Javed Akhtar: There was no shame for a writer to work in films because almost all the important poets and prose writers were working in the film industry at that time; they were either writing dialogue, screenplays or songs.

Don’t forget, my father was already working in films as a songwriter. He had not reached the position of Sahir, Shailendra or Majrooh Sultanpuri, although he was doing well. I must admit I did not try to get into films because of those great writers—frankly, I came to Bombay because Dilip Kumar, Dev Anand, Raj Kapoor and directors like Guru Dutt, Mehboob Khan, Bimal Roy and K Asif were working in films.

I thought the film industry was glamorous and I was seduced by the world of Hindi cinema and I wanted to be a director. At 19, one does not always have a clear plan. The only thing I was certain about was wanting the dialogue writer Akhtar-ul Iman to write the dialogue for my first film. He was a well-known Urdu poet and wrote excellent dialogue for many films, including B R Chopra’s courtroom drama Kanoon. It was a film without songs, which is still a rarity in Indian cinema. His lines for Nana Palsikar’s character in Kanoon were sharp and incisive. 

Akhtar-ul Iman also wrote superb dialogue for Yash Chopra’s Dharmputra and Waqt. He won the Filmfare Award for Best Dialogue for both these films. His Flat No. 9 was disappointing and not up to his usual standard, but I made it a point to see all the films with his dialogue. 

JA: In a fit of temper my stepmother slapped me and threw me out of the house. This happened in my father’s presence. She just didn’t want me around. And there I was, not even 20 years old, on the streets of Bombay with 27 naya paisa in my pocket.

JA: No. There’s no point talking about it now—what’s done is done. I was accustomed to living a paradoxical life for years. 

Whenever I had to go hungry because I didn’t have a rupee to my name, I would dream of daal-chawal. In my mind’s eye, I’d see steam rising from the hot daal and marvel at the whiteness of rice. Why daal-rice? Was it my favourite dish from childhood? After many years, I understood why. When you have an empty stomach for more than 36 hours, you can have a lot of acidity, and so your body cannot cope with spices and wants plain and simple food. And that is why your mind fantasizes about daal and rice. 

JA: Yes, I did sleep a few nights under the porch of the Khar railway station. If I had nowhere to sleep, I slept in parks and on pavements. Though, for the most part, I was welcomed in their homes by my many friends, including Javed Mahmood and his sister Zohra Jamal. Zohra Jamal was a short-story writer and a former student of my mother’s. After spending some weeks with them, my friend Parvez, who was a film publicist, and another friend, Kamal Anand, and I shared a room costing ninety rupees a month. We paid thirty rupees each. Parvez is no more now, but I am still in touch with his wife. Her name is Shibani, and at that time she was his girlfriend. Her sister’s name was Nazar. I used to call them ‘Chhoti behen’ and ‘Badi behen’ because the maid who came to clean their house called them by those names. 

Even today, I have Shibani’s number in my contacts under the name ‘Chhoti behen’. We became friends. They belonged to an upper-middle-class family and generously took me to the movies and insisted I eat with them, so every night I landed up in their home. Shibani and Nazar often asked me to accompany them to fancy parties, some hosted by big industrialists, including the owner of Himalaya Bouquet. He had a huge bungalow in Powai that had a plaque on the gate that I will never forget: ‘We may be vegetarian, but our dogs are not.’ [both laugh] At these parties, I made my presence felt by cracking jokes and telling stories. People seemed to enjoy my company. That was a plus point. 

JA: Yes. We had a common friend, Kishan Tinani. He was a few years older than me, and he was a dancer, so Shibani, Nazar and Parvez asked him to teach us ballroom dancing. That’s how I came to learn it. 

JA: I don’t claim to have been exceptional. I was pretty good. I have a sense of rhythm and was graceful enough. My favourite dance was the Cha-Cha-Cha. It was crazy—I was without a job, without money to pay the rent, and yet I was learning ballroom dancing and attending fancy parties, thanks to my friends. There are good people in this world. It is not made up of only bad people who want to harm or hurt you. If life has dealt you bad cards, sorry, tough luck! 

JA: Maybe it’s because of those days that I have it at all! Shock absorbers in a car are not for smooth roads but for bumpy ones, for roads with potholes. A sense of humour is a kind of shock absorber. It is meant for bad times and comes in handy for making horrid moments tolerable.

Excerpted with permission from Talking Life: Javed Akthar in Conversation with Nasreen Munni Kabir, Westland Books

March next year marks the 100th birth anniversary of Sahir Ludhianvi, the extraordinary Urdu poet-lyricist, born on March 8, 1921. The diary, In The Year Of Sahir, is my attempt to celebrate this amazingly gifted man.

A wealth of articles, two biographies in English and a formidable publication in Urdu (Fann aur Shaksiyat) by the poet Sabir Dutt already exist on Sahir, not to forget the extensive blogs and websites dedicated to him, plus there are several editions of his poetry collections, which are continuously reprinted. In Surinder Deol’s biography, A Literary Portrait, he informs us that Sahir’s Talkhiyan is the only other Urdu poetry book, besides Divan-e-Ghalib, to have been published in many Hindi and Urdu editions. So, the question for me was to seek out a different way of presenting new insights into his work and personality that could be of historical value and fresh and engaging.

Following on from the cinema diary I produced in 2013, which celebrated a hundred years of Indian cinema, the concept of another diary seemed both appropriate and appealing; the idea was to present observations and memories from an array of contributors, interspersed with unseen and wonderful photographs of Sahir from the collection of Meesam Raza, a dedicated admirer of the poet.

With this in mind I went about contacting over 30 people — poets, singers, directors, producers, distributors, writers, academics, musicians, screenwriters, playwrights, actors, artists and theatre directors — all of whom generously gave of their time to share their experiences of working with Sahir or living with his songs and poems.

Gradually the diary took shape as one-by-one the contributors sent me their comments, each telling a unique story.

Asha Bhosle remembers the day she recorded the amazing “Aage Bhi Jaane Na Tu…” from Waqt: “As I sat rehearsing the song in Mumbai’s Famous Tardeo Recording Centre, I heard the familiar soft voice greeting me. I looked up to see a tall lanky figure dressed in his familiar white cotton shirt, dark trousers and open sandals. I complimented him on the lyrics of the song and mentioned that the meaning resembled the essence of the Bhagwad Gita. He acknowledged it with a smile and complimented me on my white sari which had a bright border… During the recording of ‘Woh Subah Kabhi toh Aayegi’, he jokingly remarked to music director Khayyam that his career’s ‘subah’ had dawned with this song.”

Ramesh Sippy recalls a time when he was eight years old, sitting in the corner of a room, when Sahir came to the family house to discuss a song with his father, G P Sippy. “Sahir sahib proceeded to recite the song words: ‘Ab vo karam kare ya sitam main nashe mein hun. Mujhko na koi hosh na ghum main nashe mein hoon.’ [Whether she’s kind or cruel, I am drunk. Unmindful of joy or sorrow, I am drunk]. My father liked the lyrics very much and wanted it for Marine Drive, but Sahir sahib refused point blank. He was offered double the money, but the answer was still a no. My father was a known teetotaller so Sahir sahib explained: ‘How can I give this song to a man who doesn’t even drink alcohol!’ That evening my father poured himself his first drink. And the song was his.”

Then there is the gifted musician Zakir Hussain, who observed Sahir’s approach to the required meter (wording the melody) is similar to that of a sitar or sarod player. As Zakir Hussain explains: “It’s how a tabla player instantaneously organises and reorganises rhythm patterns to aesthetically express the feeling of the piece. The example that comes to mind are the lyrics of ‘Abhi naa jao chod kar.’ His use of the word ‘zara’ is amazing. He uses it at the beginning of the line and suddenly switches it to the end of the following line; this I find masterful.”

Each comment and observation brings a new understanding of Sahir’s approach to song-writing — and then there is his formidable mastery of Urdu poetry. I think the proudest moment for me, when putting the diary together, was being able to track down and include K A Abbas’s long-forgotten translation of ‘Parchhaiyan’, a very fine work, first published in 1958 under the title Shadows Speak, a book that is now out of print. The idea of tracing the journey of this moving anti-war poem by Sahir and including a photograph of the book’s original cloth cover was most rewarding. This was possible thanks to Gulzar sahib, who had a signed copy of the first edition in his library.

In essence, this diary is not a history of Sahir but a personal tribute to a poet whose work is so impressive and enduring in its range and appeal. The only complaint I have heard so far about In The Year Of Sahir is from friends who say that although this is a diary, they do not want to write in it. My answer is that a diary is also about marking time, and as far as the writing is concerned, who can compete with Sahir’s words?

As the family kicks off three-day celebration to mark his 75th birthday, legendary writer-lyricist Javed Akhtar thrilled to have a photo exhibition dedicated to him
Sonil Dedhia (MID-DAY; January 14, 2020)

Shabana Azmi, who was stationed in Budapest over the past few weeks for the shoot of Steven Spielberg's web series, has returned to the bay in time for husband Javed Akhtar's big day. The noted writer-lyricist turns 75 on Friday, and a string of celebrations is in order for the milestone birthday.

mid-day has learnt that an exhibition of Akhtar's rare photographs, posters and paintings, titled The World Of Javed Akhtar, and curated by Pradeep Chandra and SMM Ausaja, will be held at the Nehru Centre in Worli. While Farhan and Zoya Akhtar will inaugurate the exhibition dedicated to their father tomorrow, it will be open to the public from January 17 to 20. Considering Akhtar has changed the vocabulary of Bollywood with his stories and songs, it is only fitting that the inaugural event tomorrow will mark the launch of a limited edition of The Javed Akhtar Pen — a creation of Abhishek Haritwal and Symmetry. Besides unveiling the signature pen, the celebrated writer will take to the stage to discuss his journey in the industry and his role in changing the narrative of Hindi cinema, with Nasreen Munni Kabir.

"I am nervous, especially about the exhibition because they are calling it The World of Javed Akhtar. I want to see how many people are interested in my life," jokes the legendary lyricist, adding that he was pleasantly surprised to see that the curators had sourced rare photographs from his heydays. "Some of the photographs go back to my school days. I am wondering where they sourced them from."

While Azmi plans to ring in Akhtar's birthday with an intimate '70s Bollywood-themed bash on Thursday, Zoya and Farhan will host a grand soiree on Friday at a suburban five-star that will see the who's who of the industry in attendance. "We want to salute the man that is Javed Akhtar — his indomitable will, tenacity, wisdom, intellect, and of course, his legendary sense of humour! Friends and family are trooping in from different parts of the world for the bash," says an ecstatic Azmi.


The customised Javed Akhtar Pen

Sonil Dedhia (MID-DAY; September 10, 2017)

Parisian PR supremo Ophelie Oscar-winning composer A R Rahman, who has completed 25 years in the music industry, is keen to go beyond composing music through his foundation. His film, One Heart: The A R Rahman Concert Film, which has just released, is being touted as the country's first concert film. We caught up with the celebrated composer.

You have always been a private person, how did you agree to be a part of One Heart, a film about your stage shows?
When we finished our 2015 tour that took us across 14 cities in North America, it felt magical. I had a great time working with the team. We had been capturing candid moments on camera. One of my executive producers told me, 'You want to do something for the musicians and the music fraternity, why don't you release the footage of this tour as a film and let the collections go to your foundation One Heart.' I loved the idea and gave the go-ahead. We got Nasreen Munni Kabir [UK-based producer-director-writer] to edit the footage. After it was done, we realised it had shaped out beautifully. We have interviews with people who have worked with me. I have also added personal footage. When we did a test screening, everyone was in tears.

There are times when you are described in superlatives. How do you look at it?
I think it's important to know where you stand personally and professionally. I do this assessment every day and that happens from the responses that I get from the people I work with. I have never taken my work for granted. I am sensitive towards my work and what I deliver to the audience. That's why I don't talk much and when I do, I want to make sense. Although I am on social media, I don't use it to provide my daily schedule. I don't think that's important.

Is there constant pressure to deliver the best every time you score music?
I work with people who have high expectations, so my job is not easy. It is not necessary that my most popular songs are my best works. But I have enough time to come up with a score as films aren't made in a day. There have been times when we have to change the songs. Mani Ratnam often rejects my work if he doesn't like it and asks to me to compose again. Imtiaz [Ali] had already shot Agar Tum Saath Ho in Tamasha [his 2015 film] but I wasn't satisfied. I changed it completely. It's not about finishing the job for the sake of it.

Some of your fans walked out when you started singing in Tamil during a UK concert in July this year.
If I see 9,000 people in an arena out of which around 50 people aren't happy then I have to support the remaining 8,950 as they have come for the music. It is impossible to satisfy everyone. There are times when we find people who are in a bad mood [laughs]. Even the biggest of entertainers have faced criticism. I have received a mixed response for my music, but I feel we have to look at the larger picture. This wasn't the first time I was singing in Tamil. I remember doing it for the first time in 2000 during a concert in the US. Also, one needs to understand that the promoter is catering to people from across the country. This needs to be considered during a live act.

How do you look at the scenario where language is given more importance than the music?
It's sad when something like this happens. I look at the audience we are catering to. When I perform in south India, I perform more of South numbers than Hindi songs. It is the opposite case when I am performing elsewhere in the country. During overseas tours, the audience consists of people who have migrated from different regions and are living in a different culture. I have seen them celebrate all kinds of music.

Do you plan to make more documentaries based on stage shows?
It depends on how this film does, but we would love to. There are commercial and artistic films. Then there are films like One Heart. We live in times where people remember the music, not the musician. There are several unsung heroes in the world of music. I know many families who are associated with music for three generations, but nobody has heard of them and they die in poverty. Our foundation aims to contribute towards the betterment of these people founded Le Bal in 1992. Today, she's the CEO of the grand event that completes 25 years on November 25, 2017.

Roshmilla Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; March 28, 2014)

It took Nasreen Munni Kabir years to convince film icon Waheeda Rehman that her story needs to be told. Once she gave the nod it took 20 sessions of two hours each and over a year to complete Conversations with Waheeda Rehman. The 227-page authorised biography was to release yesterday but on Wednesday, March 26, Kabir got a call at around 11am from the actress. “She was in a flood of tears after learning that her best friend Nanda had succumbed to a heart attack. She told me that I’d have to cancel the launch because she couldn’t dress up and face the camera. It would be hypocritical,” recalls the writer. Both Kabir and publishers Penguin were sympathetic and Kabir has flown back to London as the launch has been pushed forward by at least a couple of months.

“We suggested a release sometime next week but Waheedaji needs more time. It was a friendship of almost 50 years. They met at a studio and Nandaji was piqued by the fact that Waheedaji didn’t return her smile. But a few days later, when they started shooting for Kala Bazar, Waheedaji invited her for lunch, told her she could use the bathroom attached to her make-up room and the two became good friends,” says Kabir.

The above instance is mentioned in the book along with Rehman admitting that Nanda and she would sometimes sit together and imagine adapting a novel into a film. "We discussed who could play the lead roles—Ashok Kumar? Rekha? We never cast each other,” she tells Kabir.

On another page, she remembers a family holiday to Munnar where they decided to stay overnight at an English club run by a strange-looking caretaker. A scared Nanda insisted that they keep their windows firmly shut through the night, convinced that he'd sneak into their room in the middle of the night. "It took some time before I could convince her not to worry about the poor fellow because he was unlikely to do us any harm. [Laughs] Nanda and I had some crazy times together.” Rehman recalls in the book. “That generation is dropping off one by one. And 50 years of cinema history is disappearing with them,” Kabir sighs.