Capturing Gulzar: The filmmaker who time has had to chase
Gulzar has a special way of touching the soul - through his simple tales of love, of relationships in unique situations; he was a master at looking through a child's eye.
In 1971, the political scene in India was changing, and youth found themselves suddenly torn between being proud of our Indian Army winning the Bangladesh War and their own disillusionment because of the lack of jobs and increasing prices. Politicians started using muscle of these young men as a means to their own end. Bollywood, however, was still selling the dream of romance, with a bit of patriotic flavour thrown in. A somewhat young assistant director and songwriter decided to remake a Bengali film Apanjan, to portray the angst of the young on the big screen.
Gulzar's directorial debut was Mere Apne, starring an ailing Meena Kumari, and newcomers Shatrughan Sinha and Vinod Khanna, in a touching tale of a woman who finds people close to her heart in the most downtrodden area of the city. The film kept politics in the background, but effectively showed the breaking of the rose-coloured glasses post Independence. Four years later, it became more than a reality for many, when Emergency was declared. Tapan Sinha's original was Bengal-centric, but Gulzar's film opened up the subject to the rest of the country, which too had begun to see the political clashes.
It was the first of the many movies that would court controversy, but be a stark reality of the times. Gulzar has a special way of touching the soul - through his simple tales of love, of relationships in unique situations; he was a master at looking through a child's eye. Three films uniquely stand out from among his oeuvre. One is Kitaab (1977), in which the child (played by Master Raju) explores childhood mischief, and comes to term with the realities of life. Parichay (1972), on the other hand, was inspired from the English classic Sound of Music, with beautiful compositions by RD Burman. The melodrama of Bollywood was absent; instead, realistic characters found space on the big screen. He touched the sensitive subject of illicit love affairs in Libaas (1988), five years after Masoom. Unfortunately, although this film received widespread international acclaim, it never saw the light of day in India. Even recently, when it was screened at a film festival, there were demonstrations to pull it down and the organiser had had to apologise publicly.
Gulzar is no stranger to controversy. Aandhi (1975) was banned after celebrating 24 weeks in the theatres. The bone of contention was the fact that the lead character, played by Suchitra Sen, was apparently inspired by Indira Gandhi - mannerisms, attire and even the white streak in her hair - all reminded of Mrs Gandhi. Later though, the ban was lifted. But what stands out in Gulzar's films is that they are not 'art films', that had surged in the 70s and the 80s, per se. His films attracted a larger audience, tugging at the psyche of the masses with simplicity, yet without losing sight of its depth. The topics he picked up were soulful - sometimes comical, sometimes satirical, sometimes nihilistic - capturing an array of real emotions.
In the 90s, the filmmaker started dabbling in television. He wrote for children, did a TV series on the inspiring life of Mirza Ghalib, indulged in narration and so much more. But then came Maachis in 1996 - the tragic tale of the Punjab youth, who are driven to terrorism through circumstances. It was one of the first movies to take such a stark look at the Khalistan movement and the underlying currents of people taking up arms against the institution. Unlike Roja and Dil Se (they were beautiful movies in their own right), Maachis was not a romance with the backdrop of terrorism, it was absolutely the other way round. The film was, sort of, a challenge to the institution itself.
Gulzar has, in his own way, questioned many stereotypes. He refused to portray a rape victim as a victim in Ghar (1978). He also made a film with a non-linear timeline, with just four main characters with no support from other actors in Ijaazat (1987). He was also brave enough to dabble with the subject of a woman falling in love with a father figure in Mausam (1975). Perhaps these subjects would face widespread protests in today's era of taking offence easily and public moral policing - but he dared to do so then, and was successful mostly.
Gulzar remains an enigma to many of his fans, and justifiably so. He is a genius very few can match up to. His poetry and song-writing is definitely aspirational, but his films are not any less so. He retired from filmmaking many years ago, and yet we wait for him to make a comeback someday soon. Perhaps we are ready. Perhaps, the audience has finally caught up!