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

by Diptakirti Chaudhuri

  A lot of the juice in the script did emerge from the brainstorming and bouncing of ideas. There is an apocryphal story that when searching for a suitably grand name for the villain, the two writers and the director heard someone in the Nasir Husain Films’ office call out the publicity in-charge’s name—‘Arre Shakhaal saab . . .’ And G.P. Shakhaal’s name became immortalized as the villain’s in not one but two Salim–Javed films!

  In Yaadon Ki Baaraat, a painter12 sees the killer Shaakaal (Ajit) fleeing from the scene of a murder. To prevent him from becoming a police witness, Shaakaal kills him and his wife but his three sons manage to escape without seeing the killer face. However, in the ensuing confusion, they get separated while boarding a train on the tracks next to their home. Shaakaal’s accomplice Jack (Satyen Kappu) is framed for the murder and jailed.

  The eldest brother, Shankar (Dharmendra), grows up to be a thief. The middle brother, Vijay (Vijay Arora), grows up to be a normal, fun-loving guy who is just out of college. The youngest, Ratan (Tariq), becomes a musician who plays under the alias, Monto, along with his band, Monto and His Avengers. Shankar is constantly on the lookout for Shaakaal but unwittingly works for him on heists. Vijay falls in love with Sonia (Zeenat Aman), a millionaire’s daughter. When Shankar finally gets through to Jack, he learns that Shaakaal’s unique feature is his differently sized feet, because of which he wears a size-8 shoe on one foot and a size-9 shoe on the other.

  In a triple-barrelled pre-climax development, Shankar kidnaps Sonia to force her father to part with priceless antique jewellery. He also realizes that Shaakaal, whom he has been working for all this while, is his parents’ killer. And the three brothers discover each other when Ratan/Monto sings their family song. In the climax, the three brothers save Sonia, keep the jewellery from being smuggled and kill Shaakaal on the same railway track that once separated them.

  For a film like Yaadon Ki Baaraat, where the story hurtles through on pure adrenaline, a mere plot description does not sufficiently reflect the impact of the film. Lost-and-found sagas depend on how well the gears mesh and how one scene brings about the next. Director Sriram Raghavan says, ‘I was a kid then and I got a complete narration of Yaadon Ki Baaraat from my mom. We weren’t allowed too many movies then. But my parents had just seen the movie. I asked her to at least tell me the story. And she did—scene by scene! How the boys separated, how their paths crossed often but they kept missing the chance to realize they were brothers, and how they ultimately met and how the villain got his foot stuck in the railway tracks and was run down by a train. I was a kid, but I too could see the whole film in my head.’

  This lost-and-found template reached its pinnacle in Amar Akbar Anthony, which had many of the distinctive features that Salim–Javed fine-tuned in Yaadon Ki Baaraat, Haath Ki Safai and Chacha Bhatija, lost-and-found films written over a span of four years. All these films had:

  – Dramatic separation, usually during a family crisis—connected by unique memento

  – Multiple meetings of family members as adults, without knowing each other

  – Fortuitous reunion, just in time for the climax

  If you think about it, these elements have found repeated usage in such films. Yaadon Ki Baaraat is one of the best in this genre with typical Salim–Javed twists added into the age-old formula. For example, the ‘memento’, which connects the family, is a song instead of something physical like a locket, letter or tattoo. A song known to only three people in the world is a very cool concept and presents a more dramatic opportunity of reconnecting the brothers than a physical memento. Incidentally, there is a prevalent belief among Hindi film fans that Ratan, the youngest brother (played by a very young Aamir Khan), asks for the song to be completed because he went to the loo during the antara (Badle na apna yeh aalam kabhi, jeevan mein bichhdenge na hum kabhi . . .) and didn’t hear the full song. Actually, this is not true because Ratan returns in time for the repeat of the antara. Also, as a family song, it would have been sung several times and hence it is unlikely that one brother would not know the complete song.

  Salim–Javed had a special gift for orchestrating the events that bring the separated family members together—unknown to each other. Shankar, Vijay and Ratan meet several times in the film—unwittingly embracing, praising and helping each other without knowing their relationship. Consequently, when the connection is finally established, it becomes an extremely emotional, applause-inducing climax.

  What is interesting in the promotion material of Yaadon Ki Baaraat is Salim–Javed’s increasing prominence. This was only their second film with exclusive credit but with Zanjeer, they had made a strong statement by staking a claim to the success of their previous three films as well. Before the release of Yaadon Ki Baaraat, they got third billing on the posters—after the music director (R.D. Burman) and the lyricist (Majrooh Sultanpuri), both of whom were huge stars. Indeed the biggest draw of this film—as with all Nasir Husain productions—was the fantastic music. But by the time the film released, Salim–Javed had overtaken Majrooh and were placed right after RD in the credits. This is probably indicative of their respective contributions to the film’s success. This is interesting because it was quite uncommon to give certain members of a film’s crew greater prominence as the promotions progressed.

  The reviews of Yaadon Ki Baaraat were not gushing. Screen called it a ‘crime thriller of familiar sort’ and went on to say ‘its main handicap is the close resemblance . . . to the current hit Zanjeer in the matter of story idea and development which in any case have their debt to foreign sources’.

  The impact of Yaadon Ki Baaraat, however, goes beyond the lukewarm reviews or the box-office success. (It was the fifth-highest grosser of 1973.) Film scholar Kaushik Bhaumik calls it ‘the first masala classic as well as the first Bollywood film’. It is a perfect mixture of all the elements that make a typical Hindi film—crackling storyline embellished with whistle-inducing dialogues, rocking music, stars performing the antics expected of them, multiple tracks adding layers to the enjoyment, eye-catching fashion and locations, and a happily-ever-after resolution of all the problems in the climax.

  The result is a very durable storyline that has remained a big favourite of Hindi film audiences for a long time. At the party to celebrate the bumper success of 3 Idiots, Aamir Khan was asked if a remake of any old film had the power of breaking the blockbuster’s record. Aamir Khan speculated that as a story, Yaadon Ki Baaraat probably had a good chance. Since he half-jokingly also suggested Mansoor Khan should direct the remake, the Bollywood press breathlessly reported one to be almost on the floors! Mansoor Khan rubbishes the possibility of a remake but agrees that the ‘formula’ still works.

  Salim–Javed had just started perfecting this formula. They would soon reunite with Prakash Mehra to create yet another tale of lost-and-found brothers, this time with both siblings on the wrong side of the law. That film was Haath Ki Safai.

  Haath Ki Safai

  Salim–Javed signed Haath Ki Safai with Prakash Mehra when—in their own words—‘[they] were not in a position to dictate’. Their experience with the director during Zanjeer hadn’t been great and they never worked with him after this.

  Haath Ki Safai is definitely not one of Salim–Javed’s more successful or celebrated films. Though it was a decent hit when it released in 1974, the movie certainly did not set the box office ablaze (like Seeta Aur Geeta had earlier) nor did it become a massive turning point for Hindi cinema (like Zanjeer the previous year). Yet it is interesting to see how much zest the writers gave to a familiar tale with social context, cool situations and really rocking lines.

  While a lot can be made out of Nasir Husain’s comment that Zanjeer and Yaadon Ki Baaraat were both the same story really, we should consider the following ‘equations’:

  – Zanjeer = revenge drama (by identifying the killer through a unique symbol)

  – Yaadon Ki Baaraat = revenge drama (by identifying the killer through a unique symbol) + lost-and
-found saga of brothers

  – Haath Ki Safai = lost-and-found saga of brothers

  Basically, they took formulae A and B and managed to pull three different scripts out of them. You might diss this almost slavish adherence to the established formula—which they exhibited throughout their career—but you have to admire their flair for the spoken word and ability to spin a yarn that made the final products completely different.

  In Haath Ki Safai, two brothers—Shankar and Raju—who live in a small town with their mother, leave for Bombay when she passes away, but get separated on the way. The younger one, Raju, is picked up by a pickpocket trainer, Usmanbhai (Satyen Kappu), and is trained to become an ace pickpocket, known as Raju Tardeo (Randhir Kapoor), so named because of his area of operation. His elder brother Shankar grows up to become a smuggler known as Kumar (Vinod Khanna), who is married to Roma (Simi Garewal). Shankar is constantly on the lookout for his younger brother and always carries their childhood photo in his wallet. Raju meets Kamini (Hema Malini), who seems to be a rich woman, and plans to swindle her. When Kamini runs away from home to escape her cruel uncle both Shankar and Raju try to catch her. Due to a misunderstanding, a pregnant Roma leaves Shankar’s home in anger and is given shelter by Raju, while Kamini is in Shankar’s house. The villains, who find out about this, use that information to cause a major rift between the two men but Shankar and Raju find out that they are brothers and join hands for the climax.

  The mind-boggling complications of the second half have been glossed over in a word or two (like ‘misunderstanding’ and ‘discover’) but the chain of events and their pace would have done Manmohan Desai proud.

  What stands out in the film is the dialogue—clever and punchy: ‘Bachche, tum jis school mein padhte ho, hum uske headmaster reh chuke hain . . .’xv

  As far as versatility of dialogue goes, this line is right up there with the best. Considering that none of the other elements of Haath Ki Safai—acting, music, story—have really endured, the durability of this one line is quite amazing. There are several things going for it. Vinod Khanna’s character (and indeed the star himself) has an easy charisma, which comes across nicely through this line. Add to that the standard lost-and-found ploy of creating near-misses of the siblings meeting unwittingly and you have some solid contextual weight behind the line. It still pops up quite regularly on Internet forums about the best dialogues of Hindi cinema. And it got a new lease of life when one Salman Khan (with more than a passing acquaintance with one of the creators of the line) deadpanned in his blockbuster Wanted: ‘Jis school mein tune yeh sab seekha hai na, uska headmaster aaj bhi mujhse tuition leta hai.’xvi Make what you want to of the subtexts!

  Apart from the punchlines, all the characters spoke differently and in keeping with their backgrounds. This was a hallmark of all Salim–Javed films and Haath Ki Safai was no exception.

  Another Salim–Javed trick, of giving a catchphrase to some of the major characters, is evident in the line that Raju keeps saying throughout the film: ‘Kyun, kya khayal hai? ’ xvii

  There were other clever ploys too. In one scene, Raju explains his acting prowess by saying, ‘Acting toh hamari khoon mein hai. Baap dada bhi yehi kaam karte aaye hain.’xviii—an obvious reference to the Kapoors. In a scene where he is portraying Devdas in a play, he ad-libs, ‘Chandramukhi ho ya Paro, ki farq painda, yaaro?’ xix—a quip which was later used by writer–director Sujoy Ghosh in Jhankaar Beats.

  Apart from these, there were some set pieces that seemed to be a part of many of their films. For example, a montage to show a child growing up—a young Shankar hides in an aeroplane model in a park, and it transforms into a real plane in which the adult Shankar is travelling.

  The writers’ message of socialism comes through in the scene where the two brothers are shown at a medicine shop. They are short of Rs 2.50 to buy the medicines that can save their mother, when a rich lady walks in to buy dog biscuits at Rs 15 a pack. This kind of message—which found resonance in the country’s situation then—had been seen in their earlier films and would be repeated in many of their later works as well.

  By this time, Salim–Javed had delivered five hits in a row, with two of their films being the top grossers of the years in which they were released. Their success guaranteed them top billing and in the advertisements for Haath Ki Safai, their names were right beside the composers’ (Kalyanji–Anandji).

  Their growing reputation would have been something Screen paid heed to when they reviewed that ‘Haath Ki Safai provides fast-paced fare’, though it was clearly not among the most successful movies of the year.

  One reason for the film’s not-so-stellar performance could be the spate of ‘thief films’ that were released in 1974. When Haath Ki Safai opened there was Chor Chor (which was releasing simultaneously), Chor Machaye Shor (which was in its twentieth week) and Pocket Maar (about to release).

  Instead of going for novelty of plot, Salim–Javed always went for tried and tested formulae from all kinds of sources and gave those a distinctly Indian twist. From the Bollywood formula of lost-and-found and revenge, the duo now moved to a completely different plot—with more twists and suspense—with their favourite actor. The film was Majboor.

  Majboor

  ‘Fight of a helpless man with odds and ends of life’—From the publicity material of the film

  In 1970, George Kennedy (of not-so-great fame) and Eli Wallach (of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly fame) starred in a thriller called Zig Zag in which a dying insurance executive (Kennedy) frames himself for the murder of a tycoon and creates an elaborate smokescreen so that his wife and daughter get the reward money. On death row, he discovers that he was wrongly diagnosed and isn’t dying after all. He then escapes from prison to find the real killer and clear his name.

  By all accounts, the film was nothing memorable and critics pointed out many plot holes, finding fault with the improbable ending and a slightly confusing shift between past and present.

  However, Salim–Javed felt inspired enough to take the story and punch in a lot of shudh desi emotion by giving the protagonist a widowed mother, a kid brother and a disabled sister. By making his family’s dependence on the hero abundantly clear through a mix of sentimental scenes and throw away lines, the writers invested the motive with a lot of Indian sensibility.

  Ravi Khanna (Amitabh Bachchan) is an executive at a travel agency and is equally dutiful at work and at home. He is questioned by the police (Iftekhar and Jagdish Raj) in connection with the murder of a tycoon (Rehman) who was last seen at Ravi’s agency, but nothing comes of it. Around the same time, Ravi starts experiencing tremendous pain in his head and he’s diagnosed with a brain tumour. The course of treatment involves extremely risky surgery that might render him blind or paralysed. Given his sole breadwinner status, Ravi chooses to ignore the surgery route and frames himself for the tycoon’s murder—ensuring that his mother gets the reward money through a decoy created by his lawyer. Ravi is jailed, where he gets another attack of pain, severe enough to warrant hospitalization and an operation. The surgery is successful and Ravi now has a full life ahead of him. He escapes from the hospital with the help of his girlfriend Neela (Parveen Babi) and starts investigating the murder. In the course of his investigation, he meets a thief Michael (Pran) who gives a vital clue that identifies the killer as the tycoon’s brother (Satyen Kappu).

  Majboor is probably Salim–Javed’s tightest script, with hardly any subplots or comedy tracks to distract from the main story as it spirals rapidly towards the climax. Even the romantic subplot is wrapped up in the first half and by the second half, Neela is an associate in Ravi’s quest to prove his innocence.

  The tautness of the script appealed to Ramesh Sippy when it was first presented to him in early 1973. It was a ready script which could be completed very quickly and it seemed like a strong commercial proposition. But after the huge success of Seeta Aur Geeta, Ramesh’s father, G.P. Sippy, wanted to make a ‘badi film’—a multi-starrer on a bi
g scale. He liked another idea the writers narrated that had a lot of scope for high-octane action, special effects and ‘bigness’. Majboor, in comparison, was a good script but not a great one. Sippy offered Rs 1.5 lakh to Salim–Javed for developing the other script and letting Majboor go.

  The duo offered the script to Premji, who had produced superhits like Mera Saaya (a haunting musical starring Sunil Dutt and Sadhna), Dushmun (a Rajesh Khanna-starrer in his golden year, 1971) and Dost (which he was making then, starring Dharmendra and Hema Malini). With full faith in Salim–Javed’s box-office credentials, Premji bought the script for Rs 2 lakh—much more than what the Sippys were willing to pay for it anyway.

  Director Ravi Tandon recalls the narration of the script being very detailed, including the scene were Ravi escapes from the hospital.13 He also found it interesting that the hero suffered from a brain tumour, which was not a commonly used disease in Hindi films then. He says, ‘The problem was how to show it to the audience in a way that they could understand the ailment’s severity.’

  The film unfolded like a Hollywood thriller with every scene pushing the action forward, and a host of pithy lines, often delivered with deadpan humour. While criminal procedure has never been Hindi cinema’s forte, the scenes in which Ravi frames himself are quite believable and they brought credibility to the plot without sacrificing the pace.