Guru Dutt: Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye to Kya Hai

While writing Guru Dutt: An Unfinished Story, I discovered facets of his life and mind that were as captivating, and confounding, as the films he left behind. What fascinated me most was the paradox at his core: a film-maker crafting timeless masterpieces like Pyaasa, Kaagaz ke Phool and Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, even as he wrestled with profound personal turmoil and fragile mental health. Creativity and conflict coexisted in the restless, mercurial mind. One trait that stood out was his curious indecisiveness. Amid his legendary successes, there ran a quiet thread of indecision. For every Baazi, Pyaasa or Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, there were films that began with great promise, some even partially shot at great expense, only to be abandoned.

Projects like Gouri (Guru Dutt-Geeta Dutt in the lead), Raaz (Sunil Dutt-Waheeda Rehman), Moti ki Mausi (Salim Khan-Tanuja), Kaneez (Guru Dutt-Simi Garewal), Picnic (Guru Dutt-Sadhna), the Bengali film Ek Tuku Chhua (Biswajeet-Nanda) and a few more were casualties of his deepening uncertainty and wavering indecisiveness.

Even his completed films were touched by moments of indecision and costly overshooting. People close to Dutt have gone on record to say that he did not believe in shooting a film with a bound script or strict planning of shooting schedules. He was rather fond of ‘creating’ the film as it took shape on the sets, making a lot of changes in the script and dialogues. Abrar Alvi had said that Dutt shot the film in random order and the raw stock he used for any one film could have finished three. Veteran lyricist and film producer Amit Khanna, who worked closely with Dev Anand, told me, ‘‘There were others like Raj Kapoor, Ramesh Sippy and Manoj Kumar who shot and scrapped, but Guru Dutt was at some other level. He would scrap films he had shot for months. Very indecisive.’’

By the time Dutt made Pyaasa, the indecisiveness had magnified manifold. He would shoot and shoot and was unsure about what he really wanted in a particular scene. Even with himself, for the famous climax sequence in Pyaasa, he shot 104 takes! He kept forgetting the dialogues as it was a very lengthy shot, but he wanted to get it just right. Dutt would shout and lose his temper when things did not go right. Before Pyaasa, he would scrap only one or two shots of a film, rather than entire sequences. But beginning from Pyaasa, the scrapping and reshooting reached worrying new levels. People close to him noticed this change. Released in 1957, his magnum opus, Pyaasa, was a revelation. No one had expected such an intense and serious film from Dutt who was dabbling in romantic comedies and thrillers like Baazi, Aar Paar and Mr. and Mrs. 55 until then. It has to be said that the lyrical fluidity of Pyaasa defies Dutt’s indecisiveness or temperamental and erratic ways of shooting. The film, even today, flows effortlessly.

Riding the wave of Pyaasa’s success, Dutt started the ambitious Hindi-Bengali project Gouri. This was intended to launch his wife, Geeta, as a lead actress, and to become India’s first cinemascope film. But after filming the first schedule around Calcutta, the project was abruptly shelved, deepening the turmoil in their already fragile relationship. The next one was the semi-autobiographical Kaagaz ke Phool. Many associates and close friends have said on record that even while the film was being shot, his state of mind was far from balanced. The situation at home was volatile, leading to major mood swings. His indecisiveness was also at its peak. Dutt had also majorly overshot the film, shooting long sequences and scrapping them after he felt unsure, wasting a great deal of money and resources.

He asked his assistant Niranjan to direct the suspense thriller Raaz based on the novel The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. Waheeda Rehman was cast in a double role (playing two sisters) while Sunil Dutt was signed in the lead role of a military doctor. The poster of Raaz only featured Rehman with a ‘fast progressing’ tag on the right corner. The filming of Raaz began in the picturesque snow-clad town of Shimla. But soon, Sunil Dutt was out of the film. He was very upset since he was not given any reason for his ouster. And then came the news that Dutt himself was now to play the lead role instead. The shooting resumed in Shimla and big money was spent on the schedule and set-up of a military hospital. Two songs were recorded by composer R.D. Burman, who was making his debut as a music director with the film.

Back in Bombay, when Dutt edited the scenes they had shot in Shimla, he did not like them. So, staying true to his style, he scrapped them and abandoned Raaz despite spending so much time and money on it. Close friend, actor Dev Anand said, ‘‘He always looked and felt melancholic. He had a great cinematic sense and rhythm but would shoot and shoot and shoot, wasting a lot of footage. He was indecisive and unsure.’’

Screenwriter Abrar Alvi wrote, ‘‘He was the Hamlet of films…The moment he felt that the film was not shaping up well, he lost inspiration. No amount of advice, or fear of monetary loss could make him carry on the project once the inspiration was gone…Nobody could ever have cared less for money. I have seen him squandering lakhs—not for personal indulgence but for his art. So many artists were signed and paid but never utilised, so many stories were bought which never went on the floors, so many films which went on the floors were never finished.’’

But this also leads to a rare and revealing moment of clarity when Dutt chose to be absolutely certain and decisive about something. According to writer Bimal Mitra, whose novel inspired Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam (1962), initial audience reactions were mixed, with some scenes drawing criticism. Ever sensitive to his audience, Dutt slipped anonymously into Bombay’s Minerva theatre to observe reactions firsthand. He saw that a few scenes stirred disapproval: for example, the beautiful climax which showed Chhoti Bahu (Meena Kumari) resting her head in Bhootnath’s (Guru Dutt) lap as they travel in a carriage. The ambiguity about the relationship between Chhoti Bahu and Bhoothnath was taken by the public as a ‘relationship’ or ‘physical desire’ between the two. There was one more scene where Chhoti Bahu asks for one last sip of alcohol. Dutt also realised that the last song ‘Sahil ki taraf’ was slowing down the narrative.

An uncertain Dutt went straight to Mughal-e-Azam director K. Asif for advice. At that time, Dutt was playing the lead in his next film, Love and God. Asif’s advice was blunt: lighten the mood. “Listen, say in the end, Chhoti Bahu has stopped drinking. She’s fine now. Everything is good between husband and wife and they live happily ever after,’’ Asif suggested.

Dutt stepped out of his house and called up his team in panic mode. Abrar Alvi and Bimal Mitra were asked to write a new climax. Meena Kumari was requested for a day’s shoot. They began writing a new scene when a restless Dutt appeared the next evening. Now certain. He said, ‘‘No, Bimal Babu, I have thought about it. I will not change the film’s end.’’ Everyone was startled. Dutt continued, “I don’t care even if no one watches my film, even if I lose millions. I don’t care. But I will not change the climax...This film...its climax, it can’t really be changed. It’s a different kind of a story. It is the public’s loss if they don’t understand it, not mine…Whatever K. Asif says, I am also a film-maker, I have my own mind and intelligence. I will not change the end at any cost. Never.’’

This was vintage Dutt.

He finally decided to remove the sequence which showed Chhoti Bahu resting her head in Bhootnath’s lap as well as the climactic song. The song was replaced with a dialogue exchange between Chhoti Bahu and Bhoothnath in the doomed carriage. The new scenes were inserted into every print that was running in theatres.

The night before the reviews and reports were expected to appear in newspapers, Dutt couldn’t sleep. He called up his close associates from the team early in the morning. When they got there, he was surrounded by a heap of newspapers: English, Hindi, Gujarati, Marathi. Every newspaper. The Times of India had declared it ‘‘A classic in celluloid’’. A soft smile lit up Dutt’s eyes. Then each team member started reading out the other newspapers aloud. Dutt was smiling, quietly absorbing the praise. He praised director Abrar Alvi for making a wonderful film. Everyone noticed how cheerful Dutt was that day. Appreciation was coming from all over. Such recognition always meant the world to him.

Yasser Usman is the author of the book Guru Dutt: An Unfinished Story