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In The Company of A Poet
At 79, it seems, it is not an autumn but indeed the spring of life for Gulzar, and he seems to be glowing as if in the southern hemisphere, not withering away in the sultry sweating Mumbai wearable conditions. More and more of his lyrics are becoming chart busters, more and more creativity is oozing out of him and the windings are carrying them everywhere. Nasreen Munni Kabir’s engagement of his persona is not a serious but flippant attempt considering the time and space Gulzar must have given her for the book-length interview. But it does not seem to have been conducted at the same time and place as there are references that direct the reader towards another time frame, besides her questions also do not seem to be well considered. It lacks a pattern, therefore the relative inconsistency. She flips from films to individuals without a pause, from people to poetry with the finesse of a trapeze artiste. Sample these: “Years ago I wrote a poem for Bosky about not seeing time come and go but settle in one place – in my daughter who is now eighteen years old.” Bosky or Meghna, incidentally, was born in December 1973. Kabir decided to write a book sometime in 2010. This was, according to her, an offshoot of desiring to collaborate with Gulzar to author a combined one on Sahir and Shailendra. The triggering point being a dream recalled at dawn. When that did not work out, the idea of a solo surfaced ... a book that would be different from Meghna’s coffee table one Because he is…and Saibal Chatterjee’s Echoes And Eloquences: The Life And Cinema of Gulzar. With the intent to even “revisit events that were already known” and “Gulzar Saab would shed new light on them from the perspective of who he is today.”
Since the book is largely the outcome of Skype conversations over a period of 24 months, there is more the slip between the cup and the lip – as the saying goes – is obvious. Also missing are personal details. There is very little of Meena Kumari, and the diary she left behind with him that he hopes to publish someday (?); Pancham (R D Burman), and, of course, his not-so-estranged wife Rakhee who continues to be part of his life though living under a different roof across the street. And, of course, notes on his poetry that are few and far between. Reflecting on the current crop of ‘filmi’ or films-related books, he states in reply to another question: “Cinema history is getting lost. Books on Indian cinema do not have a wide historical perspective. Film journalism is here largely inaccurate and occasionally irresponsible. Articles are written without proper research. Some magazines even go as far as printing stories because they are sensational and not because they are accurate.” No Mumbai scribe, or for that matter film historian has ever brought to light the fact that he has won a record number of 20 Filmfare trophies – for lyrics, screenplays, dialogues and direction. There, indeed, is a need for a comprehensive biographical work on the man and what he has done and stood out for, quietly nudging, nurturing words into sound expressions.
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Considering the book is called In the Company of a Poet, there are few reflections on his body of non-film work, the conversation getting weaned off to other contemporary and classical poets like Ghalib, Tagore, Kusumagraj. Then there are often little gems about what motivates him to write lyrics; why he resorts to translations; where does he find time to write serious poetry; what happened when the only time he tried writing a novel: “I did try once. But it turned out to be a long short story. I found I could not stretch the idea. I stay very close to the theme of a single idea and this kind of approach to writing does not easily work at novel length.”