I remember the Bombay of mills, with smoke constantly rising from the chimneys. It was an industrial city, known for textiles across the country. I remember buses where no passenger was allowed to stand. It was a city of progressive labour unions, labour laws and workers’ movements. I have seen workers’ rallies and remember (Shripad) Dange Sahab, the great union leader, carrying the banner and leading those marches. Mazdoor gareeb zaroor the, par us gareebi mein bhi ek izzat thi. Usme sharmindagi nahin thi. (The workers may have been poor, but there was dignity in that poverty. There was no shame in it.) We used to attend Progressive Writers’ Association meetings at Charni Road with people like Sardar Jafri, Rajindra Singh Bedi, Krishan Chander and Sahir Sahab. We were younger writers, so after those meetings ended, we would continue our discussions on the upper deck of a tram all the way to Dadar. Conductors and passengers would listen to poems and stories and even participate. All that is not there now.

What Mumbai has retained is its progressive outlook. Earlier, if somebody wanted to dream bigger or look beyond the country, the route somehow passed through Bombay. Even today, Mumbai looks outward and pushes people from the national towards the international. The skyline has changed completely. I remember how Mira-Bhayandar, Borivali and Bhandup, once jungles, have become mini Mumbais. There are tall buildings where once there were palm trees and open views. But some things have become more beautiful. Haji Ali earlier felt trapped within the city. Today, when you pass it from the flyover, especially during high tide, it looks like a gem to me. The city has grown, but some of that change is beautiful.

I would say not only eyes, keep your antennas open, and the city will nourish you and keep you informed. If I spend the whole day at home and then go out in the evening to look for life, then I am finished as a writer. Life is not displayed in a showroom. It is touching you every moment. That is true not only for writers but for painters, musicians, actors and performers.

I think it is one’s temperament… what you notice and what attracts you. There is a story in the book about a boy who draws his own chalk outline every night like the police do around dead bodies and lies down inside it only to roll out of it every morning and say, ‘See, I survived again today’. His sense of humour fascinates me. You must see the zinda (living) part of the city. People ask me why the footpath appears so often in my poems and stories. My association with it is direct, not imagined. But it is neither something to boast about nor turn into a tragedy. The struggle is not that you slept on a footpath. The struggle is how you lived through it. Suppose a man has lost a leg. Do you think he never smiles or is never happy? He may limp and clean taxis or rickshaws for a living, but he still laughs and lives. Don’t count him out.

I look for a live moment in a poem. I’m not giving a lesson. I am working on a show about the environment. But environment is not about saying, look how dirty things have become. How do you make people aware of trees? Of leaves? My next book, called ‘Spinning the Moments’, has a poem called ‘Ek akela patta’ where a tree is half submerged in flood water, but that one lone leaf still attached to the tree whispers to it, ‘Darna mat, main hoon na’. My heart goes out to that moment. That’s what makes a poem.

A young man from Kerala once wrote to me asking if he could publish a Malayalam version of my book ‘Suspected Poems’ that his father had translated while he was in jail during a communist movement. I liked the gesture and told him to go ahead. Later, he came to meet me with the book. That act of sharing is wonderful.

Bombay is like the eldest brother in a family who takes care of the younger ones. When I write, ‘Yeh shehar woh nahin jahan main 60 saal pehle aaya tha’ (This is not the city where I arrived 60 years ago), the city replies to me: ‘Yeh sab theek hai, par tum bhi woh nahin jo 60 saal pehle aaye the.’ (All that may be true, but you are not the same person who arrived here 60 years ago either.) It is because of us that the city changes, and it is because of the city that we change. The migrating population that comes every day and goes back leaves its impressions. The city learns from them and makes space for them.

At an event held recently to celebrate poet, lyricist, author, screenwriter and director Gulzar’s work in the literary world, including the Jnanpith Award, poet, lyricist and screenwriter Prasoon Joshi said that it is cinema’s good fortune to have Gulzar as part of its world. Prasoon, the moderator of this evening, also pointed out, “Filmonse judi baatein itni zyaada ho jaati hai ki hum yeh bhul jaate hai ki Gulzar saab ke dimensions kya-kya hai.”

During the conversation, Gulzar reflected on the skill of translating literary works, choosing to leave space for interpretation in his creations and welcoming change in both his life and creative space. Excerpts:

Gulzar, who has translated Rabindranath Tagore's works into Hindi, spoke briefly about how he was influenced by his writing. He shared, “Main school mein padhta tha, woh partition ka time tha aur tab bahut se libraries hoti thi. Aap chavanni deke hafte mein jitni bhi chaahein kitabein padh sakte the. Uss waqt main jasoosi wali kitbabein leke aata tha, aur raat mein padh leta tha. The shopkeeper got fed up and said, ‘How many books will you take for this amount?’ He pulled out a book and handed me what was the Urdu translation of Tagore’s work. See, you can be influenced even without understanding something. Shayari ka feel pehle aata hai aur uske baad usse samjhne ki koshish hoti hai. I think all education begins in a similar manner. You keep hearing shlokas and then one day you realise the meaning behind them.”

Upon being asked how he navigates a translation when he is unable to find a word that matches the original, Gulzar said, “I use the original word, phir main usse apni zubaan mein samjhata hoon. We have so many and such beautiful languages that you can’t avoid being touched by them. Aur Mumbai jaise shehar mein din mein chaar-paanch zabaanein har shaks ke kaan se takraati hai.”

Besides writing poems and lyrics, Gulzar has also penned screenplays and dialogues. Talking about the various forms and how he compartmentalizes them, he shared, “Whatever I have felt spontaneously, I try to say it in that form, jo mehsoos karta hoon waise hi likta hoon. For example, someone looks at a sunset and says it looks like a painting, and someone else looks at a painting of a sunset and says it looks like a real sunset. Mujhe yeh mehsoos hua tha ke mein roz jab shafaq ko dekhta hoon, toh jee chahta hai main isko haaton pe malke aaon, aur tere rukhsaaron ke upar mal doon. So, for me, it is nazm and it will stay that way. Aur maine isme kartab dikhani ki koshish nahi ki, ki I’ll also write a story or a screenplay, kyunki main literature ke saath kabbadi nahi khelta.”

Prasoon also pointed out that Gulzar — the only creator to be honoured with both the Jnanpith Award and Dadasaheb Phalke Award — finds poetry in life’s smallest details. “There’s no hierarchy for him, ki yeh bahut ahem cheez hai, ispe kavita honi chahiye aur yeh chhoti si cheez hai,” Prasoon said. Talking about often leaving his works open-ended, Gulzar said, “You cannot give a conclusion of any feeling for life. Because what you have felt, someone might feel it differently, and their interpretation may differ.” 

Prasoon added, “We see Gulzar saab not trying to solve life for us, but deepening the mystery of life, and sometimes he leaves you to navigate.”

Many people have a grouse about how the purity of languages is being adulterated. When asked if that worries him, Gulzar responded, “Chinta nahi lagti, mein samjhne ki koshish kar raha hoon. Ya toh aap apni zameen choti kar le, and say that I will only talk this way. Ya aap apni zameen thodi phaila le kyuki doosre logon ke paas ek doosri zameen hai jiske saath aap talooq rakhna chaahte hain. There’s no compulsion to be bound to a language. You have to be aware of the change that your language is going through. When I wrote Naam Gum Jaayegaa (Kinara), people said it was wrong and that it should be naam gum ho jaayegaa. But I told them that when talaash karne ko talaasha bana diya, toh yeh kyun nahi? It’s the growth of your own language, accept it.”

Celebrated Indian poet, lyricist, author, screenwriter and film director Gulzar has penned iconic children’s songs like Lakdi Ki Kaathi from Masoom (1983), Jungle Jungle Baat Chali Hai from The Jungle Book (1989) and Panga from Makdee (2002), the latter two composed by Vishal Bhardwaj. Not many know that even the popular prayer Humko Mann Ki Shakti Dena from Guddi (1971) was written by him. On the occasion of Children’s Day, in a chat at his Bandra bungalow, Gulzar spoke to us about some of his favourite works for children.

Gulzar explains that the idea behind the song was to portray what a young schoolgirl prays for and how she expresses her thoughts. He says, “Humko Mann Ki Shakti Dena went on to become the morning prayer at many schools. Many people don’t know the lyrics were written by me. I was recently working with Shaad Ali (director) at the recording studio, and he mentioned that they used to sing Humko Mann Ki Shakti Dena in school. He was taken by surprise when Shankar Mahadevan mentioned that the lyrics were written by me. If you speak from your heart, it reaches children. Back then, the great Indian poet Kedarnath Singh had told me, ‘Your work has gone beyond your name, which is a great thing.’”

Talking about how he develops the idea that connects with children, he cites the example of Lakdi Ki Kathi (Masoom), a song that has resonated with children across generations. “The idea came from the thought that if you make a child sit on a walking stick and call it a horse, they know it isn’t real, but they still enjoy the experience because of their imagination. It’s also important to use places that they are familiar with, for example, they have heard their parents speaking about visiting the sabzi mandi (vegetable market) or Mehrauli and so on. So, the song must have a familiar environment. Writing for children isn’t about getting the grammar right, it’s about throwing grammar out of the window and connecting with the child’s thought process. Children enjoy tongue twisters, what we give them in textbooks is boring.”

Recalling a controversy over the lyrics of another popular song, he shares, “NFDC had some objection to the lines, Jungle Jungle baat chali hai, pata chala hai, arre chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai (The Jungle Book, 1989). 

“I was told, ‘Gulzar saab ab aap poetry mein chaddi bhi le aayenge.’ There was a silly suggestion to replace the word chaddi with lungi. I asked them if Mowgli in The Jungle Book had put on anything else throughout the film? Ab chaddi ko kuch aur bolenge? Vishal Bhardwaj (music composer for The Jungle Book) has a knack for understanding children, he made films like Makdee and The Blue Umbrella, but didn’t find encouragement from the trade. Vishal himself is a little child for me.”

Gulzar shares, “Since the time I made Koshish in 1972, I have been working with physically challenged children. Every year these children come down from Bhopal and I walk with them at the Mumbai Marathon. These children feel so happy when they appear on television and that gives me immense joy, too. I wish to continue working with children till I’m alive.”

He says, "I wrote a poem on a crow during COVID-19, when death was surrounding us, ambulances were constantly passing by, people were wearing masks but this crow near my house, was busy building it’s nest. Hearing the little crows caw was so inspiring. I ended up writing 14 children’s poems that were published by my friend Sushil Shukla with illustrations by Allen Shaw."

Photo: Prathamesh Bandekar

Gulzar’s home in Mumbai is called Boskyana, and it’s named after his daughter Meghna, whom he lovingly calls Bosky. “The core of my existence remains my daughter,” says the celebrated poet, lyricist, screenwriter and director, who was feted with the Jnanpith award earlier this year.

“I had already imagined becoming a father to a girl child much before she arrived. Once she was born, she became the apple of both our eyes – her mother Rakhee and me. Rakhee was a working mother, and I would take on the role of both a father and mother when she was away on shoots. I believe there is a strong maternal side within me. I remember how she was upset with her caretaker on one occasion because she wanted two plaits. This is why I learnt to braid her hair,” remembers Gulzar, sitting in his cosy library, sipping on green tea.

When it was time to put Meghna in school, she was taken to a kindergarten that she loved so much that she didn’t want to leave it, though other schools were available in the Bandra-Khar area.

Gulzar shares, “We decided to admit her there. Later, I found that it was run by actor Pran’s daughter. I also loved taking her along to buy books – be it from the stores or on the pavement. Once, when she was still a child, she confidently asked the shopkeeper if he had Hans Christian Andersen’s book of fairy tales. The man was surprised that a child was familiar with the author’s name!”

Talking about how Meghna grew up to become a confident young woman, who made her own decisions, he says, “She and her friends decided to join St Xavier’s College and her mother was worried how she would travel. But she learnt to take the train instead of going by car. I wish she had taken to sports, but her interest lay in dramatics. She also met her then-boyfriend and now husband Govind during that time. Like the daughters from film families, she started getting movie offers, though she wanted to complete her studies. I found out about her interest in filmmaking after she started assisting Saeed Mirza,” he recalls.

When it came to going abroad, Meghna had already decided on an institution and did not allow either parent to recommend her anywhere. “Both she and Govind moved to America. Both Govind’s parents and we knew they would marry someday and did not pressurize them,” Gulzar says.

He will turn 90 this year, but the ability to see the humorous side of life hasn’t left Gulzar. “There is the famous story of the cat and the tiger. The cat teaches the tiger all sorts of survival skills, but finally, the tiger pounces on the cat. Seeing the danger, the cat climbs a tree and escapes – and the tiger realizes that he’s not been taught this skill. Meghna learnt all the other skills I have on her own, but even today, when it comes songwriting for her films, she comes to me. She does not let me read her scripts before they are ready, but I’m proud of her journey from Filhaal to Sam Bahadur. The best gift she has given me is my grandson, Samay Gulzar Sandhu,” he tells us.

“Though both my parents are famous people, I’ve had a very normal upbringing. It was nothing like today’s celebrity kids. They were always very present, and I never felt that either of them was not there for me. It isn’t easy for a father to raise a daughter, but he would tie my sash and do my pigtails just the way I wanted them. He would hold me from the back when I went cycling down the slope… these are precious memories. My parents raised me in a way that I could make my own choices and live with them. It was equal parenting and positive reinforcement – that’s how I would describe it,” says Meghna.

She adds, “Though my father writes my film’s songs, he keeps egging me on to write my own songs. I think in English, so when one of my films needs lyrics in English, I do my own writing as well. I am a headstrong director, and as a lyricist, he always offers me that space and courtesy. I hope my son, Samay, imbibes the same values, though he is developing his own personality. Samay and he share a unique bond that’s independent of me or my husband.”

I don’t agree it’s a dying language nor am I worried about its future. Jis zubaan mein aap se main baat kar raha hun, aap sun rahe hai, yeh Urdu nahin toh kya hai? (the tongue I’m speaking to you in, what do you call it if not Urdu?) The Urdu script may not be as prevalent or common today, because professionally it’s not required or popular. But the script isn’t the language itself. The language itself is still alive as it always was. Urdu literature, from the works of Ghalib to Khusro, is available in Hindi Devanagari script. Urdu is spoken daily. Even in Hindi films, isn’t it Urdu? Urdu and Hindi are essentially the same language. It’s the script that keeps varying — sometimes Devanagari, sometimes Urdu. I write in both these scripts, but my main medium is still Urdu. Secondly, let’s not forget, Urdu was born in India. It’s not foreign. Like it happens in the growth of any significant language, Urdu’s phonetics derive from various languages like Awadhi, Prakrit, Braj Bhasha, and Dakhini, yet it remains essentially Hindustani. As Gandhiji said: ‘Leave aside the Hindi-Urdu debate, call it Hindustani... because it belongs to Hindustan.’

They are indeed twins. Javed saab has very rightly pointed out that if their grammar is the same, how can they be considered different languages? I quote Javed saab when he once said, ‘Aapne Kashmir ke liye toh jhagda kar liya, aap ne Urdu ke liye kyun nahi kiya?’ (You’ve fought for Kashmir, why not for Urdu?) It’s your language, after all. However, he also acknowledges that there’s no need to fight for it because promotion of Urdu is essentially the promotion of our own Indian language. For instance, if we use English as a working language here, which comes from the UK and is referred to as the Queen’s language, are we in a constant battle over it? There’s Indian English, just as there’s American English. India, especially in terms of languages, is incredibly rich, and Urdu is a wonderful language that is inherently Indian and still very much alive and thriving.

I don’t see it as Urdu being punished. Urdu has always carried words that were originally Persian, Turkish and even from Uzbekistan. It’s fascinating how it got intertwined with our language here, and borrowed letters like ‘bha’, ‘pha’, ‘tha’, and ‘dha’ from Sanskrit. Today more words are coming in to replace Urdu words, much like how Hindi has incorporated many English terms. But should we really be banning these words? Imagine if we stopped using words like ‘railway’, ‘platform’, ‘car’, or ‘sir’ in everyday speech? If one is not prejudiced, you are able to see how language evolves over time.

Honestly, I don’t share those concerns because they’re not entirely founded. If you meet a Tamilian from Chennai, what language do you think they’ll speak in? Tamil, right? Tamil, Marathi, Bangla — these are our classical languages, deeply rooted in our culture. Are they unsecular for not speaking Hindi? I think a few entities may be creating these fears or prejudices, but India doesn’t need to be taught secularism. Every Indian by their very nature and culture is secular. We speak a minimum of three languages and our ears encounter at least five to seven different languages every day. That is what defines Indian culture and strengthens our secular ethos. I’m optimistic about the resilience of language and the secular character of our society.

One doesn’t need to make a deliberate effort. It will happen on its own. Languages are made by people. Take cinema, for instance. The language spoken in movies a decade ago is quite different from what it was 25 years ago. If you watch Bimal Roy’s ‘Devdas’ (1955) and compare it with P C Barua’s (1935), you’ll see a noticeable shift in expressions and vocabulary although it’s the same story in the same country played by different people at different times. Cinema is a great example of how people shape language. I think one needs to be open-minded, allowing language to naturally change and adapt, much like how seasons and eras define the environment around us. As our world becomes more interconnected, it’s only natural that various influences will continue to shape the Hindustani language, too.

I’m hoping to work on a project that’s close to my heart — compiling all my prose and poetry about Mumbai into a book. I’ve decided to name it ‘Aamchi Mumbai’.

As an author, poet, lyricist, director and screenwriter, he wears many hats. But Gulzar says that the Jnanpith – India’s highest literary award – is a special one, since an honour for literature is always close to his heart. Excerpts from a chat:

Gulzar feels that despite a literary body of work that goes back nearly 50 years, he has received more accolades for his film songs.

“I have got appreciation for film songs, but a literary award is special. I felt that maybe my literary work wasn’t reaching people. But then, this award proves that perception wrong, and I accept it with all humility. Literature has always been my principal fascination. In fact, I didn’t want to move to films, but it was (filmmaker) Bimal Roy who held my hand while I was working in a motor garage and brought me to write for films. I did not have much work in the garage so I would spend a lot of time reading. Even after I started working in cinema, I kept writing books.”

Even today, the 89-year-old spends a lot of time reading the works of other writers and is aware of latest developments in contemporary Indian literature. He has translated contemporary Indian poetry from 34 languages and the works of nearly 300 poets.

“In recent years, the most dynamic and assertive poetry has come out of the Northeast. I’ve also been reading authors Ashok Vajpeyi, Dilip Chitre and Kishor Kadam, who writes under the pseudonym Saumitra in Marathi. As for writers and poets in Hindi cinema, Javed Akhtar has written poignant poetry in Urdu. Nida Fazli, who left us recently, has a wonderful body of work. Prasoon Joshi is also an important name in the field.”

Gulzar’s appreciation and love for the works of Rabindranath Tagore are well documented, and he has translated two volumes of the Nobel laureate. “Tagore is a classic poet like Ghalib. The more I delved into his works the more fascinated I was.”

Gulzar has given the film industry some of its most iconic romantic songs. “People associate me with romance because of my work in films but I see romance in everything, even in the pain and struggle, and in my love for the nation. I would like to tell people, have an affair with life, you will enjoy it.”

The garden at Mumbai’s iconic David Sassoon Library was filled to capacity when acclaimed writer, lyricist, filmmaker and novelist Gulzar inaugurated the literature vertical of the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival 2024 with a session called ‘Yours Truly, with Gulzar’. The conversation led by literary historian Rakhshanda Jalil revolved around Gulzar’s early days in Mumbai, his connect with the city and Marathi literature. Excerpts:

When asked about how he first landed in the city, Gulzar said, “Bahut purani baat hai, bahut saal hue. Sann kaun yaad rakhta hai, ab toh sann yaad rakhne se umr yaad aane lagti hai. Bahut saal hue Bambai mein aaye. Before I came here, jo baat mashhur saare Hindustan mein thi, usmein yeh tha ki, when a boy would run away from home, people would assume he had gone to Mumbai to become an actor. However, I did not come to here to become an actor or join the film industry. My elder brother was a businessman here, and since Delhi was filled with refugees everywhere and it was tough to live there, I was packed off to Bambai in the Frontier Mail with strict instructions ke, ‘Gaadi se mat utarna kahin. Tum apni ghazal kehte rahoge aur gaadi chali jayegi’. Unn dino double-decker buses sirf Bambai mein the and dumanzila bus bahut badi baat thi. Bori Bunder, Chowpatty mashhoor thi,” he said as he spoke about the city. “Meri baatein bahut mamuli, mamuli si hain, koi gyaan ki baatein nahi hain,” he said.

Gulzar was fond of the Bengali language and is well versed in it. This helped him when he began his career in the film industry. Talking about his entry into films, he shared, “Main filmon mein bahut der ke baad aaya. I used to work in a motor garage where I met Bimal da’s (filmmaker Bimal Roy) assistant Debu, who later began to live with me. In those days, I used to meet Salil da (Salil Choudhury) and Shailendra. I had joined the Bombay Youth Choir created by Kishore da’s (Kishore Kumar) first wife, Ruma Guha Thakurta. But mujhe filmon mein jaana nahi tha because literature was my passion. Books were my passion and I wanted to see my books in different sizes and fonts. I told Debu mujhe nahi jaana filmon mein. Shailendra was a little senior to me and he scolded me and said, ‘Tum kya samajhte ho? Saare unpadh hain industry mein? Bimal da ke paas kahan kahan se log aayein hain naukari dhoonte hue. Aur tumhe aisa mauka mil raha hai!’ So, I went and met Bimal da, who was a legend in cinema. He told Debu in Bangla, ‘Ei bhodrolok ki kore jaanbe Boishnob kobita ta ki’ (How will this gentleman know what Vaishnav kavita is, referring to a situation for a song in his film Bandini). Debu immediately told him, ‘Dada, he knows Bangla very well and understands everything’. And Bimal Da blushed. His beautiful face would become bright red when he blushed. Behrhal unhone mujhe bola Sachin Da se milo. Sachin Da ne mujhe tune batayi and uss pe maine likha, ‘Mora gora ang laile, mujhe Shyam rang dei de’."

Gulzar spoke about how he slowly met and got to know the literary greats of Maharashtra. “Gradually, I got to know the Maharashtrian writers here, including some senior writers. In those days, I didn’t understand Marathi well, today I do. But itna mujhe maloom hai ki jo bhi mila, kisi ne mujhe gaali nahi di (in Marathi).”

He interacted with several Maharashtrian writers and poets, like P L Deshpande and Arun Shevate, and also translated their works, including Kusumagraj’s book. “So that’s my relationship with Marathi literature. Ab itne barson mein, deel-daul se kahin jawani me agar patle hote, toh koi mujhe Maratha kehta, lekin Maharashtrian toh zaroor keh lete hain log mujhe, which I deserve after staying here for so long.”

Gulzar believes contemporary literature should be included in the syllabus. “Students should know about the poems and literature that is relevant. Har daur ki apni shayari hai, aaj ke students jo textbook mein nazmein padh rahein hain, that is not relevant to this time, because only classic literature is being taught. Why isn’t contemporary literature in the syllabus? Why are only classics being taught in schools? Aaj ka literature hona zaroori hai. That is important. Nostalgia is okay to learn from, but it is not a place to live in.”

Feted, felicitated and much-loved writer, film maker, poet, author and lyricist Gulzar has many facets to his personality. His daughter Meghna Gulzar is three films old, her latest being the muchtalked about Talvar , which recently premiered at the 40th Toronto Film Festival (TIFF). In a candid conversation with us, the father-daughter duo speaks on their professional and personal equation.

Gulzar saab, please tell us about your contribution to Talvar?
I must tell you an interesting story. An alley cat taught a tiger how to hunt and actually go for the kill. After learning the technique, the first person the tiger attacked was the cat. She was smart. To save her life, she climbed a tree. The tiger stood below, looking at the cat and said, “Hey , but you didn't teach me this.“ To which the cat replied, “I could foresee that this is exactly what you would do once you mastered the killing technique. Hence, I didn't teach you this last trick.'' (Laughs) Likewise, I taught Meghna how to pen screenplay, dialogues and script etc. She knows direction and post-production. Now she has become a tigress. But, I didn't teach her how to write songs. So, she still has to depend on me (the cat in this context) for that aspect. I write songs for her films and that is my contribution to her cinema. It is challenging to write songs for her. When she wants something, no one can make her change her mind. She has a passion for movie making. This time around both Vishal (Bhardwaj) and I had to deliver. Sometimes she didn't like the tune, if she liked the tune, she didn't like the lyrics. She is hard to please. Vishal and I had to keep working continuously to present different versions to director sahiba.
Meghna: Papa would hum some words and Vishal sir would compose a tune around it. They would only come to me when it was nearly ready. So, I told them both, “Hello, please include me in your song-making sessions.'' It is a treat to watch them work. When they are working together, there is so much that is left unsaid. Vishal is humming and dad is able to know where the tune is going and throw words at him accordingly. It is not a director thing; it's a purely selfish thing. I wanted to be in that experience.

Gulzar saab, had you followed the Aarushi Talwar case when it happened in May 2008?
I had seen Meghna meticulously making newspaper cuttings of the case. Her involvement and fascination for the subject automatically rubbed onto me. I, too, started taking a keen interest in the subject. I would see her jotting down notes. That is how I followed the case. I knew Meghna was researching the subject. If I came across any snippet or report on the Aarushi Talwar murder case, I would quickly cut it and give it to her. I have seen Vishal and her do a thorough job.

Sir, have you seen a growth in Meghna's graph as a director?
Yes from Filhaal to now, her graph has seen a steady rise. What I like about her is that she is so focussed. She knows exactly what she wants. I have seen her handling her unit also. It so happened that she was shooting in Delhi and she expressed to me that she was missing her son Samay. So her husband Govind, my grandson Samay and I went to the shoot. You know, as a filmmaker, I must tell you that handling a machine is different but handling human beings needs a special tact. I was impressed with the way Meghna did that. I also have deep admiration for her unit. Her cameraman (Pankaj Kumar) is a good listener. He would patiently hear her out before executing the shot. Another assistant who was very attentive and helpful was a guy called Honey. I guess his name is Honey because he is so sweet. Meghna has made documentaries for Saeed Akhtar Mirza. So I know she knows her job. However, in the case of Talvar, this kind of maturity comes only when you have been deeply involved with the project. Like any parent, I, too, was anxious about her. But now I'm less worried because she has taken a step ahead of me. She has actually beaten me to it. None of my films have had a premiere at Toronto or at any other international festival.
Meghna: Papa, you have won an Oscar.
Gulzar: (Chuckles) Now let's see how you achieve that. However, I have made so many movies and I have not been invited to any international film festival. I even got the Dadasaheb Phalke Award but none of my films have had a foreign premiere. As a filmmaker, I'm very happy and confident of this girl's growth.

Gulzar saab, what did you think of Talvar?
Talvar is an important social comment. Everyone knows that the law has long hands; however, no one knew that the law travels through a narrow alley. That is how the song came in, Patli gali aana. I must say that we have good laws, we have a good judiciary but our system of implementing laws is something like what is shown in Talvar. Meghna has put her finger on this. It is not a murder thriller. It is much more. That is why I feel the audience has to be prepared for it. You are not going to see a thriller in which bullets are flying. I'm also happy that the producers of this film (Vineet Jain and Vishal Bhardwaj) had conviction in the story that they were making and have allowed Meghna to make the film the way she knew best.

Meghna, speak about your key cast.
I must start with Tabu. By now everyone knows that she is not playing Aarushi's aunt. She has a special appearance in the film. Though I have made movies in the past, this time around, I felt like I was starting over probably because the genre was new to me. And I couldn't have done this without Tabu. It was gracious of her to accept the small part. The actual shooting was a breeze. It was like two friends (she and I) were catching up for lunch. It was as casual as that.

In sharp contrast, is Irrfan sir who is very tricky. You are well aware that Talvar presents multiple viewpoints on the Aarushi murder case. He plays an investigative officer and till today, I have no idea which side of the story he believes. Throughout the making he was playing the devil's advocate. Every time he would have to do a scene he would question--what if this had transpired like this and not like this? It took me a while to understand that he was asking so many questions so that he could plug all the holes. He took in all the information and then delivered his performance. Irrfan sir has given an evolved performance. The way he has conveyed his sense of restlessness and his appearing distracted, etc. are all things which he has put into his character. This can only happen when an actor internalises not just the part but the entire film.
Gulzar: Irrfan has portrayed the character so beautifully.
Meghna: Neeraj Kabi sir and Konkona (Sen Sharma) have the toughest job in the film because they both play the guilty and the damned. And they have to do both these things convincingly. Moreover, they had to do everything twice over. But I must tell you that their approach as actors was diametrically opposite. There was Konkona (Koko) who would ask what the scene is, seek a few clarifications and say, 'Cool, let's go'. If it was an intense scene, she would cry and when I called cut, she would be smiling with her eyes shining bright. Neeraj sir, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. After the entire briefing, he would ask for 30 seconds. Then he would stroll off to a part of the set where no one was allowed to enter. And then he would come, stand in front of the camera and give the perfect take. From the spot boys to the costume and light departments, everyone would maintain pin drop silence. Honestly, who does this for an actor anymore? I had a really good unit. Neeraj sir also didn't snap out of a shot, after I would say cut. At the end of the day, he would bid everyone goodbye and say, 'See you tomorrow'. Though Koko and Neeraj sir's style of working is diverse, you cannot tell the difference on screen because both of them have delivered pitch-perfect performances.

Meghna, were you prepared for the reactions that you got at TIFF?
Not at all. I knew Cameron Bailey, the artistic director of TIFF, was in Mumbai to look at films but we couldn't connect with him and he went back. It was another festival director who asked if we had sent Talvar to Toronto. It was after this that Vishal wrote to Cameron and we sent a screener within a short time. We had to pull up our deadline by a month. But nothing could have been more worth it than showing our film in Toronto.

How would you describe your relationship with Vishal Bhardwaj?
Meghna: Vishal has done all the rituals as my brother at my wedding. But at that time, we were not as close as we are today. Our personal equation has evolved over the years. I had done a couple of scripts with him in the past, but Talvar is actually our first full-fledged attempt at making a movie. I was to do Timbuktu and Mr Mehta And Mrs Singh for him. Both didn't materialise because I was in my world, making different kind of movies. For me, the biggest learning has been watching him as a writer. You can understand him as a filmmaker when you see his films. He always shares his scripts with dad and me. So, I know the script and I see what he does with his films. Vishal sir writes his characters beautifully. That is his biggest forte. He gives each one a texture. There will always be some distinguishing trait in each character. He brings them to life and that, for me, was a huge learning experience. He visited us on the sets just twice. It was so good to have him there because it felt like someone was standing behind you. I felt protected. Having that sense of support made me do that job better. I must explain to you, the kind of equation I share with Vishal sir. When I was explaining to Sohum Shah, who plays Irrfan sir's assistant in the film on how to approach his character visà-vis his equation to his senior (Irrfan), I gave the example of Vishal sir and me. I explained to Sohum that Vishal and I have dinner together, we crack jokes and laugh, but when he is around on the sets, I always stand there respectfully with my hands behind me and address him as sir.
Gulzar: I'm proud of how Meghna has defined her relationship with Vishal. She has described it beautifully.
Meghna: Everything about Talvar is two-sided, including the relationship between the film's writer-producer and director.

Has your mother seen this film?
Gulzar: Actually, Raakhee is even more anxious about Talvar than Meghna.
Meghna: I have shown my mother the first print that I made for India. I didn't want her to see a subtitled print. However, I had shown my father the first international print with subtitles on August 18. It was his birthday and it was my surprise gift for him.
Gulzar: It was a great gift. Every year we go out to celebrate my birthday. This time she was busy with Talvar but she told me, 'Dad, I will still give you a gift'. I'm a happy man.