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

by Diptakirti Chaudhuri

  Javed’s father Jan Nisar Akhtar died in August 1976. Just before his demise, he had given Javed a copy of his last book with the inscription: ‘You will remember me when I am gone’. These words indeed stayed with his son and Javed wrote his first poem in 1979 to ‘make peace with both my father and my inheritance’. His desire to write poetry would eventually become an important turning point in Salim–Javed’s partnership.

  Salim’s life also saw a fair bit of turmoil after several years of a stable family life. After his marriage to Salma in 1964, their three sons were born by 1970. They also had a daughter, Alvira, later. This was a difficult period for the couple as Salim’s earnings from films weren’t very substantial. On top of that, there was a lot of tension in the family because Salma’s father had cut off all communications with her for marrying outside her religion.

  Success brought stability and the family moved into their flat in the now-iconic Galaxy Apartments in 1973 on Dussehra, shortly after the release of Zanjeer.

  Sholay took Salim–Javed to new heights and it also brought Salim back in touch with Helen, who had just come out of a long relationship with director P.N. Arora (which she broke off in 1973). Helen’s career had stalled at this point and Salim recommended her to several directors, including Ramesh Sippy. The song ‘Mehbooba mehbooba’ resurrected her career and she was in demand once again, for the next five or six years, doing ‘item numbers’ as well as short acting roles. Sholay was the first Salim–Javed film Helen worked in,23 following it up with several others, including Immaan Dharam (in an important role opposite Amitabh Bachchan), Don (in a pivotal role as Kamini who is killed while trying to catch Don) and Dostana (as Prem Chopra’s moll, a role that wasn’t in the usual mould).

  During this period, Helen was like a family friend—often visiting Salim’s home and interacting with them. While Salim and Helen had known each other from the time they were both strugglers in the early 1960s, it was only now that they fell in love; Salim calls it an ‘emotional accident’. He honestly explained the situation to his children and married Helen in 1981. In a later interview, Helen said, ‘I got married to a beautiful human being by the name of Salim Khan, who is one of the best writers . . . He has given me all the confidence and contentment in life and the best role is what I am playing right now.’ While it all worked out amicably later on, the first few years of Salim’s relationship with Helen—both courtship and marriage—were quite stressful.

  Salim and Javed have always accepted that the intensity of their scripts decreased towards the later part of their careers for which they cited several reasons, such as complacency and the inability to experiment. However, they were experiencing turmoil in their personal lives in the late 1970s—that period of separation (for Javed) and a second marriage (for Salim) would have been mentally draining for both of them—and it is conceivable that those issues affected their professional output, at least on a subconscious level. Success brought with it a lot of prestigious projects, but they came with the attendant problems of high expectations and pressure which would have further strained their working relationship. While their respective personal relationships overcame the strain and even flourished in later years, their professional relationship didn’t survive.

  The Split

  ‘I suppose when people can no longer communicate with one another, they part. Be it Nehru and Jinnah or Salim and Javed’—Gulzar

  One superstar—Rajesh Khanna—asked Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar for a script that brought them together as Salim–Javed. A script that Salim–Javed wrote for another superstar—Amitabh Bachchan—separated them into Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar once again.

  The seeds of a rift were probably sown over a longish period of time as both writers became major stars in their own right and found their own circles of friends. The age difference between the two (Salim was ten years older than Javed), was also partly responsible for this split, for they had completely different family cycles (Salim’s eldest child was eight years old when Javed got married) and wholly different sets of friends. While they worked together and spent long hours ideating and writing, and in business meetings, their personal lives did not coincide. Their different lives also brought hangers-on who individually convinced each that his talent was the driving force in the partnership, while the other one was just along for the ride. This was the likely psychological background to a series of events that acted as the final trigger for their separation.

  In her Marathi book Yahi Rang, Yahi Roop journalist Anita Padhye, who did a long interview with Salim, describes the sequence of events from his point of view.

  Salim–Javed approached Amitabh Bachchan with the script of a film that would eventually become Mr India. Bachchan declined, citing the invisible-man concept as a deterrent since—he believed—the audience came to see him in a film and not merely to hear him. Salim–Javed’s conviction that Amitabh’s voice would bring a lot of value to the role was not something the superstar shared. According to the book, Javed felt that the duo shouldn’t work with Amitabh any more after this ‘insult’, but Salim was not in complete agreement with this suggestion. A few days after this, Javed was at Amitabh’s Holi party and told the star that Salim wasn’t keen on working with Amitabh any longer. This misunderstanding caused a considerable strain in the duo’s working relationship.

  Meanwhile, Javed had also started penning lyrics for films (Yash Chopra’s Silsila being his first) and he proposed to Salim that they write lyrics under their joint name as well. His plan was to offer a complete script and the song lyrics as a package from Salim–Javed but Salim refused. Salim says, ‘I don’t consider it right to take credit for something I didn’t do. Javed would write lyrics, have meetings with music directors and I would sit there contributing nothing. This was not acceptable to me.’ Besides, he explained further, if there was one aspect of their job to which he made no contribution, outsiders might assume that was the case with the other aspect as well.

  According to him, it was Javed who proposed that they split. Salim remembers that day vividly. They were at Javed’s residence, discussing and brainstorming on projects. After a full day’s work, when it was time for Salim to leave, Javed said, ‘I was thinking that maybe we should work separately.’ Salim took a few moments to digest this and replied, ‘I am sure you have said this after considerable thought and nothing I say will change your mind,’ and began walking towards his car. When Javed, as was his habit, joined him, Salim turned to him and said, ‘I am old enough to take care of myself,’ and sent him back.

  That was the exact point in time when the split happened.

  Over the next few weeks, gossip columns speculated about the reasons and trade magazines ‘announced’ solo projects, but the moment they shook hands in front of Javed’s Juhu home on the evening of 21 June 1981, Salim–Javed once again became Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar.

  The date is so easily identifiable because it was the same day that Salim Khan got news that Helen’s mother was seriously unwell and had to leave Bombay. She passed away later that evening and he became busy with her funeral, remaining away from Bombay and unreachable for a few days. When he returned, he started getting calls enquiring about the split, as Javed had already talked about it to some people in the industry.

  Javed seemed to manage the post-split period much better as several directors announced prestigious projects with him immediately afterwards. This was possibly because he was already actively soliciting work as a lyricist and was in talks with directors. In the two years after the split, he had writing projects with Ramesh Sippy, Rahul Rawail, Yash Chopra and Subhash Ghai. Most of these films also had lyrics by him, thus making him the single-point writer he had proposed Salim–Javed become. In a November 1981 interview, Javed said, ‘I really don’t know how I will fare on my own. I have signed four films which, considering my past record, is a lot for me!’

  Salim, on the other hand, was less prepared for the split and did not go around asking for work. In fact, he w
as quite frustrated with the entire episode and took a long sabbatical in London. He felt at peace in his new surroundings till someone referred to him as ‘Helen’s husband’. That was when he decided to return to Bombay and seek work. He expected his past reputation would precede him and imagined producers would be lining up like before to work with him. However, the industry where heroes changed every Friday had moved on. As many past stars have found out—to their dismay—the industry can be extremely generous to those in favour and just as ruthless to those out of circulation.

  Salim speaks very bitterly about this phase. ‘When I returned, it was the telephone that reminded me how easily people forget. There was a time when I’d make my drink, and then keep the phone off the hook. And here I was, checking the phone every now and then to see if it was working.’

  After Shakti—where he had shared credit with Javed—Salim’s next release came nearly four years later. Naam turned out to be Salim’s super comeback, putting him firmly back on the radar of all major producers. He established a successful working relationship with Mahesh Bhatt and soon enough, all the well-known directors of the time—Ramesh Sippy, Rahul Rawail, Manmohan Desai—were working with him as well.

  Post-split, Salim and Javed’s relationship went from bitter to neutral to cordial. In October 1981, Salim said in an interview, ‘If we have split today, it is only because we, without the interference of a third party, have decided to call it a day. I too don’t know the real reason for this break-up. One day, Javed came to me and told me he wanted to operate separately. Since I respect his decisions, I did not even ask him why he wanted us to split! It’s sad we had to break up our team, but I’m very happy that we are still friends!’ A few months later (in February 1982), he was more abrasive—‘I don’t ever want to make up with Javed even if Javed were to apologise or suggest a patch-up.’

  This continued through the 1980s. A gossip column in Hindustan Times (in 1987, after the release of Naam) reported, ‘Salim exudes a new confidence now. Till the release of Naam, the uncertainty would show on his face, though he says it did not affect him at all. The man does not mince words, especially when it comes to his feelings about Javed. When asked what he thinks of Javed, he said bluntly: “I dislike him. I won’t say I hate him, because it is not good to hate anybody.” He not only dislikes Javed but everything that has anything to do with him. He thinks all Javed’s films—Saagar, Arjun, etc., were bogus, with the exception of Betaab.’

  Both their individual careers saw a fair degree of success in the 1980s, which is considered to be the most derivative of all the decades of Hindi cinema. This led to considerable speculation about an alternate time in which Salim–Javed did not split. One of the proponents of this line of speculation has been Amitabh Bachchan, who has been known to wonder if his career would have seen a different trajectory had the split not happened. Bachchan openly admitted the vacuum in his career due to the split: ‘It’s a shame that they parted ways, they were truly unbeatable. Quite often, the media would conjecture—what will happen to Amitabh Bachchan without Salim–Javed? Really, once they separated I couldn’t ever get that kind of intensity again, that power was missing.’ Javed Akhtar had once half-jokingly said that Amitabh Bachchan should have found other good writers since they had failed.

  Film critic and director Khalid Mohammad says, ‘If Salim–Javed had continued as a team, perhaps they would have become jaded. Yet, it can’t be denied that their parting was premature. At least half a dozen films could have emerged from them as a team.’ There are still others who believe the poor quality of writing in the 1980s could have been improved if only Salim–Javed hadn’t split. This is interesting because the writers’ last few scripts had clearly not been among their best. Yet, many people believe that the output of an entire industry over a decade would have been better if two—just two—people had continued to work together.

  There is obviously a fair amount of nostalgic romanticism attached to this train of thought but that was exactly what Salim–Javed brought to the profession of writing, which continued to build their mystique well after their joint careers ended.

  They featured regularly in gossip columns till the late 1980s, whenever Salim’s rise coincided with a downturn in Javed’s career or vice versa. Many such items even ‘blamed’ the women in their lives—Shabana Azmi and Helen—for the split, but both men steadfastly denied any such insinuations.

  Script writers being written about in gossip columns, that too years after they had split—such was the power of Salim–Javed.

  Interim Films: Zamana and Mr India

  Post their split, two films—Zamana and Mr India—were released (in 1985 and 1987 respectively) that were credited to Salim–Javed. These were conceptualized and partially written when they were still a team.

  Zamana went through a lot of interruptions; its development began long ago, at a time when Salim–Javed were among the top movers and shakers in the industry. A friend of Salim Khan’s, who had business interests in steel and hospitality and wanted to invest his money in films, came to him seeking advice about an entry into the industry. The duo offered him a script—a complete screenplay that had scope for two male leads, one older and one younger.

  The story was about two brothers who get separated in childhood after their father is killed by the villains. The brothers grow up to be a police officer and a gangster. Soon enough, the gangster is given a contract to kill the police officer by the same criminal responsible for their father’s death. All the while, everybody—including the two protagonists—is unaware of the two brothers’ identities.

  Salim put the financier in touch with the producer (Jagdish Sharma) and they chose Rajesh Khanna and Rishi Kapoor for the two leading roles, which was something of a casting coup. At this point, Ramesh Talwar—Yash Chopra’s long-time chief assistant director—was brought in. He had worked with Rajesh Khanna while assisting Yash Chopra on Daag and with Rishi Kapoor on his directorial debut Doosara Aadmi. Talwar was good friends with both stars and seemed a good candidate to handle them.

  The director took on the script with some trepidation since he felt the lost-and-found formula was more up Manmohan Desai’s alley; his own preference was towards offbeat love stories. But the film’s cast (two of the industry’s biggest stars) and the writers made it look like a sure-shot commercial success and he took it up. This is an interesting case where the project originated from the scriptwriters and went on to find a producer, director and actors.

  The shooting started and twelve reels—about three-fourths of the film—were canned in the first schedule itself. But after that, the financier’s other businesses ran into rough weather and he couldn’t fund the rest of the shoot. By the time he managed to arrange funds, the actors were busy with other projects and the film was massively delayed. Shooting was resumed more than three years later, during which time Salim–Javed had separated, Ramesh Talwar had made two more films (including one written by only Javed Akhtar) and the box-office draw of the stars had diminished. Even fashion trends had changed so much that the film looked horribly dated.

  Salim and Javed worked on two different segments when Zamana was being shot. The screenplay was given right at the beginning but the dialogues, written as the shoot progressed, were penned by Javed. Salim assisted the director during the editing to suggest minor changes in the plot to help stitch the sequences together. This was critical since many of them were shot quite far apart. Salim’s involvement in the editing—partially due to his relationship with the financier—was again very unusual for a writer in the industry.

  Zamana—as is evident—suffered from several drawbacks that resulted in a dismal performance at the box office and poor recall. Along with Aakhri Daao, it is one of Salim–Javed’s least-known scripts. Their separation cannot possibly be cited as a reason for this since they were still partners when they wrote it. However, Zamana suffered from the same problems that some of their later scripts had, where they had lost their appetite for risk an
d were using old formulae without any innovation to essentially create star vehicles.

  *

  Mr India—with the basic idea of the ‘invisible man’—was jointly conceived by Salim–Javed and eventually picked up by Boney Kapoor and Shekhar Kapur for the former’s home production.

  After two low-budget successes (one of which was Woh 7 Din, starring brother Anil Kapoor), Boney Kapoor was ready to play for higher stakes. He bet on the sci-fi plot with lots of special effects, lavish sets and costumes—all towards making what is known in the industry as a ‘badi film’. The director chosen for this venture was Shekhar Kapur, who had started off as an actor but had just delivered a massive critical and commercial success in Masoom.24

  The story was simple enough. An impoverished violin teacher Arun Verma (Anil Kapoor) stays in a rundown seaside house with several orphan kids he has picked up off the streets. While resisting villain Mogambo’s (Amrish Puri) attempts to gain control of the house and convert it into a smuggling base, the young man stumbles upon his father’s discovery—a bracelet that turns people invisible. With the help of this bracelet, he becomes Mr India—the invisible man who takes up arms against smugglers, black marketeers, gambling den owners and their supreme boss Mogambo.25

  While the concept had been written jointly, the script was detailed out single-handedly by Javed. Shekhar Kapur says of him, ‘I know very few scriptwriters who have an understanding of how to create mythology through dialogue. It’s no coincidence that both Gabbar Singh (with his then co-writer Salim Khan) and Mogambo were his creations . . . What’s even more startling is the fact that when you look carefully, Mogambo actually does not do much. He talks, he threatens, he clicks his fingers on a globe on his throne, he strides, he builds missiles and threatens to blow up India. He threatens and he threatens and threatens. But actually does nothing . . . At least Gabbar Singh cut off Sanjeev Kumar’s arms, ruthlessly killed his own men, killed a son and sent the body back to the blind father . . . But poor Mogambo? Nothing but empty threats, other than where he causes a few beautiful-looking and well-fed kids to go hungry. How on earth then did Mogambo become one of the greatest villains of Hindi commercial cinema?’