“I write silences as well,” exults Ranjit Kapoor in the middle of our free-wheeling conversation. A man of many parts, the eminent theatre personality, who wrote dialogues of some of the path breaking Hindi films rewinds to the time when he was collaborating with Kundan Shah on Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro. “Kundan was good at comedy but his writing lacked the emotional depth. I told him as some films need comic relief, this film demands serious relief. Otherwise, it is in danger of being reduced to a sitcom. Oscar Wilde had rightly said that without pathos there can’t be any comedy.” And Kapoor came up with the idea of ‘Hum Honge Kamyab’. “It reflected the characters’ naivety, made them vulnerable and endearing to the audience.”
A proponent of less is more, Kapoor’s first break was as a writer-composer for Ashok Ahuja’s Aadharshila . “I told him explicitly that there are big portions in the screenplay that don’t demand any background music but that doesn’t mean you won’t give me credit as composer because it is my call,” laughs Kapoor as we settle for a leisurely conversation at The One restaurant in Le Meridien. Somebody who lives to eat, here he wants to keep it simple because of the weather. He insists on chilled lime soda and we bring fish fingers to the table to make a perfect frame.
In Delhi for the ongoing META festival where he is part of the jury, the Sangeet Natak Akademi winner says he is not too pleased with the fare on offer at the just concluded 8th Theatre Olympics. “The feedback of Theatre Olympics has been disappointing. I feel the plays that were on show didn’t reflect what’s going on in the country.” Recently, he was called for a discussion in Jaipur where he was asked what did audience want. “I said in the current environment you don’t need to ask the audience.” Kapoor says it’s not too different from the volatile times when he wrote Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro in the early 80s. “And that’s why I have written the sequel. I had major differences with Kundan on how we should take it forward. Now that he is no more, I have taken upon myself to direct it.” Kapoor informs the story will begin in jail where Vinod (Naseeruddin Shah) has been languishing for 34 years. I have yet to break the news to Naseer.”
Sometimes, he adds, the fear of political dispensation is uncalled for. “My political satire Jai Ho Democracy (2015) has been screened on different channels of Doordarshan four times.”
Romance and simplicity
Kapoor feels romance and simplicity is going out of creative space. “I have always attempted to present complex thoughts in a simple language. When I presented Manohar Shyam Joshi’s ‘Kuru Kuru Swaha’, his wife came up to me and said that this was the first time that she understood what Joshi ji wrote. It was a big compliment. When I stage a play, I don’t distribute director’s interpretation among the audience or the critics. I had had differences with Raj Kumar Santoshi when he made the climax of Lajja verbose.”
Talking of romance, one can’t forget his writing in Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa. Kapoor remembers how he pushed Kundan Shah to bring veteran lyricist Majrooh Sultanpuri on board for lyrics. “Kundan found him too old and I had to make him listen to his songs from ‘Ek Ladki Bheegi Bhagi Si’ to ‘Papa Kehte Hain’ for one whole night . Majrooh was not easy to deal with either. He asked Kundan to recite his favourite Majrooh song before narration. Kundan froze for a moment and then came up with ‘Kuchh Din Pahale Ek Taal Men Kamalakunj Ke Andar Rahata Tha, Ek Hans Ka Joda’ ( Lajwanti ). Finally, Majrooh sahib smiled and see what he gave us. Four of Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa songs became chartbusters and ‘Ai Kash Ke Hum Hosh Main Aane Na Payein’ continues to be fresh.”
As Kapoor was invited to the soirees at Kaifi Azmi’s house, he had an understanding of Majrooh sahib’s mercurial nature. “Every original artist is difficult to deal with,” he chuckles as he himself belongs to the same category. “Once during Hum To Mohabbat Karega, Kundan called me from the recording studio as Majrooh sahib was not ready to accept changes, in a song, suggested by composer Anu Malik. When I enquired, he said that he had used ‘dil’ at two places while Anu wanted to make it four. He said if that was required he would have done it himself. Ultimately, it was recorded the way he wanted it to be.”
In sync with diverse characters
From Kabhi Haan Kabhi Na to Bandit Queen, Kapoor has written dialogues for a diverse range of characters. “It was possible because I spent a lot of time travelling with my father’s Parsi theatre company. People from different regions worked in the company and I observed them closely. A big reason for the success of Bandit Queen was its authentic Bundelkhandi dialect. I spent months with erstwhile dacoit Madho Singh and once called Phoolan Devi’s brother Shiv Narayan to a Gwalior hotel for tea. I asked him and his friends to converse in front of me for two hours. We paid them for this exercise.”
The film also introduced cuss words in dialogues. “It was required to maintain originality. However, some of the actors got carried away and added to what I had originally written. Shekhar (Kapur) should have stopped them,” says Kapoor, who doesn’t like to go to the film sets. “Being a graduate in direction from National School of Drama, I consider myself a director. It is the film industry that turned me into a writer.” The film inspired many among the current crop of filmmakers. “They are using it for effect now. When a cuss word makes it to the film poster, it reflects your limitation as a writer,” he argues.
A teacher of Urdu, his mother’s love for languages also helped in shaping Kapoor’s writing. “She was born in Midnapur and after the death of her parents lived in a Muslim family where she learnt Urdu and a bit of Persian. As she was shifted to a Nagpur convent, she was fluent in Marathi as well. Later she learnt Bundelkhandi and Rajasthani while travelling with my father. When we were in Bhopal, she tried to learn Russian. One day while I was shooting for Chintuji , I found my mother talking to my Keralite DOP in Malayali. At 60, I discovered that my mother knew a bit of Malayali as well.”
In love with mutton dishes, especially qorma and rogan josh that his mother used to prepare, Kapoor is a foodie who loves to go beyond the brand names in search of authentic food in a city. “My mother passed on the recipes to my sister who is secretive about them. While I was growing up, my mother used to leave a bit of dough for me to make a chapatti. Later, I realised that it was her way of making me self-sufficient.” Be it theatre or cooking, Kapoor says it is all about the hunger you have. “Once, I crossed a river in spate with my father and some crew members. And when we reached a small village, the cook tried to prepare moong ki dal over stove. My father was so hungry that he declared the dal without tadka as the best he had in his life. I found it odd but on another occasion when we had semi-cooked khichdi, I realised hunger creates a taste of its own. We kept on saying that it needs more water but before the cook could arrive at the right proportion, we had polished it off.”
By this time, the delicious conversation makes us hungry as well. So we conclude with a big bite of kulfi.
