[Pappan] 'This is Delhi.'
'Father used to say there was love in this city.'
'Love on the Jamuna riverbanks.'
'Love in every dome and minaret.'
'Love in the flight of birds.'
'Love breathing in the sweet words spoken in these lanes.'
'Love is in the city scent.'
'O Lord, there's love in every soul.'
'And I am a living, breathing example of this love.'
'What I desire most is to save the last remnant of my father:'
'steeped in debt, the Mustaqbil Press.'
[Farooqui reading his unpublished novel] In the swaying boat,
from Sakina's trembling red lips, she blurted out these words:
"Do you love me?"
'With a heavy sigh, Jameel shook his head, when she said:'
"If you love me, then place hand on chest and swear."
Hearing this, on a lazy, cold January day,
Jameel took out his hand from his pocket in a flash,
and placed it on his chest.
"I swear on God, I am crazy about you."
Sakina looked into Jameel's eyes, Jameel looked into hers.
Lightning flashed across the sky,
their bodies trembled.
A storm was raging outside, and inside as well.
Sakina bit her lip,
and, twisting her dupatta, said:
"If you dare, put your hand, not on your chest,
"but on mine and swear."
[Exclaiming]
Amazing, Farooqui saab!
Forget Jameel! Introduce Sakina to me!
You've lit a fire in this cold winter, Farooqui saab.
Hey! Isn't it a bomb?
"Munni Bai." That's what father called this printing machine.
[Machine whirring]
When the old machine was in full swing,
she sounded like a lovely courtesan singing a "thumri".
[Imitates machine whirring]
Tales of grand romance were printed here.
The Mustaqbil Press taught a whole generation how to love.
So now let it teach them the art of love-making.
Just print the ads.
Tell me, when will you finish writing this firecracker?
Not a mere firecracker! The story is explosive!
The novel's name: "The Wayward Girl!"
[Farooqui laughing]
Jumman, give me 100,000 rupees.
The novel is yours in a month.
100,000?
Come closer.
Give me 5,000.
People like him charge a few rupees outside the mosque to clean ear wax.
The boy's innocent, but I'm not.
I'm the innocent one here.
I came here because of my friendship with your father.
Or else the world knows...
The world knows Farooqui doesn't need to peddle his fine literature.
People come begging to my mansion.
[Chuckles] Mansion?
You call your two poky rooms a "mansion"!
Pappan, what about your hemorrhoids?
- Treatment for impotency? - Must I try it again?
- Appease your irate lover. - That's what I'm doing.
The deadline for those ads is tonight. Hurry up!
I'll talk to him.
Keep talking. I'm off. Someone stop me.
- Farooqui saab! - Let him be.
There are so few Urdu letter presses left, and this is one of the last.
The Urdu Academy has felicitated us,
and you want to publish this hack?
Of course, you'll be printing some great poet.
Your father died, afflicted with the same stubbornness.
You ruined my plans.
Farooqui saab, what happened?
Your son is just like his father,
all he wants is to publish Aziz. Let him!
Pappan needs a beating.
- He's your older brother. - He should act like one.
Farooqui saab!
Why must you behave like this?
Ammi?
Who is Aziz?
No one.
Doesn't sound like "no one".
I told you, he's no one.
[Pappan] 'Farooqui's taunt worried my mother,'
'and made me curious.'
'Aziz? This name evoked different emotions in each of us.'
'I knew there was only one person who'd know all about Aziz.'
'Father's friend from college: Aunt Khadeeja.'
Ladies and gentlemen,
the next song is a request from Mantola
by Silky, Princy, Cheenu and their grandparents.
Guddu, Pappu and their parents.
Lyrics by Sahir Ludhianvi,
and composed by Khayyam.
[Knocking]
Aziz?
Where did you hear this name?
He was around during your childhood.
People started calling him "Old Delhi's new Ghalib".
An amazing poet.
His verse tore straight through your heart.
Give another big hand to welcome the heartthrob poet Aziz Baig!
[Applause]
"I can weave words into a fragrant bloom.
[Cheering]
"I can weave words into a fragrant bloom.
"Or turn pages into a rose-scented room."
[Applause]
That was a great couplet,
but your applause didn't match its greatness!
- [Saifuddin laughs] - [Aziz] What shall we do?
[Man] Give us another chance.
Very well.
[Applause]
[Khadeeja] His fleeting glance could heal or wound.
[Khadeeja] Many admirers are still wounded.
Beloved by all, star of countless poetry symposiums.
"Don't judge the pen tucked in my shirt's seam
"In time it could sharpen, shatter a dream."
[Applause]
[Khadeeja] He'd throw a glance at his fans,
and they'd throw their hearts at him.
[Khadeeja] Though many gave their hearts to him,
no one could claim his heart.
[Pappan] Then what happened?
He gave it all up overnight.
[Tense music]
His talk of love, his pronouncements,
poetry recitals, and the city itself.
All forms of writing.
I don't know why.
Everyone put up with his tantrums.
They say he doesn't even take their calls now.
But you can try.
Thank you.
[Knocking]
[Window opens]
- What is it? - Do you have time?
Use Hindi, will you?
Hindi is our national language.
Time is not "waqt", it's "samay."
I may be your tenant but you can't barge in like this.
Barrister Suryakant Ramakant Brahmakant Mishra,
can you spare any time? Will you hear a poem?
Listen.
[Reading Aziz's unpublished poetry] "Is there anyone whom
she did not call a friend?
"Is there anyone whom she did not call a friend?
"Must friends be so easy to befriend?
"Even though she knew me, she had moved on
"Beware, my friend! You may be bid farewell next."
Wonderful!
Imagine that! He's unpublished.
A great poet, no?
If you ask me, he's not a poet at all.
He's an instrument.
An instrument to save your press.
[Uplifting music]
Wow, Ammi!
You cooked lentils and meat, without any meat!
This house! You should've added some potatoes.
Some pickle?
Rat poison would be better.
You make my life miserable at home,
and Pappan makes my life miserable at the press.
Welcome, brother!
Nawab saab!
Eat something.
The electricity bill hasn't been paid for three months.
Does he care?
I begged Farooqui to come to the press. But does he care?
He wants to be an example, like our father.
Keeps citing the Urdu Academy felicitation!
That felicitation never got us a single order.
It won't buy us food either.
Brother, I want the same things as you.
A life of leisure.
And we'll get that life through hemorrhoids, pleasurably healing
and runaway brides' posters.
We must print something worthy.
Got 5,000?
No, but I have a scheme.
Move.
[Uplifting music]
Poetry for free.
For free?
Wow! Keep dreaming up your schemes. Pass my slippers!
You depended on leaked school exam papers,
now it's poetry for free.
Your schemes didn't help you then or now.
What do you think?
- I can't accomplish anything? - [Jumman] I can give it to you in writing,
your beloved Urdu letter press will close down soon.
[Jumman] Soon we won't be able to afford electricity or daal.
[Jumman] Then we can sit in the press and chew on the felicitation.
Ammi, there's no more bread.
How do you manage to eat?
A new scheme! Class 10 dropout.
[Poignant music]
[Suryakant] 'If you ask me, he's not a poet.'
'He's an instrument.'
'An instrument to save your press.'
[Line ringing]
[Minni] Hello.
As-salaam-alaikum.
[Minni] Wa-alaikum-salaam.
Can I speak to Aziz saab?
[Minni] Who's speaking?
Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman Rizvi. From Delhi.
We run a large publishing house.
[Pappan] I'm his admirer.
Yes?
I'm very keen to publish Aziz saab's poetry.
[Pappan] The moment I read it, I was floored.
[Pappan] Can you hear me? Hello.
Meet me tomorrow at 9 a.m.
At the fountain near Hukum Darwaza. Malerkotla.
Where did you say?
[Minni] Malerkotla.
And don't forget to wear a black sherwani.
A black sherwani?
Hello. Hello.
My friend, all well?
Mr Barrister, the rent!
The rent? There's still ten days to go.
- But I have to leave at once. - The Hindi word is "parantu".
Not "fauran", it's "tatkal". Not "rawana", "prasthan"!
- Mr Hindi dictionary. - You mean "shabdkosh".
The rent.
You know as well as I do, there's no law
that permits you to demand rent before the due date.
There's 120 rupees more in there.
What's more or less in friendship?
[Uplifting music]
That's my barrister's gown.
Are you going to argue a high-profile case wearing this?
You write petitions outside the court for 3-rupees a page.
So keep at it.
You can't wear that gown on the street.
It's unconstitutional and illegal.
I won't wear it on the street, I'll wear it on my body.
Milord!
[Upbeat music]
Keep your eyes on the morning colours
Spreading the morning colours
Stealing all fragile hearts
No stopping, no tiring
Just keep walking on
Blowing bubbles of laughter
Keep walking, O traveller
Just walk on
[Minni] Nawabuddin-ji?
[Gentle music]
Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman Rizvi. Salaam!
- As I was saying... - He's stopped writing.
Excuse me?
He's stopped writing.
He stopped a long time ago.
You could've told me that on the phone.
Would you have believed me? You would keep calling back.
If my father knew you had called, there'd be an uproar.
He hates publishers.
Well...
At least you got to visit 'Kotla.
There's a festival at Badi Bibi's shrine in three days.
There'll be qawwalis and a lovely atmosphere.
They say all wishes are granted there.
I've said all I wanted to, the rest is up to you.
Driver, please stop.
What?
What a strange woman.
[Pappan] 'She looked as sweet as honey,'
'but her attitude was anything but sweet.'
'I felt like accepting everything she said,'
'except the idea that the poet had stopped writing.'
[Uplifting music]
[Switch clicks]
Bismillah!
[Pappan] My father used to say: "a fish can forget how to swim,
"but a poet never forgets how to write poetry."
So I asked around and made my way to Moti Bazaar.
Is this 12/82, Moti Bazaar?
That's what it says outside.
Is Aziz saab here?
- What do you want? - I'd rather tell him.
Why do you want to know? Will you call him?
[Chuckles]
It's you!
So you do write!
That's my vice.
That I do write.
You're a professional poet.
I am not a poet by profession,
only by experience.
And you? A professional lawyer?
I'm not a lawyer by profession or by experience,
only in attire.
[Laughs]
Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman Rizvi. Salaam!
Wa-alaikum-salaam.
[Uplifting music] - Your name was?
Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman Rizvi. Salaam!
From Delhi.
Some tea?
Here's our young man.
[Clock strikes]
Amazing place!
I am a Nawab in name only. This is true nobility.
[Babba chuckles]
My grandfather was the Nawab.
I'm a humble watchmaker.
That's not true. You're a master poet!
What shocks me is that you haven't been published.
Why?
"I borrowed the light of a firefly and a star.
"But never once did I squander my moon from afar."
So your poetry is your moon?
The moon that is admired from afar
cannot become a bulb, dangling from a ceiling.
Besides, if the night should sell the moon,
there'd be darkness everywhere.
Well spoken!
What is your mission here?
[Uplifting music]
"Mission" makes it sound like business.
I come with a request.
Make me your disciple, Master.
[Chuckles]
I speak Urdu. But I lack the flair of the language.
Teach me how to write poetry.
Keeping a pen in your pocket will not make you a poet.
The pen must be placed on wounds.
[Exclaiming] That's profound! I must note it.
Do you write anything besides other people's verses?
Of course!
Phone numbers.
[Laughs]
"Verses aside, two tasks aligned, One notebook, two worlds entwined!"
There it is! My first couplet.
Ah, you're back!
This is my daughter.
She's a schoolteacher.
Say hello. He's come from Delhi.
His name is two yards long. Tell her your name.
Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman Rizvi. Salaam!
"Salaam" isn't part of the name.
[Chuckles]
Answer him!
Salaam.
[Gentle music]
I don't usually like meeting strangers.
But do you know why I agreed to meet you?
Because of your black gown.
They say people who wear black have pure hearts.
Bhoore?
- When did he arrive? - A while ago.
Who knows where Babba found him?
Why use the expensive cups? Is he some big shot?
Fifty biscuits? Why?
Five is plenty.
What were you thinking?
Why shout at me? Babba asked for tea.
Babba asked?
As if you listen to everything he says.
Here.
Babba asked!
What's wrong with her?
Has your lawyer left, Milord?
He's not a lawyer, he's a poet. A novice.
But a fascinating fellow. He wants to be my student.
- Student? - Hmm.
- Did he say anything else? - Yes.
He said Bhoore is very handsome.
A jester in old age! You must've been dangerous when younger.
Lethal. I was lethal.
He starts tomorrow.
Make me a paan. No supari.
Make him a paan, but don't make a fool of Pappan.
The lawyer is a dear friend.
- You...? - Bhoore. Attachee.
- "Attachee?" - My pen name.
You see people get attached to me very quickly.
That's why the name "Attachee".
- Bhoore Attachee! - [Clicks tongue]
You have style.
What will you have? A bidi? Or a cigarette?
I usually smoke bidis,
but on my birthday,
I prefer to blow smoke rings with a cigarette!
I don't know why, but today feels like my birthday.
I see.
[Cheerful music]
Happy birthday.
It may be your birthday, but you'll find me a present.
A place to stay. Cheap and comfy.
So come with me!
Come.
This is a good place. Chamkeela Lodge.
Great.
The bulb.
Biji, he's from Delhi. Give him a 60-watt bulb, not a 40.
Is a bulb any way to welcome him?
Guarantee?
- For the bulb? - For you!
Biji, I'm his guarantee, uncle, aunty, all rolled into one.
Babba, you finished all the sugar, as usual.
[Laughs]
Forget the sugar. Time to celebrate.
Why? Found me another suitor?
Not a suitor! A job.
Amritsar Convent School, a permanent job.
Salary: 4,000.
Why don't you ever ask me first?
Could you move from this house?
Would you come to Amritsar with me?
My lifeline has come to this point,
and now there's very little left
and before my lifeline ends,
why not find someone you like?
I liked him too.
I found him myself.
Never mind.
The bank manager called about the loan application.
[Chuckles]You won't give up your idea of starting a library.
It'll be in your name and in memory of mother.
Listen...
Don't walk. Take a tonga.
- I have money. - Keep it!
In your childhood, you could buy a doll for ten-rupees,
now everything's gone up, except for your father's status.
Or your daughter's needs.
[Chuckles]
I'll be off.
[Sighs]
[Phone rings]
Hello.
[Pappan] How are you, brother?
Oh! My sweetheart.
You know that new director? Karan Johar?
He made the "Kuch Kuch" film.
Yes, that very one.
He made a song for us.
[Pappan] Which one?
"You didn't miss me. What can I say?
"My eyes well with tears. What can I say?"
- I'm calling you, aren't I? - Two days late, Mr Missing.
Which forest were you sowing your seeds in?
Chasing girls, right? You scoundrel.
I'm chasing a scheme.
I'm in Malerkotla. At Aziz saab's.
Who's Aziz?
Remember, Farooqui mentioned him?
[Pappan] The great poet.
Unpublished too!
My mind's made up. We'll publish Aziz.
One minute. So why's he unpublished?
Eat the cake, who cares who baked it!
Why did you refuse Farooqui?
You have 5,000?
- As if your poet comes for free. - He will! You'll see.
I have to meet him a few more times. Butter him up.
Dear old man,
stop your scheming.
Don't stress, brother.
I've found my purpose in life.
I've failed many times, this time I'll pass.
I'm hanging up.
O friend, my master has come home. My luck has turned
Here.
Salaam.
Have I become unrecognisable in just two days?
I ignore some people I do recognise.
I see. But you didn't mind inviting them here.
"There's a festival at Badi Bibi's shrine in three days."
I didn't invite you; I just mentioned it.
Why did you ask me to wear a black sherwani?
You cleverly found a way into our home. Student!
Why did you say he stopped writing? He still writes brilliantly.
What do you want?
He writes but he doesn't want to be published.
He writes so he'll agree to be published.
Whoever comes here always wants something from Babba.
Like you.
He wants nothing. Not fame, or money, or success.
We've faced many hardships, but he's never sold his work.
He's never accepted a student either. Has he?
[Gentle music]
Grief, disappointment, loneliness, sadness...
Your eyes tell me many things,
but not your name.
Oh Minni!
Minni?
Mannat. Mannat Ali Baig.
Mannat Ali Baig.
[Bicycle bell rings]
Master!
I don't know if you're on time or late.
My watch has stopped.
I didn't know what time I was expected. Maybe I am on time.
Hmm! I have a book for you.
Lesson number one.
There was a time when children came to me to learn Urdu.
I would teach them a little, earn a little.
Now there are more English-medium schools than children in this city.
I've nothing against learning English.
It gives one new wings, opens up new vistas. But Urdu?
Urdu is the nest you must return to as the sun sets.
Right.
Dictionary?
"Lughat."
A treasury of words.
You've come to rob, so rob away!
[Chuckles]
[Giggles]
You're so witty!
Similar-minded. Sympathiser.
Sympathy.
Single-minded.
"Copulation."
Jinsi? "Intimate canoodling! "
[Sniffs]
"Copulation."
[Plate thuds]
Copulation?
You don't need a paratha, you need a slap.
I'm studying.
Some scholar!
Biji!
Your generation know only lust, not love.
Biji!
In my day, we knew the meaning of love.
Dream-like love. Fairy tale love.
You'd pass her a book,
our hands would brush together, our hearts were moved.
Lovely!
In those days, glances were skewed and caps too.
Here's my husband's cap.
Son, girls don't fall for loafers,
they fall for poets.
[Knock on door]
[Cat mewing]
[Cheerful music]
Nawab Dehlvi.
"Hold onto your heart before it bursts open!"
Babba is in the bathroom.
Very well! - [Babba coughing]
Your chest is so congested, but you insist on wearing a thin overlay.
[Babba coughing]
Youth blossomed on you too late, Babba.
[Bhoore exclaiming]
Looks like youth blossomed on you today.
You look like a Nawab without a kingdom.
You look terrible.
If you want to be a poet,
don't change your clothes, change your outlook.
Babba!
I'll get your medicine.
So, what word resonated with you last night?
This is the age to talk to chicks...
- [Babba] What? - I mean girls.
To fall in love.
Why speak to words?
There's no difference between poetry and love.
In both cases,
you begin with praise.
And the deeper you go, the greater are your sighs!
Nothing in the world compares to Urdu poetry.
In English, if you tell the beloved:
"You look like a murderer!"
She'll curse you.
Say the same thing in Hindi and you'd get a thrashing.
But say it in Urdu:
"You look a killer."
And she'll kiss you. If she doesn't, I'll change my name!
Youth struck you too late, Babba!
[Pappan laughing]
Pappan, the soul of poetry is not in words,
but in feelings.
You must touch hearts.
- Master, may I? - Go on!
"My words are coarse like a cactus spine
"Yours as soft as sweet jasmine at night"
"If you must gift me sorrow, be kind
"I'll keep that memory close to mind."
How wonderful!
[Pappan] 'The Master taught me with great sincerity.'
'And I learned with great insincerity. That's how it all started.'
'But soon the poet began to matter to me more than the poetry.'
'My schemes and motives faded.'
'I came to con him,'
'but instead I became attached to him.'
'The experience in his words. The innocence in her eyes.'
'Both drew me towards them.'
'Far from my own family, I became close to strangers.'
'And yes, sir, I became his admirer.'
'Then days turned into weeks, weeks into months.'
[Reading Farooqui's published Novel] "Jameel was struck by an alluring aroma
"when he opened the door.
"The scent was so familiar to him.
"It was Sakina's perfume,
"blended sweetly with her perspiration.
"A heady fragrance wafted in the air.
"It was that same scent.
"He realised Sakina must be near.
"Jameel ran to the roof terrace.
"He saw Sakina standing there,
"trembling in the cold. With naked...
"feet!"
Wow!
The writer says "feet", but most guys will think "body".
That's real talent. Who is this writer?
The king of cheap fiction.
Farooqui. His new novel.
"The Wayward Girl."
It's a blockbuster.
His novel is selling like hot cakes. Aziz is old hat.
A sitting camel is still taller than a standing puppy.
The old hat will set the market on fire.
Listen to me.
[Pappan] You listen.
[Reciting Aziz's poetry] "If we part, this heart will never mend...
"If we part, this heart will never mend.
"It may pretend, but it will never mend."
"I won't flinch when I see you shining bright.
"I suffer yet it won't show in plain sight."
Amazing! Will he give it to you?
Of course!
That's if you don't screw up.
[Pappan] Why would I do that?
Sounds like the scene there is turning romantic.
[Jumman] Hope you're not in love again?
I'm a hunter!
Just as I feared.
You're the kind of hunter who ends up becoming the prey.
Be careful this time. Okay?
"If we part, this heart will never mend..."
Master!
- As-salaam-alaikum. - Wa-alaikum-salaam.
Your demeanour suggests you have won a war.
Absolutely, I have.
Your student has composed his first couplet.
Really? Recite!
"With careful hands, slow and true...
"With careful hands, slow and true
"I must extract what's left of me in you!"
Glory be to Allah! It's good.
But...
But?
The thought must be fresh.
Like?
Like...
"I have freed the bird from its iron cage at last
"I have freed the bird from its iron cage at last.
"Now I must free its heart from its cage."
[Exclaiming]
Your words kill me, Master!
If only I could write like you.
Not like me, or like anyone else,
write like yourself.
That'll be the most beautiful poetry.
Some tea?
If it's without chillies?
[Laughs]
[Tray thuds]
Minni!
She wasn't always like this.
When she laughed, you could see her dimples.
[Chuckles]
But she doesn't laugh much nowadays.
When the heart breaks, the person is broken.
Listen!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
Just stay a little longer by my side
Listen!
Is cream covering your tea?
- What? - [Chuckles]
We call it "veiled" tea!
Yes! It's amazing.
"Veiled" tea!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
Rickshaw!
[Bicycle bell rings]
Rickshaw!
[Gentle music]
Let me carry it. Why bother with a rickshaw? Let's walk.
I really like two things:
One is walking, the second is walking with you.
[Cheerful music]
Let's go.
Rickshaw!
[Gentle music]
Don't get too close to Babba.
When he finds out why you really came here,
he'll be disappointed.
Okay, I won't get close to Babba,
but to you.
Stop.
He's getting down.
- We were going home... - He's getting down.
[Poignant music]
You came here pretending to be a student,
so stay that way.
- You're mistaken... - Let's go.
[Pappan] Yesterday I spoke to a word.
"Failyore."
That's wrong.
You mean "failure".
You may encounter failure but never lose hope.
- Even if it breaks my heart? - Even so.
It's not that easy, Master.
If your heart was ever broken, you would know.
[Laughs]
Mirrors and hearts are made to be broken.
Mine was broken too.
Not just broken, it was shattered.
Then?
I glued it back together and made do.
But glue won't help this jacket, nor will darning.
Buy yourself a new jacket. A present from me.
I recite:
"A lover's wallet craves no gold.
"Just a picture of a lover to behold!"
Attachee, quiet!
[Laughs]
By the way, are you in love with anyone?
[Laughs]
Her photo?
[Cheerful music]
[Camera clicks]
[Calling out]
She's mine, I'm going to keep her photo in my wallet.
That won't do,
take my advice,
follow her home.
[Tense music]
Do you understand the concept of safety?
I care for her and her safety.
I'm a Delhi man.
I like to make sure she gets home safely.
A nice hot cup of tea, please.
- Listen, Minni. - Parvez, let me go!
[Parvez] I can't! I'm not the same.
[Parvez] I swear I won't raise a hand against you ever again.
Listen to me, Minni!
- Who are you? - [Minni] Pappan, no, no, no!
[Minni] Pappan, stop! Let him go!
- What did he say? - Nothing!
I'm a Pathan from Daryaganj. I'll cut you!
- What did he say? - [Minni] Nothing.
Don't take me lightly.
- Let go of him! - Why? He's going to get it.
He's my husband.
My husband.
[Tense music]
Sorry, brother.
"I connected my coach to the success train with great difficulty,
- "but some f***..." - Hmm?
"But some fellow pulled the chain."
[Babba chuckles]
The station of success is often far away,
but you must keep going.
Because...
even success needs to see dedication.
Maybe I'm not dedicated to the idea of achieving success.
It's not "apan", it's "hum".
Mind your grammar!
Of course, Master!
So shall I use soap or cream?
What's more expensive?
There.
The cream then.
We're no longer poor.
We're about to hit the jackpot, sonny.
- That's great. - Yes!
[Man] What are you publishing?
[Man] Did you finally trap Farooqui?
Farooqui isn't in the same league as my writer.
We're talking about a great poet.
Aziz!
Aziz?
Oh, Farooqui saab! How are you?
I was just kidding.
You write brilliantly!
The thing is,
at 1.30 p.m., the municipality shuts off your water supply.
Yes.
After that, no matter how many taps you open,
you won't get a single drop of water.
Your Aziz? His 1:30 p.m. ended long ago.
[Farooqui laughing]
He'll publish Aziz!
He'll publish Aziz! Just try!
[Biji] Pappan!
A call from Delhi.
[Anklets tinkling]
[Gentle music]
Tell him I'm out.
[Pappan] I'm at Aziz's. Hi, Minni-ji.
Please come.
[Uplifting music]
I usually dry my clothes outside,
and my underwear inside, or it gets stolen.
Scooters are wonderful.
Can you ride one?
I learnt how to, many years ago.
Who knows if I can still ride one?
I enjoyed riding.
And you?
What do you like?
Me?
Me? I like many things.
When a scooter jumps out of its stand, I love that.
Singing loudly in my shower, love it!
And at weddings,
I like dancing like a snake. No power on earth can stop me.
So you danced like a snake at your wedding?
At my wedding?
No!
I'm a bachelor.
A full bachelor. What did you think?
I didn't make the foolish mistake you did...
[Tense music]
Look, I know...
It's personal but...
that man...
didn't seem right.
We're divorced.
So why did you stop me? I was going to whack him.
I swear,
I can't stand people misbehaving with women.
I may not look tough, but I did some wrestling when I was younger.
I might not have bulging biceps,
but I have guts. I would've hit your husband.
Not husband, a mistake.
[Gentle music]
It's past history.
Let's start a new chapter.
Here.
I should go.
Give me a chance. And give yourself one too.
How long will you be miserable?
The bird is free of its cage, now let its heart be free too.
[Poignant music]
I may not be good-looking, but I have a good heart.
It's not your fault. A heart is not visible.
I've said all I wanted to, the rest is up to you.
Have you seen the rising sun?
Is that a new film?
When did it release?
Every morning.
Shall we?
[Uplifting music]
I'll be there.
Yes, Babba. Her dimples really show when she smiles.
Useless, pointless
But still desirable
This nonsensical thing called love
Without rules
Without principles
Without rules
Without principles
This nonsensical thing called love
[Biji] You leave early and come back late.
Looks like you're very fond of the poet?
The poet and his poetry.
Your brother called from Delhi again.
- What did you tell him? - The usual. "He's out."
Unsteady on my feet
I falter
I walk down her street
In a daze
Unsteady on my feet
I falter
I walk down her street
In a daze
I smile without a reason
Awkward without a reason
The trial of love unfolds in the court of two hearts
Sometimes impunity
Sometimes a small mistake
This nonsensical thing called love
Master!
Hmm.
Listen to this:
"This blood, this loyalty, the ancestors prayers so true
"The old mansion I was raised in, no gold can undo."
[Poignant music]
[Chuckles]
Beautiful.
[Babba laughs]
Glory to Allah!
Minni! Look.
Master has given me his pen.
"To the famous Pappan Dehlvi!"
Oh, you're famous?
Of course, I'm famous. Everyone knows me.
Whenever there's any trouble, I'm the prime suspect.
Do you always talk like that?
Only if you keep smiling like that.
Your eyes tell me something
They whisper softly like a sweet bird
Is that a letter or a message?
Why do birds hum as they do?
Her cheeks are dimpled and rosy
The goblet of love spills over
The kohl in her eyes shows love
My naïve ways
Are the dust of my dreams
This nonsensical thing called love
[Clock strikes]
[Yawning]
[Tense music]
What's happening?
Minni!
- Minni! - [Minni] Yes?
Babba!
- Hello. - Babba can't see.
What?
We're going to the hospital. Meet us there.
Don't worry. I'm on my way.
Yes, hurry.
Bhoore!
[Jumman] Brother,
our mother had a heart attack.
Careful!
- Why didn't you call? - You never answer!
You're always out.
Mother was asking for you in her unconscious state.
After all you are the older son.
I had to drop everything to come and get you specially.
[Phone ringing]
[Bhoore] Minni!
Come on!
Let's hurry!
[Ambulance Siren wailing]
[Inaudible]
[Sombre music]
[Tense music]
Ammi!
You're back!
You look fine.
Why wouldn't I be?
Is this some bad joke?
My jokes are bad?
You think settling down there is funny?
Ammi, I was persuading the poet.
Or fooling us?
You said you'd get his poetry.
We believed you.
Then you said he'd teach you.
We believed you.
But for how long more?
Ammi, he's an idiot, but you're smart.
Look,
the poet gifted me his pen.
- That's a big deal? No? - You're showing off a 20-rupee pen?
We borrowed 2,500 to send you.
We sold the geyser to pay it back.
Now we must boil water to bathe.
He gave me his pen, he'll give me his poetry.
It was nearly settled, then he fell ill.
Ammi, he's losing his sight.
But you're the one blinded by love.
- Stop that! - You should stop!
Ammi, this is the reason why he's there.
Our lives are in shambles,
while he's busy flirting with some girl.
Kissed her yet?
Slit your wrists to prove your love?
- Give me the book. - No, I won't.
- Ammi, stop this shameless fellow. - Jumman, take his bags inside.
No need. I'll take the night train back.
Ammi, you're fine.
I dare you to leave.
Don't stare at me. Listen.
A mobile company wants to turn our press into a shop.
They'll pay rent and commission on each sale.
We'll be made for life.
- Brother... - What's this fancy new vocabulary?
If you're dying to go back, why go alone?
I'll come with you wagging my tail between my legs.
I'll tell them
this dedicated student and Urdu lover is there to rob his poetry.
Then we'll see,
if he gives you his poetry, or the boot.
The mobile guys are coming with an advance.
Keep your nose out.
[Music]
I will fly away with my ruined life
[Phone rings]
I will fly away with my ruined life
- I can no longer stay in your city - Hello.
[Minni] Hello? Who's this?
Hello.
I can no longer stay in your town
In silence, I will die
I will not share my grief with you
I can no longer stay in your town
"The sun was setting,
"the darkness spreading,
"she waited alone in the desert,
"but he did not return.
"Her eyes were filled with disappointment and tears.
"She cried so much
"that her tears could have flooded the desert."
He wasn't a bad person.
Bhoore, have you heard from him?
Where did he disappear to?
Don't know, Babba.
Babba, you know what's the most foolish thing on earth?
To think about someone
who doesn't think about you.
Even in the cool shade, my feet burn
Even your shadow seems a stranger now
How long will it take
to clear this junk?
[Jumman] A month.
[Mr Gupta] You could get to the moon and back by then.
[Mr Gupta] Clear it in 15-20 days.
[Jumman] Done.
The pain of separation will wither me
I can no longer stay in your town
So you won't mend your ways?
How long will you keep wasting your time?
Move on.
Gupta is paying a fortune for this junk.
I'll manage everything, but I have one request.
Just keep your mouth shut, scoundrel.
Scoundrel?
[Poignant music]
From brother it became "bro".
From "bro", you became even more disrespectful.
Now it's "scoundrel"!
I lost respect in your eyes very quickly.
What happened?
Remember how we used to go and watch the Republic Day parade?
That was long ago.
There was always a huge crowd. And you were so tiny.
I'd carry you on my shoulders.
As the parade passed by, you clapped. You were so happy.
My shoulders ached but your laughter made me so happy.
As a kid, you'd make a big fuss about going to bed.
You were so stubborn. I'd make you the street performer,
and I'd become a bear or a monkey
or a squirrel.
Remember?
I used to dance all night for you.
Then finally you'd go to sleep.
Look at this scar.
You were in love, but I was the one who got beaten up.
I had three stitches.
But I didn't let them touch you. That's this "scoundrel" for you.
Okay! As if you did me such a big favour,
and I'm the one who let you down.
You fell behind.
[Poignant music]
I want you to move ahead.
I pray you do.
But I'll always be ahead of you in one race:
Age and experience.
I'm older than you and I always will be.
[Snickers] Older!
I didn't ask for your useless wisdom.
You're my brother,
don't act like a father.
He died years ago.
Fathers never die.
[Poignant music]
They stay alive in their children.
How will we face father in the afterlife, if we sell his press?
One day I'll have to answer to my children, too.
I don't mind being called a useless son,
but I refuse to be called a useless father.
Get it?
Do you know why you keep failing?
I'm a romantic too,
but, unlike you, I don't keep falling in love.
Don't try to overreach yourself.
The old man and the girl will soon realise
that you're a good-for-nothing!
[Mother] You're leaving?
You've inherited this stubbornness from your father.
He wanted to publish Aziz too.
Master?
[Applause]
[Mother] 'We attended all his poetry recitals.'
'Your father, me and Amrita, Aziz's fiancée.'
'Your father's cheers rang out above the din of the applause.'
'They moved together like two hands of the same clock.'
'No matter what the situation, they were always together.'
That was amazing, my friend.
Your jacket's nice. Take it off.
You've already floored the audience. Who will you floor now?
I'm not off to recite a poem, but to meet one!
- The jacket. - Candlelit dinner with Miss Amrita?
A poet doesn't always stick to one poem.
You're getting married next month, Aziz.
Amrita's pregnant.
Let me commit a few crimes before I'm imprisoned for life.
"I have the temperament of the sea.
"But that river does not know.
"Many a muse came and embraced my shore.
"Yet I flowed on, wanting more."
[Laughs]
You're a complete scoundrel.
No, only 75 percent. 25 percent, I'm a dog.
My ace publisher!
[Mother] 'He was an expert at promising loyalty, and an expert at lying.'
Your friend is such a scoundrel.
Look at this!
He's a poet.
A poet who is not a scoundrel is not a true poet.
I'll talk to him.
No point. Life will teach him a lesson one day.
[Phone rings]
Hello.
[Tense music]
What?
[Mother] 'A crime is often committed by one,'
'while another pays the price.'
'That's the way of life.'
'Aziz never gave up his ways,'
'while Amrita gave up her life.'
'Your father did everything a true friend could.'
'He sacrificed money, sleep and time for his friend.'
'But suddenly, one day, his friend vanished.'
'Aziz turned his back on his responsibilities, and his friend.'
'Your father awaited his return anxiously.'
'He waited a long time,'
'but Aziz never came back.'
'Your father was so upset by his friend's absence'
'that he fell ill.'
'Then one day, quietly, he passed away.'
Saif!
'That day I buried my husband'
'and Aziz's memory.'
Is anyone there?
Your father's desire to publish Aziz remained unfulfilled.
He talked of showing Aziz's brilliance to the world.
[Poignant music]
When you speak, I can hear your father's voice.
I'll fulfil father's wish, Ammi.
I'll try one last time.
Aziz will be famous.
He'll be published even if it's the last thing our press does.
Aziz's first collection.
Ameen.
[Pappan] 'It was easy to promise mother,'
'but hard to convince the master.'
'I struggled against his obstinacy. I had so little time.'
'Only two weeks to fulfill my father's dying wish.'
Is this 12/82, Moti Bazaar?
Oh!
Where did you disappear to?
You didn't inform us.
I had urgent work at home.
I'm sorry, I didn't tell you I was going.
I got home and life's problems took over.
- I recite: - Go on!
"Life's twists and turns - such sorrows never lessen...
"Life's twists and turns - such sorrows never lessen.
"They move on as they do, while we are left undone."
Glory to Allah!
Urdu has become your close friend. And your poetry isn't bad either.
[Laughs]
Yes, I have a teacher.
He may not be a gifted man of verse, but he's okay!
[Chuckles]
He teaches me a little.
Don't disappear again, my friend.
[Poignant music]
My heart sank.
I have news to lift your spirits.
Really?
I bumped into a very influential publisher in Delhi.
[Babba chuckles]
We started talking.
It turns out he's a big fan of yours.
I knew you had fans but not such passionate ones.
He said: "If Aziz will publish his poetry, I'll pay any price."
An advance.
Fully automatic.
It'll suit you.
Shall I say yes?
[Poignant music]
This watch...
is my twin.
When I want time to pass, then I wind it,
if not, I don't.
Sometimes it tells me the time, sometimes I guess it.
In this way life passes by pleasantly.
What's left of my life will pass too.
This...
this tick-tick of modern times
would suit you better, son.
Come. Let's go home.
We have so much to catch up on.
[Poignant music]
- Shall we go? - Yes.
[Jumman] The scooter isn't here. Did brother take it?
Yes.
- Where's he gone? - To Malerkotla.
[Tense music]
He's gone?
He's taken the scooter?
He's a Nawab, after all.
Gone!
You didn't just wash your hands with soap,
you washed your hands of him.
He...
Poetry did not drag him there. He went to trap the old man's daughter.
If he must have his way, I'll have mine. I'll sell the press.
From now on, no one will take Pappan's name in this house.
[Bicycle bell rings]
[Pappan] Did anyone miss me?
Miss you? We were worried!
Babba, me and even Minni.
I don't know about you,
but I really missed you.
You're my friend. My only friend.
Shall I tell you something?
It's a secret.
I'm all set with a girl.
- Get it? - Sure, I do.
[Giggles]
Who's the lucky girl?
Brother, I won't boast, but I can tell you,
Attachee doesn't fall for girls.
Girls fall for Attachee.
The fallen must have a name.
Suman-ji.
- Suman? - No! It's Suman-ji.
You're a real player!
I did nothing.
Suddenly she stood in front of my cycle,
holding a bouquet, saying:
"Mr Bhoore, either make me sit on your cycle,
"or run me over."
Bravo! What did you do?
- I did it. - What?
Made Suman-ji sit on my cycle.
[Bhoore and Pappan laughing]
Bhoore, call a tonga.
Is the Emperor ready?
He's getting ready.
You look even lovelier when you're cross
Whoever you may be, you don't seem of this earth
The false frown seems so real
Just stay cross a little longer
[Pappan clears throat]
[Babba] Minni!
[Cat mewing]
[Exclaiming]
Mr Attachee,
call an ambulance, not a tonga.
All the ladies will faint.
Well, it isn't my cat's birthday every day.
Come on! Let's go.
Spread the sunlight under your seat
Slide away the shade with your delicate feet
Listen!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
I'm here too.
Look straight ahead.
Join us!
It's a family photo, Master.
Stop calling me "Master". Does it hurt to call me Babba?
- "Tumhari." - Incorrect, it's "teri".
- Come, join us. - Come.
Listen!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
Why did you go away?
My brother made a hue and cry.
I had to go.
So why come back?
My heart made a hue and cry. I had no choice.
My love for you dragged me back.
And my love for Babba.
I admit I'm a liar, an imposter,
but I'm not a cheat.
You pretend to be honest...
Why didn't you tell Babba about me?
No one knows Babba here,
and those who know him think he's a modest watchmaker.
You were the first person to remind him that he's a poet.
You know the first time you called,
I thought you were a fan who could help him rise to the top.
Why did you discourage me when we met?
Because I thought you were a fake fan.
And now? What do you think?
I'm totally convinced.
That...?
You're a...
fake fan.
"You're a fake fan!"
Should I cut myself,
or swallow poison to prove my admiration for him?
Will that convince you?
If you keep disappearing,
my trust will disappear too.
[Poignant music]
All right.
I won't disappear again.
I've talked to a publisher.
I read him one of Babba's poems. He loved it.
Did you get Babba's permission?
I'm not the Master's only admirer,
he has many more.
But he doesn't want admirers.
And you?
Don't you want him to be famous, or be published?
Isn't that why you asked me to come, to have him published?
Don't be angry with me,
I hoped you'd help me.
[Babba chuckles]
[Pigeon cooing]
Why did you leave Delhi?
[Chuckles]
Were you hurt or something?
"Guilt shook me so hard that the street.
"The town, the city slipped away from me.
"My crime... I broke a fragile heart.
"My punishment... losing everyone along the way."
Why not publish your poetry, Babba?
Why not?
What's the point?
You'll earn royalties, you'll be invited to participate in poetry symposiums.
They'll applaud you.
You'll be famous.
Am I some kind of soap?
The more famous I am, the better I am?
I'm a poet, my friend.
Don't put a price on me.
An artist does not need the market's approval to be great.
Besides,
it's not necessary that every poet becomes famous.
Not at all.
- Babba! - Ever heard the story of the demon
whose life was locked in his parrot?
My poetry is my parrot.
If it flies away, I'm done for.
[Bhoore] Babba! Lunch is ready.
Ah, come!
[Pappan] 'Artists don't always become famous in their lifetime,'
'but once they die, they're considered brilliant.'
'A life of poverty, a death in prosperity.'
'But I wanted Babba to become famous in his lifetime.'
'He wanted anonymity. I wanted him known.'
[Pappan] Master!
Master!
Master, what's going on?
[Laughs]
I'm glad you're here.
Drinking alone is like drinking poison.
As if drinking together makes it healthy!
People drink from an open bottle,
I drink with an open heart.
I see!
Where's your poetry diary? Bring it out.
Write.
"In love's embrace, there was no fear of a goodbye
"nor do I have a word of hers to come by.
"They ask me how she looked so rare
"but no photo of her can I share."
Bravo!
That sounds new.
Publish it!
We'll earn a little, and I can get married.
Is my poetry a horse you can ride to your wedding?
My poetry is my love.
Don't weigh love in money.
Mr Attachee, it's over. Get me another bottle.
- Enough. - One more.
[Bhoore] Coming, sir.
Don't give him so much to drink.
He doesn't drink every day, only once a year.
Today.
How come?
It's the day he first met his wife.
She left this world,
but he never left her.
Here.
That's it.
- Can I say something? - Yes?
Should I not return to Delhi? Stay here with you instead?
Why do you wish to abandon Delhi?
Were you hurt there or something?
I have a cure for that.
There's a stepwell in Dera Baba Nanak.
It's said
if you throw a coin in the stepwell with true intentions,
your wounds will be healed.
We should go there one day.
It can be risky too.
It is said your wounds will vanish,
[exhales] or the one who has inflicted them.
We must go there one day.
Babba, I was very young
when my father died.
I remember so little about him.
When I look at you, I think perhaps he may have been like you.
[Chuckles]
Pappan, this is for you.
My twin.
Never part with it.
[Poignant music]
[Pappan] 'It was important for the world to hear Babba's voice.'
'For my father's last wish,'
'for Babba's recognition,'
'and for Minni's smile.'
'I had only one path left.'
'The path that pierces through Babba's agony.'
[Cheerful music]
Where are we going? And why?
Are you a poet or a detective?
Just enjoi the journey.
Not "enjoi", "enjoy"!
Enjoi! Enjoi! Enjoi!
[Laughs]
He knows the word but doesn't live it!
[Brakes squeal]
Crossing city after city
Turning morning to afternoon
Passing the night as you walk on
Walk on!
With the sun on your back
Riding on the kite of the moon
Flying high as you hold on
Walk on!
Humming the melody of all tomorrows
Walk on!
Keep walking, O traveller
Keep walking, keep walking
Keep walking, O traveller
Keep walking, O traveller. Just walk on
[Cheerful music]
[Music concludes]
What is this place?
The stepwell in Dera Baba Nanak.
You said you'd like to come here some day.
Today's the day.
Throw a coin in and heal your wounds.
Here. Go on.
Who said I wanted to come here?
You did.
I said we should come someday.
I never said, "I want to go."
- Babba... - To keep love's wounds alive,
you must let them fester.
Not every wound should be healed.
When will you stop this nonsense?
Stop it!
It sounds like you're stuck in a bubble of lies. Locked inside.
[Minni] Babba!
Your own truth scares you.
[Bhoore] Let it go.
What is my truth?
- Never mind. - No!
Out with it!
[Bhoore] Babba...
- Go on. - You want to hear it?
All right. You're a deeply selfish man.
"My poetry, my treasure. I won't publish."
What is this madness?
People are dying to be famous, and you keep saying no to fame.
But you need to earn money. Have you any sense of responsibility?
Minni is silent, Attachee doesn't dare speak up. You don't listen to me.
- Must she pay your debts after you die? - Don't talk to Babba like that!
See? She's still defending you.
Getting a loan for the library was so difficult,
but she spent it on your treatment.
She quit her job to look after you.
Not everyone is as irresponsible as you.
And Bhoore? He lives for you.
He loves someone but won't marry. Because he shan't have time for you.
Your loving family is paying a high price,
while your brilliant talent is snoring away! Bravo!
Have you heard the story of the demon
whose life was locked in a parrot?
My parrot is my poetry, and if it dies...
I fail to understand you, or the kind of person you are.
[Sombre music]
Four for Malerkotla.
Let it go. That's just Babba.
I've run out of patience.
I wanted the world for him, but he...
- When's the next train? - In half an hour.
Brother...
I brought him here.
Minni misunderstood me. My brother cursed me.
But I stood up for him.
My mother gave me all her savings.
I have nothing left. Just a printing press that's about to be sold.
And he...
Take him to a doctor. He's gone senile.
[Sombre music]
Babba can't be cured.
If he doesn't help himself, so how can we help him?
It was my father's wish to publish him.
He must be published!
But how?
There's one way left.
Will you help me?
Not for my sake, or for your sake, for Babba's sake.
[Suspenseful music]
[Poignant music]
[Sobbing]
Babba!
What's come over you, Attachee?
Can't I even hug you?
Forget it! Affection is beyond you.
I'm taking the luggage. The train's due.
He is what he is, but he dotes on you.
All he wanted was to help you. But you chose to fight him.
Keep this up and you'll find yourself alone. All alone.
Will Babba become famous now?
Where are you going?
I stole the life of the man who raised me and made me
who I am today.
I can't look him in the eye again.
[Melancholic music]
[Babba] What can I say? I've made so many mistakes in my life.
I used to attend poetry recitals,
so I could hear your mother praise me.
[Applause]
[Babba] My poetry was inspired by her love,
and her love was fuelled by my poetry.
The more famous I became,
the more her praise was lost in the clamour.
[Intriguing music]
[Babba] 'She gave me love.'
'I gave her betrayal.'
'Accounts are never balanced in love.'
'Some more, some less.'
[Thunder rumbles]
'But that night I learned there are no winners or losers.'
'We couldn't marry,'
'but she blessed me with a daughter.'
[Melancholic music]
'From that day on,'
'more than blaming my fame, I blamed my own behaviour.'
And I fell in love with Amrita once again.
'I ran away from home, ran away from the city.'
'But I could not run away from myself.'
For my life to make any sense, I had to do something right.
And that was writing poetry.
It was the only way of seeking Amrita's forgiveness.
And if I would write, I'd write only for her.
[Babba] My poems are not poetry, they're an apology.
How can I sell a book of apologies
at railway stations, traffic lights,
on pavements, on streets?
When I die,
my collection must be buried with me.
At least it's something I would have done right.
[Babba] I didn't want to hide the truth from you, Minni.
But I was scared you'd see me with the same hatred
that I see myself.
Babba, don't think so much.
You know the conscience
is always ready to torment.
Sometimes before committing a sin, sometimes after.
If only my conscience had tormented me sooner.
[Sombre music]
[Babba] 'My poetry is my love.'
'Not every wound should be healed.'
[Pappan] Is your poetry your moon?
[Babba] It's an apology.
Pappan.
[Babba] My poems are not poetry, they're an apology.
[Sombre music]
Babba!
This was lying outside.
He's gone again. Bhoore is nowhere to be seen.
You can guess why.
[Horn blares]
Who will give me a place on this earth?
If I am turned away from Your court
I cease to exist, to exist, to exist
Since surrendering my life to You
My love for You has undone me
I cease to exist
I cease to exist, to exist, to exist
I cease to exist
I bow to You sixteen times and say:
I can only turn to You to voice my sorrow
The world has crushed me so
That my life has turned to dust
I cease to exist, to exist, to exist
I cease to exist
Love is never true.
It's all a lie, Babba.
Love never lies, my child.
Often the person we fall in love with turns out to be a liar.
But love is always truthful.
You are the ocean...
You are the ocean embracing all in Your waves
Embracing all in Your waves
You are the ocean embracing all in Your waves
Embracing all rivers that rush to You
Take me in Your arms, submerge me
Patiently, I stand on Your shore
Unaware, worried am I
You are a God; I am a simple mortal
Your face is hidden in myriad flowers
You are the beloved in veiled hijaabs
Sighting You, many could lose their minds
Without sighting You, I have lost mine
I cease to exist, to exist, to exist
I cease to exist
O Baba! I must have done something terrible
to find myself here.
No, son.
You must've done something good to find yourself here.
"Your hair will grow and get dishevelled,
"if you never comb it.
"Your prayers will go in vain,
"if you never apologise."
Go on. Apologise.
Our Peer used to say...
There's a stepwell in Dera Baba Nanak,
May Judgement Day redeem us
May I cross over by Your grace
if you throw a coin in the stepwell with true intentions,
your wounds will be healed.
May Judgement Day redeem us. May I cross over by Your grace
My heart was full of sorrow, O beloved
It has doubled since meeting you
I cease to exist
[Train horn blares]
[Thunder rumbles]
Careful! If you break it, you'll have to pay for it.
Anything left? Careful!
[Tense music]
[Cat mewing]
[Minni] It's been a while.
I was somewhere...
I can't see Babba.
Where is he?
I told you.
It's been a while.
My heart was full of sorrow, O beloved
[Babba] 'It can be risky too.'
'It is said your wounds will vanish,'
'or the one who has inflicted them.'
I cease to exist
Babba left this for you.
You were a good student.
You've completed your mission.
[Sombre music]
Isn't this your love?
Aren't we all just a means?
God be with you.
[Melancholic music]
[Playing Babba's recorded message]
Pappan,
good poets
are often not good people.
Their complex poetry can become one with their personality.
Because you're a pretty bad poet,
I'm sure you're a very good person.
You made me realise
that I was punishing the living in the name of the dead.
And so I've decided
that my complete works, my ghazals, my poems
are now yours, Pappan.
Do whatever you wish with them. But I do have one request,
don't print them under my name.
If I'd wanted them published, would I not have asked your father?
Don't be surprised.
I knew who you were the very first time we met.
I am Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman Rizvi. Salaam.
Wa-alaikum-salaam.
Your name?
Nawabuddin, son of Saifuddin.
He was my dearest friend.
Saifuddin, my ace publisher.
I wronged him too and never apologised to him.
But when I met you, I wanted to hug my old friend, the ace publisher.
You both have the same eyes.
You both looked less at me and more at my poetry.
But I'm not bad at accounting.
I shall not waive my royalty.
Pay me 30 percent.
And that's for your daughter.
If you don't mind,
call her "Amrita".
I wrote for one Amrita,
maybe it'll help her namesake.
Before leaving, I could not meet you.
Whenever you have the time, do come and see me.
We have so much to catch up on.
[Melancholic music]
[Pappan] 'You were right, Babba.'
'An artist does not need the market's approval to be great.'
'Besides, it's not necessary for every poet to become famous.'
'Not at all.'
[Melancholic music continues]
O beloved
If you miss me, don't look for me
Don't call out to me
If you miss me, don't seek me out
Don't call out to me through time
I'll take this journey of life only once
I swear on my beloved, I won't be born again
On the path of life, we pass but once
Never to return again
[Horn blares]
If you loved her so much, why did you both separate?
"Once a friend was close for a reason, my bad luck had no reason
"It pulled us apart like noon separates day from night
"Poverty pulled us apart."
So good! You write so well, why don't you publish?
The day my work is worth publishing,
I will publish.
[Poignant music]
What kind of a person are you?
When you saw me running, why didn't you pull the chain?
Since how long?
Three years.
At the station where we parted.
I've passed through before,
it's the first time you've noticed me.
But I've seen you many times.
So why didn't you call out to me?
Because you had left. You had to return.
That's the way of life.
May your feet never get soiled
Keep walking in the shade
[Babba] 'In sadness, you smile.'
'In happiness, you weep.'
'You have to be strange, if you fall in love.'
May your feet never get soiled
Keep walking in the shade
Leave behind this old city
Come, let us go to a sunlit village
Listen! How lovely you look in the sunlight
How lovely you look in the sunlight
Just stay a little longer by my side.
Listen!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
You look even lovelier when you're cross
Whoever you may be, you don't seem of this earth
The false frown seems so real
Just stay cross a little longer.
Listen!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
May your feet never get soiled
Keep walking in the shade
Leave behind this old city
Come, let us go to a sunlit village
Spread the sunlight under your seat
Slide away the shade with your delicate feet
Listen!
How lovely you look in the sunlight
Just stay a little longer by my side.
Listen!
Useless, pointless
But still desirable
This nonsensical thing called love
Without rules
Without principles
Without rules
Without principles
This nonsensical thing called love