Guru Dutt built Bollywood's most unlikely dream team—bus conductor, unknown writer, dancer

The Print

06-07-2025

'Aap bahut photogenic hain (you are very photogenic),' Alvi told him. 'Kuchh actogenic bhi hain ya nahin (Am I also a little actogenic or not)?' Dutt replied, as quoted in Nasreen Munni Kabir's Guru Dutt: A Life in Cinema.
This, in fact, was how Dutt discovered most of his A-team: through chance, curiosity, and a fine-tuned instinct for creative spark. Together, this group played a major part in making his most acclaimed films, from Pyaasa and Kaagaz ke Phool to Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam. But Baaz (1953), Dutt's first film as a leading man, flopped. Later, when he asked Alvi what he thought of it, he gave a diplomatic answer.
New Delhi: Abrar Alvi's most extensive writing experience was lavish love letters when he landed on the set of Baaz, where his cousin Jaswant had a small role. That didn't stop him from critiquing the dialogue, though. Actor and director Guru Dutt overheard, handed him a few scenes to rewrite, and soon hired him as a writer at his production house.
Dutt offered Alvi the screenplay and dialogues for Aar Paar (1954), and the writer went on to script some of Dutt's most enduring films. As Kabir wrote, his contribution was immeasurable: 'Alvi's particular talent was in scripting realistic and intelligent repartee and in giving each screen character his or her own individuality.'
More such happy accidents followed with other outsiders and unknowns. A BEST bus conductor who later took on the name Johnny Walker. A teenage actress, Waheeda Rehman, whose only credit when Dutt first saw her was a dance number in a Telugu film. An aspiring singer, Raj Khosla, who became one of Hindi cinema's top directors. A cameraman, VK Murthy, who would go on to become the first Indian to use CinemaScope in Kaagaz ke Phool. And a production manager, S Guruswamy, who was part of virtually every film Dutt made.
With them, he made some of the most emotional, existential, and enduring films in Hindi cinema. Dutt was the face of these collaborations, but it was this inner circle that gave him creative momentum—through friendship, trust, and an openness to experiment. There were occasional fights too but the bond didn't break.
'Like all creative people, he was very demanding of his co-workers,' recalled cinematographer VK Murthy in a 2010 interview. 'We quarrelled a couple of times because of the time I took to set up the lighting. We had a big argument during the making of Aar Paar. Later, he explained how he was under pressure to deliver quickly, and that we needed to cooperate and work faster. He was a reasonable man, and from then on, we worked harmoniously.'
It was with Murthy that Dutt's visual signature was created, from the shattered mirrors and ghostly reflections of Kaagaz ke Phool to the interplay of light and shadow in Pyaasa.
In the centenary of Guru Dutt, who was born on 9 July 1925, the spotlight naturally falls on him. But it was the people in his orbit who kept his star burning as brightly as it did, even if it was short-lived, given his death at the age of 39. His legacy was a team effort that was never about fame or money but something more lasting. As Dutt himself put it in a 1963 interview: 'Fame… is a some time thing. It, like everything else, shall pass.'
Also Read: Guru Dutt chose Raj Khosla over his brother to direct CID. It became the biggest hit of 1956
'Worked together, partied together'
When Guru Dutt made his directorial debut with the 'Bombay Noir' Baazi in 1951 (not to be confused with Baaz), there was a fair bit of scepticism swirling around him. Its star, his friend Dev Anand had brought him on board, but the actor's elder brother Chetan Anand wasn't sure Dutt was up to the job. But not only was the film a box office hit, it was the turning point where his inner circle of actors, writers, and technicians began coalescing.
'To create magic on reel, one needs a dream team in real. With Baazi, Guru Dutt got a chance to work with people who went on to become his A-team, who were an integral part of many of his memorable films in the next decade,' wrote Yasser Usman in his book Guru Dutt: An Unfinished Story.
It was a motley crew, and yet it clicked into place.
On that set, Dutt met Badruddin Jamaluddin Kazi, a bus conductor. He was brought in by actor Balraj Sahni, who'd seen him performing comic routines on Mumbai's BEST buses. Kazi showed up in character, lurching and slurring like a drunk, though he was actually a teetotaller. Dutt took to him instantly, and as someone who wasn't a teetotaller himself, named him after his favourite whisky: Johnny Walker.
If Dutt placed his faith in an artist, he would give them a lot of room.
'He'd tell us, Johnny ye tumhara scene hai, ye dialogue hai, ye shot hai. Isme tum jo behtar kar sakte ho to karo [Johnny, this is your scene, this is the dialogue, this is the shot. Do whatever you can to make it better],' Walker recalled in Usman's book. He went on to be part of every film Guru Dutt directed or produced, except Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam.
Right from his first film, Dutt also had a clear sense of how his films should look. He used light and shadow to an almost poetic level in his cinema.
'On the sets of Baazi, Guru Dutt recognised one such person with whom he was going to create unforgettable images and emotions on screen. His name was VK Murthy,' Usman wrote.
Baazi was also where Raj Khosla entered the picture. He had come to Bombay hoping to become a singer, but joined Dutt as an assistant director on Dev Anand's recommendation. When he admitted to exaggerating his Hindi writing skills, Dutt let it slide with a grin. The next to join was production manager S Guruswamy, who handled the nuts and bolts of the filmmaking process.
'They worked together, they partied together. This camaraderie of the team members was translating beautifully on celluloid too,' wrote Usman.
The partnership wasn't about forming a coterie around Dutt. It was also about mentorship and mutual benefit. Khosla, for one, went on to become a successful director in his own right, known for films like Woh Kaun Thi? (1964), Mera Saaya (1966), and Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki (1978). But the turning point was CID, produced by Guru Dutt Films. Even though Dutt's brother Atmaram wanted the job, it went to Khosla. The brothers fell out but the film became one of the biggest hits of 1956.
'He never interfered with my work. It's Guru Dutt's skill that I learnt, the use of the face, the eyes more than body movements. And the use of close-ups—they tell the main story,' Khosla told Kabir. In the same interview he also recounted that reviews and criticism did not affect his mentor very much.
'Guru Dutt never bothered about critics. He was his own critic. He knew where he was going wrong and he would say, 'Raj, this film is going wrong, this film will not go over right—yeh gadbad ho gayi hai [this has gone wrong]'. He could feel it,' said Khosla.
When CID earned Rs 30 lakh, Dutt called Khosla and handed him the keys to a Dodge convertible. 'It's a present for having made CID,' he said when asked why.
Khosla was a 'gushing admirer of Guru Dutt, his persona and his filmmaking,' wrote Amborish Roychoudhury in his book Raj Khosla: The Authorised Biography. Yet, it was not a relationship where anyone was beholden.
Khosla turned down Dutt's offer to direct another film for him, reportedly saying, 'I am a small plant and I can't grow under a big tree.'
Another dream team member who was fierce about her individuality was Waheeda Rehman.
Also Read: Guru Dutt turned melancholia into art. He was 'lost in filmmaking, lost to life'
A reluctant muse
The story goes it all began in 1955, when Guru Dutt's car hit a buffalo in Hyderabad. Stranded for a day with Guruswamy, he spotted a young woman across the street and asked who she was. Her name was Waheeda Rehman, a dancer in the Telugu film Rojulu Marayi. Dutt arranged to meet her, spoke to her briefly, and returned to Bombay.
Months later, a man named Mannu Bhai Patel showed up at her home in Madras and told her Guru Dutt wanted to see her in Bombay. After some deliberation, Rehman travelled to Dutt's office at Famous Studios in Mahalaxmi, where he, Khosla, Alvi, Murthy, and Guruswamy were waiting with a contract.
'When I first met him, I did not think he was a famous and great director because he spoke very little. The meeting lasted for about half an hour,' said Rehman to Kabir. She signed on but right from the beginning she dictated her own terms, sometimes to the ire of the others, especially Khosla. For one, she refused to change her name as he had requested. She also demanded a say in her costumes.
'Raj Khosla was furious – in his world, newcomers didn't throw their weight around…But his mentor could see a spark in her that Raj couldn't. Guru Dutt agreed to all her demands,' reads Raj Khosla: The Authorized Biography.
Rehman made her Hindi debut in CID and stuck to her guns from the start. For a seduction scene, she refused to wear a lace blouse unless it was covered by a dupatta. Khosla protested but Dutt acquiesced.
'They had seen Guru Dutt losing his patience with other actors and senior technicians. But he seemed like an entirely different person when talking to Waheeda,' wrote Yasser Usman.
Their collaboration gave Dutt's films some of their most haunting moments: the long silences in Pyaasa where she plays the sex worker Gulabo, the ache of 'Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam' in Kaagaz ke Phool.
As Rehman became central to his films, rumours about their relationship worsened his already strained marriage to Geeta Dutt. His personal life, by most accounts, was turbulent, with alcohol being a major factor.
On 10 October 1964, Walker and Waheeda Rehman were travelling to Madras. As Walker entered his hotel the telephone rang : Johnny Guru gaya. He broke down and Rehman was stunned, writes Usman. The cause of death was a fatal mix of alcohol and sleeping pills. Whether it was accidental or intentional has never been resolved.
'His death may have been just an accident; but I know that he had always wished for it, longed for it…and he got it,' Rehman later wrote in 1967. 'Whatever happened was perhaps best for him! That is the only consolation left.'
(Edited by Asavari Singh)