Twins?

Just as I’m tossing around the man’s rocket science reasoning, a white Corolla rolls in. Two men, identically clad in a white shirt-trouser combo, alight. The shorter one takes a drag of a cigarette, then passes it to the other who returns the gesture. A white Nokia swings from man to man. And, of course, you can’t miss the white shoes.

Big brother Abbas, 49, swears by their love for everything white and glossy. ‘‘We have six-seven tubelights in every room at home.” The brothers live together in a joint family. “Even if we are shooting a night sequence, we don’t like it grim and morose,’’ adds Abbas.

They want to be called by their first names. ‘‘Just add bhai,’’ twinkles 46-year-old Mustan, fidgeting with the red mauli on his left wrist. He makes another request in chaste Hindi: ‘‘Please, can you mention that my name is Mustan and not Mastan. We’ve been in the industry 13 years but still nobody knows this.’’

Exactly. They have churned out money-spinners like Khiladi, Baazigar, Soldier and Chori Chori Chupke Chupke to name just a few. It’s thanks to them that Shah Rukh Khan got the title of Badshah and Akshay Kumar, Khiladi. They gave to the screen Preity Zinta, Shilpa Shetty, Bipasha Basu and Arbaaz Khan: All these actors made their debut in Abbas-Mustan films. Yet most people who know them can’t distinguish between Abbas and Mustan. ‘‘Kaam bole toh achcha hai (We want our work to speak),’’ shrugs Abbas.

To be fair, they can’t really blame the world because the brothers are maniacal about their privacy. They are not media savvy, very few people are privy to their cellphone number (“We get too many calls from strugglers, so we guard our number fiercely,’’ says Abbas).

Perhaps the only thing conspicuous about them is their white fixation. The duo have 17 shirts each: pristine and starched just right. Their tailors have strict instructions to attach labels A, M or H on every shirt—H being their younger brother Hussain, 44, who edits all their films. ‘‘Our house looks like a dhobi ghaat whenever our clothes are washed,’’ grins Abbas.

The Bohra Muslims (bet you didn’t know their last name is Burmawala) started out with Gujarati films in 1986. Saajan Tara Sambharna and Moti Vera Na Chokma were golden jubilee hits. Their first Hindi film was the 1990 dud Agnikaal. But luckily for them, Ratan Jain of Venus saw the film and offered them Khiladi. Team A&M was officially on a roll.

They had no formal training in film-making. All they knew was that their father’s furniture shop never held any appeal. ‘‘We didn’t want a 9-to-6 job where, when the shop closed, the mind also closed,’’ says Abbas. But they often tagged along for shoots and editing sessions with maternal uncle ST Kurani who was then a film editor. ‘‘We didn’t understand the nuances of film-making, but during narrations we would pipe in with suggestions. Sometimes they were accepted which gave us hope,’’ says Abbas.

The decision to direct together was accidental. Mustan is candid enough to admit that Govind Patel, the producer of their Gujarati films, wanted to give Abbas independent charge of Agnikaal, but at the last minute he felt that their jodi might work better. ‘‘We didn’t even discuss it. There is no ego between us.’’ They swear that there are no creative differences and no slanging matches ever. ‘‘Kudrati, our ideas are similar. We do have the occasional differences of opinion but we make it a point to listen to each other. And whenever we are stuck, Hussain takes a call,’’ supplies Abbas.

Akshaye Khanna, who won laurels for his grey act in Humraaz, says he has never seen two people more in sync with each other. ‘‘All the decisions, discussions and deliberations are planned before they come on the sets. I’ve never seen them disagree even once. And that’s a fact.’’

Another fact is that they own Bollywood’s only true blue thriller stable. Mustan relates how strangers enquire about their next project. ‘‘Before we can say anything, they say, aap toh sirf thriller hi banaiye (You should only make thrillers).’’

That’s fine, but how do they counter the allegation that most of their thrillers are rip-offs of Hollywood films? If Baazigar was the desi version of A Kiss Before Dying and Daraar the remake of Sleeping With The Enemy, then Humraaz was A Perfect Murder retold. Even Chori Chori Chupke Chupke, (their personal favourite) is Pretty Woman in more ways than one.

‘‘We never write our own stories. Writers narrate stuff to us. We don’t know from where they get the ideas,’’ says Abbas. Mustan adds that they aren’t members of any DVD library. ‘‘If somebody suggests a film to us, we ask them to send a copy.’’ During the making of their movie, they take their team of writers to Khandala, two hours from Mumbai, for an uninterrupted scripting session.

Year 2004 is crucial for A&M. Fantasy film Taarzan: The Wonder Car and the Akshay Kumar-Kareena Kapoor-Priyanka Chopra starrer Aitraaz, a film about an extramarital affair produced by Subhash Ghai, will hit the marquee. Ghai, incidentally, hasn’t visited the sets of Aitraaz even once. ‘‘Abbas and Mustan have given me zero tension. Their schedule finishes on time, they have their own team and things are done within the budget. They are the most respected directors among producers.’’

Their reputation is spotless—quite like the colour of their clothes. They aren’t party to any camps in Bollywood. They have worked with both Shah Rukh Khan and Salman Khan, as well as rival music companies like Tips and Venus.

But one allegation holds true. They never have any female members on their crew. ‘‘Just coincidence,’’says Mustan. ‘‘We had one assistant some years back but she got married. We want girls on board. We are very uncomfortable whenever we have to tell our heroines about things like dresses and make-up,’’ adds Abbas. ‘‘We are really bad narrators but we direct very well.’’