‘Prose is for lazy people, poetry for the imaginative’

Poet and Cannes Award-winning advertising professional, Prasoon Joshi is one of Bollywood’s most interesting lyricists. Recent recipient of a Filmfare Best Lyricist Award for his work in Taare Zameen Par, he talks to Guru Dutt’s grandniece, filmmaker NASREEN MUNNI KABIR

How do ideas for a song come to you?
We don’t choose ideas. Ideas choose us. We can’t grab a thought. A thought grabs us. You have to be receptive, ready to receive thoughts. What is a state of readiness? For me, I think it’s being immersed in a film. When I’m actually writing, it comes very quickly. Before that, it’s a terrible process. For example, there are two kinds of mangoes. The kind you pluck and then you wait till it ripens. And the kind that is ripe and falls on you — a tapke (just landed). They are the sweetest kind because nature is ready to offer it to you, while the others are premature. Songs are like that. Some just fall out of your imagination.

Do you have any say in determining the song situation?
I’m lucky to work with people who sometimes allow me to create situations for songs. In Rang de Basanti there was no place for the song, “Lukka chuppi.” The scene is a son’s funeral and his mother experiencing a terrible loss. Rahman and I used the idea of a mother and son playing hide-and-seek. The sad reality is the son is hidden forever. Sometimes an emotion expressed in a song works much better than dialogue. When I feel strongly about it, I try and suggest enhancing the scene with a song. I believe in the power of songs.

Have you ever written a song for one situation and then it’s been used in another?
Yes. I wrote the song “Mausam ka hai mehmaan tu,” in Taare Zameen Par for the scene when the child runs out of his school. But Aamir wasn’t completely convinced it was the right song for that situation, so he decided to use it for the film’s climax. I didn’t write the song for the ending, but it fits well there because the essence remains intact.

Are you and the composer left alone when you’re writing?
Once we’re through with the narration and discussion, then it’s down to the music director and me. Sometimes the director is around and sometimes he isn’t. I think musicians and poets want to be left alone because you’re experimenting with words and jamming. I have worked with Shankar, Ehsaan and Loy in Phir Milenge and Taare Zameen Par, and have known Shankar for a long time. We were in advertising together. He’s very flexible. If there’s a particular word that doesn’t fit the tune, I tell him: No, I need this word. It’s important. It’s like a paperweight, if you remove it, everything will fly away. And Shankar finds a way to make the word work in the composition. I have also worked with Jatin and Lalit, who belong to an older generation and have a more traditional style of working.

How do you define this style?
Their songs are usually composed as one beautiful piece. The melody flows through the antara and from the antara to the mukhda. The composition is a complete structure — from the beginning to the end. So I get a defined whole and then write the words. Sometimes I give them the lyrics first and then the tune is composed. When I work with AR Rahman, it’s quite different. We interact a lot. He might compose just a musical phrase, and I think of two words, say ‘Roobaroo roshni.’ Later I write the full song and Rahman composes the complete tune.

The lyrics of ‘Roobaroo’ are unusual, there are no verbs in the line. You don’t say ‘main roobaroo hoon roshni ke’ (I am face to face with the light)
(Smiles) Few notice this. I believe people are very comfortable with the unspoken. When you’re writing a song you complete a circle,you express everything you want to say. The finest creativity is when you draw a dot and yet everyone can see the circle. If you allow the listeners to participate, they will complete the thought.

When I’ve observed Rahman working, he builds the song sound by sound. His songs remind me of seeing light seep through a crack in the window, and when you open the window, there, bathed in light, is an expansive vista. ‘Roobaroo’ reveals itself in that way. What about ‘Khalbali hai Khabali’ with the insistence on the word ‘ziddi’?
I was at Rahman’s studio writing some words. I gave them to him and he said: Let’s try something else. So I replied, Ziddi Rahman! (Stubborn Rahman) and he said, Yes! That’s the word. Ziddi. And the song line became Ziddi, ziddi, hain arman…’

Creativity at its best! Do you try and use the integrate the song into the narrative?
If you asked me to rate a song like “Chand Sifarish”, I’d tell you it’s nice and fun. If you asked whether it worked in Fanaa, I’d say that it worked fantastically well. It perfectly suited Aamir Khan’s character. You want to write songs to fit a particular person. This one had the touch of an arrogant, street-smart man. The metaphor of the moon is used so often, but I tried imagining the moon as an advocate: Chand sifarish jo karta humaari deta woh tumko bataa Sharmo haiyya ke parde giraake karni hai humko khata (If the moon played my advocate he’d tell you/ That I want to commit a sweet mistake/ By breaking rules, abandoning modesty)

For which filmic situations do you enjoy writing?
I like writing songs featured in the background. What is happening in the mind of the character, but he’s unable to express. I give voice to his thinking and inner feelings. When a song is lipsynched, there are limitations.

Is it important for you to know the scene leading into a song and the scene following it?
It’s important to understand the overall context and then forget it. The mind has absorbed the essential. If you continue to refer to the lead-in situation, you start to mirror it, whereas your song must add another dimension to the narrative. In Taare Zameen Par, a mother is leaving her child at boarding school. The child looks at her and she has tears in her eyes. Do I give voice to the child’s emotions or to the mother’s? I could say, Tu mujhe bahut pyaara hai, meri aankhon ka taara hai (How dear you are to me, you’re the star in my eye). But these feelings are implicit in the scene. So I decided to give voice to the unspoken fears of the child who feels abandoned: Main kabhi batlaata nahin, par andhere se darta hoon, Ma (I have never told you but I’m scared of the dark, Ma).

This song really moved people.
My mailbox crashed because of the kind of response I got!

Why did it move so many?
There’s a parent and child in everyone. A child craves for a mother’s touch all through her life. The relationship has an intrinsically potent and sharply defined emotion. Motherhood is glorified to put pressure on women to become mothers and find fulfillment in that alone. But there’s so much more to a woman. When you’re in pain, you cry out, Ma. In the “Ma” song, there’s a bit of the story of Taare Zameen Par and a lot of me too.

What kind of upbringing did you have?
I was brought up in a small town. and have always been connected to Hindi and Urdu. No word of English was spoken. I lived in UP and in Uttaranchal where I was born — in Almora. I had a very freespirited childhood. When you live in the mountains, there’s a real sense of trust. You love nature. When I was doing my MBA I started attentively listening to rock lyrics. In the 70s and 80s, there was a lot of good songwriting. I liked Paul Simon, the Rolling Stones, Jim Morrison. I tried jazz lyrics but found them too simple. I think hip-hop music is important too — it’s honest, in your face.

What about Hindi film songs?
It’s strange but I wasn’t fond of the old songs. I come from a family where classical music was preferred. Both my parents were vocal artists. Of course, I like the old poet-lyricists, particularly Kaifi Azmi. I like Shailendra’s lyricism. His songs can be easily hummed, are fluid and flexible. I listen to ghazals, semi-classical music and to poets like Azmi, Shailendra and Majrooh Sultanpuri reciting their verse. I like hearing poetry in a poet’s own voice. It has something a singer or composer can’t get.

You work in advertising as well as writing lyrics and poetry. Do you see a conflict in balancing these different worlds?
I became a poet first and then an advertising professional. So the problem was coping with advertising rather than with poetry. Poetry is in every drop of my blood. If you wake me up in the morning, you may not manage to make me instantly do an ad, but you can get me to write a poem at once. But I enjoy the corporate world tremendously too. I don’t really enjoy stiff, formal boardroom meetings. Maybe because I believe in connecting with people one-to-one. But advertising taught me clarity of intention, and that influenced my poetry. Saying something unless it’s understood does not satisfy me.

How does poetry express thought better than prose?
Through its economy. Take this example: Navak andaz jidhar deeda-e jana honge/ Neem bismil kai honge kai bajan honge (Wherever the eyes of my beloved fall/ Some are wounded, others slain).

The idea is so precise. If you had to explain this in prose, you would have to write an entire page. And prose allows less participation. Why do you think prose is more loved? Because prose is for lazy people. Poetry is for people with a fertile imagination. It’s like a buffet. You must serve yourself because the meal will not be served at your table. It’s a pity we have mostly lost the passion for poetry.

Doesn’t music do the same?
Music is like a container but the content is poetry. I tell musicians, Sharab pahaunchhaa te aap hain, lekin sharab banaa te hum hain. (You deliver the wine, but we are the ones who make it.)

Is there an aura around creativity that makes you comfortable or uncomfortable?
I don’t overrate art. I tell my finance partner: you and I aren’t different. I have the power to write words, you have the power to understand numbers. If you’re writing about a lake, you don’t have to sit in front of one. The image of a lake may have entered my mind a long while ago and that image matures in words. I don’t mind if anyone rejects a song. If it isn’t working, then it isn’t. The greatest lesson I’ve learned is to discard ideas. Advertising taught me that. I used to feel hurt when an idea was rejected. Advertising is a commercial world and has its constraints. In cinema, I have to do justice to the director’s vision. If I don’t, then it isn’t working. So I am very critical about all my work.

Do you feel songs add something important to films?
Absolutely. I feel they’re essential and give a new dimension to cinema, and cinema uses them beautifully. Songs can express emotions dialogue cannot. Love is expressed differently in prose and poetry. In dialogue, we say: I love you, but in poetry you can say, Humen tum se pyaar kitna, hum nahin jaante, magar ji nahin sakte tumhaare bina. We will lose that beauty if we follow the West. What worries me about globalisation is that some believe American culture is superior, while it may be the most inferior culture in the world. Just because their economy is doing well, their lifestyle is desirable.

I also believe film music has life beyond a particular movie. The first task of a song is to do justice to a situation. But the album has longevity and the song will find new contexts. For example, take “Zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya,” it is still sung today and it’s irrelevant that it was written for Hum Dono.

Has success affected you?
I don’t take it very seriously. But being successful has advantages. People listen to you and respect your point of view. They give me more space, and if I’m busy, they are ready to wait for me. These are the up-sides of success. The downside is you can get away with mediocre work. You have to draw the line and never let it happen. You have to be relentless and honest with your pen. That’s crucial.