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

by Diptakirti Chaudhuri

  After Duniya, Javed wrote mainly for Sunny Deol and Anil Kapoor—both of whom attained stardom on the strengths of the iconic roles he scripted for them. His contribution in turning them into top movie stars is immense.

  Javed Akhtar reunited with Yash Chopra in Mashaal, which was an intelligent take on the death of innocence and how cynicism was digging deeper roots. Dilip Kumar is the idealistic newspaper editor, who is ‘angry’ to start with; his run-ins with the crime-infested system cause further frustration and lead him to cross over to the dark side. His protégé—Anil Kapoor as a reformed petty criminal—takes over the crusader’s mantle and becomes his mentor’s nemesis. One of Anil Kapoor’s earliest successes, the film saw the actor going from a typical tapori (a character he has become associated with) to a responsible journalist.

  In Meri Jung, Anil Kapoor played a criminal lawyer—a role originally written for Amitabh Bachchan. This angry young man goes to court—an unexplored territory in Salim–Javed’s films—to squeeze justice out of a heartless legal system. The familiar story of revenge acquired a new dimension as the tussles were played out in words instead of fists and in courtrooms instead of dockyards. A trial is the perfect situation for great dialogues and the writer did not disappoint. Meri Jung turned out to be a massive success for Anil Kapoor, Subhash Ghai and Javed Akhtar.

  Almost simultaneously, Javed wrote two brilliant scripts for Sunny Deol, giving the young star a character progression from an orphan in love (Betaab) to an urban vigilante (Arjun) to a full-blown dacoit (Dacait). All these films were directed by Rahul Rawail, with whom Javed Akhtar and Sunny Deol formed quite the team.

  In Arjun, Sunny Deol’s character is an amalgamation of the two brothers from Deewaar. He is educated and trying unsuccessfully to find a job but there is also a volatile anger in him, waiting to explode. The modern urban landscape remains the same, though, unlike Vijay Verma, who was an immigrant, Arjun Malvankar is a Marathi manoos, probably disenchanted with the encroachment of ‘outsiders’ in his city. The rampant crime and corruption turns him into a vigilante, who eventually becomes a political henchman. For the first time in Hindi cinema, the Ugly Politician was the main villain and his backroom wheeling and dealing was what the new angry young man was fighting. In fact, Arjun becomes a politician’s right-hand man to change the system but soon realizes the dirt may be too pervasive, even for him. Film critic Sukanya Verma says, ‘Seeking justice single-handedly isn’t new but what sets Arjun apart is how shrewdly writer Javed Akhtar constructs a specific milieu, its growing unrest and plays on the politics of it.’

  The anger found immediate resonance among the youth and Arjun was among the top grossers of the year.29 This rage was not only communicated through the lines they spoke but the ones they sang as well. Writing the lyrics along with the screenplay, Javed Akhtar came up with ‘Mammaya kero kero kero mamma’,30 which became hugely popular as a youth anthem, not only because of the catchy tune but the devil-may-care attitude it portrayed—‘Duniya bura maane toh goli maaro/Dushman ko yeh bata do dushmani hai kya.’

  In Dacait, Sunny Deol is the idealistic, peace-loving, city-educated villager who is wronged so brutally by society and the justice system that he has no recourse other than becoming an outlaw. The violence in the film was quite unnerving and the innocent youngster’s descent into a murderous bandit was portrayed with amazing finesse. In fact, Dacait was the first film to show the ‘modern’/‘real’ dacoit, who was a far cry from the moustachioed, dhoti-wearing, Kali-worshipping caricatures usually seen in Hindi cinema. Dacait was an extremely well-written and well-directed film, which—surprisingly—did not do too well at the box office. But it was the first film that showed frustration and anger turning a law-abiding citizen into a gun-toting outlaw with a death wish, before Paan Singh Tomar nearly thirty years later.

  After writing individual hits for Sunny Deol and Anil Kapoor, Javed Akhtar wrote Joshilaay, which brought the two together. The film was a revenge drama that became quite extraordinary when transported to the rugged terrains of Ladakh. In Jogi Thakur (played by Rajesh Vivek), Javed created one more of his fearsome villains, and the two heroes chasing him were somewhat reminiscent of the duo from Sholay. Anil Kapoor was the brooding, laconic one while Sunny Deol was the garrulous bundle of energy. They both made a cool pair pitted against a formidable villain in hitherto unseen locales. The film suffered a major reshuffle as Shekhar Kapur—the original director—left the film midway due to creative differences and producer Sibte Hassan Rizvi took over direction as well.

  Towards the end of the 1980s, Javed Akhtar reunited with his original favourite—Amitabh Bachchan—for Main Azaad Hoon, a massive departure from the action-romance-melodrama masala the star was doing at this time. Loosely based on Frank Capra’s Meet John Doe, it was the story of an impostor thrust in the role of the titular Azaad, a crusader who takes it upon himself to correct the ills of a town. Amitabh Bachchan switched off the star and gave a fabulous performance based on a great script. Rousing lines and a fast-paced plot powered the story through but the art-house treatment and the sad ending did not generate much of a positive response at the box office. But Javed successfully manage to reprise his and Salim’s original creation into a new, relevant avatar, nearly twenty years after it was created.

  The only romantic film Javed wrote in this period was Saagar, a love triangle set in Goa. Ramesh Sippy directed Rishi Kapoor and Dimple Kapadia in the lead roles, along with Kamal Haasan, who overshadowed both the stars with his performance in an author-backed role. Javed created a nice backdrop for the film—by managing a perfect balance of escapist fare in a real setting, and also wrote the lyrics for R.D. Burman’s brilliant score. A great script backed by remarkable acting and chartbusting music ensured that Saagar became one of the biggest hits of 1985.

  After a fairly successful run in the 1980s, Javed Akhtar was credited with Jeevan Ek Sanghursh and Jhoothi Shaan in the early 1990s. It is difficult to understand how Rahul Rawail and Javed Akhtar could come up with Jeevan Ek Sanghursh after the superb Dacait. One possible explanation is that when the latter’s unusual treatment did not do well at the box office, they just put pretty much everything from the Bollywood formula cupboard into this film to make it work and ended up making a big, fat star vehicle.

  Jhoothi Shaan is said to be ‘Written by’ Javed Akhtar though he himself says he had no contribution in the film except for the lyrics of a song. His name was probably included to improve the saleability of the film.

  In 1992, Javed Akhtar wrote Khel for Rakesh Roshan, starring the reigning box-office pair of Anil Kapoor and Madhuri Dixit. While it came on the heels of a few underperformers, Javed’s equity as a writer was still solid and he continued to attract top producers and stars. Khel was a sophisticated film about three scamsters trying to cheat an ageing dowager out of her fortune. The film was full of clever lines, smooth cons and an energetic cast. While it did not perform too well commercially, it was liked for its ‘coolness’ and still enjoys a bit of cult following.

  Sometimes, the decline comes like an abyss, unexpectedly, and immediately, after an intoxicating high. Failure is a rude awakening, often causing people associated with it to re-evaluate priorities and change course altogether. This is exactly what happened with Javed Akhtar after two of his biggest films in the mid-1990s did very badly. After the super success of Mr India, Javed Akhtar signed up with Boney Kapoor to write Anil Kapoor’s magnum opus, Roop Ki Rani Choron Ka Raja (RKRCKR), along with Sanjay Kapoor’s debut film, Prem. And unfortunately for all concerned, both the films crashed and burned.

  In many ways, RKRCKR was Shaan redux. All the pieces were the same: the same writer reuniting with the same director–producer, the same cast in a bigger, more expensive production after a massive hit. RKRCKR was cleverer and had more ‘events’ in the story but—in hindsight—that’s what made it bloated. It sorely lacked the lightness of touch that Mr India had. The need to have too many costumes, sets, stunts and stars led to a heavy
production—both for the viewer and the producer. The most expensive Hindi film when it released, RKRCKR had a disastrous run at the box office, setting everyone associated with the film back by a lot.

  Producer Boney Kapoor’s bad luck continued with Prem, his youngest brother Sanjay’s debut vehicle (that was also supposed to launch Tabu but whose other films released much earlier due to the delays with filming Prem). The film went back to the reincarnation plot, which has been an extremely popular theme in Hindi cinema but had no new twists to make it attractive to the new audiences. In fact, another reincarnation drama—Karan Arjun, released in the same year—buoyed by the presence of two major stars (one of whom was Salim Khan’s superstar son Salman) did phenomenally well, adding to Prem’s woes. A not-so-charismatic hero and the attendant issues of a much-delayed production made matters worse.

  In the wake of these two disasters, Javed Akhtar stopped writing scripts for the most part. In 1998 he was credited with Priyadarshan’s Kabhi Na Kabhi, which had none of the felicity and finesse Salim–Javed collectively—and even Javed Akhtar singly—were famous for. It was a tired, hackneyed revenge drama that sank without a trace.

  After that, Javed slowly cut back on his scriptwriting assignments and concentrated on lyrics instead. He says, ‘I can’t tell you the exact moment or the date or the day [that I stopped writing screenplays] but I was becoming mechanical. Producers were paying me so I had to write. There was no sense of achievement or discovery. So I thought I’d give myself a break.’

  In the decade of the 2000s, Javed Akhtar has hardly written scripts—making exceptions only for family members. His first outing after this long hiatus was for Honey Irani’s directorial debut, Armaan (2003). Based on a story by Honey herself, he essentially wrote the dialogues for the film, though Honey Irani said, ‘He even helped me with the screenplay. Javed was a great help primarily because he is a writer and could see more nuances in the script than I could. His contribution has really been valuable.’ He is also credited as a co-writer of the screenplay. The film—a relationship drama—did not do too well and Honey Irani takes a large part of the blame herself: ‘The first half was boring. There was not one but three, four operations. The performances were fabulous but I blundered in the screenplay.’ While the star cast was impeccable—Amitabh Bachchan, Anil Kapoor, Preity Zinta and Gracey Singh—none of them seemed to be playing to their strengths and there weren’t any memorable ‘highs’.

  His next writing assignment was for son Farhan Akhtar’s second directorial venture—Lakshya (2004). He wrote the entire film (including the lyrics), taking an aimless young man to his final redemption in the battlefields of Kargil. There was extensive research about the war, the arms and ammunition and setting that went into the script. While the first half of the script was breezy with Javed Akhtar evoking a youngster’s lack of ambition with sensitivity and humour, the second half lost steam with a couple of songs, messages of patriotism and pacifism—all interrupting some much-needed battle action. And like always, he did give his inputs while finalizing the cast; Farhan Akhtar says the decision to cast Hrithik Roshan in the film was based on Javed’s idea of the physicality of the role. While the film did not do too well commercially, the reviews were by and large positive. Mayank Shekhar accurately said the ‘screenplay achieves a war-movie without ever degenerating into blind glorification of battle-gore or chest-thumping jingoism.’

  Javed Akhtar’s most recent writing assignment was for daughter Zoya’s directorial debut—Luck by Chance (2009). He wrote the dialogues for the film, a beautiful gem which could only have been made by someone who has always been on the periphery of the industry and is in love with it. Among all the lines Javed wrote for the film, there was one which harked back to a previous film. In a scene portraying the graduation ceremony of an acting school, character actor Macmohan comes to give away the certificates and takes pleasure in repeating his most famous line to the budding actors: ‘Pooray pachaas hazaar’xlviii, which incidentally, was written by the same dialogue writer. A line that—like many others—has passed into Hindi cinema legend.

  Part IV:

  THEMES AND MESSAGES

  The Angry Young Man

  ‘Any kind of image attributed to an actor, like the Angry Young Man, concerns not only that actor, but also the environment that prevails in that period of history in which the people are functioning. If there is a certain anger in the minds of the people, against certain kinds of system or against some kind of governmental policies or social norms, or taboos, and if somebody expresses it . . . if the actor is able to convey the anger effectively, then he’s actually expressing the anger of the pent-up emotions of his own generation’—Govind Nihalani

  Possibly Salim–Javed’s most significant cinematic contribution, the Angry Young Man redefined Hindi cinema of the 1970s and was a phenomenon unlike any other. It was in Zanjeer that this phenomenon first came to the fore, but its origins can be traced to a few decades earlier.

  In 1956, British playwright John Osborne wrote a play, Look Back in Anger, to express what it felt like to live in England during the 1950s. The messages of the highly successful play were ‘impatience with the status quo, refusal to be co-opted by a bankrupt society, an instinctive solidarity with the lower classes’. The protagonist of the play was an embodiment of the rebellious, post-war generation. He was called the Angry Young Man.

  When Zanjeer was released nearly two decades later, the situation in which the protagonist operated and the reactions he had towards the ills of society were similar to the original theme, and Amitabh Bachchan became the face, the embodiment of the Angry Young Man.

  In the twenty-five years or so that had passed since Independence, the idealism of the freedom struggle had been eroded and the promise of a socialist utopia had become completely out of sync with reality.

  In the immediate aftermath of Independence, Hindi cinema was greatly concerned with society and the changes it could foster. The onus of building a nation and inspiring citizens was taken up by the optimistic film-makers of the time, who were great believers in the power of cinema. It had the benefit of being a medium of entertainment, and thus was the perfect platform to convey important social messages in interesting formats. Hence, film-makers like Bimal Roy and V. Shantaram took up themes like criminal reform and industrial progress at the cost of agriculture in some of the defining films of the times—Do Ankhen Barah Haath and Do Bigha Zamin respectively. There were many other notables in this genre—Boot Polish, Mother India, Naya Daur, Jagte Raho; every major director made films with messages.

  After the social themes of the 1950s, Hindi cinema entered a phase of high-octane entertainment using romance, melodrama, comedy, action (to a relatively lesser degree) and, of course, music. The social and historical stories that were a legacy of the freedom struggle gradually faded away. The biggest stars of the decade—Shammi Kapoor, Dev Anand and Rajesh Khanna—all projected a picture of unreal romantic love that was more escapism than anything else.

  Historian Ramachandra Guha writes, ‘The late 1960s are reminiscent of the late 1940s, likewise a time of crisis and conflict, of resentment along lines of class, religion, ethnicity and region, of a centre that barely seemed to hold.’ Elaborating on these tensions, Javed Akhtar says, ‘For the first time, since the high of Independence, people started feeling that law and order were breaking down and extra-Constitutional powers were taking over. Is it a coincidence that the vigilante hero became popular when people felt there was no justice and one had to take law in one’s own hands?’

  In this depressing political situation, the anger against the hopeless system was channelized from within by certain leaders and they—sometimes—did take the law in their own hands.

  In Bihar, freedom fighter Jayprakash (JP) Narayan returned to active politics in the late 1960s and his call for revolution found many takers. The momentum reached its peak in 1974 when inflation, unemployment and black-marketeering were rampant. In a massive rally in Patna, JP
called for ‘total revolution’ and initiated a struggle to have the Vidhan Sabha dissolved. Students were the most active participants of this movement and the youth of the entire country saw a hero in the angry septuagenarian JP.

  Far away in Maharashtra, discontent of a different kind was being fermented by a new organization called the Shiv Sena, founded by former Free Press Journal cartoonist, Bal Keshav Thackeray. Thackeray’s stated aim was to ensure job security for Maharashtrians, and he managed to wrest control of Bombay’s trade unions from the communists by actively—and often violently—campaigning against ‘immigrant’ Gujaratis and south Indians. It was a sign of the times that a cosmopolitan city like Bombay got mobilized behind such blatant regionalism and rallied behind Thackeray, who was in his early forties and projected himself as the ‘angry, irreverent and defiant voice of the people’.

  In another part of the country—Bengal, most prominently—a radical brand of leftist ideology was inspiring young people to take up arms and attack the system. Naxalism found—and still finds—acceptance among those completely deprived of the benefits of governance.

  There were different kinds of anger in different parts of India but the country’s dominant popular culture—Hindi cinema—was depicting none of that. It was into this atmosphere that Salim–Javed’s films arrived.

  The writers have repeatedly said that they had no intention of passing on a message through their films. They were merely looking to present an interesting character in an interesting setting. The volatile situation in India during the early 1970s was like a simmering cauldron in which they brewed their potion of discontent. What needs to be noted is that their backgrounds, their eye for detail, their rebellious temperaments and—not least—their youth (Javed was about twenty-five and Salim about thirty-five when they wrote the character) made them better suited than anybody else to create an iconic figure like the Angry Young Man. Salim Khan, growing up in the care of his police officer father had heard many stories of ill treatment of honest officers and the rage building within the system, which was being hijacked by corrupt ministers and bureaucrats.