Rajesh Joshi: The Quiet Eye Behind 'In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones'

The quirkily-named film In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones (1989) was restored recently by Shivendra Singh Dungarpur’s Film Heritage Foundation and released in theatres for the first time in India in March 2026. Its earlier outing, in 1989, was on Doordarshan. Almost forty years after it was made, the film was well received in the theatres with audiences lining up to buy the screenplay of the film sold at select theatres on the opening days.

That the Pradip Krishen-directed film has not dated is as much a credit to the director and story-writer Arundhati Roy as it is to the amazing restoration of the film by Dungarpur’s team. Krishen, Roy, Dungarpur and several members of the film unit got standing ovations by enthusiastic audiences at the premieres in Mumbai and Delhi.

Conspicuous by his absence was the film’s cinematographer, the late Rajesh Joshi. This piece is a tribute to him, the man who made Roy’s delightful story and Krishen’s vision come alive with his skilled camera work in very challenging circumstances.

With a measly budget of twelve lakhs, the director could not afford to put up sets in studios where Joshi would have had the luxury of complex lighting and flexible camera positioning. Roy’s story about a bunch of iconoclastic, architecture students roughing it out in miserable, pokey hostel rooms, while drawing plans for luxurious buildings as part of their curriculum, was shot on location. How difficult that would have been for Joshi, only he and his director would have known. “Ideally, cinematographers need ‘fly-away’ walls and high ceilings to give themselves the elbow room they need,” points out Krishen. “This becomes more important if you have to use cranes or large rigs. With our limited budget we could not afford any of these and so had to shoot on location and record ‘direct’ sound (no dubbing in studios later).

“There simply wasn’t an alternative and Rajesh had to find a way to manoeuvre in tight spaces. Since we were shooting on 16mm, it was somewhat simpler. We would never have managed to make this film with a 35mm camera. Nonetheless, skill and improvisation was needed to rig up lights which Rajesh was very good at, having shot a lot of documentaries in tight situations. His gaffer Mulchand Dedhia was also very experienced and good at his job.”

Watching the film on the large screen, enjoying its subtle satire and madness, who would have thought the man who shot those entertaining scenes in cramped hostel rooms, with hens and rabbits to boot, classrooms where teachers and students sparred with one another, narrow corridors and elevators where the bolder ones smooched, was not satisfied with the outcome? Krishen recalls, “In the end, Rajesh wasn’t happy with how the shoot went. He wanted more freedom but we were unable to give him that. But I think he would have been happy to see the restored version.”

The meticulous man behind the camera, who later filmed Sudhir Mishra’s film Dharavi on location in Asia’s largest slum, would ask Krishen many questions about each scene and how it fitted into the overall scheme. After that nothing came in the way of his desired shot. There is a working still of him perched, precariously, on a window ledge, camera and all, taking a shot of a faculty member entering the college compound. The camera’s eye is meant to be the eye of one of the students keeping a look-out for the professor from a fifth-floor window. “It was just a shot we needed,” is Krishen’s simple explanation for this risky shot.

“I would brief Rajesh but there was no high-falutin’ theorising. And, as far as I can recall, his approach was to simulate natural light: low-key for the night scenes, diffused daylight for the day. No tricks, no shampoo-advert lighting, nothing fancy,” relates Krishen about how he and Joshi collaborated.

Joshi’s approach contributed to the film’s raw edginess. A story set in 1974, most of the students portrayed the rebellious, thinking youth of this period when campus life was suffused with socio-political awareness. Bohemian Radha in her colourful harem pants and sleeveless vests, the unkempt Anand (nicknamed Annie) and the shabby, hirsute Arjun typified anti-establishment attitude as much through their appearance as through the unconventional projects they presented; and Joshi did not powder-puff them.

“I think Rajesh understood exactly what Pradip and I wanted,” says the film’s writer, Arundhati Roy, who played the role of Radha. “He captured the cramped spaces…that sweaty, scruffy, almost filthy vibe so beautifully. He did not try to make us pretty or presentable. I so clearly remember his naughty, toothy grin. His easy manner. How I wish he was here to see the restored version.”

Uncompromising though Joshi was in filming scenes to his satisfaction, in keeping with the story, he was not a stern taskmaster. Like Roy, the rest of the unit remember him for being a very genial person. Actress Divya Seth who played Lakes, diametrically opposite to Radha, conventionally-dressed, not as intelligent as Radha and bending the rules of the game to move ahead, recalls, “Rajesh was very chilled and indulged us, crazy kids.” Lovleen Mishra, who played a minor role as one of the students, corroborates what Seth says, “He was always very calm and composed and had a great sense of humour.” Arjun Raina who played Annie, remembers Joshi as a very kind man.

Director Krishen has an amusing anecdote to share about Joshi’s chilled-out style: “I recall a shot that was ‘ruined’ twice because Rajesh was shaking so much with laughter! The film has some funny moments even though it is not an out-and-out comedy. But Rajesh was not laughing at a gag. He was laughing uncontrollably because one of the older actors kept flubbing his lines. Eventually—because we didn’t want to waste any more precious film stock—I had to take the shot while Rajesh was rolling with laughter, a hanky stuffed in his mouth!”

“I have the most wonderful memories of interacting with Rajesh,” recalls Ravi Kaimal, the film’s Art Director. “All of us had to make do with very little resources so Rajesh and I would have lengthy discussions about each scene before the camera started rolling.” Kaimal would procure ‘props’ from friends and family like a wooden T-square and portable record player from his father to establish the period and mood of the story and Joshi would accordingly decide how to include these in his frame.

Sometimes, Joshi would have to camouflage Kaimal’s ‘jugaad’ through the way he designed the lighting and the angle from which he shot the scene. “The car which the Parsi principal of the architecture college drove was a 1950s Studebaker, lying at a friend’s friend’s house, run-down and not functional,” relates Kaimal. “Since Parsis are known to keep old cars in very good shape, we thought it would be apt to show principal Billimoria driving this old model after getting it repaired by Ustad Nanna, a Dubai-returned mechanic. Rajesh and I then decided the angles and he used soft lighting to make the car pass muster as a well-maintained, ‘Parsi-owned’ car.”

Authenticity was taken to another level when Kaimal nervously procured from Professor Cyrus Jhabvala, renowned architect who taught at the School of Planning and Architecture where the film was shot, one of his sketches to pass off as Billimoria’s. The scene where Billimoria, played by Roshan Seth, is sitting at his drawing board with Jhabvala’s sketch before him looked very convincing, skilfully filmed as it was by Joshi. There is a hanging, focal lamp above the sketch, while the rest of the room is dimly lit. Art director and cinematographer were in perfect tandem. “A lot of my discussions with Rajesh were about the ‘apparent’ source of light in a scene,” points out Kaimal. “Once I conveyed where the light was supposedly coming from, he would plan the actual lighting for filming purposes. It was all very collaborative work to realise the vision appropriate for the story and location.”

Joshi’s gaffer Mulchand Dedhia explains how the above scene was shot, “While the key light was the 250w lamp, with the shade, hanging above Billimoria’s drawing board, we ‘bounced off’ other lights to bathe the room in diffused light.”

Interestingly, the house that was shown to be the snobbish, stern Billimoria’s, was, in reality, the house of Justice Leila Seth, Vikram and Aradhana Seth’s mother. Aradhana was, at the time, second assistant director to Krishen.

A small budget made Kaimal very resourceful in finding friends and family to pitch in, and Joshi played partner-in-crime to make the scenes look authentic. “He would find a way to work around the constraints,” remembers Kaimal. “He was always very cool, though we were filming on location at the height of Delhi summer. My memories of working with him are of mutual learning and great camaraderie.”

Remembered by all for his ready humour, team spirit and his uncompromising style of realistic filming, Rajesh Joshi passed away in 2018. He was only 66.