'There are no whys in creativity': Vikas Khanna

An insatiable appetite for creativity can take you places. It has taken Vikas Khanna from the hustle bustle of the kitchen of his Michelin-star winning restaurant Junoon in New York City to the ghats of Varanasi to research for what is believed to be one of the most comprehensive books on Indian cuisine, Utsav. His pursuits, however, are not just culinary in nature. Just last month, Khanna was at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival to launch the teaser of his directorial debut, The Last Colour, starring Neena Gupta. Based on a fiction he wrote some years ago, the film revolves around the widows of Vrindavan who were once forbidden from playing Holi. It's a sensitive subject, one that demands mature craftsmanship from Khanna as a director. As he dons a new hat, the award-winning chef tells us why he chose this story... and why contentment scares him!
How did the story of The Last Color come to you?
The story found me. I was shooting for my book Utsav in Vrindavan and happened to be at the Banke Bihari temple. Holi celebrations were going on and even my camera was splashed with colours. Amid this fanfare, I spotted many widows clad in pristine white clothes, quietly observing the celebrations from a terrace. It felt strange to know that widows were forbidden from playing with colours. To deny colours to someone, for me, is harsh. I returned to America and wrote a book on widows celebrating Holi and submitted the manuscript to publishers in London, Paris and New York. Was rejected by each one of them on the grounds that the story was fiction, and a non-fiction on the subject would be better. I thought that maybe fiction was not for me, after all. In 2012, I spotted a news item on Yahoo's homepage that showed widows playing Holi. I forwarded that link to everyone with a note that read, "My fiction has become a reality." I submitted the manuscript again and it got accepted. It was the editor working on the book who suggested this be made into a film.
How was the response at Cannes?
We unveiled the teaser at the producer's opening night and there was pin drop silence. The standard question that was posed to me by everyone was 'Chef, why did you do this?' My reply was there are no whys in creativity.
What are the challenges of directing a film when you come from a completely different industry?
I think more than a technical challenge, it is an emotional challenge. There is a very moving scene in the film where Neena Gupta is practising kathak. It's a four-minute scene that's been shot at one go. So, she dances and then gestures to play Holi. In kathak, in the raas-leela performance, Krishna and Radha are shown to play Holi. Krishna makes sure Radha is drenched in colours and the latter is ashamed to go home. So absorbed was Neena Gupta in the performance that she completely took us by surprise. And as we were entranced by her, she turned to me and asked, "Was it okay?"
There is a side to your work that is constantly in pursuit of digging deeper into cultures and understanding them. And then there's a side that's a 'brand'. Is juggling between the two worlds difficult?
People have actually been upset with me because I say no to so many things. The kind of humble background I come from, reaching where I have managed to reach is nearly unthinkable. So, to me, this whole commercial aspect, though important, also feels small. For me, a more fulfilling moment is when I get to meet someone like the Dalai Lama and he tells me that I have done justice to my life. That's my parameter of wealth. Another reason why the commercial aspect has not been very well-defined for me is because I reach out to very different markets. My work, as a chef, a chronicler, a filmmaker, takes me from the very expensive western world to the common man in India.
That's interesting. Is the latter an escape for you?
My next research project is set in a village in Arunachal Pradesh, India, where no one knows what Coca Cola is or who Trump is. Can it get any more remote than that? (laughs)
It might be escapism. The idea of a perfect life can be scary. In fact, I treat my own home as a hotel. I'm wary of being in comfort zones, where you have just about enough money and luxuries. Once you reach that point, you become complacent. So, yes, you could say that I fear complacency. For instance, a few years ago, when my father passed away, I was completely broken. I went to Varanasi to hide for a couple of days. But even then it was important to me to not see myself as a victim and come back with a purpose.
How did overcoming a physical condition (he was born with misaligned legs) shape your worldview?
At the beginning, there was shame associated with it, but no one spelt it out. I was raised by my grandmother as my parents were busy with their day-to-day lives. In the physical education class, nobody knew who'd stand first, but everybody knew who'd score the least. So, my energies were directed at getting the second least score. If I managed that, my grandmother would be celebrating at home. Today, this is what hurts me about families going nuclear. Grandparents are the ones who have the stories. Their sensibilities are completely different because they have already gone through the process of raising children once. They are the ones who tell you the stories that you need to hear in order to stand up for yourself in the real world. Perhaps this is why I stopped seeing my condition as a 'disability'. Sometimes, you will find yourself bankrupt either financially or emotionally. That moment when you're pushed against a wall is when you develop a survival instinct. You feel that you have a few breaths left before you give up altogether. Perhaps this is also why I take up newer projects. I have always found it difficult to be boxed in. I don't just want to stand in front of a camera and shoot a video saying, "Let's cook sweet rice (meethe chawal) in under 15 minutes".
You have always spoken candidly about your lack of fluency in English. What are the prejudices you have faced as a result of this?
In my initial days as a chef, I worked at Indian restaurants. I worked with people from all nationalities. I worked with the French, who insisted I learn their language in order to interact with them. I couldn't have obviously told them that they should learn Hindi to be able to speak to me. So, I knew that I had to learn English. Even now when I go to these English shows in America, I get a little scared. Forget about someone else laughing at me, sometimes I laugh at my own pronunciation of certain English words.
Was your decision to become a chef ever frowned upon?
It used to be a running joke in the family. When I would make cakes and paranthas and bring them to school, my friends would laugh at me. My grandmother told everyone, "At least he is happy." We were from a lower middle class family; my father ran a shop that rent out video cassettes. In our household, chicken was something that would be cooked once in a month - the first Sunday, to be precise. What helped me win others' confidence in my dream was that I started earning early, at the age of 16.
A lot of conversation around you also revolves around your appearance with People magazine naming you in its list of Sexiest Men Alive.
This happened at a time when I was new to America, and
Indian food had begun to go mainstream. But I also remember a lot of people writing in to say, "Are all white chefs dead that we are now voting for a brown chef?" So something like this cannot affect you negatively or positively.
As a chef, have you ever consciously tried to bust any myths about Indian food in the West?
Stereotyping, at times, is alright because that means things matter. If most westerners know about chicken tikka masala, it's fine in that at least they know about that dish. I think Indian food is much bigger than any of us, so you can't set out to bust any myths.
Dubai aspires to be the culinary capital of the world. How does it fare, according to you?
Whenever I visit Dubai, I come to eat. I feel the sheer variety you get here is commendable. What is great is how authentic ingredients are sourced here. There's a younger generation that's come to live and work here, so their purchasing power is quite high. And they would spend on food. As a result, chefs can experiment more and push the envelope further!
anamika@khaleejtimes.com