Anurag banne ki koshish mat kar!

When I was in school I was often reprimanded by my parents for spending time with kids who were seen as errant, disobedient and generally rebellious. The fear that their child would not conform to what the world perceived as ‘correct’ and ‘good’ made me believe that spending time with them or secretly trying to be like them was the stuff fantasies were made of. Then I went to college. There were some boys who were always at the centre of every crisis, the reason for indiscipline and generally a bad influence on the rest of the class. Our professors, hostel wardens, good students and parents wanted us to be as far as possible from these unholy influences – lest their ward’s career would get jeopardized in such august company.

Then I started working. I got married. I had a wife. I had professional colleagues. I was prohibited from spending time with friends who went out to the theatre and then spent hours in a small room drinking, smoking and discussing stuff that was irrelevant to daily survival or totally out of sync with a professional growth plan. They were called destructive, careless and wastrels.

Then one day I got an opportunity to travel out of the country on an assignment. I was alone. No parents. No wife. No colleagues. I did everything I was prohibited from doing. I spent time with all the people I was conditioned to stay away from. I started appreciating music. I started viewing art. I started reading poetry. I discovered a love for the movies. And then movies hit me.

I returned home a different man. I returned home to a shocked family. My clothes were no longer neat. I had thrown away my ties. I was wearing old jeans. I was drinking rum. I spent all my free time either watching movies or listening to music. And I had a lot of free time. And I had no job. And I wanted to make movies.

I realize that my story is getting rather lengthy and that I need to make my point now.

In the process of trying to make movies and finding my feet as a different human being without a care for the future I met four people who changed my life. Each of them in their own ways had a very deep influence on my life. Being influenced is neither positive nor negative. It is simply an experience that shapes your likes, dislikes, beliefs, convictions, preferences and choices. Vishal Bhardwaj, Ashish Vidyarthi, Manoj Bajpai and finally the subject of this lengthy treatise – Anurag Kashyap.

Because of Vishal I met Ashish. Because of Ashish I met Manoj. Because of Manoj I met Anurag. And my first film was born. But that is not the point.

Anurag was a brat. He had an opinion. He had a voice. He listened. He paid no heed. Money could only buy him published screenplays and movies. And occasionally pay his rent.

So here was this passionate, opinionated, radical, often random, sometimes cynical brat who had scant respect for convention or rules. He reveled in argument, enjoyed criticism, angered critics, rubbished stalwarts, revered rebels, rejected idiots and suffered fools.

Years passed. We drifted apart.  I made many films – some decent, some memorable, some downright atrocious. Anurag wrote some great films, some terrible films, and made some brilliant films. He continued to anger many. His films were banned. He was mauled, heralded, hated and celebrated. Not much had changed about him. The only difference was that people now listened to him. His voice was heard. But few agreed with him. He was still a rebel with an unknown cause and unlimited anger. He listened to everybody but paid heed to nobody.

Anurag became the equivalent of the bad company my parents and my family had prohibited me from emulating or getting associated with. Conventional wisdom perceived him as destructive, indulgent and subversive. Any unusual story that I would narrate met with the refrain ‘Anurag banne ki koshish mat kar!’ (Don’t try to be another Anurag!). For the well heeled, for the formula suckers, for the greedy Anurag was a bad word. For the dead before it was alive Indian indie scene Anurag was a messiah. He made what he wanted without really caring about the audience or the eventual consequences on his career or finances. He was somebody you always aspired to be but would never have the courage to be.

I saw his new film ‘That Girl In Yellow Boots’ sometime early this year. And then I saw it last night. I have maintained that I am not qualified to review a film. I can only react to a film.

‘That Girl In Yellow Boots ‘ is is a fearless film made by the same brash boy I met nearly 14 years ago. Irreverent yet intensely cinematic, indulgent yet arresting, cold yet unabashedly emotional, soft yet utterly brutal this is Anurag’s most honest film to date. The narrative is unhurried, the rhythm is soft, the handling is deft and the vision is clearly that of somebody who is totally in control of his medium. This is a film that will occupy the highest place in his oeuvre. This is Anurag’s dance in the rain. This is Anurag’s subversive poetry. This is a cinematic representation of Anurag’s disturbed mind. This is a film that will disturb you. Whether you like it or hate it you cannot afford to ignore it.

This is a film that needs to be supported if there is to be any hope for independent cinema in this suffocating, star driven world of folly called Bollywood.

And it is my answer to all those who tell me ‘Anurag banne ki koshish mat kar!’

Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar (2000) – Not So Funny!

I hate the past. But I still cannot help looking back. Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar is perhaps the most bittersweet experience of my life. A film whose highs and lows began way before it even started.

Sometime in August 1997 music baron Gulshan Kumar was brutally killed by unidentified assailants. There were many unsuccessful attempts on film personalities before this and it was a fearful time. Dreaded gangsters and ‘eminent’ film personalities were named in many conspiracy theories that followed this shocking murder. But who were the guys that finally pulled the trigger? What were their compulsions? What was their motive? These questions kept plaguing me as I tried to visualize the murder.

I think of myself as a voyeur pretending to be a film-maker. I love making films about internal conflict arising out of shocking tales that one reads in newspapers. I love all the agony aunt columns because they discuss issues related to human inadequacy and give you a peek into private worlds. So coming back to ‘Dil Pe…’, I was intrigued by the idea of making a film about the man who actually pulled the trigger on Gulshan Kumar. I wanted to be there on the scene of the crime to see his face. I wanted to see the killer and his victim before that defining moment. The idea for ‘Dil Pe…’ began to take shape.

My killer would be an ordinary migrant in the city of Mumbai. I wanted him to be a casual textile mill worker (casualdaily wages worker). I wanted my character, that of the voyeur, to be this workers best friend. I wanted him to be a marriage videographer (this was a term used for people who covered marriages, I don’t know if the term still exists). Not many people are aware that before I began my journey in television and films I used to shoot marriages. And before shooting marriages I worked in a textile mill! My story was about Mumbai – a city where for every fulfilled dream there are a few thousand shattered dreams. My story was about one such shattered dream and about the extent of internal destruction it could cause to people who seemed most innocent. My story was about desperation leading to people finding opportunity in the midst of maximum adversity. The idea was taking shape in my mind. But I was still making my first film ‘Jayate…’ then. The idea was too radical and I had no hopes of finding a producer to back this thought. But the idea kept troubling me. Everyday a new thought kept cropping up. A story was taking shape.

I shared my idea with two of my closest friends and associates then – Manoj Bajpai and Anurag Kashyap. If I remember correctly ‘Satya…’ was being shot then. We had very little idea about what life had in store for us. A fledgling director, a passionate writer and a struggling actor.  We got drunk that night. I gave Manoj and Anurag a handsome signing amount of One Rupee. We decided that we would make this film. And we continued drinking…

I made ‘Jayate…’. It never got released. ‘Satya’ was successful. Manoj Bajpai aka Bhiku Mhatre became a star overnight. Anurag Kashyap became a celebrated writer. He was also ready with a script that he wanted to direct. I think it was called ‘Mirage’. It was later rechristened ‘Paanch’. I had an unreleased film and was back to doing television. I guess all of us drifted apart then, charting our own respective destinies. ‘Dil pe…’ was put on the back-burner. No money, no career, nobody to back the story and the director…

I was shooting for a short story called ‘Ae Mote’ for a slot called ‘Rishtey’ on Zee TV. As the title suggests it was about a fat man. It was a fat man’s love story. Saurabh Shukla was playing the main protagonist. Television budgets were extremely restrictive and schedules were very demanding. I had to complete the 45 minute story in 3 days. The last day of the shoot was crazy. I had around 25 minutes of the story left to complete. It was going to be a long, extended shift. We began at 7 am and the shoot lasted around 30 hours. At 10.30 pm we were exhausted. Saurabh was trying to kick the smoking habit. He had been successful until then. An exhausted Saurabh asked me for a cigarette and sat down with me. He was going through a depression because of some confusion over a story that he had written for Ramgopal Verma. I think the film was ‘Kaun’. What seems trivial today was a big issue then. I am digressing again. Back to ‘Dil pe..’.

I think a director’s job is mostly about managing creative talent. Film-making is more about handling varied temperaments, assuaging anger, managing frustration and motivating people in the face of extreme adversity. Film-making is about making talented, disparate individuals focus on a singular vision. To keep Saurabh awake I decided to take his attention away from the impending schedule and exhaustion. I sat him down and narrated my story to him. Suddenly, he was awake. I had pressed the right buttons. He offered to write the film – FREE. The only condition was that he would play the marriage videographer. ‘Dil pe…’ was back in my life. We finished the shoot and kept meeting over the script.

Saurabh’s take on the story was fascinating. He saw it as an ‘end of innocence’ story. He saw it as a film about the city taking its toll on an innocent migrant. Gradually, the characters of Ram Saran Pandey – the garage mechanic, my protagonist and Gaitonde, his videographer friend were born. A brilliant character that Saurabh created was Tito, a loud, good-for-nothing ‘Dubai-return’ wannabe.  As the screenplay and many other memorable characters took shape we realized that we still did not have a producer for the film. The screenplay was funny, very dark and dealt with characters that were always bundled in contradictions.

We were still dreaming, but in vain… Saurabh spoke to a friend who agreed to back the film. The budget of the film was Rs. 20 lakhs (US$50,000). We were going to shoot the film on 16mm. The producer’s only condition was that Manoj Bajpai should play Ram Saran.

After much hesitation and awkwardness, my worst fears came true. Manoj refused the film. He wanted to be part of a much bigger film. He wanted to support me but in a bigger endeavor. In despair I approached the very gifted and under-rated Aditya Srivastava for Manoj’s role. Aditya agreed. The producer backed out. By then I was hell-bent on making this film. I was tired of television. I was desperate to hear the whirring sound of a film camera. I was desperate to make a film. I was desperate to make ‘Dil pe…’ . And the only way to make it was to produce it myself…

An entire book can be dedicated to all the people who came together to realize ‘Dil pe mat le yaar!’.  My co-producers Anish Ranjan and Ajay Tuli. They believed in my dream. They never let me worry about the constant lack of funds. We lived the agony and ecstasy of this film together. We had many fights, many arguments but ultimately we were driven by the desire to make a great film. We disagreed on a regular basis and had completely dysfunctional personal lives while making this film. My assistant director Kanika. Her father had sent her money from Muscat to book an apartment in Mumbai. That money helped us shoot the first schedule of the film.

Tabu and I met over another script that I wanted to make with her. That script never got made into a film. But I found a friend in Tabu. We became internet pals. She accepted the role without even asking for the script or her role. I narrated the script to her in half an hour. The great thing about this wonderful actor is that she approached her character without being judgmental about it. It was easy to call her character a bitch. She just played Kaamya. She is a special actor and a very special person. Hers was perhaps the most under-rated performance in the film.

Aditya Srivastava showed no disappointment when I told him that Manoj would be doing the role offered to him. He accepted the role of Tito for a pittance. He even contributed money towards making the film. I think Tito is one of Indian cinema’s most memorable characters. It was a great performance by a very magnanimous actor.

Saurabh Shukla was admitted to hospital while we were writing the script. He went through the entire pain of making this film with me. He was a stranger to me before the film. I found a brother while making the film. Thank you Saurabh. Without you ‘Dil pe…’ would have been another unrealized dream gathering dust in my store-room.

This film cost me my friendship with Manoj Bajpai. But I guess passion has its price. We react to situations at the heat of the moment and lose sight of ourselves in the process. Our personal situation, however, cannot detract from Manoj’s contribution to the film. His performance was faulted by many but I rate it very highly. It was earnest, energetic and straight from the heart. It was a difficult character that only an actor of Manoj’s caliber could pull off.

I could go on and on and on… Vishal Bhardwaj for his eclectic and very original music, Abbas Tyrewala for being more than just a lyrics writer, Anurag Kashyap for encouraging us through the film despite not being a part of it, Divya Jagdale for surprising us with her spirited performance as Gayatri, Remo the choreographer who made his debut with the film, Asha Bhonsle who sang the title track with such energy, all the very talented actors who played bit parts in the film just to be part of it. There are many people to thank and many people to condemn. But that is not the point.

The protagonist of the film begins with a journey that is soaked in fantasy. Ram Saran’s world is invaded by the beautiful Kaamya (Tabu). He believes that this ambitious and beautiful page 3 journalist actually loves him. Such is his innocence. Little does he realize that he is just an interesting story for her. His world of fantasy soon leads to despair. Then to desperation. Gaitonde, the videographer is a loyal friend with an unhappy marriage and a terrible bank balance. The only assets he has are a run-down, red scooter and an even more run-down video camera. As Ram Saran’s world spirals into a desperate realm Gaitonde changes. Loyalty is replaced by opportunism. Opportunity leads to betrayal. Little does he know that he is in turn being betrayed by his guest Tito and his wife Gayatri. There were multiple layers of betrayal and desperation in the world we had created.

I wanted the film to look ‘dirty’. I wanted the images to look carelessly framed and the camera movement to be minimal. As the lives of my characters reached various levels of despair I wanted the film to lose color. My cinematographer Sanjay Kapoor understood this need. We used a process called Bleach Bypass that involves retention of silver on the film negative after processing. I could get into a major technical exposition on this process. I would rather dwell on the end result. We used various levels of silver retention with grudging help from the laboratory (Adlabs, Mumbai) to gradually de-saturate the colors through the film. As the film progresses we have almost monochromatic hues, highly burnt out skies and very dark shadows. Today, it is possible to achieve all this using digital technology though I still feel that digital technology cannot replace the amorphous nature of film. Unfortunately, the DVD transfer of the film does not reproduce our technical innovation faithfully. I wish more people had seen the film at the movie halls.

I realize that I have written much more on this post than I intended to write. But there is a lot more to share.  Maybe on the next post.  If all of you have the patience to read on…