How do I feel to be a film journalist and do I believe in the people I write about is a question that has followed me over the decades? I’m asked the same question time and again by family, by friends and by strangers and I have never found an appropriate answer.
Perhaps there is no appropriate answer for the illusionary world I’m associated with but what is ironical is that I always find myself defending the dream merchants for whom I am and will always remain the outsider.
I try as far as possible not to answer the question, not to tell them what I do for a living because once they know the context, they are consumed with curiosity about me and about the film world. The first reaction always is but you don’t look like a film journalist. Really? I mean what is a film journalist supposed to look like? I have never understood the implication or maybe they expect me to dress outlandishly in ostrich feathers like Helen and break into an item number and are disappointed that I don’t.
Whatever the reasons, it has to do with perception of the film world and if the perceptions are so unbalanced, then we as media need to do serious introspection.
There is a possibility that in our daily pressures to tell a story interestingly, we exaggerate words and images, spice up copies and titles for immediate attention and in the process, unknowingly present an unrealistic world to our readers.
The readers love this attractive world and live with the perception forever…!
Everything about show business is larger than life, the success and also the heartbreaks. There is a dark side to the glamour world that is not easy to endure and some like Sushant Singh Rajput submit to it, while others, the more courageous ones are battle the demons! Will they succeed, we don’t know, perhaps never will.
To be continued

The lock-down is not yet over and at the oddest moment, old memories long forgotten suddenly spring up. I recall some years ago, attending a friend’s wedding where they deliberately put up strangers on a common table for dinner. It was an experiment to get you chatting with people you would otherwise not make an effort to get acquainted.

It was a strange evening where in the beginning everyone was awkward and missed their regular companions but as the evening progressed, slowly everyone dropped their guards and looking back it was an interesting evening to spend with strangers.

On my table were two homemakers and I was fascinated by their daily routine described with passion, fascinated with their multiple skills and a selfless life devoted to the happiness of their families. The third, a doctor, shared that post retirement he spends most of his time reading newspapers and watching television, simple joys of life he always craved for but never found the time for all his life. He said all through his practice years, nobody ever asked him how he was because they were always so busy telling him about their ailments. “Now, for the first time whoever visits home, asks me how I am and I bask in the attention.” 

The fourth guest, a young girl who has just finished her MBA and was waiting for a placement revealed that this is the worst time to be qualified with fancy degrees because every youngster is super qualified and nobody has a job in time of recession. She was both angry and sad!   

When it was time to introduce myself, I was hesitant to say I was a film journalist because it is always followed by “Oh but you don’t look like a journalist” and then a question I always dread, “So how does it feel to be a film journalist and do you believe in the people you write about?”.To be continued

18.06.2020
Year: 2018

LettersToMother/ Part 4

Location: My Home
A writer friend acquainted with my translation on Lord Krishna calls me up one early morning, out of the blue to ask why I was not translating any further books from Gujarati into English. He suggests I check out Shri Narendra Modi’s books and choose one as a project for translation.
He is right that I should be translating more books but I am not sure if I am ready for such a daunting task. Looking back, translating Lord Krishna was simpler but my writer friend persisted and there’s no way of winning an argument with him because he is strong headed. He followed up month after month diligently to find out if I had started, so just to get him off my back I decided to test the idea before giving it up entirely.
Next day, I walk into my study, open my book shelf and reluctantly pull out Saakshi Bhaav and begin reading…
It is a slow but meaningful read. Modi expresses himself in rich vocabulary which are not common words and I need to constantly check the dictionary to comprehend the meaning but it is well worth the exercise because the diary pages are intense and engaging.
I am amazed by his transparency of emotions and more important, his need for self-expression. It is almost as if he cannot contain himself and that makes him both vulnerable and attractive.
To be continued

17.06.2020
Year: 2014
#lLettersToMother/ Part 3
Location: Bhaidas Auditorium, Mumbai
There is a lot of excitement outside and inside the auditorium because Shri Narendra Modi, Chief Minister Gujarat is attending the Image book event. The program begins on time and after a long round of speeches, it is finally time for Modi to speak.
He jokes that the book would not have been possible without the combined efforts of two persuasive people, the first who saved the pages of a diary destined to turn into flames and the second, poet Suresh Dalal who did not give up on his idea.
I remember the evening clearly because I am in the auditorium, a special invitee from Suresh Dalal and sitting in the hall that day, listening to so many stories, I had no idea that one day, I was going to translate the same book into English but I guess that’s the beauty of life, it is full of surprises.
To be continued1h

16.06.2020

Year: Sometime in 2000
Location: Gandhinagar, Gujarat
It is a normal evening and Shri Narendra Modi, now Chief Minister Gujarat is in his garden, tearing up his diary pages and throwing them into the bonfire. Suddenly, a friend arrives and is led to the garden area. He is shocked to see what his friend is up to and snatches the rest of the pages from him. He is angry and reprimands him to never do that again.
Modi argues but his friend is in no mood to listen and when he leaves, he carries the remaining pages with him.
To be continued

15.06.2020

Year: 1986

Location: Gujarat

Narendra Modi is an ordinary party worker of the RSS and every night after a hard day’s work at a Shibir organized by him in a faraway location, Modi sits down by the night lamp to write his diary wherein he expresses his innermost feelings to mother Goddess whom he addresses as Jagat Jananai.

The communications are at times abstract, at times philosophical but most of the time, overwhelmingly emotional. Probably that is the reason every few months, Modi lights a bonfire and burns up his diaries.

He has been doing this for years, rather decades…

To be continued

Dear Mukesh Bhatt

While in Seychelles we spent a lot of time together, traveled to locations in a large bus playing Bollywood hit songs. Everyone was so happy both on and off the sets. Every evening was a party with ample of food and laughter and nobody was in a hurry to say good night.

One evening we decided to trail your journey and you looked for a picturesque spot to chat uninterrupted. Over elaichi chai served in fancy cups the mood was perfect to roll your story…

You said you began your career as secretary to Smita Patil and after her demise in 1986, you didn’t want to continue as a secretary to anyone. You were depressed and stopped working but you hung out with brother Mahesh Bhatt on his sets and felt better. One day, you told him you were contemplating setting up your production company. Mahesh was encouraging, so without much ado, you announced Vishesh Films named after your son.

You had a company now but didn’t know how to begin a film, you were still hanging out with Mahesh and friendly with all his actors, particularly Sanjay Dutt, you decided why not make a film with Sanjay Dutt directed by Mahesh Bhatt. Everyone in the team was affectionate and supportive and the film completed in nine months. It wasn’t a super success but it gave you financial stability and more important, confidence. You told me that you purchased your first car and your editing room after the release of Kabzaa.After an easy start Jurm with an old friend Vinod Khanna was a nightmare because the man who went to America wasn’t the same man who returned. The new Vinod was mysterious and unpredictable, he cancelled dates at random and you were depressed when he reported to work and depressed when he didn’t. The delay in release added to severe and you wondered if becoming a producer was a mistake. It was during this lowly phase, when pressures mounted you strolled into a party just to let your hair down unknowing that an opportunity awaited you in the guise of Gulshan Kumar of T Series. Kumar mentioned that he was venturing into production and if you agreed it could be a joint venture. You were not sure if it was a right move but agreed. The film was Aashique, year 1990 and rest is history.

Dear Pooja
You must remember that adventure is not part of my DNA but for some mysterious reason, you were hell bent on treating me to one adventure after another as soon as I landed in Seychelles.
First, Jugal Hansraj and you took me on a water boat ride during the high tide. With a scorching sun on top of us and salty water lashing on our faces, you drove the boat fast and furious like in action films. We galloped over angry waves but Jugal and you were unstoppable! I was certain that we were not returning alive, but we did!
Jugal and you were so euphoric that you’ll wanted to do it all over again. Thank God the boat man declined and better sense prevailed.
Dinner time, Jugal cracked witty jokes like ‘Lucky table is getting laid’ and come morning, both of you were ready for more mischief. You strolled into my room and asked me if I was game for a drive to the beach? II was, unprepared for what awaited me.. You suggested I go parasailing and convinced me it was the easiest experience. Trusting you I submitted to an impulse. Two men fastened me with belts, the third, whispered instructions and before I could blink, the ropes were set free and I was in the sky!
The higher I went, the faster was my heart beat. Everything that looked divine from the ground appeared sinister up-close. I hated the mountains and the clouds. As I swayed over rocks, pastures, I shut my eyes and chanted Hanuman Chalisa. The Gods heard me and descended me gradually but my perils were far from over.
On landing I was unable to unhook the belts and activate my life saver. The boatman was far away and I had water inside my nose, mouth and drowning. He made it in nick of time and rode me to the shore safely.
I was given a resounding applause by the team but I knew Ill never do this again.
In the evening, photographer Rakesh Shreshtha showed me these images and a smile crossed my face. Had it not been for you Pooja, I would’ve never experienced this. Let’s go back to Seychelles again, will you join us Jugal and Jitesh?