Written by Salim-Javed: The Story of Hindi Cinema’s Greatest Screenwriters

by Diptakirti Chaudhuri

  Despite such success, Salim–Javed were miffed with the Sippys for giving credit for ‘their’ film to the Sippy Films Story Department. By this time, they were rapidly gaining acceptance among producers and had already sold a couple of story ideas for films. Their annoyance was recognized by the Sippys as much as their talent. G.P. Sippy was on a roll and wanted to make a major multi-starrer. He very clearly understood that this would only be possible if they had a kick-ass script, which would be Salim–Javed’s and theirs only, he promised. And the next film would make history, he predicted.

  But before box-office history could be rewritten, Salim–Javed had already written a character which would rewrite several careers and the history of the Hindi film industry. The character was Inspector Vijay Khanna of Zanjeer.

  Zanjeer

  ‘Arre, baap re baap’—A member of the audience during the scene where Inspector Vijay Khanna loses his temper with Sher Khan in the police station

  In hindsight, it is easy to say that Zanjeer was an idea whose time had come.

  On the one hand, people were fed up with government inaction, apathy and corruption. There was rampant unemployment across classes and a thriving crime scene (often in connivance with the system). Zanjeer was able to tap into these rumblings of discontent and give them a cinematic voice in the fiery figure of the Angry Young Man8, an iconic character brilliantly conceived by Salim–Javed—and one that spawned a whole new breed of films. On the other hand, the most common form of entertainment—Hindi cinema—had moved far away from reality; its brand of fantasy and romance did not cut the mustard any more. After a dream run that lasted till 1971 (when he had six out of the year’s top ten grossers), Rajesh Khanna had delivered several flops in 1972. People—in a way—were sick of the saccharine-sweet romance and the dancing-around-trees routine.

  And yet, not one major star of the day was ready to act in the film.

  According to Salim Khan, he had decided upon a treatment of Zanjeer even before he teamed up with Javed. The inspiration had come from his father’s stories of dutiful police officers fighting in the ravines of Chambal. However, this was more of a concept and not a full script, and was first sold to Dharmendra (for a princely sum of Rs 2500). He was to be the main lead, Prakash Mehra would direct and Dharmendra’s brother, Ajit, would be a partner in the production. However, the partnership between Ajit and Prakash Mehra did not work out and Dharmendra dropped out of the film after his brother’s exit.

  The script was then offered to Dilip Kumar, who thought it would make a very good film but felt the lead character was too one-dimensional and did not allow enough scope for ‘performance’. Much later in his career—during the shooting of Shakti—Dilip Kumar told Salim Khan that there were three films he regretted not doing in his career: Pyaasa, Baiju Bawra and Zanjeer.

  The first actor who was signed for the film was Pran—for the role of Sher Khan. There must have been something in Salim–Javed’s narration for as soon as Prakash Mehra heard the script he could envision no other actor in the role.

  Once Pran was on board, he—being the good soul that he was—fixed up a meeting with Dev Anand. Salim–Javed felt it would be a case of horrible miscasting and their apprehensions were proved correct when Dev Anand asked for a couple of songs to be picturized on him. (Take a moment to imagine Dev Anand—God bless his soul and swagger—twirling a police baton and singing a romantic duet in Zanjeer. Now thank God and proceed.)

  Prakash Mehra had such confidence in the script that he refused Dev Anand—one of the biggest stars of the day. It then went to Raaj Kumar’s durbar. He too loved the script, probably because he had been an inspector before joining films, and agreed to do the role, but—and this was a big but—he wanted the film to be shot in Madras. One apocryphal story goes that he did not like the smell of Prakash Mehra’s hair oil and made this preposterous demand to wriggle out of having to work with him. You might wonder whether the script really was all that path-breaking if an actor could find it wanting when weighed against the smell of hair oil. But that’s what Raaj Kumar was all about.

  Salim–Javed, in the meantime, were completely sold on a new actor who seemed to have earned a reputation for delivering flop after flop. Every time a hero rejected Zanjeer, they pestered Prakash Mehra to take on this new hero. Mehra was more than a little surprised at their recommendation because the industry couldn’t stop making fun of ‘lambooji’. Javed Akhtar says, ‘I don’t know why the industry could not see what we thought was absolutely obvious—that Amitabh Bachchan was an exceptionally good actor!’ They had seen Amitabh Bachchan’s films—some more than once—and were convinced of the actor’s ability to portray the role of the angry police officer.

  During this time, Pran’s son was working in Madras and staying with a certain Ajitabh Bachchan, who took him to watch a film called Bombay To Goa, which starred his brother, Amitabh. Pran’s son liked the film so much that he heartily recommended the hero to his father, who passed on the recommendation to Prakash Mehra. Pran’s word added weight to what Salim–Javed had been saying all along and Mehra finally agreed to meet this new actor. Salim remembers that they introduced Prakash Mehra to Amitabh Bachchan at Rajkamal Studios, where the latter was shooting for Pyar Ki Kahaani.

  Partly out of desperation and partly out of respect for Salim–Javed, and Pran, Prakash Mehra signed Amitabh Bachchan for Zanjeer reportedly for a sum of Rs 60,000. It was probably the first time in the history of Hindi cinema that writers had expressed such strong opinions about the casting and even got their way, the confidence in their vision overshadowing commercial considerations. Left to himself, Prakash Mehra would have certainly chosen a more saleable hero.

  Salim–Javed’s mission to make Zanjeer a big, impactful film did not end here. They approached Jaya Bhaduri—a top star at that time—and narrated the story. She was hesitant since there was not much of a role for her. Salim recalls telling her frankly that there was no reason for her to act in Zanjeer except one—Amitabh Bachchan, with whom she was in a serious relationship then. She agreed, again thanks to the writers’ persuasive powers.

  This degree of passion and involvement to make a project viable and marketable was absolutely unique to Salim–Javed. During the making of Zanjeer, their ambition and desire to be noticed probably pushed them to deploy all their efforts towards ensuring its success. But they maintained this level of involvement in their projects even after they became major stars.

  In Zanjeer, young Vijay sees his parents gunned down by a faceless killer on the night of Diwali. He only sees a bracelet with a horse on the hand that fires the gun.9 He is adopted by a police officer’s family and grows up to be one too. He is, however, traumatized by recurring nightmares of the horse and his career is affected by his violent reactions to crime. In his twelfth posting, he meets Sher Khan (Pran) who runs gambling dens in Vijay’s area. He challenges Sher Khan to a fight and his daredevilry impresses the Pathan so much enough that he shuts down his illegal network. Vijay keeps getting tip-offs from an anonymous caller (Om Prakash) about smuggling activities and he starts capturing these consignments. This puts him in direct conflict with smuggling kingpin Teja (Ajit), whose public face is that of a respected businessman. In the course of one such investigation, Vijay meets a roadside knife sharpener, Mala (Jaya Bhadhuri), who witnessed a crime related to the case. Due to the risks to Mala’s life, Vijay brings her home and eventually falls in love with her. Soon after Teja frames Vijay in a corruption case and has him jailed for six months. When Vijay is released, he vows to destroy Teja. He has a brief change of heart (due to Mala’s insistence that he refrain from violence), but ultimately, he—along with Sher Khan—attacks Teja in his mansion. This is where he finds out that Teja was the one who murdered his parents and proceeds to kill him—on the night of Diwali.

  ‘Jab tak baithne ko na kaha jaye, sharafat se khade raho. Yeh police station hai, tumhare baap ka ghar nahin.’ix If one must specify the moment when the Angry Young Man entered our colle
ctive consciousness, this would be it.

  And Zanjeer was full of such lines—in different styles to suit each character. Inspector Vijay Khanna’s lines were simple and he delivered them in an understated manner. Sher Khan’s lines were more bombastic: ‘Aaj zindagi mein pehli baar Sher Khan ki sher se takkar hui hai.’x And don Teja’s lines were as dapper as his suits. When his moll asks about the new inspector’s raids on his activities, he deadpans, ‘Kabir keh raha tha ek inspector ko paise ki zaroorat hai . . .’xi

  Such dialogues—with a breathtaking economy of expression—were not what the Hindi film audience had ever heard. A Hindi film heroine had never—okay, probably just once before10—used words like laafa, bhankas and halkat. But since Mala was a roadside vendor, this was the language that was natural to her character.

  Apart from the realistic dialogues and their suitability to the characters, the setting of the film was contemporary and mirrored the prevailing sentiment perfectly.

  The film was set at a time when the nation was growing up and coming to terms with terrible realities. Adulterated medicine killed children, illicit hooch flooded the markets, goons could be hired for a pittance and honest people were always cornered.

  When offered Rs 50,000 to kill Vijay, Sher Khan says, ‘Ek inspector ki jaan ki keemat pachaas hazaar rupiyah? Maloom hota hai bada hi imaandar insaan hai.’xii It was a succinct yet devastating comment on the times.

  Salim–Javed’s socialist inclinations came to the fore when they addressed the middle-class apathy towards initiating social change with a brilliant monologue spoken by Vijay. When Mala requests him to not risk his life and focus on setting up their home, Vijay bursts out, ‘Hum apne ghar mein aise hi khubsoorat parde lagwayenge aur main yeh jaanne ki koshish bhi nahin karoonga ki in pardon ki doosri taraf duniya mein kya ho raha hai . . .’xiii This one scene—though not the best known—exemplifies how good Salim–Javed were at their craft and how Amitabh Bachchan was the perfect voice for their words. In short, Zanjeer was that perfect balance of situation and talent—both writing and acting.

  However, Zanjeer faced the issue that projects without stars face even today. It did not sell. No distributor was willing to bet on a seemingly uncharismatic hero and an untested, violent plot.

  Salim–Javed swung into action once again. They worked their charm with the Sippys and held a special preview of Zanjeer for G.P. and Ramesh Sippy. Since the duo was writing Sholay for the Sippys and the cast was being decided, the pretext was to showcase Amitabh Bachchan for the role of Jai. Salim–Javed paid Rs 1000 out of their pockets to book the Blaze preview theatre and got the Sippys to attend. That swung the tide. When Amitabh Bachchan—a rank newcomer—was signed on for Sholay for Rs 1 lakh, it sent a message to the entire industry that this new actor was hot enough for the Sippys. That alone gave potential distributors of Zanjeer a lot of confidence.11

  Salim–Javed were paid Rs 55,000 for Zanjeer’s script but given the value they added to the film—apart from the script—this seems like a pittance. They had a finger in pretty much every pie, from casting to distribution. And yet when the posters were printed they were forgotten, and so they had to get some improvised poster-painting done as well!

  Salim-Javed’s stunt of getting their names painted on the posters paid off.

  Zanjeer’s was the first poster that writer–director Vinay Shukla remembers seeing which had the names of the writers on it. ‘Who is this Salim–Javed?’ he had wondered when he saw the poster somewhere near Opera House, initially thinking they were one person.

  Director–writer Sriram Raghavan remembers the radio spots for Zanjeer, which promised listeners that it would be ‘Yaadon ki zanjeer mein lipta hua inteqam ka shola’.xiv As a ten-year old, he remembers being very excited by this line and, during a family movie outing, he was the only one rooting for Zanjeer while the rest wanted to go for Anamika (which had released just two weeks after Zanjeer).

  The trade publicity of Zanjeer was mounted around Pran and his run-in with Amitabh Bachchan. The first ads said ‘Friendship between the man of law and the outlaw’. There was no mention of the revenge plot, with the ad pitting Pran and Amitabh Bachchan as two adversaries, their faces dominating the page.

  Salim–Javed paid money out of their own pockets to release an ad on the day Zanjeer opened. It featured on a premium position—Screen’s inside back cover—and said: ‘Writers of Andaz, Hathi Mere Sathi, Seeta Aur Geeta now give you Zanjeer with Amitabh Bachchan’. (The same issue of Screen had a pre-shooting ad of Prakash Mehra’s next film—Hera Pheri—but without any mention of that movie’s writers.)

  This ad is very interesting because, probably for the first time in the industry, writers had got an exclusive ad in a trade magazine. And also because none of these films was exclusively or directly credited to them when they were released. In one fell swoop, Salim–Javed wrested the credit for writing these hits and announced it to the industry in style: they were the writers of not only Zanjeer but three major hits of the recent past as well. In short, they went from being rank newcomers to hot property in a single day. Their savvy in marketing themselves came to the fore, and it would aid them for the rest of their careers.

  Though Zanjeer is probably not among Salim–Javed’s best scripts, the impact of the violence, the dialogues and the seething anger in the hero was quite unprecedented. Javed watched Zanjeer several times in theatres and found the audience reaction to be unlike anything he had ever seen. ‘The reaction was very unusual. People didn’t clap or whistle in the theatre; they watched the film in total silence and awe.’ Referring to the audience reaction of ‘Arre baap re baap’, he says, ‘This is something I had never heard before, and have never heard since. By the time the audience saw Deewaar, they were already familiar with that kind of anger. In Zanjeer, it was a totally new experience for them.’

  Salim–Javed had a fair bit of disagreement with Prakash Mehra during the making of the film because the director made some changes unilaterally, ostensibly due to ‘commercial considerations’.

  ‘Zanjeer would have been ten times better if he had followed the script faithfully,’ the writers said later.

  But despite those changes, the impact of Zanjeer was instantaneous. One week after its release, Screen carried a picture of Amitabh Bachchan and Pran on the front page, calling them ‘Thespian Duo’. The caption of the photograph also mentioned the contribution of Salim–Javed’s script to their performance. The front page also carried a news item with the headline: ‘G.P. Sippy’s next is star-studded venture’. Amitabh Bachchan had well and truly arrived.

  Screen’s review called Zanjeer a ‘Well-made crime thriller with effective acting, visuals.’ The review in the Times of India said, ‘Zanjeer comes up with an unusual hero for the Hindi screen . . . Salim–Javed provide one of the cleverest scripts encountered in some time—a script which respects a clipping pace, keeps those inevitable inessentials down to the minimum, and springs a good many plausible surprises efficiently.’

  The biggest beneficiary was undoubtedly Amitabh Bachchan, who would appear in similar roles for nearly two decades after Zanjeer. And his characters’ anger became a template for several heroes of his generation and those who came after him. Ten years later, when Ardh Satya was released—in which Om Puri delivered a brilliant performance as an upright cop—it was called ‘the art-house Zanjeer’. And more than forty years later, producers were still paying top dollar—albeit unwillingly—for the rights of the film.

  Zanjeer was Salim–Javed’s first hit of 1973. But it was not the only script they wrote that had a revenge motive. The duo had already managed to sell an almost identical story to one of India’s canniest producers and that film released towards the end of 1973. It was called Yaadon Ki Baaraat.

  Yaadon Ki Baaraat

  A son sees his parents being shot by a killer whose face he cannot see but he does notice an identifying mark on him. He grows up tormented and is always looking for the killer . . . Wait, isn’t that the story
of Zanjeer?

  Well, yes.

  In an interview published posthumously, Nasir Husain had said, ‘It was too late when I realized that Salim–Javed had palmed off the same basic plot to me and Prakash Mehra. But our characters and treatment were completely different, and so both Zanjeer and my film were major hits in the same year!’

  While agreeing that both stories had revenge as the main angle and the hero was the strong silent sort, it would be doing Salim–Javed a disservice to say that both the scripts were the same. In fact, Salim Khan disagrees with the veteran producer. ‘The films weren’t really similar. Only the vendetta angle is common between Zanjeer and Yaadon Ki Baaraat, which was there in Sholay also. Ajit’s character made the two films look similar. We had told Nasir Husain about it but he said nobody else was willing to play the role.’

  They added a complex lost-and-found angle involving three brothers—which had earlier been seen in Yash Chopra’s Waqt in 1965—thus creating the template for this genre that Manmohan Desai would make famous in the coming years.

  The young writers and the producer first connected during the making of Husain’s Teesri Manzil, in which Salim Khan not only played a small role but also participated in the writing of the script. Evidently, he must have impressed Nasir Husain enough for the film-maker to test writers for the first time, and outsource the project to him and his partner.

  Husain’s son, director Mansoor Khan, says, ‘The plot of Yaadon Ki Baaraat was a little complex and he needed people to bounce ideas with. The screenplay was written by brainstorming, which would enrich each scene. The basic plot and characters as well as their key characteristics were defined by him.’

  This is contradicted somewhat by Salim Khan, who claims that they wrote the complete screenplay and even a bit of the dialogues, since you can hardly write a script without indicating how the characters will speak to advance the action. Nasir Husain would take their basic lines and polish them for better impact, sometimes during shooting. Mansoor Khan recalls, ‘My father would always write the final scenes himself, putting pen to paper. He used a particular brand of a 300-page notebook to write in. He would then dictate it to an assistant, who would transcribe it in Hindi and get the script pages photocopied for the actors and the shooting.’