The actor, lyricist and musician Piyush Mishra says in the foreword of his memoir: “I don’t have the courage to write an autobiography. Neither do I have the temperament. Nor the mood.” Tumhari Auqaat Kya Hai, Piyush Mishra, translated from the Hindi by Shillpi A Singh, is in the voice of the invented character Santap Trivedi alias Hamlet, from one of Mishra’s most well-known plays. Mishra also uses pseudonyms for several well-known actors and directors, such as “Nadeem Shah”, “Samar Bajpayee”, “Aniket Kashyap” and “Sambal Bharadwaj”.

In this excerpt, Mishra writes about fighting for a credit on his first film as a screenwriter, which he says was adapted from his own play about Bhagat Singh.

‘The writer of this script is …’

When he returned to Mumbai, a car took him directly from the airport to the producer’s office. Upon arriving, he discovered that the entire film crew had assembled for a big meeting. Representatives from all departments, including production, direction, costumes, camera, set and more were present. He learned that it was the day of the final script narration. He took out his script and held it in his hands. Everyone was seated inside. The ‘healthy’ director started …

‘As you know, four films about the pre-independence era are being produced. Major production houses are occupied with their respective scripts. But we are confident that no one will have a script like ours.’

Hamlet placed his script on the table nearby and opened it.

‘This script has been written after much hard work and research. A significant amount of labour has gone into it. Now, I will request the scriptwriter to perform its first reading in his own voice in front of all the departments.’

Hamlet held the script tightly. He looked at the ‘healthy’ director, waiting for his cue to start.

‘The writer of this script is …’ The thin writer leaned forward and opened the script to read.

Hamlet was stunned. His hard work of a year and a half was in front of him, but it had someone else’s voice and face. His eyes popped.

The reading concluded. Everyone clapped. The gathering dispersed. Everyone parted ways. Hamlet caught up with the ‘healthy’ director outside.

‘Sir.’

‘Yes. Tell me, tell me.’

‘This script is mine.’

‘Have you ever written a screenplay in your life? You brought a play. Is there any connection between my film and Bhagat Singh? This is professional writing we are dealing with here. The processes here are completely different.’

‘But I have been working with you for a year and a half.’

‘Then take the money for doing that much.’ The ‘healthy’ director quickly looked around. There was no one to be seen.

‘Come to my office tomorrow. We can discuss things there.’

‘I don’t want money. I won’t give up my credit.’ His face hardened.

‘Do you have any agreement? On what basis are you asking for credit?’ The director’s voice turned harsh in turn.

‘You know. Your office people know. Your conscience knows.’

‘Discuss this high-spirited issue of conscience in your Delhi. I am giving you a fair deal. Come to the office tomorrow. Take whatever money I am offering. And leave the credit.’

‘I will take the credit I deserve!’

‘Try. Maybe you will succeed,’ he said and left Hamlet behind.

Hamlet stood there, stunned.

‘You won’t get the credit’

That night, he bought a bottle of rum. While drinking that night, the faces of Jiya, his mother and Josh flashed before his eyes.

The next morning, his eyes were bloodshot. After bathing, he went straight to Sambal Bhardwaj’s office in Oshiwara, where he saw Nadeem Shah sitting inside. Nadeem had come to get a song for his play recorded. It was a poem by Faiz Ahmad Faiz, composed to music by Sambal and to be sung by Surekha.

‘Santap Trivedi!’ Nadeem’s roar echoed.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘How come you are here?’

‘To write.’

‘What?’

‘About pre-independence India.’

‘Four films set in that era are already being made. For whom are you writing?’ Santap mentioned the director’s name. A smile spread on Shah’s face.

‘Is his thin writer still with him?’

‘Why?’ Hamlet lifted his eyes.

‘You won’t get the credit.’

‘How can I not get it?’ Hamlet’s voice grew bitter.

‘Try it, by all means.’

‘You tried it. You didn’t get it. Does that mean I won’t get it either?’ Now Hamlet’s voice was harsh and loud, too.

Nadeem remained silent and kept staring at Hamlet. Sambal was speechless and Surekha was frozen. Nadeem was a renowned figure in the industry. Equally well known for his short temper. But Hamlet was not worried. The last year and a half flashed before his eyes, accompanied by the faces of Jiya, his mother and Josh.

‘I worked so hard for a year and a half. I put in my blood and sweat. Why won’t I receive the credit for it?’ His eyes welled up with anger. His throat seemed to be choking.

Nadeem stayed silent. After a moment, he asked, ‘What will you do?’

‘I will do whatever it takes. If I cannot do anything else, I can at least jump into his office with a bomb tied to my chest.’

Nadeem continued to stare at him. Sambal and Surekha were astonished.

Hitesh Sonik remained quietly bent over the recording table.

‘I am going to leave.’ Hamlet stood up abruptly and stepped outside. No one attempted to stop him.

After coming out, he called up the ‘healthy’ director.

‘Fine. I will meet you in the office at three in the afternoon tomorrow.’

‘Comecomecome.’ And the phone was hung up.

Hamlet stepped out of Oshiwara. His eyes were red and his face was searing with fury. The rugged and raging Santap Trivedi of Delhi had been jolted awake. He headed straight to the liquor shop.

‘Half Signature. One Bisleri too.’

He took half of the whisky and poured it into the Bisleri bottle while standing in a corner. Then, he drank it in big gulps. He hadn’t had whisky in a long time, especially not in such a quantity and with such urgency. It hit him hard. In an instant, his thoughts, behaviour, belief, morals and values, everything changed.

‘If I must live in the muck, then I will live in the muck and figure out ways to survive here.’

‘Petrol Scandal’

At three o’clock the next day, he was in Seven Bungalows.

The ‘healthy’ director was waiting for him in his room on the ground floor. Hamlet entered the room.

‘Make sure that no one enters this room.’ The director instructed no one in particular.

‘Yes. Now speakspeakspeak.’ The door was latched from outside. ‘What?’ Hamlet asked.

‘Have you had alcohol?’ He placed his hand on his nose. ‘Not on your father’s account, you fatso,’ he growled.

‘Mind your language,’ he shouted.

‘I left manners at your Lokhandwala guest house. I am leaving that place. And I’m joining hands with other producers.’

‘Which producers?’

‘Those who are making films on this subject.’

‘Who?’

‘There are others as well, who have suddenly developed a taste for reminiscing about that time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It means that I am taking my script, my research and my play to the places where they are needed and respected. Four films are being made about the pre-independence era.’

‘You cannot do this. You have heard my script. This will be plagiarism.’

He growled. ‘Everyone does it.’

‘You were working for me!’ he screamed.

‘Do you have any agreement?’ And the director continued to stare at him. ‘Is there any evidence that I was working for you?’

‘You will be blacklisted in the industry.’

‘But I will take you down with me!’

The director was constantly watching him with murderous eyes.

‘Whether others’ films are made or not, I will make sure yours is not made.’

‘Look, listen to me.’ He loosened a bit.

‘Bye.’ Hamlet stood up.

‘Looklooklook. The credit for the screenplay has been sent already.’ He stood up.

‘Where?’

‘The writer has locked it under his name.’

‘Dialogues? And the play?’

‘I will try.’

‘I don’t have that much time.’ And he turned away.

‘I am lookinglookinglooking. Listen to me.’ He quickly came close to Hamlet.

‘It will be done. Believe me.’

‘I believed you all this time, you fucker. Tell me, how long should I wait? Until your next plate of bhujia arrives?’

And he took a bottle out of his bag. It was filled with petrol. ‘Whatisthiswhatisthiswhatisthis?’ The shocked director exclaimed.

Hamlet emptied the entire bottle onto the table while gazing at him with expressionless eyes.

‘Whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing?’ the director shouted as soon as he smelled petrol.

And then Hamlet took the matchbox out from his pocket.

And then something happened that the film industry still remembers today as the famous – or infamous –Petrol Scandal.

He managed to get the credit at last. Not to the extent that he had thought, but then something was better than nothing. Now, at least the name of his play would appear on the big screen, with special thanks. He was called to the producer’s office and an agreement was signed, the documents of which he has kept safely with him to this day.

Along with this, he received three and a half lakhs … no, four and a half lakhs were given. (He had taken a lakh in the name of the Ank Ek group.) Along with this, he also received an air ticket to Delhi.

Excerpted with permission from Tumhari Auqaat Kya Hai, Piyush Mishra, Piyush Mishra, translated from the Hindi by Shillpi A Singh, HarperCollins India.

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