Gulzar - Pukaaro mujhe naam lekar pukaaro

My  parents never woke us up for school by calling out to us or shaking us awake. My father would turn on the record player on high volume and let the song do it's job. More often than not, the song would be "Mora Gora Ang Lai Le" from Bandini. Though I did not know it then, it was my first introduction to Gulzar. As I grew up I hummed and sang many of his songs without realising that they belonged to him. It was not until 1988 when I actually heard his voice on TV for the opening of the series "Mirza Ghalib" that I became aware of his existence and how! It was because of the desire to understand what the man was saying that I started reading Ghalib and was drawn into the world of Urdu poetry. And thus began the love affair with Gulzar.

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Last week, my friend Riya, who loves me enough to write an entire blog post on me and is a hot-shot with Radio Mirchi(Something-Something Vice President) came down to Bombay to interview Gulzar for his birthday, which is of course, today - 18th of August. I decided to tag along for which she got permission but she very categorically told me that as far as taking pictures was concerned, I was on my own. So I took the smallest camera I own, slapped on the smallest lens and generally practiced looking small in the mirror and reached Gulzar Saab's place hoping that he would not notice me and my camera. But I think, my name gave me away and his eyes lit up with recognition and he recalled having met me some 11 years back when I landed up at his place to pick up the same friend, Riya, directly from a hair cutting salon. My appearance would have probably left a lot to be desired because the first thing he had done then was to hand me a brand new t-shirt after greeting me. I had sure made an impression!

Quickly deciding to put an end to my own misery, I blurted out my intention of taking pictures of him while he was giving the interview, half-expecting to be handed a pair of trousers this time and thrown out of the house.  "He takes wonderful pictures," Riya chimed in at the most appropriate moment proving that 20 years of friendship had not been in vain. He smiled and graciously agreed on the condition that I mail him the pictures. Really? Shoot his pictures and get his email id as well?! Sure.

So the interview began in earnest and in the space between the questions and answers I started shooting. Coffee and biscuits were served as Gulzaar Saab talked about the influences in his life and I hung on to every word.

Could it get any better? Apparently it could. Somewhere along the interview and me taking pictures, happily munching biscuits and sipping coffee -  he decided to crack a joke and mention me by name.

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I sat there stunned because I had least expected it. It's just one of those things that you never think will happen in a million years. The very voice that had introduced me to Mirza Ghalib, Jagjit Singh and RD Burman, the very voice that had set me off on such a wonderful journey of music and poetry as a child, the very voice which is perhaps responsible to a large extent for the trajectory my life has taken so far  -  had suddenly, out of the blue,  just called out my name. Happy birthday Gulzar Saab and thank you for the wonderful,wonderful gift!

The Yash Chopra Picture

I met him just a couple of months ago. In August, to be precise. For the first and last time. It was on a photoshoot assignment for a book. I was nervous and excited like I rarely find myself nowadays. I wanted to nail it with this one. This would be my claim to fame! Hell yeah!

Heart pounding, I got off my car and took out my camera from the bag. I had been asked to travel light by the author and publisher as I am quite notorious for hefting three or four bags into a "quick" photoshoot and looking every bit like I could give Amitabh Bachchan a run for his role in "Coolie." I am told I don't make a great first impression.

I decided to ignore the author's warning and carry my bag of lights with me anyway. Hell, I am shooting Yash Chopra! Don't  want to be caught with no lights! Ran up, ran in, cleared security at three levels and finally landed on his floor. I asked the doorman if I could leave my bag of lights outside the door of the office - I'll take it in when I need it. The doorman said, "Sure! Will you be needing a power outlet for them later?" Bloody hell, even the doorman knows all this??? "No," I replied, "they run on batteries!" I tried to make out if he was impressed but couldn't tell. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, caught my breath, composed myself, took a look at my camera to check the space in the memory card and put my hand on the door handle to push it open. Damn!!! Wrong lens on the camera!!! Could I? Should I? Too late!!! Screw it!!! I entered.

I broke professional protocol twice that day. I slipped in a couple of questions myself in between the interview - with the author's permission, of course. By permission, I mean, I kept kicking the author's ankles until he gave me space to ask the questions. The second time was when after the interview, he asked us to move outside for the photographs because he was uncomfortable getting his pictures taken with all the trophies. I asked him to pose for a picture for me - not the book. He readily obliged and after I after I fired off a couple of shots, asked with childlike innocence,"Kaisi aayi? Achchi aayi?" (How are they? Good?)

As I looked at the back of my camera, I realised that any picture I took of him would be "a Yash Chopra picture." Any attempt to make it mine would be futile, the watermark at the bottom right hand corner would hold no meaning. I nodded, "Yes sir."

I shot him without lights that day. Not because he was in a hurry or had other important things to attend to but because I felt that it was rude to make him wait even for a second and it all seemed so unnecessary. Lights or no lights, right lens or wrong lens - it would always be a Yash Chopra picture.