Guru Dutt Birth Centenary: Loss, Renunciation And The Weight Of Hope

Pyaasa (1957) and Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959) are two films of Guru Dutt's repertoire that look at the ideas of loss and renunciations very closely, albeit differently. While both look at the societal loss of human values- love, kindness, togetherness as bedrocks of loneliness that grips the protagonists, there is also a deep rooted idea of rejection of that same society that is moving away from these values. These themes make Pyaasa and Kaagaz Ke Phool critically distinct.

"Mujhe kisi insaan se koi shikayat nahin. Mujhe shikaayat hai samaaj ke us dhaanche se, jo insaan se uski insaaniyat chheen leta hai. Matlab ke liye apne bhai ko baigaana banaata hai, dost ko dushman banaata hai. Mujhe shikaayat hai us tehzeeb se, us sanskriti se, jahan murdon ko pooja jaata hai, aur zinda insaan ko pairon tale ronda jaata hai, jahan kisi ke dukh dard par do aansoon bahana buzdili samjha jaata hai. Jhuk ke milna kamzori samjha jaata hai. Aise mahaul mein mujhe kabhi shaanti nahin milegi Meena…," says an astonishingly clear Vijay at the end of Pyaasa as he chooses to walk away from a society that is finally compelled to accept and celebrate his genius—a society he fought hard against and with for acceptance and recognition, to get poems published. Eventually, he realises that he wants no space in it, no respect in the world he doesn’t respect. This grand rejection of something he didn’t find worthy of his acknowledgement (even if it was what everyone else pined for), defines the elevation and ethos of Pyaasa. The renunciation itself isn’t only rooted in angst and disillusionment against the society plagued by greed and fading humanity, but also in the very powerful rejection of it. This rejection itself retains agency and gives meaning to the renunciation. A recurring theme we see in Guru Dutt’s films, and especially in the most celebrated works associated with him, Pyaasa (1957), Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959) and Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam (Directed by Abrar Alvi, 1962). 

Pyaasa’s Vijay embodied the angst of the thinking, progressive, educated Indian, who was watching the dream dissipate a decade after independence, and knew that it was essential to call out the cracks, lest they become chasms. His battles were social and political, personal and societal. Vijay or Sahir, became the voice of India’s secular ideals, voicing the anger and the criticism of the execution of the dream once seen. “Jinhein naaz hai Hind par woh kahan hain” is as much a wakeup call for India to do something about the abysmal realities, as a strong criticism of the same realities and the fact that they exist. The very idea of jingoistic national pride ceases to mean anything when the citizens themselves are suffering through layers of oppression within the same state. Easily Guru Dutt’s most coherent film, it unlocks poetry on three counts: visual, cinematic and literary.

Despite the anger, the end of Pyaasa, especially in the context of renunciation, becomes even more critical. “Main door jaa raha hoon Gulab...jahan se mujhe phir door na jaana pade...saath chalogi?” and with that, two humans who were discarded by society for being who they were, but who truly embraced and lived by their human values and prized their vulnerabilities, walk out into a future rejecting that very society that disrespected them. This specific act reconstitutes the very idea of renunciation itself. Were these two individuals—who seem visibly beaten and rejected—actually the most empowered in that moment? Were their ideas of humanity, value systems, a just society that rests on the ideals of respect, equitability, equality, kindness elevated higher than the widely chased idea of success in a social structure built on profitability, greed, class, patriarchy and a broken world order?

The fact that they are willing to bravely discard these ideas of success and glory now at their feet, to build a world they seek, is an idea laced in hope. For a film that is always spoken of as one of the most critical voices of disillusionment, the end of the film builds resounding hope—hope for the protagonists and everyone watching, of that ideal world that can exist if it is truly built by those who care enough for it. 

However, while this hope exists in Pyaasa, it dies in Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959), in which loss and renunciation have a very different, mature, personal texture. Set against the crumbling studios structure, with Devdas being filmed within the film, Kaagaz Ke Phool is unspeakably romantic—an inexpressible love letter to the beauty, craft and sheer magic that is cinema. It romances the very technique of filmmaking, the fickle nature of fame, and every high and low, bane and boon that cinema offers creatively. It lovingly captures the tools that artists use to tell a cinematic story, whether it is the steps to heights of studios, lights, the spaces of studios themselves, trolleys, stages, curtains, cameras. It celebrates every person involved in the process—the editors, the musicians, the DoPs, the producers, the writers, and the process itself. It affectionately includes the little eccentricities that are accepted within the art form, the need for specificity, the firmness of wanting things done a certain way.

The charm and beauty of the film lies in this palpability of the makings of cinema, brought to life by the sheer genius of V.K Murthy’s astounding camera work that has etched these memories in celluloid. In sharp contrast to this deep love for the craft, is the love the protagonist Suresh (Guru Dutt) craves, and how his life crumbles steadily. In Kaagaz Ke Phool, the disillusionment is personal. At every stage in life, Suresh is met with choices that are conundrums, every choice disguising a loss. 

In this constant doraha (crossroad) that appears, some choices are made by Suresh, and some aren’t. And yet each of those results in at least some loss. But what do consecutive losses do to someone? What is the meaning of renunciation then? What is the idea of love? And respect? These are the questions that Kaagaz Ke Phool asks, and forces audiences to think about. Whether it is the breakdown of his marriage due to perceptions around cinema that make him lose access to his daughter, or the choice his daughter makes to distance him from Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), or the choice Suresh makes to not compromise his artistic vision despite a box office failure that cost him his livelihood and more—each of these losses results in a further degraded way of life for Suresh. However, despite them, what stays intact is his self-respect. In possibly one of the most powerfully written and deeply mature scenes in Hindi cinema around relationships, Shanti meets Suresh in the hut he resides in, attempting to convince him to return to direct films, given he lives in penury, and she has returned to the industry to ensure he gets work. “Tum toh jaanti ho, sab kuch kho dene ke baad, sirf ek hi cheez bachi hai mere paas, meri khuddari. Is waqt main woh khuddari tumhare hawaale karta hoon. Ab tum chaho toh mujhe Seth ji ke paas le jaa sakti ho…” These lines spoken by Suresh convey implicit trust, deep maturity and understanding of what self-respect means to him. He continues to choose a life of oblivion and deterioration over trading that self-respect for success and comfort that is familiar to him. The renunciation of these accepted ideas of success again comes at the altar of something far more precious to the individual—his own respect. The difference is, there is no hope in the future. His story will be of survival till the inevitability of death arrives—which in this case, would be a relief.

No Guru Dutt film is complete without consistent commentaries on societal degradation and Kaagaz Ke Phool is no exception. The same scene includes ‘Jinhein nashe mein rehne ki puraani aadat hai unki aakhri ummeed (sharab)…” and one finds such lines punctuating the entire film. 

The most poignant theme of Kaagaz Ke Phool is the love of the artist for the art, a demonstration of true love that stays. Suresh Sinha’s final act of sitting in the director’s chair, as life leaves him, is testimony to the deepest and truest love that artists share with what they create, and art that truly breathes life into them. Without that art, they are much like soulless bodies that wander, lost. Watching that scene, we know that this renunciation comes when Suresh Sinha realises that producers have lost respect for his craft as a director, as they only evaluate it against how much money it makes. When his art is taken away and he can’t create more, life becomes about survival rather than living.

What Guru Dutt’s films show us repeatedly is how loss shapes humans and how they react to societal realities in personal and political spaces. The weight of hope is often heavy to carry. Sometimes, it propels a Vijay to take a few steps towards a new world. At other times, it becomes a burden for a broken, lovelorn Suresh.