Exclusive | Mahesh Bhatt feels wife Soni Razdan a better actor than daughter Alia Bhatt: ‘If you feel there’s no better actor than you, watch your mom’s film’

You returned to direction after 21 years with Sadak 2 in 2020, but haven’t directed a film since. Why is that?

A filmmaker must come to terms with the reality that you are nothing but an expression of the time frame that you are born in. The forces — the personal, the cultural, the political — shape you, and then you find your expression and idiom. Like a woman can give birth to an X number of kids since that’s genetically predetermined, a filmmaker also has an X number of films within them. There’s a unique construct to every filmmaker. A lot of them stick to that construct all their lives. But I was lucky enough that I could reconstruct myself. The guy who made Saaransh (1984), Arth (1982), Janam (1985), and Naam (1986) also went on to make Daddy (1991), Aashiqui (1990), Sadak (1991), Dil Hai Ke Manta Nahin (1991), and Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke (1993). I touched both the poles — I achieved both commercial success and so-called artistic glory. Then the question was: Are you going to do the same thing again and again? The fuel to make movies was ebbing in me. When beauty fades, everyone can see. But when the talent within you withers, nobody can see it, but you know it. So, there was a volcano within me which continued to turn dormant.

You also abandoned Ghulam (1998), which was eventually helmed by Vikram Bhatt. How was that transition like?

Those were difficult times. I’d signed films, but the very thought of going to shoot pained me. I had to act like a director there. My heart wasn’t in them. It’s like a dead relationship. When a relationship ends in a marriage, you’re still under the same roof, but there’s something that’s amiss. So I asked myself, why am I doing this? How much more would I earn? There’s no end to this. Also, as I lived life and felt more deeply, I couldn’t tie those experiences into into the construct and idiom of Hindi cinema back then. Somewhere, it’s a profession of knitting dreams which have bearable truths. But to expose that to the hardcore, bitter, and naked truth wouldn’t get you popular acceptance.

But one of your last directorials in the 1990s, Zakhm (1998), did get popular acceptance. Didn’t that motivate you to not hang up your boots?

When I turned 50, I made the most significant film of my life — Zakhm. It was autobiographical to an extent, influenced by the 1992 Mumbai terror attacks. I come from a family of different cultural streams, of a Ganga-Jamuna tehzeeb. My father was a Nagar Brahman and my mother a Shia Muslim. I went to an English-medium school, but was raised in Shivaji Nagar. I was the expression of that India. And India was changing. So, I made Zakhm. Although it didn’t work at the box office, it became a cult classic with time. It made a lot of money after that. It only proved the point that people just say make good films, but they don’t watch them. And those who do, they’re so few that you can’t maintain your lifestyle with dignity in a first-class city like Mumbai.

Zakhm starred Pooja Bhatt and Ajay Devgn in lead roles.

But you continued to remain involved in films and became a mentor to new talent. What was the idea behind that?

I saw around me a lot of my juniors who had that fire and that hunger. So, I proudly turned to a new kind of cinema. Vikram Bhatt made Raaz (2002), Anurag Basu made Murder (2004), and Pooja Bhatt made Jism (2003) for me. So, the new century began with a new phase where I played the ideologue and the mentor. It was a very gratifying experience. Mohit Suri, Kunal Deshmukh, and innumerable music directors and writers also came from that stream. It’s my privilege that I helped the peak that potential in them. That’s also what I’m doing with Suhrita Das.

How did you find her?

I met her at a Durga Puja pandal in Kolkata 10 years ago, which I was invited to. She told me she’s a hairdresser, runs a salon, is married, has kids, and lives a protected and privileged life. But she had a hunger to get associated with arts. “I cut hair with my left hand and I write with my right,” is her slogan that I still remember. Almost 10 years later, it’s ironic that when her first film is releasing, it’s on the eve of Durga Puja. I don’t know what it is, but she says it’s divine forces telling her that life’s come a full circle. But I’m very proud of her that she transitioned into cinema like a newcomer, a blank slate, a child who kept second-guessing herself. I told her if I could do it after so many ups and downs all my life, then why can’t she? It took me back to when I was 19 years old and visited my guru Raj Khosla, he asked me, “Do you know anything about filmmaking?” I looked at Guru Dutt’s smiling photo in his background and said, “No sir, I don’t know anything about filmmaking.” So, he very generously said, “Then it’s fantastic! Zero is a great place to begin.”

Still from Tu Meri Poori Kahani.

How did you ensure that as a mentor, you don’t interfere with her creative process?

I must confess when she cast Shammi Duhan in Tu Meri Poori Kahani, my vote wasn’t for him. No matter how seasoned you are, irrespective of the reputation that you’ve extracted a performance even out of a rock, a fresh pair of eyes brings a new energy and perspective. That’s the beauty of performing arts — a new stream will originate from a new pair of eyes. Since she came from West Bengal, her eye was pure and crystal-clear. She also cast the lead actor, Arhaan Patel, with that eye. There was a moment on the first day of shoot when we were let down by his performance in a scene. I even reached the point of dropping him from the film. But she said, “No, this boy may not be as great an actor, but his body language reflects his value system. He hasn’t developed that urban cleverness yet. We need a boy who’s connected to the soul of India.” A director must assert herself, and I’m glad I went with her decision. So, this role of mine, where I plant a seed and to see that plant blossom, it’s a different high altogether. I’d rather make people now, than make films.

Tu Meri Poori Kahani revolves around a female artist’s conflict between staying at home or working for her livelihood. Soni Razdan told me that it’s a struggle for her to carve out her own identity after being known as Mahesh Bhatt’s wife and then Alia Bhatt’s mother all her life. How do you see her struggle as her partner?

I find Soni Razdan a better actor than Alia. You’d wonder why I’m saying that? But her idiom is so evolved that even as her life partner, I couldn’t give her enough roles because her style of expression, body language, and nuances are not what we call mainstream India. But she was very well cast in Songs of Paradise. That’s because her father was a Kashmiri Pandit. She has great empathy for Kashmir. But you should watch the show she did for BBC (Neighbours). She also did a brilliant performance in Sanjoy Nag’s Yours Truly (2018), in which I did a cameo. That was the time when Alia was giving back-to-back smash hits like Udta Punjab (2016). I told her, “Alia, before you develop a pride that there’s no better actor than you, go watch your mother’s film.” She’s a smart girl, so she watched the film. Soni is like that banyan tree whose scent of stillness gets automatically conveyed onto the big screen. It’s a magic that I haven’t been able to get over.

You’ve also launched a couple of actors who went on to become filmmakers, like Anupam Kher. Did you see that glimpse of a storyteller in him?

I don’t consider direction a wonderful skill. I feel everybody’s got a story to tell. Anupam Kher has made an outstanding film in Tanvi The Great. How it did at the box office doesn’t concern me. Had he wanted, he’d have made a film with any big star. But to make a film on an autistic girl’s issues and to mount it on that canvas with conviction makes it one of the finest films I’ve seen.

And what about Kunal Kemmu?

Kunal Kemmu surprised me. Since he started his journey with me as a child artist in Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke, and I wasn’t there on Kalyug (2005), I did see a glimpse of that director in him when he was doing that film with Mohit. He also delivered one of the greatest performances I’ve seen, as the young version of Ajay Devgn’s character in Zakhm. When Ajay got the National Award, he had the grace to say that actually, the award should’ve been given to Kunal. He said the depth that his character had was lent by Kunal. Only a big actor and a bigger person can say that. After Zakhm, I saw Kunal wasn’t comfortable just being an actor. He’d started asking questions which were outside his purview. Since we share such a deep bond, he did tell me when he started writing Madgaon Express (2024), which he wanted to direct. It wasn’t a shock to me because there’s an emotional powerhouse in him looking for expression. He feels he can exhaust that only through direction.

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Finally, since Tu Meri Poori Kahani is also a romantic drama with newcomers, do you feel it’ll be compared to your nephew and protege’s Mohit Suri’s recent blockbuster Saiyaara?

I believe no matter how big a filmmaker is, there’s always a fear chasing them. Which is why great filmmakers of the past have said one of the scariest things is to inch towards the release date. Our seniors have said, “Films should be made, but not released. That’s very scary.” So I can imagine what Suhrita must be going through since it’s her first film. Yes, there’s an uncertainty because today’s times are anti-entertainment. Curated content has taken over. There’s a snacking on smartphones. You don’t view films anymore, you scroll them. That enigma of the audio-visual format has been demystified.

Ultimately, one see one’s own conflict in the story. A girl must wonder after watching if she has to choose between life and work. Pooja Bhatt (daughter) told Suhrita that she must talk about the experience she had in her life. When I was making Aashiqui after Daddy and approached Pooja for the role eventually played by Anu Aggarwal, she was in a relationship. Obviously, like all young girls at that time, she listened to her boyfriend who told her to choose between the film and a normal life. And she chose the so-called normal life and said no to Aashiqui. She regretted a lot that the entire glory went elsewhere, and immediately said yes to Dil Hai Ke Manta Nahin. It was back then, and it’s an issue as relevant today.

I showed the trailer of Tu Meri Poori Kahani to my Pilates trailer this morning. He said, “I love the trailer!” I asked him what stayed with him. He said, “The shot when she lets go of his hand.” I told Suhrita that the core of her film has been communicated within a minute. Now, whether this film works at the box office or not, kisi ka baap predict nahi kar sakta hai. Yes, we’re going with the headwinds of the times, with a new star cast. But the late Raj Barjatya of Rajshri Films had told me, “At the end of the day, no matter how much noise you make, what works is the film. If it has the soul, pureness, and passion, it’ll definitely connect with the audience.”