Guru Dutt's 'An Unfinished Story': An unsuccessful attempt

Usman has filled his basket with stories from every possible source and set them out like clothes drying in the dhobi ghat.
Actually, a series of unfinished stories.
Actually, a series of unfinished stories.

If the reader picking up this book, like a bright young student of one of Mumbai’s foremost colleges opined, believes that Guru Dutt was Sanjay Dutt’s grandfather, then this book might provide him with some information that is both new and interesting. It’s a formidable volume, weighty in the hand. The same, however, cannot be said of the contents.

It’s hard to guess the intent behind the writing and publishing of such a book. Take the fact that more than 50 years have passed since the iconic filmmaker passed into the realm of legend; take the fact that his films are even today internationally admired, and continue to inspire generations of film-makers; and take the fact that the mystique around his life and death remains a beguiling story for film buffs who constantly seek to match the realities of his life with the reels of his creations... All this justifies a book on Guru Dutt.

But, and this is a big but... only if the book puts out something not known before; a perspective on his work, a revelation that helps solve the mystery of his personality... anything new and relevant. Instead, the book justifies its title; it is indeed an unfinished story. Actually, a series of unfinished stories.

Usman has filled his basket with stories from every possible source and set them out like clothes drying in the dhobi ghat. Bits and pieces that somehow do not clothe the subject. Punctuating the monotonous retelling are imagined conversations, which often end in a real quote, leading the reader to believe it all to have happened exactly that way.

The only authentic voice in the book is that of Guru Dutt’s sister, Lalita Lajmi. Usman would have done well to base the entire book on Lajmi’s account of her brother’s life, but he wastes the resource. Lajmi’s facts are blended into the rest of the borrowed text, losing their worth in the process. 

The list of contents is beguiling enough. Usman drops names with impunity, totally ignoring the fact that he had no occasion to meet most of the people he mentions, or get direct inputs from them. What he has instead is magpie pickings that he uses to make a point. As stray quotes do not a story make, the beguilingly titled chapters—‘Geeta: The Trump Card’, ‘Badruddin Jamaluddin Kazi’, ‘Raj Khosla’, ‘VK Murthy’, ‘Bimal Mitra’—are brief pen portraits sketchily introducing the subject. They hint at a story without elaborating it. They read like a writer’s notes to himself, sorely inadequate.

Let’s take one chapter, on Geeta Dutt, whose life story was almost as tantalising as her husband’s. Titled ‘The Loss of Geeta’s Stardom’, the chapter, like many others, spans two-and-a-half pages. It starts with her expecting her second child. By now Geeta is established as a singer. I quote now from the book, ‘Geeta was regularly singing with music composers like OP Nayyar, Chitragupta, Hemant Kumar, N Dutta, Anil Biswas, etc, but top composers like Naushad, SD Burman, Shankar-Jaikishen were generally not approaching her.

She was ousted by the reigning playback singer Lata Mangeshkar who had become the first choice for every big filmmaker and leading composer. She also realised that one popular album of a Guru Dutt film every year was not enough to secure her a place in the list of top singers. In 1955-56, except for the very successful songs of Mr and Mrs 55, Geeta Dutt sang in B-grade films... But no one really remember (sic) these films or her songs in them. Yet whenever she got a chance with a music director of calibre who came up with a tripping tune, Geeta Dutt always delivered.’ End of quote.

For serious chroniclers of cinema music this is close to blasphemy... to place OP, Hemant Kumar and the acknowledged ‘Bhishma Pitama’ of Hindi film music, Anil Biswas, in a lesser bracket than Shankar-Jaikishen and SD Burman. For each of these had his own expression of his genius and Hindi film music is the richer for their collective contribution.

Neither does the chapter analyse the many factors that caused the sidelining of Geeta Dutt, who, as we know, was capable of delivering much more than just ‘tripping tunes’. Not much later SD Burman would present her infinite variety in Pyaasa and Kaagaz ke Phool, as would Hemant Kumar in Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam.

Rounding off the chapter with a reference to Geeta’s hit song in Bhai Bhai, and Madan Mohan preferring Lata to Geeta, and OP and SD ‘drifting towards Asha Bhosle’, Usman ends the chapter with this paragraph: ‘It was clear that focus on her family life, her marital problems and her inaccesibility for song rehearsals and recordings had affected her career greatly. Geeta had lost her stardom. While this constantly bothered Geeta, Guru took it as a natural sacrifice for a happy family life.’

I rest my case.But there is despair over the fact that an author who is capable of much better work should glean so heavily from available material to stitch it together so clumsily. The fact that he gives credit in some places, but lifts entire passages almost verbatim in others without acknowledgement, opens this book up for a case of blatant plagiarism. Surprising a publisher of standing like Simon and Schuster took the risk.

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