The Lifelong Beneficiary of Sholay

Rohan Sippy on earning dad Ramesh Sippy’s measured praise, his lack of non-filmi skills and the need for dialoguebaazi

Among Dum Maaro Dum’s many objectives, according to director Rohan Sippy, one was to revive the kind of dialogue that would get the crowd whistling, to put the verbal at par with the visuals once again. The 40-year-old could have been trusted with that attempt, having been raised in a home that made Sholay, Shaan, Shakti and Seeta Aur Geeta—films that contain some of Hindi cinema’s most memorable lines.

“Viewers go to a film expecting a dramatic, cleverer version of the conversations they have in real life. If there are no smart-talking heroes, cinema would be a bore. Even if they speak less, it should be effective,” insists Rohan, a probable believer in Hollywood ace Billy Wilder’s famous words that dialogue should be treated like a poor man’s telegram.

“Films like Dabangg and Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai were received so well partly because of their sense of dialogue. Like Dum Maaro Dum, they were a throwback to the days when dialogue was witty and intelligent. All of us want to see our hero utter a clever line because that’s what reminds us that we are watching a film. Punchy dialogue is a huge part of our cinema, but it took a backseat post-liberalisation because we were trying to get the Western sheen in our films. That’s why Shridhar (Raghavan, the writer of Dum Maaro Dum) and I thought that it’s about time we brought back the glorious punchlines of the 1970s.”

The film, Rohan’s third with Abhishek Bachchan and his total output as a director since 2003, ran successfully, prompting him to dub the public reaction “the most positive of my career so far”. However, it was the acknowledgement of his peers that mattered most, something he always desired but never sought. “Directors I respect called in to say they liked Dum Maaro Dum. On a personal level, that gave me greater satisfaction because they understand the finer nuances of cinema and its craft.” Another response that he cherishes most came from his legendary father, Ramesh Sippy, a man of few words and one who has looked at Rohan’s work closely and critically.

“Dad felt it is a step up from the previous films,” he says, pointing to Kuch Naa Kaho and Bluffmaster, his earlier attempts. “What dad said is enough to lift me high because he’s not the kind of man to praise his son just for the sake of it. With him, it’s more like the cowboy ethos, which is why he was brilliant at making Sholay. Those men don’t talk much. They just say, ‘Hey, nice shot.’ You are only supposed to do your job because that’s what you ought to do. Occasionally, there will be a tip of the hat. That’s how it is with my father,” he says.

For someone whose earliest memory is viewing Sholay as a four-year-old with bated breath at a trial at Film Centre, Tardeo, it was a given that he would opt for the movies. Sholay made the senior Sippy what he is today, both creatively and financially; a film that metamorphosed into a phenomenon, a brand name that would become the driving force behind the Sippys. Rohan has lost count of the times he has seen Sholay. “More than 100,” he estimates, recalling the first time he went on location (outskirts of Bangalore) as a toddler: “Dad was shooting the climax on the bridge. That was my first encounter with Mr Bachchan. I didn’t know who he was but I was captivated by this giant personality, this really cool hero in front of me laughing around with a big splotch of blood on his back. That’s probably where the beautiful, pure magic of movies began.”

A “lifelong beneficiary” of Sholay, Rohan often found himself enjoying the perks of the classic at the most unexpected places. “Once, a waiter refused to take money from me at an Indian restaurant in California when he got to know my father had made Sholay. Then there was a Pakistani cabbie in New York who gave me a free ride. Sholay has been a great calling card to strike up a connection with complete strangers.”

With so much of cinema around him, Rohan says he couldn’t have been anything else. “I don’t think I had any other substantial skills set. Also, you cannot expect otherwise from someone whose father and grandfather (GP Sippy) are in the show business, can you?” Rohan’s suspicions that he was getting fanatically obsessed with cinema were confirmed when he began watching more and more films every single day of his life, a routine he follows till date.

“Storytelling intrigued me. Today, I have realised that filmmaking is far more than a job. It’s an occupation; it gainfully occupies you. I don’t know how many jobs in the world give you the chance to collaborate with creative people from the fields of writing, performance and music, and technicians. I don’t know any other field in which you can indulge all your obsessions, compulsions and disorders. I have found a dream home.”

Before he arrived at the dream studios he characterises as home, Rohan was studying in Switzerland for two years, after which he got a philosophy degree at Stanford University, US. It was in Switzerland that Rohan met Abhishek, a personal relationship that would result in professional collaboration in a few years’ time. It is popularly believed that Rohan and Abhishek’s friendship deepened in Switzerland, which is not the case. Rohan points out that Abhishek is five or six years younger, as a result of which they barely knew each other and didn’t get to spend much time there. “Friendship really came about when I returned and asked him to do Kuch Naa Kaho.”

The bond blossomed because they had a lot in common; for starters, they are both film buffs, and discuss British and US television for hours on end. Their working relationship is similar to the one shared between their respective dads, but Rohan says it is unfair to draw any comparison. “We are nowhere close to them. But Abhishek has definitely been a great support. He’s a very bold actor in the sense he lets other characters grow even if he is in the lead, because ultimately he believes in the spirit of the film. Not many actors are okay with the tables turning on them.”  

After spending two years of his life on Dum Maaro Dum, Rohan says he has moved on and immersed himself in other pursuits, like reading and travelling. “By the time you come to the release of your film, you are so saturated that the only thing you look forward to is moving on.” He has begun work on his next film, and is being assisted in its production by his wife of two years, Roopa De Chowdhury, who he met during the filming of a TV commercial. After his divorce from his first wife came through, Rohan married Roopa in a small civil ceremony at home in 2009. “She is a very quiet person and is working with me now. I would say I have found my match. More than a match, actually,” he laughs, twisting his moustache, which he started sporting out of sheer boredom.

“Oh yes,” he confides on a lighter note, “A few years ago, I decided it was time for a reboot. I grew the moustache thinking it would be a cool, retro look. Last I knew, it got stuck.”

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Shaikh Ayaz

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