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

by Diptakirti Chaudhuri

  When Hema Malini struggled with the pages and pages of dialogues that Basanti was supposed to deliver, Javed Akhtar—present at the shoot—enacted the scene for her and Hema Malini finally ‘got’ Basanti tangewali. To explain the jailor’s role to Asrani, Salim–Javed got hold of a book on World War II and showed the actor pictures of Adolf Hitler, and information on the man, which became the basis of the jailor’s get-up and his high-pitched speech. Salim and Javed had met Jagdeep during the shooting of Sarhadi Lootera. At the time, Javed mimicked the speaking style of Bhopali women and Jagdeep picked it up. With his guidance, Jagdeep made the character his own without ever having been to Bhopal in his life.

  Salim–Javed’s influence on Sholay extended way beyond the written pages of the script. They attended the shooting in Bangalore regularly and often fine-tuned dialogues and scenes during filming. How Javed wrote the lines of Viru’s most memorable scene—the drunken monologue atop the tank—makes for an interesting story. He kept postponing it till it was time for him to return to Bombay from Bangalore. He started writing on his drive to the airport and continued while an assistant went inside to take care of the check-in formalities. He placed the sheets of paper on the hood of his car and kept writing right till the boarding call. He just about managed to catch his flight! Despite the tearing hurry in which they were written the lines went on to catch the imagination of generations of cine-goers.

  In addition to their involvement in the shooting process, the writers exhibited tremendous skill in adding depth and nuance to the script, especially to some of the supporting characters: Ramlal, Radha, Mausi, Imam sahib, Ahmed, Kaalia, Sambha, Thakur’s family, Ramgarh’s residents. Even Gulzarilal the postman, who appears in just one scene, and Gabbar Singh’s father Hari Singh, whom we never see, have a longevity that goes far beyond what an ensemble cast in a hit film normally has. In fact, no other film has been able to create such a long list of minor characters who have lived on for so long. Every character was painstakingly created and each scene lovingly crafted. G.P. Sippy too did not spare any expense in funding the film to ensure it was made exactly the way Ramesh Sippy visualized it, despite massively overshooting the budget.

  Even in the promotions, Sholay was way ahead of the pack. From 30 May till the release on 15 August, each (weekly) issue of the trade magazines had one ad dedicated to one of the main characters, ending with one showcasing the entire ensemble cast. It really is a tribute to the writers when the supporting cast of a major film is featured in a pre-release ad.

  There was an unprecedented pre-release buzz around the film. But trade magazines—barometers of a film’s business—were divided in their assessment of the film. The feeling was that Sholay would not be able to recoup the massive investments made to produce it. The day the film released, Screen carried a front-page report with the headline: ‘Big crowds for advance booking of Sholay’ and it went on to say ‘Unprecedented crowds were witnessed at all the theatres in Bombay city and suburbs wherever the advance booking opened on Monday. The police had a hard time controlling thousands of cine-goers . . .’ Citing the mega-starcast and Salim–Javed’s script as major draws, it reported that cinemas had increased ticket prices by 15–20 per cent and they hadn’t seen a bigger rush since Mughal-e-Azam some two decades ago. This was not a poor opening by any stretch of the imagination.

  However, one week after the release, the other major trade magazine—Trade Guide—predicted that ‘Sholay will be a sad experience for distributors . . .’ They directly criticized the writers for the tragic ending and said, ‘It is surprising how Salim–Javed could commit such an error. Tragedy can be conceived in a classic, but not in a mass-action entertainer.’ They went one step further and prescribed an alternate ending, ‘. . . if the end is changed and Amitabh is kept alive and one reel is devoted to the Amitabh–Jaya romance leading to wedlock.’ This radical prescription was accompanied by a detailed analysis of the first week’s business, and the conclusion: ‘We are of the opinion that Sholay will do a business of hardly 40 lakhs per major territory . . .’

  In the same issue, which carried such a confidently damning report on the first page, the writers of Sholay sponsored a full-page ad on the last page that said, ‘This is a prediction by Salim–Javed . . . Sholay . . . will be a grosser of Rupees One Crore in each major territory of India.’

  This was such an audacious show of confidence that the industry did not know how to react. It was always the producers who fought for their films and expressed confidence in their potential. Here, it was the writers who were boldly making an outrageous prediction and were actually putting their money where their mouth was.

  Despite this confidence from the writers, what weighed on the makers’ minds was the massive bill of Rs 3 crore, making it the most expensive film made in India until then. To put this in perspective, the Sippys had spent only Rs 40 lakh on Seeta Aur Geeta while Sholay had been conceived with a budget of Rs 1 crore. The ballooning bill meant that every half-criticism and negative rumour gnawed on Ramesh Sippy’s mind.

  His insecurity led to him to call a meeting at Amitabh Bachchan’s residence with Salim–Javed to figure out how to ‘salvage’ the film. The suggestion on the table was not to kill Amitabh Bachchan, who was now too big a star (and fresh off a cinematic death in Deewaar). Salim–Javed were dead against this change and felt the slight ache at the end was part of the film’s charm, but there was too much at stake for the Sippys. They wanted to reshoot the end and re-release it as a happy ending when the film opened in other parts of the country. (This was possible because films had staggered releases in those days.)

  This discussion took place on the first weekend after the film’s release with hardly a couple of days’ reaction to go by. Salim–Javed managed to convince Ramesh Sippy to hold on till Tuesday and take the plunge if the audience reaction didn’t change by then. On Tuesday, Ramesh Sippy met the manager of a theatre called Geeta, in Bombay’s Worli area. He pointed out the impact of the film was tremendous because the sales of his snacks and cold drinks had come down. Huh? Well, people were so stunned by the never-seen-before images and especially the twist in the story just before the interval, they did not come out of the hall. This was the first time Ramesh Sippy relaxed a little and felt that he may be on to something really big.

  Then, the reviews started trickling in.

  Screen magazine called it a ‘Strong drama of conflicts with a big canvas, powerful performances’, while the popular tabloid Blitz simply called it ‘the best film ever made in India’. While pointing out that the story was not original (and the ‘greatest story ever told’ claims may not hold), they did agree that Sholay was indeed the ‘greatest star-cast ever assembled’.

  But it was not all positive. In Filmfare, Bikram Singh gave the film just ‘2 Stars’ and panned it quite badly. ‘Writers Salim and Javed churn out the rehash which needs a good memory more than imagination . . . A major trouble is the unsuccessful transplantation it attempts – grafting a Western on the Indian milieu . . . The film could have gone easy on the depiction of violence.’ Other reviewers also raised eyebrows at the ‘uncensored violence’ (K.M. Amladi in the Hindustan Times).

  The initial trade reports—for the first week or so—were subdued as word-of-mouth reactions from the viewers took time to pick up but once they did, there was no stopping the Sholay juggernaut.

  In its first run, Ramesh Sippy estimates Sholay made a staggering Rs 25 crore. To put this in perspective, it made more than eight times the production cost—which was the highest ever at that time. As per economic estimates, inflation occurred eighteen times in the last four decades, which would put just the domestic gross collection of Sholay at Rs 450 crores. Till September 2015, only a handful of films—PK, Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Dhoom 3, Chennai Express—have crossed Rs 400 crore globally. Adjusted to inflation, Sholay did that kind of business in India alone.

  More than pure numbers, Sholay is the ultimate classic of Indian cinema. It is no longer a mere film b
ut more of a historical event, much like the Emergency or Partition.

  Anupama Chopra likens watching Sholay to a karaoke experience where everybody has heard the dialogues so many times before that the whole theatre mouths them along with the stars. And this is where the magic of Salim–Javed kicks in. That magic is best explained by one aspect of the film’s business that they—and only they—impacted.

  In a music market ruled by HMV, Sholay’s music rights were bought by Polydor, a new entrant owned by Ramesh’s then brother-in-law, Shashi Patel. In an unprecedented deal, Polydor paid an advance of Rs 5 lakh to buy the rights to the film’s soundtrack. This meant that they would have to sell 1,00,000 records to break even in a market where top-end musicals sold 25,000 units. When the film released, the records just did not sell—despite heavy promotion—and there was major panic because of the investments involved. And that’s when the Polydor marketing team realized the true strength of Sholay’s ‘soundtrack’—its dialogues. It released a 58-minute record of the film’s famous dialogues and hit the jackpot. As the records vanished from stores, Polydor ended up releasing fifteen different records of popular segments from the film—like ‘Viru ki shaadi’, ‘Soorma Bhopali’, ‘Radha ki kahaani’, ‘Gabbar Singh’—and each one became a hit. Altogether, Polydor sold a mind-boggling 5,00,000 records—five times their break-even target. It was the first time that the music industry had clocked such numbers and that too for dialogues, which had never been featured in records before Sholay.

  Come to think of it, Salim–Javed overshadowed even R.D. Burman, then the industry’s hottest composer, in terms of impact on audio sales. And that was a very, very massive thing to have happened.

  The entire advertising campaign of Sholay—a majorly lavish one—was designed around its stars and writers. Two weeks before the release date, a full-page ad in trade magazines reiterated the claim of the ‘The Greatest Story Ever Told’ with pictures of Salim–Javed and the caption ‘Only they could have written it’. (The same ad also has R.D. Burman and Anand Bakshi being complimented for ‘The finest music ever created’.)

  Salim–Javed were deeply involved in all the elements that went into the making of Sholay. Right from influencing casting decisions to fighting for the climax to be left untouched, they were almost as much part of Sholay as Ramesh Sippy was. During the entire filming period of two years, they travelled to locations, tightened the script, polished the dialogues and crafted Sholay into the gem it eventually became.

  When the film was written off by trade pundits, the duo paid money out of their own pockets to run ads in trade magazines—predicting super success for the film. Writers paying money to advertise their film was something the industry had neither heard of nor could imagine. But then, Salim–Javed were not about what could be imagined. Their success went way beyond that.

  Salim–Javed’s first film—Andaz—had released just four years ago. Since then they had written three films that had become the top grossers of their respective years, created a character that would become the most durable of Hindi film icons and penned what would be called the ‘most perfect Hindi film script’.

  And now they were about to go more than seventeen months without a release.

  Immaan Dharam

  After the euphoria of Sholay, there was a gap of nearly eighteen months before Salim–Javed’s next film hit the screens. Announced right after Majboor by producer Premji, Immaan Dharam was probably the most awaited film in Salim–Javed’s career. They had delivered nine superhits before this and, moreover, the film starred Amitabh Bachchan who had become a huge star (riding on the wave of Adalat, Kabhi Kabhie, Hera Pheri and Do Anjaane in the previous year). With other major stars like Shashi Kapoor, Rekha and Sanjeev Kumar also in the project, Immaan Dharam was expected to be a sure-fire winner.

  Veteran technician Desh Mukerji made his directorial debut with this film. He was probably the best-known art director in Bombay at that point, and regularly worked with Yash Chopra and Manoj Kumar (for whom he put together a mammoth fortress in Kranti). His work in Deewaar was appreciated by Satyajit Ray and for good reason too. The famous ‘Mere paas maa hai ’ scene was shot in a studio, where Mukerji recreated the bridge. Producer Premji was one of his closest friends and roped him in to direct the film.

  Salim–Javed’s spell over the industry was probably at its peak around this time and the pre-release publicity of Immaan Dharam—despite the presence of major stars—centred on them. The very first ad (appearing about a month before the release date) had nothing but ‘Story by Salim Javed’ written just below the title.18 Subsequent ads had the same layout, but now the stars’ faces had been added below the writers’ names. All this focus on them raised expectations immensely; it seemed as though the audience was more eager for a Salim–Javed script than an Amitabh Bachchan performance.

  The script had its share of twists and turns, with several strong peripheral characters, but the basic plot was quite simple.

  Ahmed (Amitabh Bachchan) and Mohan (Shashi Kapoor) are professional witnesses who appear in court and lie under oath for money. They are very fond of a blind girl, Shyamlee (Aparna Sen), who lives in their neighbourhood. Shyamlee is in love with Kabir (Sanjeev Kumar), a business tycoon’s pious son who is opposed to his father’s illicit businesses. When Kabir’s father decides to close his shady businesses, his partners kill him and frame Kabir for the murder. Mohan and Ahmed give false testimony that sends Kabir to death row. When they realize he is Shyamlee’s fiancé, they start investigating the crime and manage to expose the real criminals, who go into hiding. But the two of them find the hideout and demolish it.

  There are several other prominent characters who are not integral to the main plot but add to the film. Durga (Rekha) is a Tamil labourer at a construction site and also Mohan’s love interest. Govind Anna (Shreeram Lagoo) plays a labour leader torn between his principles and the hardships his labourers face. Jenny Francis (Helen) is a single mother who ‘hires’ Ahmed to play her husband in front of her daughter. In an interesting cameo, Utpal Dutt plays Balbir Singh—an ex-army man with a prosthetic leg—who is Kabir’s associate in charitable endeavours and supports the leading duo’s attempts to finish off the criminals.

  Immaan Dharam did not have the finesse of a Salim–Javed script. Several instances of symbolism—which are very popular in Hindi cinema—became heavy-handed, almost caricature-ish. Film critic Sukanya Verma describes it in one word: ‘Excessive!’

  With a Hindu and a Muslim as the two leading men, and a Sikh in the supporting role, secularism was the central message of the film. Each character was highly deferential towards other religions. In fact, this was taken to almost comic levels by showing Mohan risking his life to deliver a Quran home and Ahmed reading the Bhagvad Gita with exaggerated respect. These situations were not new to the cinema of those times but they had become clichés. Even the repeated portrayal of Ahmed and Mohan lying on the stand after swearing oaths on their holy books jars after a point.

  Sanjeev Kumar’s character—presumably called Kabir for his secular, saintly ways—is too sanctimonious to be believable. Since Christianity is the only religion not represented, Kabir makes up for it by spouting lines like ‘Forgive them for they know not . . .’ and, in the climax, he is even tied up to look as though he’s been crucified.

  Salim–Javed’s strength had always been their ability to drive home a message in entertaining formats, characterized by their trademark fluidity. This was sorely lacking in Immaan Dharam.

  Secularism in popular Hindi cinema has always been a little exaggerated, often relying on obvious symbolism to make the message clear to the masses. Manmohan Desai, who always packed his films with representatives from different religions, managed to do so with a certain lightness of touch, a nuance completely missing from Immaan Dharam.

  This view, however, is not shared by two of the film’s actors—acknowledged to be among Indian cinema’s best. Both felt the film gave them ample scope to perform.

/>   When asked about compromising artistic integrity in accepting some of the tritest roles possible, Utpal Dutt defended his choice of roles in commercial cinema by using Immaan Dharam as an example. ‘I’m doing Immaan Dharam written by Salim–Javed and I’m enjoying every single minute of it as an artiste.’

  Amitabh Bachchan is even more effusive about the script. He says, ‘It didn’t click though I feel it’s one of Salim–Javed’s finest scripts. An equal amount of work went into my performances in Immaan Dharam, Deewaar and Trishul. Perhaps the film went wrong because it had too many different strands of stories which didn’t knit themselves into a tapestry. There were the stories of Shashi Kapoor–Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor–Rekha, Amitabh–Helen, Sanjeev Kumar, Aparna Sen and Shreeram Lagoo. Each one of the stories was apt and interesting but somehow they couldn’t be interlinked. If the focus had been kept on just one of the stories, I’m certain Immaan Dharam would have met with public approval.’

  Immaan Dharam opened to tremendous hype in January 1977 and, thanks to the pre-release publicity, ran to packed houses for a couple of weeks. Quite surprisingly, some of the reviews—probably in deference to the star cast—were not too negative. In fact, Screen felt the film had ‘Entertainment-cum-messages’. But this helped sustain the momentum only for a short while. Trade Guide said, ‘The film contains a big dosage of preaching, making it unpalatable like a Films Division documentary. The story has been developed in patches and the screenplay has forcibly linked them together, making the film move in jerks . . . the dialogues are good, but again in patches, in some places they are so long and monotonous that the impact is lost.’

  The film tanked soon enough. In the 1970s, a film needed to run for twenty-odd weeks to make serious money. Immaan Dharam did not even come close to that. With a host of expensive stars, and writers, the film could not recover its costs; it became Salim–Javed’s only major flop.