The first rule of journalism is to remain objective, always—something, this generation of “news-breakers” are already grappling with. But, speaking with veteran film director-lyricist-poet-author Gulzar for the third time now, this writer’s struggle has never seemed more real. We can’t really put a finger on why that’s the case. Though, we must admit that when we were two years old, Lakdi ki kathi from the film Masoom (1983) was played on loop on our TV set—the number of rewinds terribly reduced the life of the video cassette—as the song made our toddler self dance with glee. We didn’t of course know then that Gulzar had penned it. Later, it was the ghazals that he wrote—the album Marasim (2000) being a personal favourite—that preoccupied our teenage heart. So, when the octogenarian, who is blessed with a razor-sharp memory, remembers our meeting from four years ago at his Pali Hill bungalow, we can’t help but smile. Since this time, our conversation is over telephone, we allow this slip. That’s also where we cut-short the impulses of the inner-fan. We are back to discussing his book, a new memoir, which is also several years old. Confusing?

Gulzar seen on the verandah of his Pali Hill bungalow. Pic/Yogen Shah