An insignificant memory from 2012
A diary from aimless days
Evening of the year 2012. Most of the year was wasted aimlessly drifting in Mumbai city. I was new in the town and wanted to do something in art and cinema, but had no idea what exactly it was. Indifference of this city was building up on me and lack of purpose was creating anxieties for future. This lack of purpose would often take to many cheap bars, screenings, and art festivals across the city. I attended one such talk where filmmaker Tigmanshu Dhulia and the writer named Sanjay Chauhan discussed their recently released film Paan Singh Tomar.
Post session, Tigmanshu left, but Sanjay stayed. A few young people who also like me, had no idea what to do in this city and were loosely titled under the monolithic category of 'struggler' joined too. People think that 'strugglers' want to talk to someone regarding job. In reality, they only want to find someone to talk. About anything.
Many loners asked questions. Mostly stupid questions. Sanjay answered every one with grace and seriousness. He studied at JNU and also talked about the cultural shock he first experienced when visiting JNU from a small town in MP. One of such shock of modernity was girls and boys smoking a cigarette together at Ganga Dhaba while discussing about socialism.
He said he owes a lot to his political and social awakenings from JNU. Sanjay shared whatever he knew about Mumbai life and movies. As he spoke, his face gleamed with the euphoria of discovering success in this industry. Even though the transitory moment of success may have arrived late to him, it finally came. He was around 50 at that time. To be honest its not about his art but what stayed with me was his gentle persona. He had no narcissism or pretentiousness to announce to the world that 'I have arrived'. He shared what he knew about the discipline of writing. About success. About failures. About the loneliness of a writer.
This kind of attitude was quite surprising in an indifferent city like Mumbai, where all I met were individuals who were extremely mean and petty.
This includes meeting with a production house head who wanted me to write pan India film that in his words, 'starts like Rang De Basanti' and end as "Lagan" so that it captures both urban and rural audience. Or meeting with an agency guy who never paid after the work was done. Or a fake producer who claimed to launch the careers of Dharmendra and now wanted a free writer for his upcoming film "Who killed me." A philosophical and spiritual title if I look back now.
But this disillusionment from supposedly creative people changed after meeting with Sanjay. It gave me some hope that there can be people in the city who are empathetic, even to people whose existence at that point didn't matter. A drifting loners, a bunch of nobodies who had no idea what to do with their life were treated decently by someone. Someone listening to them. It was all that mattered at that point.
In todays morning, when I heard about his death, this particular memory of meeting him in the garden came into my mind. In the city of ruthlessness and apathy Sanjay's face shining from that evening sunlight Andheri West in 2012. Rest in peace.