Abhay Deol with mid-day’s entertainment editor Mayank Shekhar at the latest edition of Sit with Hitlist. Pics/Shadab Khan

Shortly after our conversation, before a live audience, Abhay Deol is scheduled to meet Shekhar Krishnamoorthy, the person he plays in the Netflix series, Trial By Fire — based on the life of a middle-class Delhi couple, who fought the city’s top real-estate developers, post the death of both their children, in the 1997 Uphaar Cinema fire tragedy.

Which is also when we realize Deol had chosen to consciously stay away from the real-life inspiration for his part, during the process of making the series. Deol is Punjabi by ancestry, unlike Krishnamoorthy, with the most Tamil surname. In fact, Deol has played a Tamilian before this.

That was as the bureaucrat Krishnan, for Dibakar Banerjee’s Shanghai (2012). In an episode dedicated to Deol’s films, on a podcast named Khabardaar, that I was listening to before meeting the actor, the hosts — shout-out to wonderful ladies, Aparita Bhandari, Baisakhi Roy—make an observation on Deol’s walk onscreen. They believe it is the same in all his films. Except, Shanghai, if you notice the minutiae.

Firstly does he agree, and was that consciously so, I ask Deol: “There are physical characteristics that I suppose you don’t change easily. You’re unaware of them. With Shanghai, that may be true. Not that I consciously worked on my walk, though. I did have to work on my accent. Krishnan is a Tamil Brahmin.”

“And I had to put on a Hindi, like a Tamilian would speak it, which is hard to find. Because no Tamilian really speaks Hindi — they speak to you in English. Also, we don’t have an infrastructure of accent training for actors in our country. So we found this out-of-work Tamilian writer, who I worked with, and developed a system [for it].”

If we must get deeper into this accent thing still, for instance, Deol recalls, “I hope I haven’t mixed up my memory, but I was really working on the phonetics — there is no ‘ha’ sound in Tamil, and there is no ‘ba’. In Tamil, you could pronounce my name closer to ‘Apaay’. Stuff like that was insightful. This is besides mimicking my accent-trainer off-camera — so I would know how he might say my dialogues.”

The ladies of Khabardaar podcast might wanna notice this the next time they watch Shanghai. Krsihnamoorthy in Trial By Fire, Deol points out, is different from Krishnan, because he’s a Tamilian, but essentially from Delhi.

He has what one could call a more neutrally North Indian or ‘Delhi’. Which is also a character Deol has played in Oye Lucky Lucky Oye (OLLO) — another real-life person he obviously didn’t meet, before playing him on screen. Bunty Chor was the local swindler, where would you find him?

OLLO (2008) tragically released in theatres, when the “the firings were still on” during 26/11 terror attacks in Mumbai. My favourite memory of OLLO is an off-screen one from the film’s BTS video online, where a dog is after Bunty Chor (Deol), who’s jumping off a tall building-gate. Banerjee asks him to turn around for the camera, so the audience knows the lead actor performed this himself, instead of a body-double.

Deol says, “It’s fun doing stunts, as much as I can. I think Dibakar was a bit surprised about how easily I was scaling such a large gate, and he said he wanted people to see it!”

Sticking to Delhi, and characters inspired by actual events/people still, how about Anurag Kashyap’s Dev D (2009). I learnt this much after watching the film that the role was in fact somewhat based on Deol’s own life. Meaning, obsession in love, and indeed experiments with drugs. If true, kindly elaborate?

“Well, I wanted to contemporize the (Sarat Chandra Chatterjee) book, because I felt there was something wrong there — with such a male, patriarchal view of a man-woman relationship, where women are falling over Devdas. No matter what he does, he can never be wrong. I grew up in an environment, where drugs and alcohol were all available.”

“My Chanda (Kalki’s) character was far stronger than what eventually got made into the movie. She was an East European pole-dancing escort, who is fine the way she is — making great money, traveling the world. She takes pity on him (Dev). Obviously it worked for Anurag [that] she was as vulnerable as he [Dev], and she was a victim too. For me, he was the only victim. The women only grew stronger from there.”

Did he know the Polish escort? “I am not going to tell you! I know all sorts of people; let’s just put it that way. Yeah, I know a few escorts ‘n’ all.”

Let’s pause at the movie titles here: Banerjee’s Shanghai, OLLO. Kashyap’s Dev D. Also from a time when both Kashyap and Banerjee were the ‘new-age filmmakers’, early on in their directorial careers. I wonder what Deol thinks of the trajectory they took thereafter.

Frankly, he doesn’t have much to say, besides “conforming to commercial pressure” that becomes inevitable in some cases. He could sense the “creative genius of Banerjee in LSD (2010)”. As for Kashyap, I find it surprising that he hasn’t seen any of his films since Dev D! Not even Gangs Of Wasseypur (2012)? What; did they have a fallout or something, I ask.

“Well, [Kashyap] went in public, and said a lot of lies about me.”

For example? “One lie was that I demanded a [five-star] hotel room [during the shoot of Dev D]. He had actually come up to me and said, ‘Listen you can’t stay with us, you are a Deol. So, I want to put you up in a hotel room.’ He literally told me that. What he told the press was that I demanded it.” The reference here is to Deol’s profile published in Huffington Post (June 5, 2020).

He continues, “So, there was clearly a lot going on at the time, which was not professional. I had my heart on my sleeve, and all that is great — but you get taken advantage of, and then you get reactive. So, he [Kashyap] was a good lesson for me. Then I just avoided him, because I don’t need toxic people in my life. Life is too short, and there is so much more to explore. But he (Kashyap) is definitely a liar, and a toxic person. And I would warn people [about] him.”

This outburst is evidently in response to Kashyap’s quote about Deol in the Huffington Post report. Deol adds later, “I don’t look in the past. When Anurag said that crap about me in public, he sent me ‘apology’ messages.”

“He does that all the time. He was like, ‘You want to shout at me, scream at me…’ And I was like, ‘I don’t care. It’s been 12 years. You don’t feature in my thoughts even now; get over it.’ He said, ‘Forgive me, because I have had a bad day.’”

“I said you are forgiven. I never had a personal agenda. It was far bigger than just me. That is how I feel about everything. How much of this is he going to do? And I would have never taken his name and said the things, had he not gone public [either].” 

Raking this up is important only because lead actors, or stars, have always been the medium to tell stories on screen — even if in the off-stream space, so to say. And by the mid Noughties, Deol was at the centre, if not the pioneer, of a movement of sorts, within Bollywood—picking up young, untested directors to star in their scripts/films, on a leap of faith, first. 

“The first five movies of mine were all by first-time directors,” he recalls. Let’s pause again to name these debutants: Imtiaz Ali (Socha Na Tha), Shivam Nair (Ahista Ahista), Reema Kagti (Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd), Sanjay Khanduri (Ek Chaalis Ki Last Local), Navdeep Singh (Manorama Six Feet Under).

These are also films that got defined as Hindi commercial cinema, merging with an entertaining art-house — ‘H-indies,’ if you like. At least a couple of the directors did fairly well for themselves — after that firm footing in the film industry.

I can see why it’s got Deol a li’l pissed off now that I want him to dwell on what he thinks of their careers as well — he did like Ali’s Jab We Met, more than Rockstar, which in turn was still outside Ali’s usual “love-triangle zone”, and therefore a step-up: “Why am I commenting on all this — [is that] what the show/conversation is about?” Of course not.

I guess what we’re getting at is an oft repeated jibe that a lot of these directors — take Ali, for example, who got his debut due to Deol — never worked with him thereafter. Is that a fair observation, with anything deeper to it?

“And Anurag used to say, this is why directors [don’t work with me]… I know a lot of actors don’t want to work with him. But I see what you mean. Or where you are coming from. I did sense this feeling [later towards me]: ‘You know, you are not big enough!’”

“Which is ironic, because when I worked with them, neither were they! You either believe in someone, or a vision — even if it goes against the norm. Or you can say, I will keep my vision, but I will acquire bigger powers [to execute it]. Because I will get more money, I suppose. Also, I was taking a lot of it on myself, and I know I made mistakes. I am searching for answers to give you, and I hate making it about me, when it’s about somebody else.”

Consider the career graph. In terms of box-office plus cult-grade, Zoya Akhtar’s multi-starrer Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (2011) is possibly Deol’s high point. A string of seriously superb films right before, and after. And then there is s sharp slump 2013 onwards, almost a freefall. 

He’s had a release almost every year. So he’s very much been around since. The films/series are, again, by mostly first-time directors, or fresh talents, at any rate; experimental in their own right. 

You can have your views on, say, One By Two (2014), Happy Bhaag Jayegi (2016), Nanu Ki Jaanu (2018), Chopsticks (2019), What Are The Odds (2019)… Good or bad is a subjective take anyway. But you know, none of them are really, well, did he lose his mojo, how do I put it….

“It’s just a fact. You don’t have to justify [your question],” Deol comes to my rescue. As for the kind of work that comes your way, he says, “Everything is [a] collective [call]. And I don’t like talking about it, because I don’t want to come across sounding bitter, or a victim. I don’t care. But when you take a stand, then you take a stand. And that has consequences. Are you ready to face those consequences?”

Exactly what stand, for example, could do someone in? “I don’t know. Calling out people for endorsing fairness creams?” Would that mean those who endorse fairness creams would debar you right away? 

“It is not as simple as that. I did a guest appearance in Shah Rukh’s Zero, and he is a really dignified man. But there is a collective [thing that happens]. Say, showing up with a black eye on a red carpet, and calling out Bhushan Kumar by name, and saying T-Series blah, blah. Or constantly saying, why do we only have song and dance [in our films]…”

Deol has been equally vocal, in public, about critiquing his own films, with misplaced intentions — whether that be Aisha (2010), or Raanjhanaa (2013). Surely that’s hardly mastering the art of winning friends and influencing people. But you can tell—frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. And that’s what makes him more fun than the current crop of polite suckers for boring heroes. 

Also some of his criticisms could emanate from ideas he wished to champion, but found no takers, around that time. Navdeep Singh’s Basra famously got shelved. As did a zombie comedy called Rock The Shaadi, after shoot. I fish out an old video of him consulting a tarot card reader, in Simi Garewal’s TV show — to check if one of his dream projects would come true. 

Deol remembers it was an international film, with debutant filmmakers from abroad, who nobody wanted to put money on. They still haven’t made the film, and he had to stop trying eventually. 

“So yeah, post 2013, it was tough. I also took a backseat. Now I don’t want to go back and pretend like nothing ever happened, or be a different person — so, I am going to sit back, and see what comes my way. And quietly work. If that works, it works. If it doesn’t, so be it!”

As for the so-called song and dance, Deol says it’s not like he has an issue with the genre: “At least three ideas of mine are full of songs. One of them was Dev D (18 numbers in the soundtrack).” 

The film was a major winner at the box-office, for its budget. Deol remembers, “Especially after Oye Lucky and Dev D, I had a red-carpet entry to whoever I wanted to work with. And this is not just because I had successes behind me. Also because I was so-and-so’s son, nephew, brother…” 

Which puts him in a strange ‘middle’, in the nepotism debate, that is usually conflated to the ‘elite versus masses’ battle, pitched in the wider political/public space. Deol’s “anger and rebellion” within the family itself, he says, was his reaction to fame and its pitfalls. Something he had watched closely, growing up. Left to him, it appears, he’d rather be anonymous, but remain an actor — obviously a misnomer. 

“I was born an insider, but I pretty much lived as an outsider,” says Deol. That said, his debut film was a joint-family release, from Vijayta Productions — mainly helmed by cousin Sunny, son of Uncle Dharmendra. 

Interested in debutant Ali’s script, he took him to meet Sunny, who was happy to hop onboard the film, since the lead character was a lot like Abhay himself! Such is how Socha Na Tha was born, and two amazing careers took off. Only the film, that released during the low-key “exam-time, March” wasn’t hugely promoted as the proverbial ‘star is born’. Socha Na Tha is hugely loved still. 

Which reminds me, why is the Deol firm named Vijayta in the first place? “On my sister, my cousin — she is younger to Sunny Bhaiya. So, it’s Sunny Deol, Vijeta and Bobby Deol? “No. Then there is [another sister], Ajeita. Then there is Bobby.” 

Abhay’s father, late Ajit Singh Deol (Dharmendra’s brother), I hear, was also an actor. Except I couldn’t quite find a clip online to support this, I tell him. He smiles, “He did two movies, one of which he produced. They were all in the ’70s. One never got made. I remember Honey Aunty, Zoya’s (Akhtar) mum said the cutest thing to me once. That my father is the reason her film didn’t release. I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ She said that he had to hold her face, and he was shivering [through the scene]. She was the leading lady in that film. I didn’t even know it, because I never saw that movie!”

Insider-outsider is anyway a time/generation construct. Many of the outsiders Deol worked with at the beginning of his career are bona-fide insiders now. And maybe that’s what the revolt is about — to eventually get to the high table. The cycle continues.

“You hit success, then it doesn’t matter if you’re insider, or outsider. They all want to work with you. You have to understand it is also very cliquish — you are part of this, or that camp. I had access to all of them, but I was like, no!”

Living in the Deol household, he also had no “Bollywood Juhu gang” friends. Barring his schoolmate, director Vikramaditya Motwane, who wasn’t “Bollywood then”!

Everyone goes through their brash 20s — sometimes it lasts longer — “You wanna change the world!” I asked Deol what he thinks of, when he looks back at that decade, after which it appears, the world changes you, one way or the other!

Some of the things he says he’s learnt is being diplomatic —“also, not equating power and money, with corruption — that needn’t always be the case. Money is like energy, and it is something that you know you can make good use of — when you have a lot of it. I could do things a little smarter, to not be taken advantage of, or be gas-lit.

“Human condition is complex. Everything we have spoken about today are not black and white. You would think you’ve heard it all. There was a lot left out. Also, I am really lucky. I know I did create lot of trouble, but it was all intended for the right purpose. And I created change. People still refer to films I did 10-15 years ago.”

Which is true, once you glance at his filmography until 2013, starting 2005 — those who were born that year turn into adults in 2023, when we’re making this conversation with Deol, 46.

Also, in the intervening years, so much has changed with films itself: “The disruption we were looking at got brought in by technology itself.” So the ‘multiplex movie’ became ‘OTT content’.

Also, the Bollywood indie started hitting Rs 100 crore collections, with the likes of Ayushmann Khurrana, Rajkummar Rao. Deol was the OG ‘OTT star’, even before there were streamers: “I am not done yet. Maybe what I did was 20 years ahead [of its time]. Those 20 years have come!” Only the intentions may not be matching the outcomes for some time.

And then you watch Deol in Prashant Nair’s Trial By Fire on Netflix — a performance so subconsciously chilled, yet powerful. Without once making an unnecessary show of it. The series on the Uphaar Cinema fire tragedy is still about subtle and solid story-telling, that therefore makes the leads, the stars. Fair to say: welcome back, Abhay.

Abhay Deol and Rajshri Deshpande in Trial By Fire, which is based on the 1997 Uphaar cinema fire tragedy

Abhay Deol calls out lobby culture and award functions in the film industry; says he’s glad that more actors are speaking out now
Monika Rawal Kukreja (HINDUSTAN TIMES; June 24, 2020)

One look at Abhay Deol’s Instagram feed and you’d notice the actor has been revisiting his earlier films — Ek Chaalis Ki Last Local, Manorama Six Feet Under (both 2007), Dev D, Road (both 2009) — and sharing a story behind them, with the hashtag #makingwhatbollywouldnt.

“I felt this was a good way to bring attention to these movies. Being non-formulaic, they didn’t have enough funds for marketing or a big release. So, not a lot of people are aware of them. I believe they’re good and that they’d be entertaining even today” he tells us.

Elaborating on the hashtag, he adds, “The ones I selected for this particular hashtag are the ones that were the most difficult to make and even tougher to release.”

However, it’s his recent post on Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (ZNMD; 2011) that garnered the maximum traction, where Deol called out “covert and overt ways in which people in the industry lobby against you”.

“This was clearly an overt example. They didn’t even bother hiding their bias, something that they normally take efforts to do,” he says, adding, “Lobby culture has been prevalent for decades. No one thinks about standing up, or bothering to do anything. They’re all ready to conform, which is why they know that they can get away with it. The reason I can say this is because I grew up in a film family and I’ve heard of these games. As a kid, I saw through other people’s experiences, and now, I’ve seen it myself.”

Given that Deol’s post comes in wake of Sushant Singh Rajput’s death, after which many are slamming nepotism and lobbying culture in the film industry, he admits that Rajput’s death shook him up and got him thinking.

“Sushant’s death definitely sort of pushed me to speak up a little bit. But, this isn’t my first time speaking up. In the past, I’ve taken on the biggest. I’m sorry it took someone’s death to wake everybody up. But I’m glad that people have taken note and they want to be heard. What’s good today is that actors are speaking out. I had become quiet because I didn’t want to be the only one screaming. I alone couldn’t have brought about the change we need.”

He shares many commented on his post saying ‘Oh, you’re waking up now’, and he tells them he had put his career on the line from day one. “I focus on my privileges. I have a family, great friends, I have work, I’m acting, producing, working in two countries. I found my path,” he says.

In his post, Deol also called out award functions for they “demoted me and Farhan (Akhtar) from main leads to supporting actors”. But he says, he wasn’t surprised.

“It was a disappointment. By the time ZNMD came out, I was trying to be less idealistic, and more of a realist. Very rarely I had gone to these award functions. I was coming around to see the industry’s point of view and suddenly, this was a hard reminder of the systemic corruption that exists in the industry. Positioning was based on market value of the artiste not on the structure of the plot of the movie. And the shocking thing is that it was all accepted because that’s the way the industry functions,” he asserts.
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CAN NEPOTISM AND LOBBY CULTURE AFFECT ONE’S MENTAL HEALTH?
It’s a highly competitive space where people are insecure and you’ll often hear them say, ‘your failure is my success’. So, people planting false stories about you, paid-for reviews being negative, gas-lighting you within the industry to sabotage you, robbing you of a nomination or a win at an award show — these are some of the ways in which it happens. Now, imagine a person with a mental illness being thrown in this toxic environment. For sure, it would take a toll. They’re, after all, more vulnerable.

Bollywood's most loved filmmaker Zoya Akhtar looks back during the lockdown
Mayank Shekhar (MID-DAY; May 15, 2020)

Consider writer-director Reema Kagti (Gold, Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd) as an Australian male Ricardo Fernandes, looking for his lost brother in Mumbai, while filmmaker Zoya Akhtar is the local don Mastana's hot moll. That's really how Zoya first met Reema, during the audition for Kaizad Gustad's Bombay Boys (1998).

Reema, as the casting assistant, was standing in for Rahul Bose. Zoya, opposite her, was actually testing for the film's female lead role—mainly to humour Gustad, because he was keen she read for the part, that finally went to Tara Deshpande. Zoya was clear she wanted to AD on the movie.

AD, meaning assistant director—both a proper noun and an active verb on a film set. It's been over two decades since Bombay Boys, where Reema and Zoya were second ADs. Their partnership, as writers over the past decade though, counts amongst its achievements, Gully Boy (2019), the Amazon series Made In Heaven (2019), Dil Dhadakne Do (2015), Talaash (2012), and Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (2011).

Bollywood wise, they could well be—albeit slightly Bonzai—versions of the '70s super-hit, Salim-Javed (Zanjeer, Deewar, Don, Sholay, Mr India)—the most successful writing pair ever, comprising Salim Khan and Zoya's father, Javed Akhtar.

I say this, while Zoya is talking to us from where Salim-Javed used to work out of—the study in her Bandra family home—that she now uses as her bedroom: "I'm just absorbing them," she smiles. She also drops a hint at working on a talkathon/documentary project of sorts to do with Salim-Javed themselves, as part of her newly launched production company.

But it's too early to talk about, she insists. Much is naturally made of Zoya as poet-lyricist Javed's daughter, eighth generation writer from the Akhtar family. Her love for films, as she points out, flows first from her mother's fine collection of world to latest cinema, projected on the screen at home, growing up.

Also the fact is that it's her mom, Honey Irani, who's the Bollywood insider in the family, having literally grown up in showbiz (Javed had moved from Bhopal).

Wikipedia rather exaggeratedly lists her as the child-star of 72 films!

Honey would've done minimum 20-30 movies as the much loved kid-face of the big screen—graduating much later to screenwriting, with popular titles like Yash Chopra's Lamhe (1991), Aaina (19993), Darr (1993), Rakesh Roshan's Kaho Naa Pyaar Hai (2000), Koi… Mil Gaya (2003), Krissh 3 (2013).

Zoya reminisces, "Now, everybody has a camera to record their children. But people in my generation did not have footage of when their parents were three years old. I was one of the few kids, who had my mother from the time she was two, to when she was 16! I've seen my mother animated [on the screen], with different expressions, speech, seen her change, and grow. It's really interesting even now, to see her like that. She was darn cute, man! She, and my aunt Daisy [Irani]!"

She rues in jest, "Everybody in my family has a National Award— my mother, father, brother [Farhan Akhtar], step-mother [Shabana Azmi], cousin [Farah Khan], everybody. Except me!" Which film did her mom get a National Award as the kid-lead? "I don't know, if it was for Pyaar Ki Pyaas or Taare Zameen Par, one of the two." There was a yesteryear film called Taare Zameen Par? "Zameen Ke Tare! Both my mom, and my aunt."

The mom's acting gene, Zoya contends, went to her younger sibling, Farhan: "He is a bona-fide performer—he always had that. I hate being on stage, or before the camera. My first thing to do with the arts was to write—watching both my parents work at home, discussing scripts… That was one of the first things [in my head]. Directing came later."

Held over video-call for the first time, Zoya is also the first filmmaker to feature on our unscripted conversation series, Sit With Hitlist—so far limited to Hindi cinema's lead actors. Reason for that of course is that she's arguably Bollywood's most loved filmmaker, and therefore a star in her own right.

That apart, little is known about her life up until her rather belated directorial debut at 36-plus, with Luck By Chance (2009), although she'd been working as a film professional for around 18 years before that. Very little worth knowing, Zoya casually reckons, jogging back to age 19, when she started interning for a copy-writer's job at a creative agency—simultaneously reading sociology at Bombay's St. Xavier's College.

"I remember watching Salaam Bombay (1988), being madly in love, and going: I want to direct. And I don't know what I'm going to make. Because Hindi films were not my scene then. Out of the blue, when I was about 21, I got a job with Mira Nair on [the sets of] Kamasutra (1996)." You can find her in a cameo appearance as one of the Kamasutra girls, "an extra part," as she puts it, because ADs are frequently expected to fill-in or add to the human backdrop on shoots.

Of all her past associates, Mira as director appears to have left a strong impression on Zoya: "Mira is just special, you can see that. When she is talking to you, you are the only person in the world. She makes people feel special. She knows everybody on a crew by name. I love that about her. And I love her aesthetics."

Post Kamasutra, Zoya recalls, "I started working mainly on American projects that came to India. Went to NYU [New York University] for a diploma [in filmmaking]. Stayed back in New York. Got a job, thanks to Ismail Merchant, in a small, cool, indie film called Side Streets, directed by Tony Gerber."

She returned to Bombay as a freelance, professional AD, of which there were only four in all of Bollywood, who did a lot of foreign films and Indian work: "Reema [Kagti], [director] Apurva Lakhia, and me. Then Kiran Rao came in." Zoya's credits during this phase include Mahesh Mathai's Bhopal Express (1999) and Dev Benegal's Split Wide Open (1999). She chose to specialise in the casting department, because there, "you get to direct actors, with a script," and that's what she ever wanted to learn/master anyway.

She was the casting director on Farhan's first film Dil Chahta Hai (DCH, 2001), and thereafter Armaan (2003), her mother Honey's directorial debut. Okay did she personally pick/cast that balloon-lover boyfriend in Dil Chahta Hai? "Oh that's actually Hassan, a childhood friend of Farhan. But we handpicked everyone, so to speak. There are very interesting cameos. Kiran Rao is one of the girlfriends in Goa. She'd come to do all the extras' casting for the film's Goa leg!"

Between freelance AD-ing, Zoya had been ideating all along for her debut feature. It's mildly ironic that while so cued into casting, she was unable to kick off her first film for want of a lead actor, for almost a decade that she'd been ready to direct. And the one she eventually cast for the lead role, in her directorial debut (Luck By Chance, 2009) was her brother, Farhan, who'd been around all along!

"You cannot cast someone, unless they are ready. And feel that they want to do this. It took Farhan a while to get there—that he wants to act, and that he is a really good actor." While practically the entire Bollywood A-list came down for cameos in Luck By Chance, including both Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan (guessing, for the first time in the same film, although not in the same frame), Farhan was the seventh star to read/consider/hear the script. Hrithik Roshan played the second lead. "Luck By Chance is a book that I am going to write one day, about how that film got made," Zoya sighs.

Can't wait. It'd be quite a telling tinsel-town tale, given that nobody in Bombay does it. And Zoya is perfectly positioned to—not just as the quintessential insider, but as someone who can surprise you with her adorably random zaniness, on occasion. Recently at an interview she called herself the love-child of directors Karan Johar and Anurag Kashyap. What does that mean? "That I am halfway between Indie and commercial, you know."

One time I remember getting a smoke with a group, outside a closed-door meeting with director Oliver Stone who was in Bombay then, and Zoya casually mentioned, "You know, there are four kinds of people in the world—John, Paul, George and Ringo." What?

I bring that up again: "That is a line from a Tom Robbins book. Have you read Tom Robbins? I love him. I don't remember what the context of that conversation was. You can look at everyone, and be like—that's a Paul, Ringo, George. I am a John, for sure!"

And while her films primarily deal with real, human, often raw emotions, there is this carefree cattiness that inevitably slips in too. It's only fair that we dig into a couple of stories behind some stellar, surprising choices she's made so far. For example, why/how/when did a ladies' bag, called Bagwati, bag a proper part in the breezy masterpiece Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara?

"That comes from Reema and a close friend of ours, Shai Heredia, who's an academic, award-winning documentary filmmaker, and hysterically funny. She and Reema were on a road trip, and they kept talking to Shai's bag. Think they were just tripping! We just put it into Zindagi."

It was Zoya's second film, with Farhan and Hrithik back on her frame, but in a much wider canvas, although the script started out in her head as a small, cathartic, road movie, about three boys in a car—for all the road trips she's taken in her life. Over time, of course, the script "developed a life of its own".

The film she co-wrote after was Reema's Talaash. It's a supernatural thriller that, by the way, was based on a true story, that happened to her! "You have to stop. I am going to be the crazy lady that goes on interviews and says all this shit. I know it sounds really crazy, and I don't want to be propagating this nonsense. But, I had a strange experience on Haji Ali, while a bunch of us were driving back from a nightclub. We thought we had hit a naked woman in the middle of the road. Everybody was freaking out. This is something I told Reema about, and where Talaash came from. I am not going to repeat this story, ever again!"

Okay how about the dog called Pluto, who's the narrator/POV of Dil Dhadakne Do; where does he come from? "From my super-smart, intelligent beagle Zen, who passed away last year. You can find him on my Insta page, Zen Akhtar. Zen would look at us as though he is watching National Geographic—that we are the animals, and he is like, 'What are they doing?' That's Pluto. Even the way the film is shot [as a result] is observational—there are no close ups, only 'wides'."

After a preview screening for Aamir Khan and his wife, Kiran Rao, both of whom Zoya makes it a point to get a feedback from before her film's final cut, she asked Aamir if he'd like to voice the dog: "He was, like, after these many years, you have offered me the voice of a dog? I said, please do it. He was, like, yeah, totally! And he just came [on-board], like a sweetheart. It was great!"

Is there anything she'd like to change about Dil Dhadakne Do? "I think the title. Would have been nicer [if it had] a little more gravitas." How about the climax (that was rather OTT, compared to the rest of the film's tone)?

"I actually liked the climax (of the mom, dad, sister jumping off the ship, with lifeboats to chase down brother/Ranveer Singh's character). The whole metaphor of the trip is that you can't get rid of anyone. Family is what you are stuck with. You can't just walk out the door. Eventually, when shit hits the fan, they are the only ones who will pull you up too. So when everyone tells me, I don't like the climax; I am like, cool, so what would you do? Till now nobody has given me a better ending. If there is one, I'd be like, damn!"

What did upset Zoya even before the release of Dil Dhadakne Do though was people taking the piss out of the picture for it being centred on lives of the super-privileged—intended also as a barb against movies that Zoya had directed thus far.

"Firstly I don't think it was criticism. There is nothing for me to take home from it. It is like somebody seeing a trailer of Gully Boy and saying, oh, this is about poor people. And I made Made in Heaven, along with Gully Boy. And that is about very rich people!"

"I was being interviewed by this woman wearing diamonds and solitaires, and she was telling me, it [the film] is about rich people. I was, like: Would it bother you, if your husband has an affair? Why? But you have solitaires on, it shouldn't bother you! What does it even mean?"

Before Gully Boy — set in a Mumbai slum and the city's underground rap scene—released, it got roundly compared to the American ghetto, hip-hop biopic, 8 Miles. Did that bother her? "The two people I spoke to [to base the film on their lives] are living here. You can talk to them. So, no, I didn't get into it. It bothered me, when they compared Zindagi to Hangover [producer Ritesh Sidhwani had to respond to Warner Bros]. Now, I think that's what they do."

Inspirations from dogs and spirits apart, what makes Zoya's filmmaking process special—given what we've managed to gauge so far—is she is capable of working backwards. Where she must know end, before she locks her script. Which isn't true for many filmmakers, who often arrive at the conclusion, as they navigate the story or characters' journeys: "I have to set a goal. That goal may change. But I when I set off, I have to know where I am taking the film. Otherwise I meander. I need a direction I am shooting at, you know!"

The other thing is her complete clarity on the point she's trying to make—so much so that she can distill each film into a single line, which is different from a log-line that describes a plot: "Of course Gully Boy is about a Muslim kid from Dharavi, who expresses himself through rap. It is a rags-to-riches, coming-of-age story. You can pin it down in any log line. But at the core of it, the film is about class. Luck By Chance is really about self-esteem. Zindagi is about living, seizing the day. Dil Dhadakne Do is a film about projection—who we actually are, and what we tend to project. It is what lenses the film, creates the base."

This sort of sharpness of thought, cutting through fluff, getting to the point, is also something Zoya shares with her father Javed, as a communicator in general—whether it be his works as lyricist, screenwriter, people's poet, or popular orator. He's possibly India's finest conversationalist—whose quick repartees and general gyan stick with you, if not go viral online.

Is there something Zoya remembers he told her that she's held as talisman? "Little things, you know. That when you are writing a script, whatever your story is, you've got to be able to lift your viewer. By the end of it, just lift your viewer! Don't resort to cheap shit to get a laugh or clap. Say it in the most base-denominator way, if you have to. But find a higher level of communication." It's tough, bohot hard.