Honey Irani says people began taking her seriously after she wrote Lamhe: ‘Someone said I’d ghost-write Salim-Javed’s work’

How did acting happen to you at such a young age?
My elder sister (Daisy Irani) was already in movies, and she was a big star. And Dulal Guha ji, the director, had come to sign her for some film. I was playing around in the hall when my mother was talking to him. While talking, he removed his hat and he was bald. I found that funny somehow and I said, “Mumma ye toh takla hai.” I got a tight slap. The guy started laughing. He asked my mom if she doesn’t mind, can he cast me because he didn’t know such a young child could speak so clearly. That’s unfortunately how I got into films. That’s my claim to fame (laughs). I used to hate it. I was always lured by ice cream and going to a fair, but I’d see the studio gate and start howling. But later on, I got very comfortable with it because of certain actors who I became very close with, like Rajendra Kumar, Meena Kumari, Nutan, Motilal, Balraj Sahni and Nanda. Then I actually wanted to go to the studio and not be at home.

Why do you call this phase unfortunate then?

Because I wasn’t educated. We would never go to school because we used to do two shifts at that time. The school would throw us out because we couldn’t take so many leaves. My mother would keep a tutor, but you don’t want to study after a day of shoot. At that age, you just want to play. So somehow I passed the fifth standard and that was it. My sister didn’t even do that, she just passed her fourth.

Didn’t being on a film set become a kind of education for you as a screenwriter?

It helped a lot. People are surprised how my diction is so clear, given that I’m a Parsi. I was quite well-trained on set. For example, Balraj ji told my mother don’t keep a Hindi or Urdu tutor for her. Just let her sing songs so that her diction improves and she’ll enjoy it too.

Is it true that Javed sahab encouraged you to become a screenwriter? Why did you become one only after your divorce?

When I was with Javed sahab, I’d keep scribbling short stories. He caught hold of that notebook and said, “You’re good at it. You should try writing.” But I never narrated it to anyone else because they’d think ye Javed ki biwi hai toh apne aap ko bhi writer samajh rahi hai. After we got divorced, I was very close to Yash Chopra and Pamela Chopra. They were looking for something for television because it had just started. So I narrated a short story to Pam, which she really liked. After working on it, Yash ji said it won’t be a TV show, but a film, which turned out to be Aaina (1993).

But Lamhe (1991) released first. Are you also sick of hearing that the film was “ahead of its time”?

I didn’t feel that it was ahead of its time, but everyone said it just to make us feel better after it didn’t work. That’s a way of consoling somebody. It was somewhere in my mind that the audience may not accept an age-gap romance. Although young girls would be married to old men back then, that was conveniently overlooked. Lamhe not working was a major jhatka for all of us. But we were quite aware that it’d backfire. We’d even written different endings for it. But Yash ji said, “Why are we so afraid? Nahi chalegi toh nahi chalegi, but that’s my conviction. What you’ve written is perfect. Let’s go ahead with it.”

Anil Kapoor and Sridevi starred together in Lamhe.

Even if Lamhe didn’t work, did its release give you personal validation after your divorce?

Of course, it did. People had started taking me seriously. Somebody had even written that after watching Lamhe, he thinks Honey would’ve ghost-written Javed sahab‘s scripts (laughs). I called him up and said, “Please don’t do this.”

But you would’ve had an impact on how he wrote, right? In The Romantics, a docuseries on Yash Raj Films, it’s established that his wife Pamela had a deep influence on how Yash Chopra portrayed women characters. Was that also not the case with your contribution in Salim-Javed’s writing?

No, I won’t say that. Honestly, I can’t take credit for that. I wouldn’t even get to listen to his narrations. I’d directly see the film during trial or premiere. I didn’t even have the audacity to give feedback then because dono ka para itna chadha hua tha (laughs). But I’d be quite direct when I didn’t like something. Like I saw Shaan (1980), I was quite disappointed. When I watched Immaan Dharam (1977), I thought everyone’s being so noble, I’d get diabetes. They’d be very scared that I’d speak anything in front of anyone.

Your women characters are far more nuanced than those in Salim-Javed’s films. Don’t you think so?

No, I won’t say that. Like Parveen Baby’s character in Deewaar (1975) is very nice. She was a prostitute, yet the voice of reason to Amitabh Bachchan’s character. Leading ladies weren’t conceived like this at that time. Women characters barely had anything to do in films then, including theirs. Except Don (1978), where Zeenat Aman had a lot to do. Or even Sholay, for that matter.

Do you think your films, considered ahead of their time, were difficult to cast because of that reason?

Ya, like we did have a little problem while doing Aaina. We wanted Dimple Kapadia to do the negative role. Though she’s a very good friend, she said, “I’ll pass this.” Similarly, Aamir Khan refused the negative role in Darr (1993) because of his image. In fact, I’d told Sunny Deol that for a change, he should do the negative role. He liked it very much, so I said, “Then do it! It’ll give you a new dimension.” He said, “No, the audience won’t accept it.” But the audience accepted it and how. Shah Rukh Khan became the villain, then he became the lover boy too. It’s just your perspective of how you see yourself. It’s all in your head. If you do a good job, people will accept it.

Sunny Deol and Shah Rukh Khan in Darr.

I’ve observed that there was one character in some of your films, who was on the edge, whether it’s Shah Rukh in Darr, Amrita Singh in Aaina, or Preity Zinta in Armaan (2003). Where did that come from?

With Aaina, I thought if both the sisters are the same, it’d be very boring. I was fed up of siblings or friends sacrificing for each other over their common love at that time. “Tum le jao, nahi tum le jao, arey ladki koi cheez hai jo tum le jao?” That’s why I was retaliating. Why can’t there be obsession in a man who’s crazy, yet loves you despite your marriage. Why can’t there be jealousy among sisters?

But it’s interesting that thanks to his obsession, Shah Rukh’s character in Darr has to die at the end, while the sisters in Aaina (Amrita and Juhi Chawla) reconcile. Why was that the case?

Because he’s more violent. In Aaina, when Jackie Shroff’s character tells Amrita’s what she’s done, she agrees. Even in Armaan, Preity’s realises she’s ruined the life of Anil Kapoor’s character. She doesn’t have to kill herself for that. That would’ve been overdramatic. Nobody does that.

That’s also another common theme in your films — evolved love triangles. The one who doesn’t find love expresses insecurity, but eventually comes around, whether it’s Lamhe, Aaina, or Kya Kehna (2000). Does that come from your personal life? You divorced Javed sahab, but are now in an evolved space to be family with not only him, but also his wife Shabana Azmi.

Ya, I guess so. It must be somewhere inside me. I can’t keep a grudge against anyone. Initially, maybe, but not more than a week! Then I just forgive and forget. But if you see Kya Kehna, Preity’s character doesn’t marry Saif Ali Khan’s because he’s not dependable. That wasn’t true love. He realizes it now that she’s dating somebody else. But she wants to get away from him because he’s treated her very badly. If you don’t respect a person, how can you marry them? It was a very different ending for that time. Everybody was scared. Kundan Shah (director) said, “You’ll have me thrown out from the industry!” But Ramesh Taurani (producer) was on my side. He even refused to shoot two climaxes. People did accept it. It was a huge hit.

Chandrachur Singh, Preity Zinta, and Saif Ali Khan in Kya Kehna.

Did screenwriting come as an escape for you after your divorce?

Maybe for the first few years. But then we became the best of friends. He has a lot of respect for me today, and so do I for him. The children also respect him. And Shabana is a dear friend.

How come you and Javed sahab never collaborated as screenwriters after your directorial debut, Armaan?

It wasn’t like we were writing together. He had written the dialogues. While doing that, if his suggestions for the screenplay made sense, I incorporated them. I definitely gave him the additional screenplay credit because he did work on it. His working way is very different from mine. He’s just about started waking up early. There was no question of that in the past. And then, there’s the ego more than anything else. Not that we’ve tried writing together anyway. I think we’re better off individually. Let’s not take that panga (laughs).

Javed Akhtar photographed with his wife Shabana Azmi, ex-wife Honey Irani, kids Farhan and Zoya and Farhan’s wife Shibani. (Photo: Shabana Azmi/Instagram)

You also worked with Manmohan Desai on Bodyguard, a film that never took off. He had a very different sensibility from Yash Chopra. How did that pan out?

I enjoyed thoroughly working with him. It was a very different genre for me. He’d asked Yash Chopra whether I’d be able to write a Manmohan Desai film. In our first meeting, he asked me to keep my pen and paper on the table and said this is not a Satyajit Ray film (laughs). Unfortunately, it took some time in casting because we needed Sunny, Sanjay Dutt, and Anil Kapoor, so there were some date issues. Then Man ji passed away.

Rakesh Roshan always pushed the boundaries of reality and teased something supernatural, from Karan Arjun (1995) to Krrish 3 (2013). As his screenwriter, did you struggle with those concepts, of how far can you can go to and where you can’t?

I always feel the emotion is very important. If it’s genuine, and not imposed, it works. That’s also what Rakesh ji believes in. If that comes into the script, you’re through. All storylines were his. When he proposed we make Krrish (2006), a superhero film, out of Koi… Mil Gaya (2003), a sci-fi movie, I wondered if we’d be able to make it. It shouldn’t look tacky! It involved heavy production, so Rakesh ji used to joke that he’d reduce the fees of the writers (laughs).

When you worked on the Krrish franchise, you were part of a writers room before that term was even coined probably. There was you, Rakesh Roshan, Sachin Bhowmik, Robin Bhatt, and Akasrsh Khurana, across age groups and backgrounds. How was that experience?

That was great fun, no doubt. It started with Kaho Naa… Pyaar Hai (2000). They already had a writer, Ravi Kapoor. But Rakesh ji wanted another, so he asked me if I mind working with him. I said, “Not at all! He’s a senior writer. I’d love to work with him.” Then we did Koi… Mil Gaya, and more writers were joining us. It was a blast! Rakesh ji used to ask us, “Tum log ladoge toh nahi?” But not once have we had an argument or chillam-chilli. From Sachin da, the most senior, to Akarsh, the youngest. We used to tease him a lot!

Hrithik Roshan’s Krrish 3 was Honey Irani’s last film as a screeenwriter.

Krrish 3 was your last film as a screenwriter. Why did you stop writing?

Honestly, I thought I’d stopped growing. New minds have come in. I don’t think they’re comfortable with seniors. They think that we’d bring back the sensibility of the 1960s and ’70s. So much for being ahead of my time (laughs)! This generation of writers haven’t brought anything of their own, unlike my generation. We’d witnessed life. They just write what they’ve witnessed on screen. Inka apna kya hai? It’s very hollow. I tell my children also, “Why are you so scared of emotions?” You should project emotions. It’s a very important part of our lives. It’s not melodrama. That’s how people are.

So what keeps you busy now?

Most of my time, I spend in Coonoor because it’s a quiet place to sit and write. Mumbai isn’t Mumbai anymore. When I come back, I ask why have I! The pollution, the roads dug up, so many people! And with the two Khans living on Bandra Bandstand, it’s quite a mess on weekends! Now, I’ve published two children’s books, and may do more. Nishi Prem (former Stardust editor) and I have written a web series for Zoya and Reema. I don’t know if it’s happening or not, because Zoya said, “Mom, you’ve written such an expensive show!”

Also Read — ‘Shah Rukh Khan’s character in Darr could have raped Juhi Chawla’s Kiran’, says writer Honey Irani, defends his behaviour as ‘genuine love’

How do you think Zoya and Reema complement each other as writers?
Superbly! Look at their latest film, Superboys of Malegaon. It’s heartbreaking that people didn’t go to watch it in theatres. Aur fir bolte hain ki achhi picture nahi banti. Aur dekhenge Nadaaniyan! How sad is that! Then they say we only promote star kids. When we promote others, you don’t go and watch them. You should promote them! Why would a producer invest in them if you don’t watch them?

That’s also what happened with The Archies. The trolling of the three star kids (Suhana Khan, Khushi Kapoor, and Agastya Nanda) hijacked the entire film, which also had five other newcomers who were outsiders.

It’s very depressing! And the kind of trolling they do, there’s a line to it. If you don’t like a film, just say it’s sh*t. Don’t go down the line of telling her things about her mother. This kind of trolling should be banned. What are you expecting them to do, kill themselves? Why do you need to stoop this low? It’s your frustration, na. It’s hurting that people can be so cruel and mean. I wonder what kind of upbringing they’ve had.

Ending on a lighter note, were you surprised that Zoya Akhtar could make a film like Gully Boy?

Yes! She spent so much time with those boys, watching them rap at their parties, she really got into it. That was really fabulous. I told her, “Zoya, I never knew you could make this film. Mujhe laga tum toh Dharavi ko bhi air-conditioned kar deti! (laughs).”