Veteran writer Javed Siddiqui on Satyajit Ray’s unique approach to filmmaking-OxBig News Network

“Kya shakhs tha Ray (What a man Ray was),” says Siddiqui sitting in the study of his house in Mumbai’s Char Bangla area. Once a hub of activity, his study was where creative minds such as M.F. Husain and Yash Chopra met and spent hours.

Siddiqui, who left journalism during the Emergency to follow his passion for creative writing, has seen 83 summers, but his eyes light up like a youngster at the mention of Satyajit Ray. The legendary filmmaker introduced Siddiqui to cinema with Shatranj Ke Khiladi in 1977.

Ray had committed to producer Suresh Jindal to make a Hindi film. But he wanted a story that had its roots in the North, “He didn’t want to adapt a Bangla story as was the norm those days,” recalls Siddiqui. An admirer of Premchand’s writing, initially, Ray wanted to adapt Kafan, but when he came to know that Mrinal Sen had already decided to turn the short story into a Telugu film, he turned his focus to Shatranj Ke Khiladi.
“After writing the screenplay, Manik da was looking for someone from a non-film background with an understanding of Lucknawi Urdu of the 1850s. Shama Zaidi, who was doing the costumes knew me because of our Rampur background and suggested my name to him. Ray was a towering figure, literally and metaphorically, for a newcomer it could be overwhelming, but my journalism background prepared me not to be overawed.”

Siddiqui formed a formidable team with Zaidi. “I verbalised the dialogues, and if she approved them, she would nod and type them in Roman on her Remington typewriter, as Manik da didn’t know Hindi and Urdu.” Once Siddiqui asked Ray if he knew any Hindi words, he replied, “Just one: bas (enough).”

As Ray had created Lucknow in Kolkata, Siddiqui says, he needed someone to check the cultural authenticity. “He wanted me to help his Bengali crew with the Urdu dialogues. That’s how I became his special assistant.”

Javed Siddiqui with Gulzar
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

“I haven’t seen a more meticulous director than Ray. He had a red book that he called khata, much like the logbook of a trader. Everyday, when he entered the set, he would sketch every shot in the Khata, accompanied by the Urdu dialogue written in Bengali and its English translation.” For the scene where the East India Company forces enter Lucknow, Siddiqui reveals Ray sketched on an art paper the order in which the cavalry, elephantry, and infantry would move. It became our guidebook at the location.” Siddiqui has preserved that paper as a memento, and it shines on the wall of his study.

Siddiqui went on to pen the dialogues of Muzaffar Ali’s Umrao Jaan. Comparing the Awadh of Ray with that of Ali, Siddiqui says that while the latter had an emotional connection with the city, Ray had an objective approach. “He wanted to highlight how the upper middle class remained oblivious and indifferent to the British manoeuvres to seize control. The film remains relevant because the upper middle class’ indifference to politics remains.” He mentions the scene where the chess players are told how the British have tinkered with the rules of the game such as Wazir being called the Queen’. “Here, Ray used chess to underline the political context.”

Belonging to the family of the Ali Brothers (Mohammad and Shaukat Ali), Siddiqui started writing at the age of 14 in Khilafat, the non-cooperation movement mouthpiece. From theatre and cinema to crime and politics, Siddiqui says there was a time when he was writing editorials as well.

“When I came to Bombay, Kaifi Azmi, Ismat Chughtai, and Ali Sardar Zafri blessed and guided me. I developed Leftist leanings. When I reviewed plays in Khilafat, I would carry an announcement of IPTA plays. Once Kaifi sahib encouraged me to write a play. I summoned the courage to translate Russian playwright Yevgeny Schwartz’s The Dragon, a subversive satire on the totalitarian regime of Stalin. That’s how I wrote Rakshas.”

During the Emergency, Siddiqui says, being an independent journalist was humiliating. “Every day, we had to take our stories to the Secretariat for clearance. Once, I was detained for 24 hours for a story where I linked the looting of a ration shop in Bihar to the export of rice to Russia.”

Siddiqui sees dialogue as a need of the characters and doesn’t write them to generate claps. “I try to understand the character’s psyche and the moment. When a film becomes a hit, even ordinary dialogue becomes popular. The one in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge — ‘Bade Bade Shehron Main’ may be a cheesy line, but the situation demanded it. When former US President Barack Obama used it in his address (during his 2015 visit to India), I realised its popularity.”

Siddiqui rates Yash Chopra as the best when it came to understanding the requirements of a dialogue writer. “Having worked with stalwart writers such as Akhtar Ul Iman and Wajahat Mirza early in his career, Chopra understood the rhythm of the Urdu language.”

A good dialogue writer, says Siddiqui, also needs to understand the weak points of an actor. “For instance, Amrish Puri used to dramatise dialogues. In Dilwale…I deliberately wrote lines that didn’t allow him to do so.” Turning the weakness of the actor into his strength is also something Siddiqui learnt while working with Ray on Shatranj Ke Khiladi.  Some actors give a new dimension to the written word. “As Shah Rukh did in Darr.”

Siddiqui strongly feels cinema has a moral duty, and that there is no place for profanity in film writing. He calls for restraint. “Realism doesn’t come by adding cuss words to the dialogues. Dilip Kumar used kambakth (wretched) with such impact that it worked like an invective.”

Be it Sohini Mahiwal, Chakra or Mammo on screen, or Tumhari Amrita, Salgirah, and Hum Safar on stage, Siddiqui is known for writing strong female characters. In plays like Hum Safar and Gudamba, which will be staged at the Prithvi Theatre in Mumbai next week, he talks of saving the institution of marriage without getting pedantic. 

Over the years, Siddiqui worked with a range of directors. From Shyam Benegal to Umesh Mehra and Yash Chopra to Rakesh Roshan, Siddiqui transcended genres without compromising on the emotional depth and cultural context.