Badal then rapes and murders a domestic help Mahua (Aruna Irani), and tries to frame Ravi. But Ravi manages to clear his name and in the climax, Badal is arrested after a fight and Sheetal is accepted into Ravi’s family.
Though they received credit only for ‘Additional Script Work’ (and were completely missing from the publicity material), there were some elements in the script that were very similar to their soon-to-be-developed signature style. These could be their own contributions or influences they picked up from lead writer Gulzar. He had a penchant for writing natural dialogue and while working with him, they ensured all the characters spoke in a different dialect or style. Mahua, for example, speaks in an unusual accent, which is common to people in the hills. Badal has a sleazy, lilting way of talking. This difference in talking styles of characters is something Salim–Javed would do throughout their career.
Gulzar has very fond memories of working with the duo and the many evenings he spent with them.
Andaz came in a long list of jubilee hits that Rajesh Khanna delivered from 1969 onwards, which cemented his superstar status, and created a hysterical fan following and unprecedented box-office clout. The film was promoted with him at the centre, even though his was a ‘special appearance’.
A few weeks after Andaz’s release, Sippy Films took out an advertisement in the trade magazine Screen: ‘The Million Rupee Week – Ever since the movies began, no movie has grossed over a million rupees in its first week in Bombay as Andaz has done! Never before, perhaps never again!’
This ad appeared the day Haathi Mere Saathi was released in Bombay. The film went on to become an even bigger hit than Andaz. As it turned out, not only Rajesh Khanna, but even Sippy Films broke Andaz’s record soon after.
And Salim–Javed played a major role in both.
Haathi Mere Saathi
Haathi Mere Saathi came to Salim–Javed purely on the basis of the rapport they had built up with superstar Rajesh Khanna during the shooting of Andaz. While the actor’s role in the film had been a very short one, it was enough for him to gauge the flow and flair these two young writers brought to the script—even though they received no official credit for it. Salim says, ‘Rajesh Khanna thought his guest role in Andaz was the best guest role ever written.’ During the shooting and after the success of that first film, the duo had struck up a friendship with the superstar and were regularly invited to his place for drinks.
At one of these sessions, Rajesh Khanna told Salim of a predicament that was typical of a film star’s success in the 1970s. The superstar was in the process of purchasing a bungalow (which he named Aashirwad after he had bought it) on Carter Road in Bombay from actor Rajendra Kumar. To fund the purchase, he had taken a substantial signing amount from the producer—‘Sandow’ M.M.A. Chinnappa Devar—for acting in the remake of a south Indian hit. The signing amount of Rs 5 lakh—a suitcase full of cash—was something unheard of in those days, even by Rajesh Khanna’s standards. He seemed clueless even about the original movie’s language (Tamil) but knew that it was a terrible script.
‘I need the money to buy the house but I cannot act in the film the way it stands . . . Tum log kuch kar sakte ho?’
He assured them that he would negotiate with the producer to get them both money and credit. At the time, Salim and Javed were not officially a team as they were still employees of the Sippy Films Story Department. When they agreed to the proposal, Haathi Mere Saathi became the first film where the duo got joint credit.
The somewhat fairy-tale-ish plot of the original film in Tamil and the profusion of animals in a circus-like setting had made Salim–Javed quite apprehensive about the reaction of the Hindi film audience. When they discussed this with Rajesh Khanna, he told them that they could change everything and write a fresh script. ‘You can make as many changes but keep just five characters the same . . . the four elephants and me,’ he warned them. Producer Devar came up with a similar but funnier claim, ‘I make film with Murugan [a popular deity in Tamil Nadu], Rajesh Khanna and Elephant.’
When they began work, the flow was quite smooth and they had a first draft ready in just twenty days. This would become a hallmark of most of their landmark projects, where the basic screenplay would be completed in one short burst of creativity.
Rajesh Khanna had taken it upon himself to get the screenplay approved by the producer and the director (who happened to be the producer’s brother). While Salim and Javed were working on the script, the actor used his rapport with Laxmikant–Pyarelal and Anand Bakshi and recorded the title song. For the final presentation of the script, he called Salim–Javed, the director and the producer to his house and orchestrated a complete show. The narration started and at the right moment in the script, Rajesh Khanna pressed the Play button on his tape recorder and the sounds of ‘Chal chal chal mere saathi o mere haathi’ filled the room—creating a rousing atmosphere that floored the producer.
The latter had only one objection—to a scene in which the hero got drunk. He shouted ‘Hero, no sharaafi’ (meaning ‘the hero cannot be a sharaabi’) because a drunk man cannot perform on the trapeze. The writers duly afflicted the hero with a fever instead!
The detailed narration took place in Chennai a few days later with the help of an interpreter for the benefit of the predominantly Tamil unit. Javed says, ‘I recall we were often speaking so loudly that Mr Surinder Kapoor, Anil Kapoor’s father, once knocked at our door and asked if everything was okay. He was staying in the same hotel and shooting his own film in the city!’
The story combined two popular Hindi film plots—the rich-girl-poor-boy romance and the love triangle—presented as a carnival of music and animals.
As a child, Raju (Rajesh Khanna) is saved by four elephants, and as his father lies dying, he instructs Raju to take care of them.5 Though Raju is heir to a massive fortune, his preoccupation with his elephants costs him his entire inheritance and his lady love, Tanu (Tanuja), whose father (Madan Puri) is opposed to their relationship. Eventually, Raju wins back Tanu, rebuilds his fortune with the help of his four elephants and starts a zoo called Pyar Ki Duniya.6 Raju’s continued preoccupation with his elephants makes Tanu feel neglected and, after the birth of her son, extremely apprehensive of his safety. When the lead elephant—Ramu—realizes they are the cause of the couple’s estrangement, he brings them together and sacrifices his life to save his master from the bullets of a rival circus owner (K.N. Singh).
As is obvious, the story was particularly suited for children and family audiences. The film’s appeal was somewhat like a Disney film. It was a fable-like story with strong moral values, which did not degenerate into sermonizing but managed to keep the viewers—especially children, who loved it—hooked with its fast pace, stunts and music.
The entire film was full of pretty clever stunts by the elephants, many of which were improvised on the sets. The producer, Devar, was an expert animal trainer himself and commandeered his elephant troupe like a ringmaster. The end result was a movie with action centred on the animals, making it look like a circus unfolding on screen. The Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) gave a special award to the film for spreading awareness about their cause. Laxmikant–Pyarelal’s music too was very well received and smashed several records.
There were certain touches to the script that would become part of Salim–Javed’s signature in the coming years. Despite having Rajesh Khanna—the king of romance—as the hero, he is not overtly romantic. In fact, there is a humorous touch to his wooing, like the scene in which he proposes to Tanuja.
There was a distinct message of socialism in a few scenes as well, where the cavalier attitude of the rich towards the poor is mentioned. Quite surprisingly, these lines were said by Tanuja’s character, who could well have conformed to the Hindi-film stereotype of the rich heroine and remained vacuous. Maybe it was the writers—with their social roots—speaking.
However, Haathi Mere Saathi did not have any major ‘repeat-value’ dialogues which becam
e Salim–Javed’s forte in the coming years.
The reviews of the film ranged from moderate to positive. The writers were not identified by name but some of the reviews mentioned the script in passing. Hindustan Times said, ‘This is a Madras production and as can be expected, the producer is not content to rest on the laurels of the elephants’ performance alone and has woven a workable script around them.’
Haathi Mere Saathi turned out to be a stunner at the box office. Even by Rajesh Khanna’s reputation for delivering blockbusters, it was a massive one. Not only was it the biggest hit of 1971 (which saw box-office biggies like Mera Gaon Mera Desh, Andaz, Caravan and Amar Prem), it also went on to become the highest-grossing Hindi film ever of the time, a record it maintained for a while. Until then Johny Mera Naam had been the highest grosser (having collected Rs 50 lakh in each of the film territories) but Haathi Mere Saathi raced ahead with collections in excess of Rs 1 crore per territory. The impact of the film—and the power of the revised script—is best described by fact that the producer remade it in Tamil, which turned out to be an even bigger hit than the original Tamil film on which Haathi Mere Saathi was based.
The experience was not all milk and honey for Salim–Javed, though.
For such a successful, record-smashing film, they were paid a paltry sum of Rs 10,000 and requests for a bonus were summarily turned down. Contrast this to the payment made to the music directors, Laxmikant–Pyarelal. Pyarelal recalls the producer coming to their houses with Rs 1 lakh each placed on a silver plate when they signed the film. ‘He repeated this when the work was completed!’ he smiles.
Even the credit—partly negotiated by Rajesh Khanna himself—was given rather grudgingly, if one tracks the mentions in the trade advertisements. There was no mention of the screenwriters in any of the pre-release ads; the story was credited to the producer. The double-spread ad on the day of the film’s release (in Screen, dated 14 May 1971) credited ‘Saleem-Javeeth’ (sic) for the screenplay, but this was also removed after the third week. Well-known writer Inder Raj Anand was credited for the dialogues though Salim–Javed wrote nearly all the lines as well. In a later interview, the producer claimed that he had not signed them for the screenplay but merely for ‘story discussions’ on Rajesh Khanna’s request. He claimed that their contribution was merely a few action-scene suggestions.
As a result of the producer’s refusal to acknowledge their contribution, Salim–Javed never worked with him again. Later, two major stars (Dharmendra and Rishi Kapoor), on being offered films by Devar, asked the producer to get the scripts written by Salim–Javed but the writers didn’t budge. In fact, their relationship with Rajesh Khanna also soured after this, because despite his promise to negotiate on their behalf, nothing had come of it. This was quite symptomatic of the situation writers faced in 1960s, as remuneration and recognition were not given as a matter of course.
Interestingly, producer Devar and director Thirumugham repeated the ‘animal’ formula in their next Hindi venture, Gaai Aur Gori. Starring Jaya Bhaduri and Shatrughan Sinha, the film told the story of a cow who ‘averts a train accident’, ‘fights a dog which attacks her mistress’ and ‘unites an estranged husband and wife’.
Gaai Aur Gori released in 1973 and (needless to say) sank at the box office. That was the year Salim–Javed wrote Zanjeer.
Salim–Javed thus ended 1971 with two films in the year’s top ten grossers—Andaz and Haathi Mere Saathi. While Rajesh Khanna’s charisma and both the directors’ deft handling of the scripts contributed substantially to the success of the films, the two writers’ efforts played an undeniable part as well.
But as two cocky youngsters in an industry which placed a premium on grey hair, there was hardly any buzz about them. They were, of course, valued members of the Sippy Films Story Department and some of the script ideas they were peddling seemed to have serious potential. In fact, one of the script ideas was something quite unthinkable in the male-dominated Hindi film industry for it had the heroine playing a double role as the prime mover of the film. It was called Seeta Aur Geeta.
Seeta Aur Geeta
‘If the word “romp” didn’t exist before Seeta Aur Geeta, it would have been coined to describe this fun, cute film’ —Carla Miriam Levy aka @filmigeek, Bollywood fan and blogger
Salim–Javed—in their second pairing (though not officially so)—did what they would soon develop into an art form. They took an extremely popular theme and gave it a distinctive twist to make it completely their own. In fact, after they were done with the script, the original was hardly remembered.
They took the plot of The Prince and the Pauper—a story of two identical characters whose personalities and circumstances were completely dissimilar. This plot had already been used to great effect in the superhit Ram Aur Shyam, with the legendary Dilip Kumar essaying the two roles. Made just five years ago, the film was absolutely fresh in viewers’ minds but that did not stop Salim–Javed from giving it a distaff twist.
Docile Seeta (Hema Malini) is brought up in a mansion by a cruel aunt (Manorama) who steals her monthly allowance (from her trust fund) and plans to control her inheritance by marrying her off to someone of her choice. Geeta (Hema Malini, again) is a flamboyant gypsy girl who performs roadside acrobatics for a living. When they accidentally switch places, Geeta falls in love with a doctor Ravi (Sanjeev Kumar) and takes the fight to Seeta’s aunt. Seeta, meanwhile, falls in love with Geeta’s street-performing partner, Raaka (Dharmendra), and helps him overcome his bad habits. Seeta’s aunt’s brother, Ranjeet (Roopesh Kumar), finds out about the switch and kidnaps Seeta. Geeta’s mother reveals that the two girls are twins and she—being childless—had taken away one. And justice is served to the villains in a rousing climax.
Seeta Aur Geeta was the script with which Salim–Javed came into their own. It is obvious from each scene in the film that everybody associated with it was having lots of fun and that brought an infectious energy to every frame. Their trademark touches—which would get stronger in the coming years—were visible throughout; you can almost hear them chuckle as you watch some of the scenes.
Whistle-inducing dialogues—both comic and emotional—crackled through the film and exploded at regular intervals.
When Geeta (thought to be Seeta) is caught by the police and brought to the station, she wreaks mayhem and is perched atop the ceiling fan when her uncle and aunt arrive. When the aunt says ‘Neeche aa jao, beti’, Geeta responds with ‘Upar aa jao, moti’.iii It was an incredibly popular line, which drew hysterical laughter when it was first uttered on-screen and had—what the film industry calls—tremendous repeat value. Not only this line, but each one of Hema Malini and Manorama’s interactions had a manic sense of humour. For example, ‘Hum tere chacha aur chachi lagte hain’, was parried with ‘Soorat se toh chamcha aur chamchi lagte ho’,iv and ‘Kahan chali gayi thi, Seeta meri beti?’ was met with ‘Mahabaleshwar gayi thi, haathi mere saathi.’v
It was critical to have these interactions because Manorama as the Chachi—for all practical purposes—was the main villain. After watching her torturing Seeta, seeing the Chachi suffer at Geeta’s hands in a series of entertaining scenes is almost cathartic for the audience.
And it wasn’t only with Manorama. Hema Malini had fantastic lines throughout the movie, which even top heroes would have killed for. Whether it was a comic situation where she brushes off her borrowed clothes with a droll ‘Main maange ke kapdon mein hamesha achhi lagti hoon,’vi or a fiery assurance to her grandmother—‘Jab tak tumhare aankhon mein aansoo hai, jab tak tumhare dil mein dard hai, jab tak iss ghar mein zulm hai, main yahan se nahin jaoongi’vii—Hema’s lines were mind-blowing.
It helped that the director was completely in sync with the writers and Hema’s scenes were filmed in a way that brought maximum impact to the lines. When she confronts Roopesh Kumar about his misdemeanours, she keeps on bouncing a ping-pong ball on a racket while delivering her lines, making Roopesh squirm. It was a brilliant touch tha
t brought out the character’s cool aggression perfectly.
Another notable aspect of the script was the different styles of speech that distinguished each character.
Foreign-returned doctor Ravi’s dialogues were sprinkled with throwaway lines in English. The street performer Raaka had lots of local Bombay slang like laafa, khunnas, halkat, bhankas and bindaas.7 Geeta’s speech was like Raaka’s while Seeta had halting, almost incomplete sentences. Even a minor character like Seeta’s cousin, Sheila (played by Honey Irani) had a distinctive style—with a smattering of English words, the way modern young girls spoke in those days.
Seeta Aur Geeta’s box-office performance was again stupendous, and it became the top-grossing film of 1972. Hema Malini was the second choice for the role and was taken only because the Sippys could not afford the fee Mumtaz wanted. However, after this film, Hema Malini became the undisputed No. 1 heroine of the industry.
But what Seeta Aur Geeta did went beyond mere numbers and ranks. It changed the way women characters behaved and were perceived by the film industry. Suddenly, women doing action became the rage. In Gehri Chaal, Hema Malini was asked to fight the villains while male stars like Jeetendra and Amitabh Bachchan watched from the sidelines. Something similar happened in Salim–Javed’s own film too. Prakash Mehra insisted on Jaya Bhaduri featuring in the fight scene of Zanjeer because of Seeta Aur Geeta. Hema’s powerhouse performance—and the script—was the pivot for this change.
After Seeta Aur Geeta, the similar storyline was rehashed in a slew of remakes over the next two years, one in Hindi the very next year starring Jeetendra (Jaise Ko Taisa), another in Telugu (Ganga Manga) and a third in Tamil (Vani Rani). The durability of this formula carried well into the 1990s, with hits like Chaalbaaz (starring Sridevi) and Kishen Kanhaiya (with Anil Kapoor in the title roles).
Written by Salim-Javed: The Story of Hindi Cinema’s Greatest Screenwriters Page 4