Gulzar at Home: ‘I’m at the space I’m most comfortable with – my desk’

“I have been looking back at my journey all the time. I am aware of where I came from and where I am. All I can say is that it’s not a bad journey,” says Gulzar, who made his debut as a lyricist with the soulful Mora gora ang in Bimal Roy’s Bandini (1963). Gulzar has been selected for the Jnanpith Award, India’s highest literary honour, for his contribution to Urdu literature. His book — Caged… Memories Have Names (Penguin) — was released recently.

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“Becoming a writer was my first choice before I joined films as the assistant of Bimal da, my guru. However, in those days, it was tough to make a living as a writer,” says Gulzar. Born Sampooran Singh Kalra in a Sikh family at Dina, Jhelum district in present-day Pakistan, his dream of becoming a writer took time to realise. But he clung to his dream, getting involved with the Indian People’s Theatre Association (IPTA) even as he worked in a garage in Mumbai, mixing shades of paint to apply on damaged vehicles. His friend Debu Sen, who he knew from IPTA, suggested he meet Roy but he was hesitant. It was on lyricist Shailendra’s insistence — who gave him an earful — that Gulzar finally went to meet Roy, who subsequently took the then aspiring writer under his wings.

Roy told Gulzar “not to waste” his life at a garage and become his assistant on the production of Kabuliwala (1961). Gulzar recalls breaking down, moved by the filmmaker’s “affectionate” chiding. “No one in my family had shown that kind of appreciation for me,” he says. He worked his way up after that, cementing his reputation as a talented lyricist and screenwriter (with Khamoshi, 1969; Guddi, 1971 and Anand, 1971, among others). “Somehow, my passion for poetry inspired me to write songs for films,” says Gulzar, whose evocative imagery, unusual metaphors and deceptively simple lyrics have found an audience in every generation.

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Gulzar’s love for poetry came early. He was 10 when he discovered Rabindranath Tagore’s work through an Urdu translation of The Gardener (1913), a book he “stole” from a library in Delhi’s Sabzi Mandi area. Unsurprisingly, the first two poems in Caged, described as his “first autobiography in verse”, are dedicated to Tagore, who remains one of the biggest influences in his life. In the poem titled Tagore, he writes: Mere sar par Tagore ki kavita ki bheli kisne rakh di (Who has placed the sweet gur of Tagore’s poems on my head?). In 2016, he translated Tagore’s poems into two volumes titled — Gulzar Translates Tagore (HarperCollins). “People rate Geetanjali (Tagore was awarded the Nobel Prize for it) as his best work. That’s not accurate. For this collection, I picked the poems, including the romantic ones he wrote as a young poet.”

In Caged, he brings together poetry and reminiscences about people who left an impression on him. Some of his previous work such as Actually…I Met Them: A Memoir (Penguin), and Dhoop Aane Do (Amaryllis) captured these memories. “These are about the moments I have shared with some of the masters and my talented colleagues. I worked closely with music director Sachin Dev Burman as well as his son Rahul Dev Burman. If Pancham (as Rahul Dev was called) had a child, I would have worked with him/her also,” he says, with a chuckle. In Dhoop Aane Do, he fondly recalls Rahul Dev’s many eccentricities — adding cold water when the tea was too hot and maintaining a ledger to keep track of who had borrowed his video cassettes.

Gulzar with Sanjeev Kumar. (Express Archive)

Gulzar believes some of his best movies as a director featured actor Sanjeev Kumar. “Hari (Sanjeev Kumar’s actual name) had immense faith in me and never questioned the roles I offered him. The first time he worked with me was in Parichay (1972), in which he played Jaya Bachchan’s father. A week after its release, Koshish (1972), in which Hari and Jaya played a hearing impaired couple, hit the theatres. I was worried about the audience’s response. Producer NC Sippy allayed my fears and said that when the actor is good, the audience looks at the character,” he recounts.

Gulzar, who calls Sarat Chandra, a “gifted author” who created compelling women characters, adapted his Pandit Moshai to make Khushboo in 1975, starring Jeetendra and Hema Malini. Though the cinematic adaptations of Sarat Chandra’s Devdas made the protagonist a pop cultural phenomenon, Gulzar believes it is the leading ladies — Paro and Chandramukhi — who have a more nuanced arc. Inspired by Shakespeare, he twice adapted the Bard’s The Comedy of Errors, first as Do Dooni Chaar (1968), which flopped, and later improvised the script to make Angoor (1982) even though producer Yash Johar wondered why he was remaking a flop film.

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For the last three decades though, it’s literature that has occupied Gulzar more than filmmaking. He shifted his artistic focus to literature following the release of Hu Tu Tu (1999) — a scathing exploration of the state of politics in the country. “Hu Tu Tu se thodi si mayoosi hui thi (I was disappointed over Hu Tu Tu). The film was not released in theatres the way I had made it. The distributor in Kolkata released a different cut. Different versions of a film were then shown on television and overseas markets,” says the Dadasaheb Phalke Award recipient, expressing his displeasure over not having control over how his directorial work was presented to the viewers. Gulzar, who made his directorial debut with Mere Apne (1971), directed several landmark movies such as Aandhi (1975), Mausam (1975), Ijaazat (1987) and Maachis (1996).

Sitting behind his desk, Gulzar says, “Now, I have found a space at my (writing) desk that I am most comfortable with. Once the final version of a book is approved, I know my words won’t be tampered with.”

Over the years, he has worked on a range of books — multiple collections of poems, including Raat Pashmine Ki (2002), A Poem A Day (2020), and 89 Autumns of Poems (2024); short story collections such as Raavi Par Aur Anya Kahaniyan, and a collection of his writings on Partition, Footprints on Zero Line. Despite many people urging him, he remains averse to the idea of writing a ‘typical’ autobiography. “First of all, your entire work is like a biography. My work carries my impression and persona. An autobiography is not about where you were born and when. It is about what you are and how you are what you are. Or, why you are what you are,” he says.

He turns over the pages of his notebook, showing his jottings in Urdu. “I studied in Pakistan before Partition. Urdu was the first language of Punjabis of that generation. The Urdu we speak is close to Hindustani. My father used to write in Urdu and Gurmukhi. Though some sounds came from Persian and Arabic, Urdu in India bears major influence of Awadhi, Brijbhasa and Prakrit. Out of prejudice we say Urdu belongs to Pakistan. If Pakistan has borrowed your language, you should be proud,” he says.

In a career spanning over six decades, is there a story he has not been able to share? “Kyun nahin bolunga? (Why should I not tell a story I want?) However, at times, you know, certain stories will be relevant a little later and you can’t tell that then because of social reservations. That’s also because you don’t mean to hurt anyone and you don’t want to get hurt also,” he says. So does a writer have to be fearless too? “Writer ko cautious hona zaroori hai (a writer should be cautious) … A writer should also be honest about what he/she wants to convey.” he says.

Gulzar with SD Burman (extreme right) and RD Burman. (Express Archive)

Through his career, Gulzar has conveyed with consummate ease the hopes and dreams, the trials and frustrations of successive generations, his lyrics ageless and eternal, lit with a youthful spirit. His words speak as much to the generation that came before the internet as they do to GenZ. He has interjected Urdu with English and taken words from our everydays to write lyrics that sparkle. Aankhein bhi kamal karti hain personal se sawal karti hain (Bunty Aur Babli) and Beedi jalai lay jigar se piya (Omkara) to Peechhe peechhe din bhar/ Ghar daftar mein le ke chalenge hum (Ek Thi Daayan) — Gulzar distills emotions as very few can.

The clue to how Gulzar retains a youthful vigour in his writing lies in his deep curiosity in the world around him. He reads new books to keep himself “updated otherwise one will lag behind”. At present he is reading Salman Rushdie’s Victory City (2023) and waiting for the copies of The New Icon: Savarkar and the Facts by Arun Shourie, and Golwalkar: The Myth Behind the Man, The Man Behind the Machine by Dhirendra K Jha. He loves to browse the NASA website and reads up on developments in Artificial Intelligence (AI). He follows the writings of scientists, including that of the 2024 Nobel Physics Prize-winner John Hopfield, known for his pioneering work on AI, and who has cautioned against some of the advances in the field.

Gulzar narrates a tale from Panchatantra to make the point that one needs to learn about powerful new developments like AI in order to use them wisely. The story goes: Four friends chance upon a dead tiger and three of them decide to bring it back to life using their power, only to be devoured by the tiger, while the fourth ‘wise’ one who tried to dissuade them, escapes.

“Following this, the guru says: Gyaan ki shakti maanta hun. Par shakti ka gyaan zaroori hai (I’m aware of the power of knowledge. However, we should also be aware of the repercussions of power),” says Gulzar.