‘Guru Dutt was an immensely poor communicator in real life’

Neil Diamond’s song Done Too Soon, where he names those (Jesus Christ, Fanny Brice, Mozart, Albert Camus, among others) who “having sweated beneath the same sun, having looked up in wonder at the same moon, and having wept when it was all done... for being done too soon” doesn’t have Guru Dutt in the line-up.

He would have been an apt fit. I’ve always wondered what would have become of Guru Dutt had he lived a full life. Would he have, for instance, become the best-known filmmaker from the region? Would he have won an Oscar? Would he have been the toast of Cannes?

Indian television journalist Yasser Usman, while bagging the prestigious Ramnath Goenka Award and three News Television awards, has also chronicled the ‘untold’ stories of Bollywood stars Rajesh Khanna, Rekha and Sanjay Dutt. His fourth biography, Guru Dutt: An Unfinished Story, published by Simon & Schuster, was released recently. Guru Dutt’s death — in 1964 — seemed too abrupt even after all these decades, says Yasser. “As if there was no closure. His sister Lalitha Lajmi said during one of our conversations that his story remained unfinished. Had he lived longer, he must have made more brilliant films. Indian cinema’s history would have been different.”

I had asked Yasser to state “three things we probably don’t know about Guru Dutt”. He gave me: “He was a voracious reader, could read English, Hindi, Kannada, Bangla and had a collection of hundreds of books in these languages”, and that “he was a phenomenal dancer”. But what smacked me in my face was the revelation that Guru Dutt “had a very poor eyesight and while acting couldn’t even locate the camera without his thick glasses”. In other words, “the films where you could see him acting intensely through his eyes, remember, he couldn’t really see clearly”. Excerpts from an interview with Yasser:

On why he chose to write about Guru Dutt: was there a trigger... And how is he and his craft relevant today?

It was 2004-05 in Delhi when I watched most of Guru Dutt’s films on ‘big screen’, during one of his retrospectives. I was immensely fascinated. But when I read most accounts on him, I realised everyone is talking about how intensely personal his cinema was. He was mirroring his own life in his films. There was an odd line saying he was disturbed. But no one explained why. What ultimately consumed the genius filmmaker? This story was missing. No one really talked about what he went through while making these classics. Why was he repeatedly trying to end his life? Was he suffering from some mental issues? Was it due to his turbulent personal life or was it because a relationship went wrong? Was he heartbroken after the dismal failure of his magnum opus Kaagaz Ke Phool? Why did he attempt suicide multiple times? I wanted to tell this story that ran parallel to the making of his classics.

His cinema is still relevant because of the emotional connect of his stories. Emotions never grow old.

Also, a crucial aspect of Guru Dutt is that he achieved a spectacular balance between commercial success without ever compromising on artistic satisfaction. Look at Pyaasa — the philosophical ‘Ye duniya agar mil bhi jaaye, the searing ‘Jinhe naaz hai hind par’ coexist with peppy chartbuster ‘Sar jo tera chakraaye’. But while he was creating these classics on celluloid, he was going through hell in his personal life. This aspect intrigued me the most.

On what struck him most about Guru Dutt while doing research for the book.

That there is not even one interview of Guru Dutt in public domain. Yes, that’s the fact. It was as if he did not exist. As if he was making these masterpieces in isolation and no one from the media was interested in talking about Pyaasa, Kaagaz Ke Phool or Sahib, Bibi Aur Ghulam with him. It sounds strange but shocking.

In all accounts, Guru Dutt’s persona is constructed through the memories of people close to him.

On the fact that Guru Dutt attained way more fame after his death than while he was alive — a throwback to Vijay’s (the lead in Pyaasa) metaphorical death and how he attains fame after a life of trying to be “heard”.

Truly metaphorical. Also because all his films were mirroring what was happening in his life. He borrowed immensely from his personal life. You will be shocked to know that there was little media coverage of him when he was alive. The fame really happened almost two decades after his death.

On the dichotomy Guru Dutt espoused: a meticulous director, a passionate actor — yet a personal life that went haywire.

During my research for the book, various accounts of Guru Dutt’s colleagues, close friends and his family members suggested that despite being at the peak of his success, his constant refrain used to be, “Mujhe lagta hai mai paagal ho jaoonga [I think I’ll go crazy!].” He finally died at 39, a death similar to what he predicted in his quasi-autobiographical Kaagaz Ke Phool.