by SURESH JINDAL
Sanjeev Kumar (right) and Saeed Jaffrey in Shatranj ke Khiladi PHOTO/Youtube
Forty years after it was made, its producer recalls the travails of making Ray’s first Hindi film.
A humble worker of Bollywood had once told me “Sahib, acchi filmein toh sab hi banane jaata hai; khali kuch ban jaati hai. [Everybody wants to make good films, only few good ones get made!]”. Likewise, I did not go to Satyajit Ray to consciously make a world classic; it just got made.
After my first film, Rajnigandha (1974), became an unexpected ‘sleeper’ of the year, I approached my friend Director Tinnu Anand, who had been Ray’s assistant for five years, with an intuitive idea – to request Ray to make a film in Hindi or English even though he had for years refused to do it for the great veterans of industry. When Tinnu asked me whether I would produce one in Bengali if Ray did not agree to do the film in Hindi or English, I had replied: “Tinnu, I just want to work with him even if it is on a Bengali film”.
Within minutes we’d booked a call to Calcutta through the operator; there was no long-distance direct-dial in those days. After an eternity the call finally went through. I pierced Tinnu intensely with my eyes while he conversed with Ray in Bengali – a language I don’t speak or understand. I could hardly wait for the call to be over to hear the verdict. When he finally put the receiver down I almost yelled, “Will he see us?”
“He says we can come see him and talk.”
We met him one morning in Calcutta and I blurted out, “Sir, I would like you to make a film in Hindi because I am in the Hindi film industry, or in English, or if not, then in Bengali.” As soon as I heard what was coming out of my mouth I panicked at the disjointed, abrupt and almost rude sentences. Oh, you’ve blown it, Suresh! Better get out of here fast before you sink into the floor with embarrassment or die of frustration at having messed up your big chance.
A resounding bass voice, like what Moses might have heard while receiving the Ten Commandments, suddenly cut through my despairing thoughts. “Actually … I have been thinking of doing a film in Hindi.”
It turned out that Ray had thought of making a film on Prem Chand’s long story Shatranj Ke Khilari ever since he had read it in English in a published anthology of the writer’s work.
“But I warn you it’s going to be a very expensive film. You may not want to spend so much money on your first film with me. We can look for a story that will be cheaper to produce,” he said.
But I was already visualising finding the first slave owner and/or buyer of my organs who will have me for there was no way in which I was refusing to do this film.
It was the most expensive film Ray ever made. The expense mainly went into reconstructing the period – Lucknow in the 19th century – requiring expensive sets, costumes and jewellery. The expense of the film also made it imperative to take stars because only then would the film become ‘saleable’ and cover its cost. The stars took minimal fees as did Ray, who himself told me what he would take.
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