Hrishikesh Kannan: I want to start with the beginnings of Kaifinama. Were you always intrigued by Kaifi saab’s poetry? Was he a friend? How did the idea of this documentary come about?

Sumantra Ghosal: Kaifi saab was very old by the time I met him. So, I am afraid that friendship didn’t quite work out. Was I into his poetry? No, I wasn’t. So how did this strange thing happen? Because of a lady called Shabana Azmi, who decided that since I was a middle-class Bengali boy who had no idea of Urdu and didn’t watch a great deal of mainstream cinema, I should be the right person to make the film on her father for his birth centenary. She approached me and said, “Would you do this?” and without thinking, I said “Of course!” Which was a stupid thing to do, but in hindsight, it wasn’t too bad.

It was stupid because of my naïvety in this whole business of Urdu poetry and my lack of knowledge about Kaifi saab, which is foolish to confess, but that is the truth. But what happened thereafter is that I started by translating his poetry into English, because I thought that would be the best way to understand the text. I wanted the film to be about Kaifi Azmi the poet, not the lyricist. And I wanted to deal with his poetry myself, so I did that by translating it into English. You have to wrestle with a text to translate it, but this gives you context and subtext because you have to dive deep into the poem to understand its layers. That’s how it began, and then, Shabana, who is a terrific producer, left me to my own devices and I went about and made the film in the best way I thought was right and possible for me to do. We didn’t have a large budget to do all this, and she actually watched the film for the first time at the NCPA. So, kudos to her trust in me. The fact that we have remained friends means I haven’t done too badly by her father.

HK: Kaifinama is a 90-minute film directed by you in Urdu as well as English. Now, I saw an extraordinary movie made by Baba Azmi, Kaifi saab’s son and Shabana’s brother, called Mee Raqsam, and a lot of it was set in Mijwan, which is Kaifi saab’s hometown. 

SG: That’s right.

HK: A large part of his childhood and youth were spent there. Did you go to Mijwan?

SG: Yes, the research was done mainly in Mumbai, but I did go to Mijwan. It was such an extraordinary and definitive part of his life. Not just at the beginning of his life but towards the end too. He went back there and invested time, energy and money in changing the fortunes of an entire village. He brought craft to it, he brought employment to it, he brought education to it, and most importantly, I think he brought feminism to a village that was not a feminist village by a long haul. I think what he did there gives the film an arc and a growth that would not have been there if he was only a poet. What he did, many of the progressive writers did not do. They concentrated on writing, they concentrated on their poetry, but as Shabana and Javed both say repeatedly, Kaifi Azmi was a man who fit his action to his words and went out and did something deep and long-lasting.

HK: The film includes reminiscences by Shaukat Azmi, Shabana and Baba. Instances that they narrated from their childhood, their youth and their life with the great man. Were there other sources you have used in the documentary? 

SG: It’s a strange coincidence that I had wanted to make a film on writers [who belonged to the Progressive Writers’ Movement] around 1998. And that’s when I first met Kaifi saab because I interviewed several progressive writers at that time. A lot of the f ilm is told in his words and the words of his wife, Shaukat aapa, because, back then, I interviewed her as well. That footage was with me, unused, unedited, unseen, and it found its place in the documentary. Shaukat Azmi was a feisty and fabulous woman who spoke her mind, even when she had disagreements with her husband. She was his mainstay and his support in all that he did. She gave up Mumbai at the drop of a hat because he wanted to go back to Mijwan, which I don’t think she was very happy to do but she supported him in every way. Theirs was a fantastic relationship. But you have to see the film to realise how modern that relationship was. There was certainly no giving up of oneself totally, in terms of one’s feminism and one’s wajood.

There were interviews with lots of other people in the family, but Javed Siddiqui is someone I must mention. He has worked closely with Kaifi saab and is a poet, lyricist and scriptwriter. He speaks extensively and beautifully about Kaifi saab in the film.

HK: Shabana Azmi often talks about growing up in a house with socialism and Kaifi saab’s commitment to socialism. At any given point of time, there would be people reading poetry, telling stories, members of the Indian People’s Theatre Association... The Azmis inhabited a truly secular and emancipated world. Even today, Javeb saab and Shabanaji have these incredible Holi parties. It is such a tribute to secular India. I’d like you to comment on that.

SG: I think Javed and Shabana are exemplary in the way that they are not reactionary, they’re utterly secular. These are values that I think we are losing. One is seeing that happen because one has lived long enough to compare it with something else. So, to my mind, that is an extraordinary story of courage as well because they have not hesitated to proclaim their secular truth and core. They celebrate Diwali, they celebrate Holi, they celebrate Eid. They have grown up in places and in cultures where to be secular was de rigueur, and not to be secular would be obnoxious and unforgiveable.

HK: Kaifinama is a Cinematix production. It is produced by Mijwan Welfare Society. This screening is an NCPA presentation in collaboration with Cinema Collective. Could you discuss Cinema Collective and the initiative to put together such exclusive screenings?

SG: Cinema Collective is an outstanding example of a community coming together. It is run by filmmakers Priti Chandriani, Veena Bakshi and Lygia Mathews, and they have decided to promote documentaries which are relevant but don’t get the platform that they perhaps should. They have been running this in tandem with the NCPA for about six years and they have shown a bunch of outstanding works of documentary to packed halls. That gives us poor filmmakers, in every sense of the word, a platform and an occasion to celebrate.

HK: I would like to now use this opportunity to congratulate you in a roundabout way—Zakir Hussain picking up those Grammies brought to mind your film The Speaking Hand – Zakir Hussain and the Art of the Indian Drum, which is now 20 years old. 

SG: Yes, and I would love to be at that screening if it ever happens. Perhaps Cinema Collective will take up your challenge and show a 20-year-old film of an evergreen tabla player.

HK: What are your memories of filming it? 

SG: You cannot be with Zakir Hussain for five minutes without making enduring memories. I was lucky to have been with him for about two or three years. I toured with him on Planet Drum, which won him his first Grammy more than 30 years ago, because I was making a documentary on it for him and for Mickey Hart. Those memories are truly priceless. 

HK: I appreciate your time and I hope to speak to you very soon. Thank you. 

SG: Thank you so much.

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This interview was broadcast as part of This Week at the NCPA on 94.3 Radio One. The show is aired every Wednesday at 9 am and is hosted by Hrishikesh Kannan, National Brand Head - Radio One India Network. Kannan is a radio and podcast host and producer, voice over artiste and MC/compère. The interview has been transcribed by Roshan Dastoor and edited for clarity in print.

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