It is a common story in showbiz that when success rains on artistes, the first thing they obtain for themselves is a roof above their heads. Music composer Vishal Bharadwaj must be the only exception to not build a dream house after getting launched in Maachis. From the money he made through his forthcoming films, Vishal invested in a dream studio and continued to live in a rented house. He had faith that as long as talent was on his side, he would not go hungry. Today, just six years later, Vishal is ready for another gamble. He has turned a filmmaker. In this heart-to-heart conversation, the sensitive composer discusses the pain and passion of making his debut film Makdi.

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Anjum Rajabali

When did you first realise you wanted to be a filmmaker?
It was in 1996. I was attending the International Film Festival in Thiruvananthapuram with Gulzarsaab where Maachis was showing in the Panoroma section. There, watching the retrospective of Polish director Kieslowski something churned in my heart. He has made ten short films based on the Ten Commandments from The Bible, but adaptable in our daily life. The impact was mesmeric. I discovered that filmmaking is the most expressive medium of fine arts and I wanted to be a part of it.

Is desire reason enough to be part of any creative process?
Most certainly, for without desire there are no dreams. I had been writing for as long as I could remember. Stray thoughts, verses scribbled on papers, preserved in files, some ideas developed as stories, screenplays. Around this time my friend Hansal Mehta was making a series on love stories for Zee TV and asked me to recommend new writers. I sent him a couple of my stories under a fictitious name. He selected one story, ’Highway’ for an immediate telecast, I knew time had come for me to reveal my true identity.

Were you as secretive about harbouring dreams of a music career as well?
No, because I grew up attending music recordings with my father, Ram Bharadwaj, an eminent poet and lyricist. Rhythm was so much a part of our daily ambience that as a child I studied my lessons in meter. That’s when I realised that I could be a composer. When I was still in the 12th standard my father mentioned to Usha Khanna that I had composed a tune. She asked me to play it and used it in her film Yaar Kasam. Later, A V Mohan gave me a break in Wahem. I was in my second year of college when I recorded my first song with Asha Bhosle. It was my most complicated tune because when you are 18 you are dying to show off!

What happened then?
My father died in 1984 and for a long time I couldn’t leave Delhi. Domestic responsibilities forced me to remain there even though my heart craved to be in Mumbai. I got a job as a recording manager in RV Pandit’s company. A few years later, I suffered another tragedy and Pandit, I think on emotional grounds transferred me to Bombay. One thing led to another. I met Gulzar saab, he asked me to do Jungle Book and five years later, when Pandit wanted to make a film on the Amritsar riots, I was launched as a music composer in Maachis followed by Satya, Chachi 420, Godmother and finally Makdi.

Now that you’ve dabbled with both mediums, how different is composing music from film direction?
There are no comparisons. As a director I have the liberty to make a film without songs, but as a composer, whether it is for a video album or a feature film, I will still need a director. Cinema stems from reality while songs are pure fantasy. Even if I make the best music in the world I’m still a creative slave, whereas the most mediocre director enjoys complete artistic control. The only common factor is rhythm. Dialogue, action or songs call for a special timing.

It is not very common for music composers to turn filmmakers. What motivated you to change tracks?
You are right. We have had Kishore Kumar who did a couple of films and Salil Choudhary making Pinjre Ka Panchi. I’d say I was a dormant writer because my father was a poet and an active musician because he was a lyricist. During the making of Maachis Gulzar saab included me in the brainstorming sessions. Not that I contributed much but I was their bouncing board. In a way that was the beginning. Gulzar saab always said that: `If you want to be a filmmaker, you have to write your own script.’ I remembered that and whenever something touched me deeply, I penned it down.

But what made you do a children’s film and not a feature film?
Like everyone else a feature film is my ultimate dream. I set about seeking it a few years ago, but every time I came close to the goal, something went wrong. In the beginning, my two friends, Raju Patel, Kannan and I worked on story ideas together but I realised it was not practical working with co-writers and I found a separate outlet. I wrote Barf which Ajay Devgan was to produce but two weeks before the launch, the project was shelved because Raju Chacha had bombed. I was shattered. I tried to revive the film with several producers, but this is the tragedy of our films. If one person rejects your concept nobody has the confidence to touch it. For six months I struggled to somehow get someone interested in my project. It was the most humiliating exercise of my life. I felt like a prostitute eternally grabbing her clients’ attention and hoping for acceptance. But in the end, the client as always, neither said yes nor no.

But isn’t that normal? Don’t all debutants go through the same trauma?
It beat me how they cope. I had come to a point when I was completely frustrated. I had begun to hear the sound of the camera in my dreams and my nostrils ached for the smell of a studio set. I decided that if I make a film for a Government concern, the exercise would be easier and contacted CFSI little knowing that my problems would only multiply. For reasons I don’t wish to discuss I withdrew my film from CFSI and with help from friends and a trusting partner completed the post-production. All the technicians in the film, cameraman Hemant Chaturvedi, art director Sameer Chadda and others have contributed 11,000 each as a support gesture which I can never forget. And Shabana Azmi has not charged a single penny, a gesture I can never repay.

What made you convince Shabana Azmi, known to be unusually choosy about her assignments?
Everyone was surprised that she agreed. I guess I was just destined to work with her. I’ve always fantasised casting her in my film and when I was in Jodhpur for the shooting of Godmother, I mustered courage and told her about my plans. She said she would listen to my subject on our flight to Mumbai. On board, I bounced off a few ideas. She liked one, a hard-hitting story of a politician but a few days later phoned to say that as a Rajya Sabha member, the plot would be too close to reality and I should narrate something else to her. That’s when I narrated the idea of Makdi.

Wasn’t she offended that you offered her the role of a witch?
On the contrary, she was vastly amused. Within two minutes of hearing the concept she said it was a challenge to play a part so out of ordinary. Once she said ’yes’ I felt confident as a director. She is such a perfectionist and gets so deeply involved with the complexities of the character that the director better be prepared with his homework. She is like Lata Mangeshkar, they keep the directors on their toes. It’s because they are never complacent themselves. It’s amazing that after all these years and multiple awards, she feels so passionately about her work.

For someone used to working in air-conditioned recording rooms, how difficult was it adjusting to star temperament and moods?
That called for a major adjustment, I agree. Do you know that a recent survey in Time magazine revealed that amongst the pressures endured by professionals, the bomb dropper is the highest and a filmmaker the second highest. Film directing is all about people management and understanding actors. It’s not easy motivating a sleepy child to laugh before the camera, but when the script demands you have to be ruthless. The same with your cameraman who gets obsessed with his lighting or your assistant who is confused about the continuity shot. When the film is completed everything is forgiven. There’s no bigger intoxication than cinema. The more you make the more you want.

What’s next on the cards?
I’ve signed Naseeruddin Shah and Tabu for a film based on the psyche of the underworld. I want to make a violent film. There is so much anger inside me I need to release it all before I can make any other kind of subjects.

That’s strange because Makdi seems heavily inspired from Gulzar’s films.
He is my mentor and I cannot deny that. I got my break as a music composer because he took a stand for me. He is responsible for turning me into a writer and later inspiring me with confidence to turn a filmmaker. He has been the strongest influence on my creative growth.

Who are the other artistes who have made a mark on you?
In poetry it is Bashir Badr, in fiction writing it is Quentin Tarantino of Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Docks. Then of course, there is Premchand, Sharad Joshi and amongst Indian filmmakers, it is Shekhar Kapur, Mani Ratnam and Mahesh Bhatt.

Whenever a technician has attempted to make a foray as a director, outside filmmakers have stopped hiring his services as a specialist. Did that happen with you?
I was warned and that’s what happened. In fact, when I wrote my first script and began approaching people word got around that I was no more interested in music. This was ridiculous because how can you detach a musician from melody. But that’s how our industry operates. The day I realised that a music composer in our industry was merely looked upon as a general store expected to provide some happy, some sad and some situational tunes, I decided that it was time to move on. On September 11, so many people died unable to live their dreams. Osho has said that the mind does not allow you to live in the present because it is forever either in the past or the future. I didn’t want to die with regrets and on September 14 I took a decision of making Makdi unconcerned of the consequences.

—Bhawana Somaaya
bhawanasomaaya@expressindia.com