, I had spent most of my life in New Delhi where my family was based. With the money from my first film, I purchased a flat in Bombay, since I needed to be where the film industry is located. At the start of our film project, I had still not shifted into it but would soon do so. It goes without saying that when we were on location, we stayed in hotels that I, as the producer, provided.
As for filming locations, it was decided that all indoor scenes were to be shot at Indrapuri Studio in Calcutta, since it was the most familiar and easy option for Ray and also cheaper than any Bombay studio. For outdoor scenes, besides the city landscapes, we found a village near Lucknow; and since the horses needed for the long defile of the British troops at the end of the film could only be recruited from the 61st Cavalry Regiment of the army based in Jaipur, we ended up filming there as well. We also did a bit of patchwork filming in Bombay for a scene that had to be redone because an actor’s scarf did not match the previous shots. Manik-da and I had recced all these places together during his research trips.
Wherever we went, he always worked with utmost dedication. An example of this was once when we had returned to the cool sanctuary of the hotel after scouting locations on dusty Indian plains in the blazing May sun. We had just finished lunch and all I wanted was a well-deserved siesta. Suddenly we received a call from a benefactor of Ray’s saying he had some period costumes and jewellery to show us, which he also offered on loan for the filming.
‘Dada, maybe you should rest awhile. May I call them back and say we’ll come in the evening?’ I asked, with fake oversolicitousness.
‘We can go now, Baba. Just give me a few minutes to freshen up,’ he responded with a smile at my not-too-well-concealed groan.
No rest for the weary around this cinema addict, I sighed to myself, but learnt an important lesson: best to pursue leads immediately, before people change their minds.