Gulzar

How did poetry become a part of your life?

Much of my poetry is a nostalgic trip to my childhood. In one poem, I talk about a tree on the way to school, or, write about an empty can rolling on the streets. I was not a good student. I was scared of Mathematics. In a business family, I was the black sheep and by the time I entered college, my father gave me up as a lost case because all my brothers were brilliant. My father believed that I would end up attending Kavi Sammelans, get some stipend or other and keep borrowing from him and from my accomplished brothers. He would jokingly suggest that I keep good terms with my brothers because I would need them to borrow money from.

What were your educational aspirations?

I wanted to take up literature but was not allowed to. My eldest brother, bestowed with my guardianship, asked me to study C.A. I did not appear for the exams. I came home with laddus on the day of the results telling them I had passed. But I also told them to free me from the responsibility of further studies. I was given the option of joining the Navy which I hated because I hated the uniform. So, having travelled down to Bombay, I began to work in a motor servicing garage and made a lot of poet friends in films through Progressive Writers’ Association by becoming a member. Since my brother was doing his Masters in literature, I read all his books till I could discuss literature with him. But the importance of poetry was spurred on through his association with the Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) and friendships with Basu Bhattacharya, Salil Choudhury, Debu Sen, Shailendra and Sukhbir, a prominent Punjabi-Hindi poet.

How did films happen?

I never wanted to work in films. I dreamt of a teacher’s job since that would give me room for my twin loves, reading and writing. Destiny brought a strange turning point in my life. During the making of Bandini in the early 60’s , S.D. Burman who was composing the music for the film and Shailendra, who was writing the lyrics, had a tiff. There was this tune waiting to be written into. Debu Sen, assistant on the sets, took me to Bimal-da who introduced me to S.D. Since Urdu was my main language, S.D. had some reservations about whether I would be able to infuse my song with the right Vaishnav spirit. I took up the gauntlet. My first song for Hindi cinema was born: Mora gora ang laye le, mohe shyam ang daye de. It became a big hit. By the time the song was over, Shailendra and S.D. had patched up and I was left in the lurch. Bimal-da did not like this. But S.D. was adamant about not taking me on for the rest of the songs.

What happened after Bandini?

During Bandini, I met one of the closest friends in my life – S.D.’s son R.D. (Rahul Dev Burman) who would wander about the sets in shorts and sneak out for a fag now and then. Bimal-da perhaps felt a bit sorry for me and offered me assistantship for his next Hindi film Kabuliwallah, based on a Tagore story. The rest followed. I have worked with some of the most outstanding music directors in Indian cinema such as S.D. Burman, Salil Chowdhury, Shankar- Jaikishan, Hemant Kumar, Laxmikant Pyarelal, Madan Mohan, Rakesh Roshan, Anu Malik, Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy and of course A.R. Rahman. I must also mention the memorable creative partnerships with R.D. Burman, Rahman and Vishal Bharadwaj.

Have you been more of a poet and writer and less of a filmmaker?

It depends on the time, the space, the circumstances and the state of mind I am in at a given point of time. I have written stories for more than 50 films and songs for many more. I have learnt a great deal while making biographic serials for television such as Mirza Ghalib and a documentary film on Pandit Bhimsen Joshi and a full-length feature film on Mirabai called Meera. It has been a long journey. But poetry remains at the top of my many loves. Earlier, when my daughter Meghna was small, I used to publish a book for children every year in celebration of her birthday. I think that I express myself through poetry, literature and films.

What do films mean to you?

Film imbibes many other forms of art. It expresses itself through photography, architecture, acting, music, other than my own medium of expression. This helps me extend my contact with other forms of art and thus enrich my own knowledge, my own person and my extensive contacts with people. I find cinema to be the most satisfying of all arts in terms of creative effort.

Does cinema have a social responsibility towards the masses?

Every film, even if it is a medium of expression for its maker, in fact any form of art has the responsibility of promoting aesthetics and social values and to keep a critical eye on society. To study and improve social relationships is the role of any creative artist through any medium – nationally and internationally. Cinema is no exception.

Though you are a writer yourself, for your films, you have often chosen works of literature to place on celluloid. Why?

I wanted to specialise in literature and the love has consolidated over time. Ijaazat was adapted from a story by Subodh Ghosh, Kitaab and Namkeen are based on Samaresh Bose’s stories, Khushboo is an adaptation of Sarat Chandra’s Pandit Moshai, Aandhi is based on a story by Kamaleshwar inspired by the persona of Maharani Gayatri Devi, Angoor was an adaptation from Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar’s Bhranti Bilash which in turn, was adapted from Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors. Sometimes, like in Ijaazat, I take just a single thread of the original story and weave it with
some of my own creative threads into a tapestry of human relationships based on love and its many-hued splendour. Cinema apart, I must add that Tagore has always been a hot favourite ever since I read a Tagore short story called
Gardener in translation. Since then, one single-minded aim I had was to read Tagore in the original. I learnt to read and write Bengali and I speak Bengali fairly well.

Would you like to mention your personal favourites among your directorial films?

I choose Ijaazat for its mood, Kitaab for its nostalgia — it had a lot of my own childhood, Maachis for its theme and Namkeen for its lovely relationship and well-etched screenplay. Among my lyrics, my personal favourites are Mera kuch samaan pada hai (Ijaazat), Roz akeli aaye (Mere Apne) and Phir se aaiyo badra (Namkeen).

You were a single parent to daughter Meghna when she was little as her mother had to be away on shoots and you had separated. How was the experience like?

It has been one of the happiest phases in my life, trying to be single-parent to Meghna. I learnt to tie her plaits, to get her ready for school because she lived with me throughout the week when she was small and spent the weekends with her mother. Understandably, she is extremely possessive about me.

Any regrets?

My sole regret is that the day does not have 48 hours. The other is my failure to cope with the loss of the closest friend I ever had when R.D. passed away and left me all alone. In the preface of a book of my poems, I wrote:
“There is always an inherent silence in a poem. The poet hides that silence and yet he is loud enough to be echoed by those who share his heartbeats. Silence is an echo of my voice.”

What made you change from your given name Sampooran Singh Kalra at birth to Gulzar?

I gave myself the name Gulzar because I wanted to free myself from any kind of religious or communal associations. That is the only way to survive in this country where brainlessness is symbolised by caste and communal identity.