Gustaakh Ishq

Despite its shortcomings, one thing that is impressive about Vibhu Puri’s Gustaakh Ishq is that it’s not tentative about what it wants to be. No pretence or excessive self-awareness – often a crutch for films afraid to go the distance, hedging against becoming a laughing stock. In an age when Hindi cinema has been pilloried as ‘Urduwood’ by right-wing trolls, it’s heartwarming to see Puri’s film reclaim and revive the Muslim social film.

The pleasure of listening to Naseeruddin Shah say ‘ool julool’, a phrase nearly impossible to translate, the closest being ‘aisa-waisa’, silly, stupid, but not quite. The pleasure of watching Vijay Varma as a lover of Urdu shairi, using his head and heart to woo an old poet and his lovely daughter. And to have all of this wrapped in a film which privileges a love of language, flowery shairi and broken-hearted shayars, mouldering old Delhi printing presses and broke publishers, should have resulted in a film which makes you ache and sigh in the best way possible.

The test of an effective Hindi film these days is the post-screening afterglow. If it’s a loud historical, the chaotic traffic and fumes outside feel like a relief. If it’s a button-pushing social thriller, some walk out with big chests and a renewed passion to blame someone. If it’s a patriotic biopic, there might be wet eyes and a desire to be very Indian. If it’s a love story, men stride out with an inflated sense of self-worth, corny grins and cloud-nine-sized delusions. At different points in life, I’ve been guilty of doing all of the above. Add Gustaakh Ishq to the list, a period drama about poets and lovers that’s so immersive and committed to its setting that I was overcome by an urge to speak in chaste Urdu and rhyme idioms with emotions. The cab driver did not appreciate my use of “qaatil” to describe the waiting time. He sped away the second I started waxing lyrical about English being a flight and Urdu being the nest we come home to.

Director Vibhu Puri with co-writer Prasshant Jha deftly creates the charm of an old world where men and women battle not with swords but with words, some of it poetic. It is delightful most of the way as Nawabuddin Saifuddin Rehman alias Babban (Vijay Varma) goes out of Old Delhi in search of poet Aziz (Naseeruddin Shah), retired and keen on keeping his passion private. Publishing Aziz will perhaps revive Rehman’s father’s dying printing press, the son on a mission to get that rare writing and turn it into a book.

1998 का वक्त। पुरानी दिल्ली में बंद होने के कगार पर खड़ी अपनी प्रिंटिंग प्रैस को बचाने के लिए नवाबुद्दीन रिज़वी जा पहुंचा है पंजाब के मलेरकोटला में शायर अज़ीज़ बेग के पास। सुना है किसी ज़माने में अज़ीज़ मियां मुशायरे लूट लिया करते थे। लेकिन एक ज़ख्म मिला और उन्होंने लिखना ही छोड़ दिया। उनके कलाम भी कभी छप न सके, या कहें कि उन्होंने छपवाए ही नहीं। नवाब चाहता है कि अज़ीज़ साहब उसे अपनी शायरी दे दें। सीधे नहीं कह सकता, सो उनकी शागिर्दी में शायरी सीखने लगता है। लेकिन अज़ीज़ बेग का कहना है कि वो फनकार ही क्या जिसे अव्वल कहलाने के लिए खुद पर बाज़ार की मुहर लगवानी पड़े। इधर अज़ीज़ साहब की शागिर्दी करते हुए उनकी बेटी मन्नत और नवाब का इश्क परवान चढ़ रहा है तो उधर दिल्ली में तंगहाल मुंह बाए खड़ी है। क्या बच पाएगी नवाब की प्रिंटिंग प्रेस? क्या अज़ीज़ बेग अपने कलाम छपवाने पर राज़ी हो जाएंगे? आखिर लिखना क्यों छोड़ा था उन्होंने? क्या नवाब का झूठ पकड़ा जाएगा? मन्नत और नवाब का इश्क मुकम्मल होगा या…!