Sanjay Bhansali gets claustrophobic easily. You meet him in the designated hotel room for an interview and he refuses to sit down. “I can’t breathe in this place,” he says petulantly. So you move to the coffee shop. He grumbles about feeling breathless in the hotel corridor all the way there, chats about wanting to get free whenever he’s in an airplane. At the coffee shop, he’s not happy. “But everyone will hear what we’re saying,” he says. Finally, you manage to find an alcove which is just fine.
Once ensconced, you simply want to interview Sanjay, but end up arguing with him over love, women and the essence of feminism, instead. At the end of it he declares, “This was a most bizarre interview. Where did we begin and where have we ended?”
Presenting the gist of the conversation:
On your website you declare that you express your personal anguish through your cinema, that the world can deduce and debate your life from your movies. What is this personal anguish?
For me, a film is not just a story, it’s made up of my personal moments in life. For instance, Khamoshi was about the extreme introversion that I had to deal with, as an adolescent. I just couldn’t speak, I didn’t feel the need to speak. I thought communication could be achieved without speaking… Saawariya is about the anguish I felt when I saw my grandmother spend her whole life waiting. She’d be waiting on the balcony for my father to return home till 4 am, day after day. As a child, I could write so many stories about ‘a woman waiting’.
Must all personal moments be about anguish?
In your childhood, the most traumatic incidents leave the deepest impression. And I’m constantly trying to purge myself through my cinema. Once I make a film on it, I can leave my most traumatised moments behind. Everyone has a dark side. I explore mine through my films.
So with each film made, some inner demon is dealt with?
Yes. For instance, I gave up silence completely after Khamoshi. I began talking, and haven’t stopped. Silence doesn’t work here, we Indians are used to talking a lot, saying the same things three times over. That’s how I talk too, now.
Your films show that.
(Laughs) Yes, and doesn’t Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam and Devdas show that the most? In fact, I made Hum Dil… in anger and defiance. I was angry at the failure of Khamoshi. So angry that after being on sleeping pills for three months, I decided that if audiences don’t want silence, if they want noise and loudness and colour, they would have it! That’s why Hum Dil… is a riot of colours - pink carpets, green curtains and the heroine wearing a magenta dress. More