And/Or

And/Or

Written by Salim-Javed!

Sriram Raghavan, Direction 1987

The master writer and director Billy Wilder, whilst addressing some film students gave some tips on screenwriting. The first of them said: The audience is fickle. You got to grab them by the throat and never let go.

Cut to the early seventies, when two hungry (and perhaps angry) young men – a failed actor and an assistant director – got together and grabbed the throats of Hindi Cinema viewers. The actor was Salim Khan (you can spot him in F. C. Mehra’s Professor (1962) and Vijay Anand’s Teesri Manzil (1966)) while the assistant director was Javed Akhtar. They met on a film set, formed the Salim-Javed team and literally wrote a new chapter in the annals of Hindi Cinema.

‘Written by Salim-Javed’ on the credits of any film was a promise – of a taut story, terrific scenes, vivid characters, superbly crafted transitions, memorable dialogue and above all an ability to combine the flamboyant givens of mainstream cinema with earthy realism that connected with every viewer from the very first row to the balcony. Something for both the masses and the classes, as our trade papers say.

A terrific idea and a terrifying blank page. That’s the beginning of every good film. Undoubtedly, there have been great writers in Hindi Cinema before the Salim-Javed phenomenon. But every one of them would happily or grudgingly agree that this was the duo that was responsible for making the writer a superstar. They gave recognition, respect and dignity to the craft of screenwriting. They got the writer’s name on the poster. And every writer here would applaud when I say that they were often paid more than the stars. I’ll just try and write about why I love their work. I’ll try and talk about their superb craft and economy of writing, their influences, their inspirations and their impact on film-making ever since.

It was not that there were no good writers before Salim-Javed. Wajahat Mirza wrote Mother India (1957), Mughal-e-Azam (1960) and Gunga Jamuna (1961), Nabendu Ghosh wrote several classics for Bimal Roy including Sujata (1959) and Bandini (1963) besides Abhimaan (1973) for Hrishida, K. A. Abbas wrote Shri 420 (1955), Bobby (1973) and other films for Raj Kapoor, Akhtar Mirza wrote Naya Daur (1957) and Waqt (1965) for B R Chopra, Rajendar Singh Bedi, Abrar Alvi, O P Dutta, Dr Rahi Masoom Reza and a whole lot of others including the prolific Sachin Bhowmick and Gulzar who wrote some memorable films like Anand (1970). There were also Writer-Directors like Vijay Anand, Nasir Husain and Manoj Kumar.

The studio system of the 40s and 50s had dissolved into another system where every prominent director/production house had a select group of writers working in an atmosphere of insulation and camaraderie – the Story Department. I have no idea how they actually functioned. Perhaps they were a group of people who read a lot of books, brainstormed all day and eventually zeroed in on an idea. The late 60s and early 70s saw the bulk of Hindi cinema dominated by the romantic social drama. The style of working then was to broadly select a story, think of song situations, a basic scenario to embellish the song situations, add some comedy moments and to ensure that there was an action climax. Oh yes. Whatever the genre of the film, the climax had to have action.

The Salim-Javed story began in one such story department at Sippy Films. Ramesh Sippy was making his first film Andaaz (1971) with the most prolific and popular writer of the time, Sachin Bhowmick. One day, two young men came to meet him and said they wanted to narrate a script. They said, “You may not necessarily do it but we assure you that you will want to hear it to the end.” Ramesh Sippy said to himself that these guys sure are cocky. But they were eager and confident. So he said, fine. Go ahead. Mr Sippy recounts: “I was tired and was lying down as they began to narrate. And midway I found myself sitting up… and towards the end I was leaning forward, listening intently to everything they said. I immediately called my cashier and issued two cheques. They joined my story department. That was the first time I could see the whole film, smoothly flowing scene to scene in my head.”

Cut to a couple of years later. I was a kid then… And I got a complete narration of Yaadon Ki Baarat (1973). Not from Salim-Javed though. I got it from my mom. We weren’t allowed too many movies then. But my parents had just seen the movie. I asked her to at least tell me the story. And she did – scene by scene! How the boys separated, how they met often but kept missing the chance to realize they were brothers and how ultimately they met and how the villain got his foot stuck in the railway tracks and was run down by a train. I was a kid, but I too could see the whole film in my head.

I have not seen Death Rides a Horse (1967) but in one line, it’s the story of a boy seeking revenge for his parents’ killings. Call it audacity, or sheer writing skill but Salim-Javed managed to sell this one-line story to both Prakash Mehra (Zanjeer (1973)) and Nasir Husain (Yaadon ki Baraat). They wrote two entirely different screenplays with the same idea. The Prakash Mehra film is dark, a gritty film noir shot mostly on locations; while the Nasir Hussain flick is a musical, a love story, a lost-and-found saga, a caper thriller and yes, also a revenge story! Zanjeer too has songs, it has a love story, but nothing gets in the way of the mood of the movie. I love the scene where Jaya Bhaduri shows Vijay some curtains for the house and he says yeah lets put lots of curtains so that we shut ourselves out of whatever hell is happening out there. And she points out a picture of a lush landscape in a calendar and says that place originally had a volcano. The volcano erupted one day and only then did the land become fertile. Effective, evocative writing! If Zanjeer follows the rule of less is more, Yaadon Ki Baraat makes you salivate for more. I can happily confess that even today as I watch its climatic title song and the three brothers unite, I get all misty eyed...

If Salim-Javed took one idea and made two movies, they were to also do a total opposite. They took classics of Hindi Cinema – Gunga Jamuna and Mother India, and wonder of wonders, through their amalgamation created a third classic, Deewaar (1975)!

Jean Luc Godard said that if a film has four to five good scenes, the audience is usually quite satisfied. George Lucas said, a good film should have 60 terrific two-minute scenes. Deewaar has a total of 95 scenes and it’s quite impossible to list favourites because they are all so damn good. It’s a film without an ounce of fat. The character of Parveen Babi, for example, is introduced after the interval and she has only seven scenes. And yet she leaves a lasting impact. As writers, whilst working on our own scripts, we often feel inadequate and hopelessly untalented. If we want to feel even worse, please note that Salim-Javed wrote Deewaar in just 18 days! And in a film full of memorable lines, I must mention Vijay’s first meeting with Samant, his first assignment. He sees Samant and his goons entering a lift. Vijay stops the closing doors of the lift with his foot. The gang stares suspiciously at him. Moving lift. Suddenly Vijay stops the lift midway. The goons pull out their guns in a jiffy. Vijay says relax, I want to talk business with Samant Saab. Samant says you want to talk business come to my office. Vijay says: Suna hai lift ke darwazon ke kaan nahin hote… Why don’t we hear such dialogue today???

Sholay (1975) has 62 scenes. Maybe this is where George Lucas got his figures from. I’m not going to praise this film. Rather, let me try and write about the things that bother me. Let’s go back to the time when the film had not yet been made. It was just a four line idea.

The first thing that I’d have really worried about is, how am I going to keep it hidden from the audience that Thakur does not have hands. That has to be my secret till I dramatically reveal it at the interval point. Oh yes, there is Mr Sippy’s fantastic blocking and Sanjeev Kumar’s performance, but right now it’s just words on paper. If the viewer guesses, or more probable, tells the next show viewers… Hell, there goes my interval point.

The second thing that would surely have bothered me is, after the Hema Malini dance Jab Tak Hai Jaan when Samba is about to kill Veeru and we see Jay has arrived. Jay has Gabbar at gunpoint. Veeru takes a gun, lots of bullets and leaves with Basanti. Why don’t they take Gabbar along? And remember, their mission was to get Gabbar, dammit! In popular cinema terms, it’s emotional logic. Meaning what? Meaning logically, that’s what they would do but the makers are taking us on an emotional journey. We are so worried for Basanti and Veeru that we are oh so glad that Jay has come and that the immediate threat is gone, we want them to just get away and save themselves. We aren’t thinking logically. We are thinking emotionally.

Likewise with the cut hands and the blanket. In a good film, a whole hall can come out holding a secret. It happened with The Crying Game (1992). It happened with The Sixth Sense (1999). But of course, it has to all happen on paper first.

The journey of a four-line idea to a full-fledged screenplay is an arduous and fantastic process, where the writer has to draw from within and from outside. The world of Salim-Javed was full of as many outside influences as it was of their own lives, their own struggles coupled with their imagination, ambition and intent. One can detect influences ranging from James Hadley Chase and Harold Robbins to Conrad’s Lord Jim, from our own films, literature, poetry, culture and mythologies. In their best work, Salim-Javed took ideas from fictional and real sources but they always had an original take on it. They worked within the rigid conventions of Hindi cinema of the time but they created scripts that were unique, realistic and contemporary. Mera Gaon Mera Desh (1971) and Khote Sikkey (1974) were made before Sholay and both films had crooked but likeable thieves being enlisted to protect a village. Sholay has multiple reference movies but it’s still an original work. Very much like Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) or Pulp Fiction (1994). Tarantino said it best when he said he stole from every single movie ever made.

Seeta aur Geeta (1972), Zanjeer, Yaadon ki Baraat, Majboor (1974) and Haath Ki Safai (1974) were all big hits. And with Deewaar and Sholay releasing in 1975, the Salim-Javed duo had achieved a success so far unimaginable for mere writers. They impacted the film industry like no other writers before them had done. Credit titles had their names, just before the Producer and Director. Posters brandished their names. So what made them so different? What made them click?

Film historians say they caught the mood of the nation, somewhat disillusioned by the state of affairs in the country. They would say that better. I can only speak from the point of view of a school-going kid then. I guess all kids are rebels at heart. We loved Vijay for his attitude, his bravado, his confidence and cool. We felt his anger, his angst and we wanted to be like him.

Many filmmakers of the time were making as good or better stories for the screen. Looking back at the movies I love and watch repeatedly, I think it’s not the stories but how they were told that finally grabs the viewer. As writers, Salim-Javed never forgot the viewer within themselves. Critically, Salim-Javed didn’t think their audience was dumb! In fact, any filmmaker who considers the audience dumb is actually saying he’s dumb himself because in a sense, he’s the film’s first viewer. I don’t think Salim-Javed ever said to each other the audience won’t accept this, that they will not understand this.

As sheer craftsmen, their strong points were economy, pace, dialogue, visual language of story-telling, sharp characterization and clever transitions. To love Salim-Javed is not just to appreciate great films but also to enjoy and discover the essential 70s entertainer – Haath Ki Safai, Chacha Bhatija (1977), Don (1978) to name some.

We live in a time when a producer will happily dish out a huge sum of money to an item song, an item set and the item girl but balk when the writer demands his price or even talks about his fee. We live in times when it’s easier for a Director/Producer to convince an actor with a DVD of a film rather than a bound script. We live in times when every conceivable factor other than a script is responsible for a film’s success. Massive marketing, flooding the market with prints or simply a successful song can get the required initial. Ironically, we also live in times when every movie or novel is available at the DVD store or the mall next door. Most alleged writers today, at least seem to be satisfied too easily. Maybe we’re become too lazy even to steal. And I mean steal from every movie ever made.

Let me end on a quote from Javed from the Nasreen Munni Kabir book, Talking Films. “When I’m working as I sometimes do, in a hotel room and writing a tragic scene, I get tears in my eyes. When I’m writing a lighter scene, I smile or laugh. When this scene goes to the director, he gives it to an actor, then the actor will perform it, the camera will film it, an editor will edit it, then it’ll be sent to different cities like Ratlam, Sangli and Jabalpur. And in Jabalpur, a man who has never met me, and will never meet me, will buy a ticket and see the film. If I had cried in that hotel room while writing a scene, it will touch him. And if I hadn’t, it won’t. Although I am not directly communicating the scene to him, yet my insincerity or sincerity gets conveyed in spite of all the different interpreters. You just can’t fool people. I don’t know how it happens but it happens – in poetry, in short story writing, novel writing or even when writing a letter.”