Few filmmakers have chronicled longing as tenderly and persistently as Imtiaz Ali. Across his films, love is rarely straightforward; it is marked by yearning, distance, and self-discovery. He returns to familiar emotional terrain in the Partition-era romance Main Wapas Aunga. In this conversation, Ali speaks about why women are a step ahead in his films, his fascination with Punjab, and why good cinema always finds its place.
You write your men in pain so well. Is it because the women in your stories are always a step ahead?
For me, women are always a step ahead. That is what I have seen all around me all my life, and I feel that even if I try to stop it, that’s how my stories take shape. It just happens.
In these times of hyper-masculine narratives in cinema, you bring us this lilting, bittersweet romance with Main Wapas Aunga. How did you come about the idea?
This is exactly how it came about—the present world, what’s happening here, and how important it is for us to have an all-pervading influence of love over us. I met a lot of people who had seen Partition with their own eyes, and the stories that I heard were not stories of strife, violence or hatred. They were about something beautiful, romantic, and yearning; something they were missing, or that one thing that kept them alive.
I thought about the films on Partition, but such stories have never been told. We have the last generation that saw Partition with their own eyes. There is a story in their heart, and I wanted to bring it to this generation.
Punjab is a constant in your films, almost a prime character. What’s your connection with the state?
I feel so welcome there, and they don’t mind what I say when I’m telling their stories. Actually, it’s their large-heartedness. I’m not a Punjabi, and so many stories that I have told, and the characters that I have created, are Punjabis, and they have always welcomed me. They feel that I’m allowed, you know?
You are not someone who usually repeats your actors, except Ranbir and Deepika, and now Diljit Dosanjh, soon after Chamkila.
I look at characters and think of who is most suited to play the part. I never think that I’ll be working with an actor back-to-back, actually, but both these films were so particularly suited for Diljit. Chamkila for different reasons, and this one because he embodies the sentiment of Nirvair Grewal. It is his story more than mine. So he understands and embodies the character that he’s playing.
What was it like working with Naseeruddin Shah?
I was working with Naseer Saab as though he were a newcomer. I was taking these liberties of sometimes giving him instructions that I wouldn’t even take with Sharvari [Wagh] and Vedang [Raina] because I knew that he would have no judgment. He is a non-judgmental actor. He can wonder why this director is saying things at the last minute. He is always interested in the craft and process. So we were all learning something from him.
There is always such anticipation when your films are released. Do you get anxious?
No, it doesn’t bog me down. One can only make the film as best as they can. Thankfully, there is so much to do in the run-up to the release that the director has no space to sit and worry. And if you have some free time, you just want to chill, stare at the wall and go blank.
My only thoughts are: am I embarrassed about it, or will you be embarrassed? How embarrassed am I about it? So it’s the confidence in the film that keeps you afloat. I have realised it’s better to make better films. It is safer and more profitable to make good films.
You said cinema is going through a period of resurgence, but what do you make of this constant chatter, the creative obituaries being penned? Do you think it’s impacting the arts or not?
I think the truth of whether the film is meritorious or not will prevail, and these are short-term things. I think the chatter on social media can impact you if you let it and participate in it. Everybody is in their own bubble. I have hardly seen a film succeed humongously while being bad. So, ultimately, there is some merit in the film that makes it popular.
Tamasha, which was written off, is now a cult film. What is your reaction to all this?
I’m happy about it. I wish the audience had loved it earlier. But it’s not them; it is always the maker. I could have put things in a more masterly way, so that people could immediately love it and get what they were seeking.