The look is in order : Sparkling white kurta pyjama, a three day old stubble and beautiful mojris with intricate gold work. As the photographer gets ready to take his pictures, Gulzar stops him and puts on his spectacles. “If I am not wearing my spectacles, people may not recognise me,” he jokes.
 
The poet-lyricist-screenplay writer-film maker is in Delhi to add one more feather to his already crowded cap: that of a short story writer. His book, Raavi Paar and Other stories , published by Harper Collins has just been released and he is scheduled to meet members of the newly formed Rupa Book Club at an informal evening in the Capital’s haven for the highbrow, the India International Centre . Sitting in his IIC room, Gulzar looks quietly pleased that his short stories, translated into English by Alok Bhalla and Masooma Ali, are now accessible to a wider audience. It is important to share your writings with readers and writers in other languages, he says. I know the works of so many writers in Telugu, Tamil , Kannada, Gujarati, Oriya, etc., only through their translations. To read Sitakant Mahapatra , your only source is English. You wish you knew Oriya, but you don’t, so it has to be English. Gulzar has already published poetry collections like Pukhraj , Janam, Ek Boond Chand, Kuch Aur Nazme and a book of selected poems translated into English , silence. Many of his books have been published by Rupa.

Says RK Mehra, the boss of Rupa and Harper Collins, “I have known Gulzar for more than ten years. He such a gentle and accommodating person. We are always working out ways of doing books together. We don’t generally publish books in Hindi. But we did Pukhraj for him.” Gulzar recollects that when silences appeared, several readers asked Mehra about how they could get the original in Hindi. And then came the next query: How could they get the original of the Hindi silences—because Gulzar writes in Urdu! Says Gulzar with a smile, I am waiting for something similar to happen with Raavi Paar and other stories too!

Most of the short stories in the present collection are brief , sharply observant, evocative and have a cameo-like quality. They include stories of partition, some personal reminiscences, like memories of the late film director Bimal Roy with whom Gulzar worked as an assistant for several years, stories of love, simple everyday incidents, pithy comments on feudal mores and much more. “I like it because of its impact and its concise nature.” Does that mean he will never attempt a novel? “It means nothing of the sort,” answers Gulzar with a laugh, “But to write a novel you need patience. You get over writing a poem fast . but for a novel you would have to struggle much more and for longer. I finish a short story in about one or two sittings. Though the brushing-up process goes on for a month or so. I keep adding and changing words. And of course I keep wondering whether I have imparted the impact that I wanted to or not.” Poems, lyrics, screenplays, and now short stories—all are different ways of expressing the same feelings, reactions. How does he shift gears from one from to another ? “I don’t shift gears,” Gulzar replies, “ I am gear. The subjects keep shifting me—sometimes it’s a poem . sometimes a screenplay , sometimes a film.” No one form takes precedence over the other. But Gulzar’s first love remains poetry. Which doesn’t mean that he’s first a poet and then something else. “In front of Raakhee, I’m first a husband , in front of Bosky, I’m first a father. It is like that. But yes, I started as a poet. I wanted to be a poet.”

A variety of experiences have shaped Gulzar’s creativity: Early memories of Deena in present-day Pakistan , where he was born; the scorching memories of partition; growing up in Delhi ; the deep influence of Bengali culture ; the years in Mumbai where he got into screenplay writing and filmmaking and had the chance to work closely with directors like Bimal- Roy. Later in the evening with members of the Rupa Book Club, Gulzar reads out some of his nazms, richly evocative of the sights, sounds and smells of his native Deena: the jhoolas, dariyas, the small railway station, the wells, the fruits… As he says, “ Mera watan jo udhar rah gaya, aur mera mulk jo idhar hai, dono mein main bat gaya.”

At the time of partition, Gulzar was only about ten or eleven years old. But the ability to feel, to b e aware to absorb, was already there. He had to wait, though, till he learnt how to express what was accumulated in him. At any given point, he says, there is so much surrounding a person—light, shadow, the breeze, voices, faces—it all depends on how much one can absorb. Memories of partition ---curfews , fires, the sound of bullets ---all this was assimilated, to come out years later in an outpouring of poetry and now, short stories.

After partition, Gulzar came to Delhi. Even today, when he comes to the Capital, it’s like a homecoming. He used to live in Subzi Mandi , which then had the milieu of a small town. “If one walked about three miles, one came to Gur ki Mandi , which was a total village. A little distance away, one would come to a pahadi , which was the Ridgee. It was all jungle at that time, like a small hill station. If you crossed it, you came to Kashmere Gate. To go to Qutab Minar you had to go in a special bus. I have travelled in tongas and trams in Delhi. It all sounds so strange today. I have seen Delhi change its face and become completely Punjabi.

But even more than Delhi, what has influenced Gulzar deeply is Bengali culture, specially literature. He can read write and speak Bengali fluently. Many of his films have been based on Bengali novels ---Khushboo was a film on Saratchandra Chatterjee’s book, and Kitab and Namkeen were based on the writings of Samaresh babu. In fact , his first film, Mere Apne was a remake of a Bengali film, Tapan Sinha’s Apanjan. How did this love affair with Bengal begin? I had read translations of Tagore and Saratchandra, explains Gulzar. They impressed me a lot. I felt like reading the originals. I wished I knew Bengali . Aur Phir meri tolaash shuru hui.

Gulzar also had a wide circle of Bengali friends in Mumbai----- film people like Salil Chowdhary, Basuda, other IPTA friends. According to him , culturally, Bengal is one of the richest parts of India, specially in literature. There used to be a saying, smiles Gulzar, that what Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow. It was true. Around the time of the national movement, two out of five people in any performing art would invariably be Bengalis. Take children’s literature. You won’t find such a wealth of material in any language except Bengali or Marathi. Bengal has always had a special fascination for me.” Incidentally , Gulzar himself has written many books for children, including verse tales from the Panchatantra in Hindi. The creative process through which experiences get translated into different artistic forms varies from person to person. For Gulzar , it involves a lot of “churning”, before he can settle down to write. But coupled with this is the inconvenient need to be professional as well. You can’t wait for moods, says Gulzar wryly. “You have to learn to apply yourself. If Bhimsen - Joshi has to give a recital at seven in the evening, he can not afford to wait for the right mood.

Isliye riyaaz zaroorihai. And for a writer , riyaz means simply sitting at the table and writing everyday . Tagore had a daily habit of writing, says Gulzar. So did Bernard Shah who said that he could think only with his typewriter in front of him. Me I am like a clerk. I reach my office at 10.30 in the morning g and sit there till the evening working. And work for me is basically writing. A few last questions. His films. please, says Gulzar, looking mildly pained, No questions on films. Let ‘s stick to books. That’s what you were here for, is not it? He obviously takes his new role of short story writer very seriously. A novel may not be that far away. Perhaps it is in the churning stage right now..