Divya Dutta (left) as Shabbo in with Preity Zinta in Veer Zaara (2004)

The day we visit Sterling theatre in Fort for an 8 pm show of Sudhir Mishra’s Afwaah, #LoveJihad has been trending largely thanks to the week’s other controversial release, The Kerala Story. It tells the story about a group of women from the southern state who are converted to Islam and forced to join the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS). Mishra’s film, a plausible antithesis to this rhetoric, appears light years away from this shor sharaba.

Afwaah is not unbothered, though. When we walk out of the cinema, we realise that it’s deeply invested in the great affliction of our times—the boom and doom of virality and the nature of communal propaganda. With characters caught in the thick of the white noise on the web, the film cleverly chooses to play spectator instead of taking the moral high ground as commentator. “Here’s a town. Let’s witness the chaos,” it seems to say.

Set in a conservative pocket in Rajasthan, the plot tracks the insincere and raving-mad aspirations of right-wing politician Vicky Bana (Sumeet Vyas), whose chicanery forces his outraged bride-to-be Nivedita Singh (Bhumi Pednekar) to run away from home—she won’t marry a bigot. This fuels a night of violence and bloodbath. Wedged in this kerfuffle is the suave Rahab Ahmed (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), who is on his way to a tony book festival where his wife is a participant, and whose only fault is wanting to rid himself of the guilt of a lie he has carried far too long. It’s what—we will later learn—compels him to save Nivedita from the goons set loose by her fiancé. It’s a trap, and for a man, who doesn’t wear religion on his sleeve, but whose identity now embroils him in a “Love Jihad” controversy.

“He is being hunted for who he is not.” The audience is pulled into a night of epic proportions. “A lot of people wanted me to remake Iss Raat Ki Subah Nahin…,” says Sudhir Mishra of his iconic 1996 thriller that spans an entire night, explaining the genesis of his latest all-nighter, when we meet him days after its release. Mishra is joined by friend and Afwaah’s producer Anubhav Sinha, “…But you can’t go back to your youth, and remake a film just like that.”

The idea for Afwaah “was all over us. You just had to have your ear to the ground”. “But what interested me, and what I think the critics have not got…” says Mishra, asking us if he can be “a bit arrogant” “…is that people see films only at the surface.”

“Afwaah is not really about the rumour that’s outside,” he says of the political thriller that most critics have called a cautionary tale about false narratives infesting social media. “Protagonist Rahab is also spreading a rumour about himself, and the bubble he is living in,” says Mishra, who has written and directed the film, “The film is not about what makes headlines, but what happens behind those headlines.”

Mishra’s characters are layered. We see spurts of goodness, even in evil. Chandan, a character played to perfection by Sharib Hashmi, believes he is Vichy Bana’s wingman; he makes one wrong move and has everyone baying for his blood, including Bana, who is ruthless in his chase. “Chandan is both, the victim and the antagonist. The film tries to understand the lyncher as much as it understands the lynched.”

None of his motivations as a storyteller, Mishra feels, have been understood by the critics. His disappointment is evident. But that’s not stopping him. “If you don’t make difficult films, you will have a dumb audience and a dumb voter… and then God help you.”

Sinha, who has been listening quietly, has himself long moved away from spinning box office juggernauts, to engage with content that forces the viewer to think. Be it the patriarchy-defying Thappad (2020) or the more recent Bheed, which documented the painful and horrifying migrant exodus during the pandemic.

Working with Mishra was an important part of this journey, he says. “Over the last few years, we bounced ideas off each other. But every film has its destiny, some stories get made quickly, some take longer. This [Afwaah] was the child that got lucky.”

Having said that, Sinha says, the content of the film was not as important, as “wanting to make a film with Sudhir bhai”. “He is one of the first filmmakers I met when I came to Mumbai. On my first night here, I had the privilege of having a drink with him and Javed saab… he used to drink back then,” Sinha smiles.

“I wanted to make Afwaah to learn something from him. The rest—you write a film, you cast for it, you shoot and edit—is all mechanics. What’s important to know is why you are making the film that you are.”

Movies like Afwaah that don’t endeavor to entertain the audience in a manner that they lose themselves, he adds, are difficult to make and watch. “What has become even more difficult [to determine] is which film has the real audience. All those numbers [box office] are not trustworthy. They are not truthful anymore. Unfortunately, the success and failure of a film is only defined by them,” says Sinha, “But what about the other number, the number of years a film will live on a shelf? Or the number of times, people will go back to it [during their lifetime].”

Film consumption is diverse. “It is meant for weekends, theatres, satellite channels, OTT platforms and for times to come. Of these, the biggest parameter, according to me, is the times to come,” thinks Sinha.

For Mishra, making a film is still a discovery. A mathematician’s son, he didn’t go to film school. He says he learnt from his father that you start with a hypothesis, and then you go about proving it. “I make a film to learn. I wanted to learn about Rahab... there’s a lie he has been telling.”

Mishra’s protagonist is not a hero in the true sense then. He doesn’t want to die, because he thinks it would be a useless death. “When did you last hear a hero say that?” Mishra asks.

“One journalist called me after seeing the film, saying it reminded her of George Bernard Shaw’s Arms And The Man, where there’s a character called [Captain] Bluntschli who says, ‘martyrdom sucks’. I suddenly remembered that Bluntschli was the first role I played in my life, on stage. So, what influences you, you sometimes discover through the process of making a film. I discover myself [when I make a film].”

That it is increasingly becoming difficult to make honest films that hold a mirror to society, is not lost on them. “I would be lying if I said that there wasn’t any apprehension,” says Mishra. “But I don’t think it ever stopped Anubhav from wanting to produce it, or me from making it. There is this dynamic, democratic society called India, and we are participating in it. We should be allowed to have our say. That’s what we expect.”

Mishra confesses that his affiliation is to his art, not any political party. His 2004 political drama, Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi, was set against the Emergency of 1975, and released when the Congress was in government. He is also not one to shy away from engaging in conversation with filmmakers whose films contrast his own.

We were surprised when we stumbled on a recent two-hour-long interview where Mishra engages with The Kashmir Files director Vivek Agnihotri for his YouTube channel, I Am Buddha. Here, Agnihotri, who is an unapologetic right-wing filmmaker, credits Mishra for inspiring him after Hazaaron... to tell the stories he believed in. No hard feelings, none at all.

The hope is that more people will show courage. Even actors, who are often hesitant to take on daring scripts. “See, the big stars won’t come to me anyway, because I write frail characters,” claims Mishra. “There’s all of Indian cinema. And then, there’s my cinema.”

The former, he says, worships the hero, while he is invested in their failure. “That’s why it is more difficult to make my kind of films. The heroes don’t like this. It upsets their testosterone-ridden, fake machoism… they are simply pretending to be sensitive to women. None of them are.”

Sinha thinks female actors are stronger in conviction and the risk that they will take. He adds that this also stems from the fact that we do not ascribe the success of the film to its women. “A lot of time it’s they who are responsible for it, though,” says Sinha.

Waheeda Rehman, for instance, says the duo, was “better than all the men of her time”. “She had more skillsets than any of the actors.” Sinha adds, “Even today, the number of good female actors is way higher than the good male actors. They are gutsier, and they are far more disciplined…”

Lata ji and I knew each other for years but there were instances that brought us closer and I got to know the person Lata ji was. At first it was during the 1971 war when I was made chairperson of the Bangladesh Sahayak Samiti of Maharashtra. I had the responsibility of organising a concert at Brabourne stadium in its support. Among the artistes we called, it was natural Lata ji was top of mind.

I went over to invite her but she said ‘no’. She said she wouldn’t perform live in India. But she agreed when she learnt of the cause and the concert was successful. Later she joined us when Sunil Dutt’s troupe toured the war-torn zones to entertain jawans. Travelling with us were Nargis, Mala Sinha and others.

We were put up for a night at an army quarter in Chittagong when suddenly there was a water crisis. Now, I cannot go a day without having a bath. I wondered if I could shower in Lata ji’s room which still had some water left. Nargis warned: ‘Are you mad? Lata ji is very sensitive and may get upset if you intrude into her space. She might even refuse to sing’. Not heeding, I showed up at Lata ji’s door and she ushered me inside without hesitation.

But as luck would have it, the tap ran dry while I was still in the shower. So I knocked on the bathroom door. Lata ji came close and asked me what the matter was. On informing her of my plight, she arranged for two buckets of water and carried them with her own hands to the bathroom.

Later when I told Nargis of what had happened she was stunned! When we returned to India, Lata ji arranged for a dinner party where she cooked for us, made lovely kebabs and gifted us beautiful sarees.

Shreya Mukherjee (HINDUSTAN TIMES; June 16, 2020)

Dealing with Coronavirus pandemic hasn’t been easy for anyone. But life will always throw challenges at us, and how we get over them defines us, believes Waheeda Rehman. The veteran actor says this crisis requires us “to be careful, sensible and intelligent”.

“I feel it’s important to be patient. If you get paranoid, it’ll stress you out and you might make mistakes,” says the Padma Bhushan awardee. Holed up with her daughter and her family, Rehman admits it isn’t easy. “It’s like a catch-22 situation. Whether we’re at home or have to go outside, we need to find a way. I see many flouting safety norms, not wearing masks since the lockdown has been eased. That’s wrong,” she says.

With no intention to seem philosophical, the actor, 82, says that we know nothing about our future, adding, “Par darr darr ke nahi jee sakte. We must face difficulties head on.”

Rehman is spending her time watching films, doing yoga, taking a walk in the garden, and enjoying photography. Not a fan of mobile phones, she, however, has realised it is a necessity. “I talk to my sister, nephews and nieces a lot these days. Asha (Parekh; actor) aur Helen (actor) se bhi baat hoti rehti hai,” she says. Her family is ensuring that they take care of their staff. “If we have food to eat, then people who work for us should also have food,” she adds.

Concerned about people facing mental health issues, she says, “Chinta karne se kuch fayda nahi. Bas Allah ka shukar karo, dil aur niyat saaf rakho aur aagey badho.”

Shreya Mukherjee (HINDUSTAN TIMES; April 28, 2020)

At 77 and amid the ongoing Coronavirus crisis, Asha Parekh is taking it one day at a time. But she loses her cool when she sees people aren’t ready to “face the reality” and are putting lives in danger.

“Ye beemari bahut taqleef deti hai; aap saans nahi le paayenge. Aur jo log soch rahe hain unko nahi hoga, I want to ask them, ‘Has God given you immortality?’ Emergency care providers are working hard. Please think about them. What angers me is the way educated people are behaving,” she rues.

Parekh stresses that “it isn’t right to complain when you’re in a better position”. She’s doing her bit by not stepping out of her house, and gives due credit to her driver and security personnel for getting her essentials.

“I know it’s claustrophobic at times, more so when seven or eight people share a room in a place like Mumbai. Par yeh socho ki aap phir bhi surakshit hain. Agar main ab rone baith jaun ki kab tak ghar mein rahungi to kya hoga? Isse achha hai main khush rahun, positive rahun,” she says, adding, “There’s not much pollution, and it feels so nice. The world is changing, so are we all…”

Parekh starts her day with yoga, reads books, watches TV, and talks to her family members and friends over video calls regularly.

“My brother (Jayesh Parekh) calls me every day at 5.30 pm... My best friend (Vandana Shah) stays in Birmingham, and she was telling me how depressed she feels at times. The other day Shabana (Azmi, actor) called and said, ‘Tu akeli hai, kuch chahiye to bataana’. Waheeda (Rehman, actor) aur uski beti bhi call karte rehte hain,” she shares.

Veteran actor Waheeda on pursuing her hobby as she hosts wildlife photography exhibition
Sonil Dedhia (MID-DAY; December 16, 2019)

It’s never too late to discover a new passion. Waheeda Rehman will vouch for it — after decades of romancing the camera, she is equally happy behind it. The yesteryear actor has turned a wildlife photographer as she recently held an exhibition of her pictures from her safaris to Kenya, Tanzania, and wildlife reserves across India.

“I always loved taking pictures. When I was young, I would carry a small camera with me on the sets. I recently met Himanshu Seth [curator of the show] who asked me to pursue my hobby and came up with the idea of having an exhibition. I wasn’t too keen to display my pictures as I didn’t think they were great, but my friends and family persuaded me,” she smiles, adding that what started out as a mere hobby has now become “an addiction”. “When it comes to wildlife photography, you need to have luck and patience.”

She may be 81, but it is evident that Rehman is unstoppable as she discusses her bucket list. “I want to learn scuba diving,” she shares, before revealing that she is working towards it. “Prahlad Kakkar’s son runs a professional training company. I will discuss my health condition, and will try my hand at it.”