The K File – unplugged

Oorvazi Irani’s short fictional film (of approx nine and half minute’s duration) The K File is staccato in its representation yet passionate and forceful in interpretation. The director has taken care that she gets everything right from the start. Or may be even before that.  The film poster for example is striking – black and white smeared with red with a question on it – “A wrong to do right or the right to do wrong?”

This is smart since in a short feature of less than ten minutes to establish the reel reality you cannot afford to be liberal with your narrative time-line. To be economical may mean being discrete. Putting the poster ahead hence serves the purpose of rolling the ball for the audience along with the opening shots – deftly cut and fudged, we as audience are aware of the plot. Yes, it is about Mohammad Ajmal Kasab, the lone surviving terrorist of the 26/11 attacks. But not exactly him. There are two characters in the film – Asab, the terrorist (modeled on Kasab) and the country’s Home Minister who fears hanging Asab will reduce the Muslim votes for his Government. When confronted with the question that there had been several innocent Muslims who were killed in the attacks as well and that the common Muslim is against terror as much as a common Hindu, the minister retaliates citing the other few Hindu terrorists who were yet to be hanged. Interesting is this dilemma of the Minister as an individual, his Government as an organization and the country as the dumb population. Trying to be impartial means justice delayed and eventually denied.

There are few hand-held shots with local lightings and slight jerky movements with the camera angle shifting as the story unfolds. The end complements the camera trajectory of sizing up of the terrorist. In a blurry, fuzzy finale, it wasn’t known whose bullet pierced Asab’s neck – what the country’s governance can’t do. Is it the director who puts an end to this dilemma? Or the audience’s wish-fulfillment used as a motive here like the fly which is so suggestive?

The film is released on 28-May-2012 online (http://www.facebook.com/TheKFileMovie) since the director knows that the widest spread of a short film is to use the internet. This is predominantly a free show and what matters is the film reaching Indians and the world commune trying to fight terror.

Where do we leave the film then? It is a reality which the director took in her hands and fictionalized for her message to come through. Oorvazi’s script is simple, basic and sharp. The genre of the film is based effectively with the background score – definitive and at times thunderous. Most importantly, there is no one message as the director doesn’t become prophetic. She in turn, sets the audience in front of few questions – the moral standpoint of terrorism and our action against it. There is no viewpoint of Asab though. What lures him and the others like him to take up arms to kill people? There are no bigger sacrifices that they are ready for. That exploration probably would have made this into a bigger venture. But as the audience it does come to the mind if such findings are worth dealing with – not for Asab only but for any future attacks on humanity.

Oorvazi may not know but that bullet in the end came straight out my hands and heart, and there are no qualms about it!

Kahaani – tacky and deceitful

Most of Hitchcock’s films start in daylight, with bright settings and at times with comic undertones. He once said, "in a light-hearted setting, the advent of drama is made all the more effective by its unexpectedness…The more happy-go-lucky the setting, the greater kick you get from the sudden introduction of drama."  This dramatic tension helps to intensify the climax which when attained spellbinds the audience and takes her breath away. The attainment of ‘thrill’ is compounded by Macguffins with an undercurrent of facetious wit. In many of the Hitchcock’s brilliant thrillers there is sharp divide between what the audience ‘knows’ and what the character ‘knows’. This is how the suspense is cultivated and nurtured. The opposite of that (when the audience actually are made not to ‘know’) is in essence depriving the audience, her legitimate insight to the incidents and events that unfurl. In short, that is when the director cheats the audience.

This is the foremost feeling that I had as an audience of the much-hyped hindi thriller Kahaani. There is a scene where in the confines of her home, dejected and rejected by her fortune Vidya Bagchi, the protagonist cries and thinks of her happy past with her husband. Now in a private moment if a character reacts only to the audience, we expect that to be truthful and the reel reality. In deceiving the audience with character doubles in the end, the director convolutes the build-up of the tension.  From the very beginning the director wanted his audience to run after speed. There are jerky shots with frequent cuts to create a sense of tension and the feeling of speed. Films made by most Bengali film-makers are in slow ambit to bore the audience, so much so that director Sujoy Ghosh pressed the accelerator from shot 1. Hence, the Hitchcockian sublime built up of the suspense sprinkled with comic situations is lost. Now there is no hard and fast rule to follow Hitchcock in a thriller. However, what is required probably is an economy of expression and not facts. For example the innuendo at the private composure of the HR Manager before she was killed is an excess – adding no value to the character or the nature of the crime, nor is there a Macguffin.

The character of Vidya is woven in incompleteness. Now being incomplete proves vacuum in the creator’s head instead of conscious ambiguity leading to multiple interpretations from the audience. For example, why was there no back-ground check done on Vidya by the Intelligence Bureau? Why not the basic check if she did indeed land from London on that day – when a similar check was done on her estranged husband? The apparent joviality of Vidya’s character is another incident of incompleteness. It was not consciously strewn for the audience to swoop on – consider the little flirtations of Vidya with Rana, the young police officer in the tram where she playfully almost rubbed Rana’s feet with her. To me it makes her character inconsistent instead of being ‘whole’.

What however did create a warm ambience is perhaps the depiction of the city of Kolkata. Trams, the Howrah Bridge and the Durga Puja are unfailing traits of the city. The metro got added to that. There is some deft imagery not in the landmarks but in the broiling smoke of the chai at the roadside tea-stall, in the unwound last tram that ferries people to a different world and the lanes and by-lanes of the city. The city does come-out even further at Kumortuli, the place where Durga idols are being made and in the climax Dasami sequence. But the city had remained soft, and warm with almost sepia colours at night or non-committal, even non-interested in the bright day colours. Only a couple of metro scenes where the chilly whiteness of the screen sends a shiver down the spine. Compare this with Satyajit Ray’s handling of Benares in Joy Baba Felunath you will make out how the city (Benares) nurtures the crime, and itself becomes criminal in instinct. Or for that matter the minimally supreme film Aamir which poses Mumbai as the city you cannot leave, a city you never trust. Sujoy Ghosh’s Kolkata in contrast wanted to be a benevolent character in this saga rather than a heinous conspirator in perpetuating terror.

Vidya Balan’s acting is restrained and rational. She lacked support of the script at places and tried to act consistently to an inconsistent character. Her and Rana’s nightly adventures to a couple of Govt. organizations, breaking open the ancient locks with hairpin is another example of too-much creative license. However her physical acting as the pregnant woman deserves credit. The film belongs to Vidya in heart and soul – it’s just that she had limited opportunities to show the gamut of her histrionic skills. The other actors – a host of Bengali ones at times lacked conviction. Parambrata as Rana is one example whose actions and whose revelation in the end are not exactly the same. Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s Khan is strong on the other hand though the character was turned to almost a laughing stock in the end (the entire police force and the Intelligence Bureau were turned to that almost sadly). Sawata Chatterjee’s Bob Biswas, the serial killer cum LIC agent is probably one leaf out of Hitchcock’s cinema. He is cold and clinical though his moving around with a revolver at all places and at all times including the metro station is a bit unrealistic. Also unknown why he wanted to push Vidya in front of the speeding train though he actually got her picture via mms (to kill her) much later.

Kahaani ends with the immersion of the Durga idol in the holy waters. This is just after the climax which is heightened with a shock twist. Hitchcock had mentioned a number of times the subtle difference between shock and suspense. As the idol finally takes to the floating waters of life, Vidya Bagchi gets obliterated. She came with a purpose and left after accomplishing that and also helping the legal governance of the country. What the story suffered from was the single-point focus to make Vidya triumphant. This ruined the chances of one A Wednesday in the making which built the suspense even if the audience knew what the characters didn’t. In the ultimate analysis, Kahaani is jazzy and fast-paced. It will enthrall a part of the audience with its unfailing narrative spree towards the climax. For the other part, this film will pass on as tacky and deceitful, for taking the audience as granted and making a fun of their rationale in the end.

An open letter to Soumitra Chatterjee

Soumitra Babu,

I was driving back home after a long and tiring day when the phone beeped. A friend of mine sneaked in a news in my mobile – “Soumitra Babu has been conferred the Dada Shaheb Phalke Award for his life time contribution to Indian cinema”. My heart leaped. I met you last week and I never could imagine life has such a surprise in store. I am supposed to meet you soon for the project that I have undertaken. What will I tell you then? I know you don’t have much faith in the award process and have refused Padmasree a couple of times before. Do you care for a Dada Shaheb Phalke? You may, I guess. After all, any star of the screen yearns for posterity. Almost 25 memorable films apart, awards of highest degrees do matter. Being a professional that you are, I guess you may probably brush aside and wake up tomorrow since tomorrow is always a different day.

As I sit in my quiet room the mental bioscope unfurls – where to start from? Apu I guess undoubtedly. The light of your eyes, the belief in everything noble is so sublime that for a person who belongs to a different generation and genre, there is no problem in connecting. Or the quintessential romantic in Amal who like Apu fosters our belief in the milk of human kindness and love. And as Feluda, suave and smart yet traditional. You move on with Gangacharan, to Sashibhusan of ‘Dekha’ and the indomitable Kshit-da in ‘Koni’. How can I forget the several theatre jewels that you so casually sprinkled at us – Tiktiki, Naam Jibon, Homa Pakhi, Nilkantha and Raja Lear to name a few. We and many others before and after our generation grew up to be like you – not one ‘you’ but the many profiles of yours. Are these all masks of a superlative actor? Then who are you Soumitra Babu? The rational friend in my head has always warned me – “Judge a creative person by his creations only”. But through-out our lives as we embrace death and rise to live so many times, we cling on to these different Soumitra Chatterjees of our lives.

Whom can I think of as a parallel to you? Not one Uttam Kumar or an Amitabh Bachhan. If there is one he is none other than a Naseeruddin Shah for his range and depth of sensibilities. But Naseer also probably will be proud to match your stage presence.

The Govt of India should be proud to confer this award. Since after all these and everything, you make me believe that even if I am not Apu, I am none but Apu.

I conclude with an ode, hats off to you.

The sky

-----------

In our sky of silence

Your dreams flutter their tail,

Glide up,

Forget.

I have followed them

Every time,

My strings tired,

Sad.

Painted black

The canvas beckons,

I wind up my kite –

The sky is yours.

Amitava Nag

Soumitra Chatterjee - a way of life

Soumitra Chatterjee had been my way of life. He is, for many Bengalis even if he passed our stage of life three decades ago. This is one classic test that he endured like his mentor Satyajit Ray. But even apart from the towering shadow of Ray, Soumitra carved out an image of him which he fostered over a period of time, so much so that even younger generations can’t but try to emulate him. Be it the dreamer in Apu (Apur Sansar) or Amal (Charulata), the charismatic sleuth in Feluda (Sonar Kella), the casual romantic in Teen Bhuvaner Paare (twisting his way to impress Tanuja) and Basanta Bilap or the fairy-tale villain Mayur Bahan in Jhinder Bandi, Soumitra had played it all. He had been a successful hero, second only to Uttam Kumar in popularity perhaps but never shied away from doing character roles even then. How else can we get an Aghor in Sansar Seemante, a Gangacharan in Ashani Sanket or a Khsit-da in Koni? He showed that the actor prevails and not the star. This is why he had broken his star image so many times to nurse the actor inside. He should haven awarded the Best actor for any of his favourite 20-25 films. Ironically, he got it for Padakshep which is not a distinctive one. The Indian Govt. probably got it right this time – they didn’t mess up with India’s one of the finest actors.

What sets Soumitra apart? On one side, he had been thriving and bursting with creative restlessness that makes him a more complete creative persona – he being a poet, an elocution artist, editor for two decades of one of Bengal’s most versatile literary magazine and an actor. Notwithstanding 14 of Ray’s films he had acted with all major directors of Bengal barring Ritwik Ghatak. He wanted to remain ingrained to his culture and never wanted to move to Hindi films. As the cinema richness of Bengal started dwindling since the mid or late seventies, his creative thirst was satiated in theatre. Unlike in film where he remained only an actor, in theatre Soumitra Chatterjee became the writer (most of his plays are adaptations of foreign plays, though the adaptations are truly Indian and Bengali in spirit) and also the director apart from being the lead actor. True, probably his star image helped his theatre to start with but it is his range of topic and his strength of characterization that kept the audience interested for more than three decades now. Atleast with Neelkantha, Tiktiki and Raja Lear Soumitra reached insurmountable heights and these will be included in any serious discussion on Soumitra as an actor – both in films and on stage. I can find no parallel to Soumitra as an actor in Bengal. There are excellent film actors like Uttam Kumar (whose heroism is unparallel without any iota of doubt), Chhabi Biswas and Bikas Roy. But none of them have his range – from the youth to the middle-aged citizen to the old Samaritan, Soumitra played all with equal élan. He is probably the only Indian actor who matured so gracefully playing all the roles that fit his physical appearance at that point in time. If we compare the stage actors – Sombhu Mitra, Ajitesh Bandyopadhyay and Utpal Dutt or even the legendary Sisir Kumar Bhaduri (Soumitra’s guru in theatre) then also we have to admit none of them had the filmic presence of Soumitra. He is the only successful bridge between theatre and films; every other notable Bengali actor has either one in their oeuvre but not both.

In the national scene, only a Naseeruddin Shah can be a parallel to Soumitra for his range of characterizations and deep sensitive understanding of the premise of acting. Not even Balraj Shahni whom Soumitra admired most. Simply because, for the last 5 decades with so many theatres and films Soumitra has filled his cupboard with so many acting jewel renditions that there may be many worthwhile pieces which need to be left out – some of which any other accomplished actor as well would be fortunate to act on in their lives. Naseer is probably an actor who played roles of different shades more than Soumitra, who mostly played the Bengali middle-class bhadrolok through the different ages of his life. Naseer on the other played characters with different ethnicity, race and socio-economic profiles with vivacity. Soumitra being a regional actor probably justifies for not able to match up on these grounds. However being a highly successful romantic hero and his theatre laurels will help him be one of the two finest actors of India for all times along with Naseer.

Now that I had a chance to interact with him often for a project I witness at 78 and with a failing health how he can churn out 4 different plays in a week at times, all nearly 2 hours runtime with him playing the lead. “How do you memorise all these lines?” I ask. He smiles “Am too worried that I will forget, it is out of fear”. I know he is acting, he is not true. The perfectionist in him makes him run, it doesn’t make him sit for a while. After 5 decades of crowning glory the restlessness to be creative is still in him. For 5 decades he had been part of a Bengali life the way Tagore is, the way Satyajit Ray is. My salute to the starlit sky for letting me and us witness one of its brightest star.

Interview of Catherine Berge

Amitava Nag, editor, Silhouette was engaged in a small conversation with Catherine Berge [the director of Gaach (1997) - the documentary on Soumitra Chatterjee - who was in the city recently.

Amitava – How did you come up with the concept of Gaach?  

Catherine – In 1992, I was graduating from the Columbia University and my professor asked me to prepare a paper on Satyajit Ray (following Ray’s demise earlier that year) and I researched Ghare Baire. I developed a deep interest in Ray and discovered that in film after film there is this hero who always plays Ray’s protagonist. So I naturally became interested in him. In 1995 a friend visited Calcutta and I told her “If you love me, get me Soumitra Chatterjee’s number”. I was heartbroken in a small village near Paris and then one evening I received a fax from my friend with the phone number of Soumitra. I mustered the courage to call him the following year and asked if he minded having a documentary made about him, to which he replied, “You have to come to Calcutta for that.” A few days later, quite accidentally, I met Ismail Merchant in his Paris office when I went to meet a friend. Merchant Ivory had already been planning to celebrate the 50 years of Indian independence, but as yet had no specific project in mind. Ismail and I discussed my idea of making a film about Soumitra to which he readily agreed, and in January 1997, we started filming in Calcutta.

As far as the link between Gaach and the films of Satyajit Ray, the whole story is linked together. I met Ismail and James Ivory during the same period that I was planning the film about Soumitra quite coincidentally. I knew that Merchant Ivory had restored a number of the Ray films and I was also interested in the way Ray and Soumitra had grown up together over the 30 years that they worked together as director and leading actor.  It was serendipitous to find producers who had themselves been formed by Satyaji Ray, who had been their “guru”, according to James Ivory, so in a way it was passing from one guru to another.  Ismail Merchant and James Ivory had Ray as their guru and I had Merchant Ivory as my gurus, which was invaluable, as they had such a close relationship to Ray, as well as to his actors and technicians, Above all, the story of Gaach is more a story shared by Soumitra, Catherine and Ismail Merchant and James Ivory. In the case of Ismail Merchant and James Ivory, the important aspect was their personal relationship to Ray who had helped them from their very first film, The Householder.  You cannot mention Gaach without mentioning Merchant Ivory.  Ismail and Jim loved the project because they had always admired Soumitra. I was interested in Soumitra because he had made so many films with Ray, from 1958 to about 1990 - they had grown up together.  Ray was a genius - he knew how to do everything except act, so Soumitra became Ray’s voice.

My story cannot exist without Merchant Ivory.  I was able to make the film with Merchant Ivory’s support.

Amitava - How did you find a producer for Gaach?

Catherine - I had read in the newspaper that Merchant Ivory had restored Ray’s films, and it happened that they had an office in Paris and were shooting two films in France at that time.  It was very easy to meet Ismail Merchant and, as he and James Ivory were great admirers of Soumitra Chatterjee, which I hadn’t known in advance, that’s how it went so fast.

Amitava - Gaach shows clips of Soumitra in the Ray films. Don’t you think that is a fractured representation of Soumitra as a film actor?

Catherine – No. I wanted to show mainly Soumitra and his interaction with Satyajit Ray in the latter’s films. So I was not too keen to show Soumitra as a cinema actor in whole. It is however true that I haven’t seen all Soumitra’s other major films with other film directors.

Amitava – You had always been interested in theatre I know. Did you know of Soumitra’s theatre perspective when you initially thought of making Gaach? Or you evolved your script as you proceeded to know him more as a creative person?

Catherine – I was not sure of his theatre stint. When I came to Calcutta to meet him before the shooting I had long interviews with him and then I saw Tiktiki and a few other aspects of his theatre personality. Yes, I do love theatre and theatre actors. To find it in my favourite cinema actor is a bonus and I used that to the advantage of my film.

No, I did not know, but when I arrived the first time in Calcutta in 1996, Soumitra immediately asked me to come to see him performing on stage and I really appreciated what he did as a playwright and his adaptations of plays from all over the world, making them more Bengali. And now so many years later I’m returning to Calcutta, mainly to see him perform in Raja Lear. And I was extremely fortunate in having the opportunity to see two other plays that Soumitra was appearing in during my visit. During Raja Lear, I sat with a Spanish scholar and I was extremely impressed by Soumitra as King Lear.  Many, many years ago, I saw Sir Laurence Olivier on stage in London as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice and now, years later I am seeing Soumitra Chatterjee in Raja Lear in Calcutta. I do remember that the British audience stopped breathing when Sir Laurence appeared on stage, and it was the same level of emotion in the theater when Soumitra appeared in Raja Lear.

Amitava – Have you seen his theatre productions of late?

Catherine – Yes I have seen Tritiyo Onko Otoeb, Chhari Ganga and of course Raja Lear. I was so moved by Raja Lear – nearly 2 hours on stage and it’s so taxing both physically and mentally. I saw it on two back to back evenings and was spellbound. I wonder where from does he get this energy and vivacity to play these challenging roles even now.

Amitava – Tell something about the project which you will embark soon and how you want Soumitra to be involved in it?

Catherine – Ten to twelve years ago, I sent Soumitra a story I had been working on for a feature film about Romain Rolland and the period when he was living in Switzerland with his sister and welcoming all the major Indian personalities who were building the foundations of India, among them Nehru, Gandhi and of course Rabrindranath Tagore.  I immediately thought of Soumitra for the part of Tagore, and Ismail Merchant agreed with enthusiasm. Then, dramatically, Ismail passed away and unfortunately, it was never possible to make that film.  But a few of years ago, I was in the region of Champagne and a friend from the Merchant Ivory crowd who lives there told me about something which would take place in the Champagne and Rheims area and I immediately thought of Tagore’s visit to a French pacifist, Albert Kahn.  One year later, I won a prize for that story. In September 2011, at the UNESCO conference, it was announced that Soumitra Chatterjee would be performing in Raja Lear and when I heard that, I knew I would have to go back to Calcutta to see Soumitra again.

Amitava – What about the other cinema related work that you have done so far?

Catherine – After making my first film, a documentary on the Hollywood director King Vidor, I lived in the United States for ten years, during which time I earned an international journalism degree at Columbia University. As you know, with the support of director James Ivory and producer Ismail Merchant, I directed the film Gaach (“The Tree”) in Calcutta, collaborating with the Bengali actors who had appeared in the films of Satyajit Ray.  In addition, I have made numerous film portraits of writers (including Eudora Welty and Richard Ford) and artists (including Josephine Ann Endicot and Tim Robbins).

Amitava – How did you find Calcutta now?

Catherine – My friend Chinmoy Guha, recently named Vice Chancellor of Rabrindranath Tagore University, welcomed me at the airport. The first thing I did when I arrived in Calcutta was to go back to the Fairlawn Hotel which is a landmark in Calcutta on Sudder Street and here there was still Mrs. Smith, now 91 years old, and I immediately felt at home again. 

I was surprised in Calcutta to see women wearing trousers and jeans. I never saw this 15 years ago.  It was a funny thing to see Soumitra with a backpack.

Amitava – Will you be back to Calcutta soon? Tell about your plan of filming the city.

Catherine – I hope very much to be back in Calcutta soon.

In one week I saw 3 plays by Soumitra Chatterjee, and I saw Raja Lear twice. I could not believe he was able to be on stage for that long, 2 hours or more each time. I admire and cherish him.  I’m very lucky to have met Soumitra, Ismail Merchant and James Ivory, and I’m very proud to know Soumitra Chatterjee. I can talk for hours with him about theater and poetry- talking with someone from a very different country and continent about theater and poetry is a very rare thing these days – I feel very lucky and privileged. 

I thought it would be essential to see him in his first Shakepearean part and in Raja Lear.

I returned to Paris last week and noticed that there is a Tagore exhibition ending this week and that in the first week of March they’re screening Charulata and The Home and the World.  I come back to Paris and what is the first thing I see, but Soumitra at the Petit Palais.  If I come back to Paris and see Soumitra, I’ll definitely return to Calcutta to see Soumitra on stage. 

Amitava – Catherine Berge, Thank you and looking forward to meeting you again in Kolkata.

Catherine – Thank you and same to you.

Guru Dutt’s ten years with Abrar Alvi

A book on any film personality creates a lot of interest to the casual mind. There are expectations galore. In India, a film actor is, in many ways looked upon as a role model – a person who has to play his reel roles in his real life, as if. There are however few who can live up to the mystique revolving round Guru Dutt – the quintessential portrayal of tragedy and sorrow. The book Ten Years with Guru Dutt: Abrar Alvi’s Journey (written by Sathya Saran, Penguin Books India, 2008) however comes with a surprise. The bold lettering of the name Guru Dutt does make it marketable but after starting to read the preface it made me unsure – is it a book on Guru Dutt or it is on Abrar Alvi, the forgotten writer of Guru Dutt Films. In actual, it is on both; it is on their creative camaraderie.

                Abrar Alvi penned amongst many others, films like Kaagaz Ke Phool, Chaudhvin Ka Chand, Aar Paar and Mr and Mrs 55. He also transformed the much-publicized Bengali novel and directed it – Saheb, Bibi aur Ghulam. There had been considerable print material devoted on the controversy that had raged for decades as to who directed the masterpiece. The book had gone in detail in charting out insightful aspects of many colourful personalities like Johny Walker, Mehmood, the discrepancies with Raj Khosla, the tragic revelations of physical abuse of Meena Kumari inflicted by her husband Kamal Amrohi and the whimsical miser in S D Burman. There has been a bigger chunk kept for the three highlights of the book, from the content perspective – the suicide of Guru Dutt, the making of Saheb, Bibi aur Ghulam and the hyped love affair between Dutt and Waheeda Rehman. The anecdotes however always revolve round Guru Dutt and Abrar’s observation of the incidents.

This lends an interesting aspect on the way Sathya Saran developed the book. The lengthy interviews that Saran took of Alvi had been carefully crafted in two-person language – it is Alvi’s own narration till the end but interspersed with Saran’s comments and additions that takes Alvi’s narrative forward.  The fluidity of Saran’s diction has made the read an enjoyable one – simple and free-flowing.  Within the funny anecdotes there are incidents laid out with remarkable lucidity that marks the height of creative sustenance between Guru Dutt and Abrar. One such was the technical acumen that Dutt possessed and his stepping in to address the challenges faced by the camera unit technically – Abrar recounts how Guru Dutt described to him the functionality and technical specification of lenses with variable focal lengths. The book also lights up the entrepreneur in Guru Dutt – as the head of his production unit churning out multiple films in parallel to optimize his budget.

What the book probably lacks is the authenticity of the incidents described in fleeting details. Looking from another side, the particular double-spaced style ensured that there is enough fictional heightening of the incidents described. The book itself can act as a script; it is that filmy, yes. However this doesn’t spare from Abrar speaking his mind out. It is easy to depict incidents and comment on people who are beyond chance to tell their version back. However, Abrar had been candid even in his evaluation of many concerned individuals. Take for example, his perception of Waheeda Rehman as Jaba in Saheb, Bibi aur Ghulam - “Waheeda is a fine artist and I could get almost anything out of her. But I still believe she was miscast as Jaba. Her personality was not suited for the role of a mischievous girl with a mercurial temperament. A Madhubala or a Geeta Bali could have done the role so much better”.

                As mentioned, Alvi’s repeated juxtaposition of his closeness to Guru Dutt is at times appalling. He sprinkled his narration with the likes of 'Guru Dutt trusted me' and 'Guru Dutt listened to me' etc which overemphasized the relation between the writer and his mentor. This apart, Sathya Saran had put spices in right ingredients that make the book a thoroughly readable book. The mood sways from fun to tragedy, from sensuality to depression and hatred all mingle for a whole picture. The purpose of the book is probably not only to look into Guru Dutt but to look into the relation of Guru with his key persons. The book serves that very purpose with finesse. Sathya Saran’s immaculate simple style ensured that the book is in the truest sense – Un-put-down-able!

                                                                                                                                                Amitava Nag