Cinema only reflects what society is becoming: Javed Akhtar

Celebrated poet, lyricist and screenwriter Javed Akhtar captivated audiences at the Jaipur Literature Festival in a wide-ranging session that moved seamlessly from the richness of Urdu as a language to questions of cinema, society, faith, free thought and the pressures faced by young people today. Moderating the session, the host opened with a lyrical tribute to Urdu, calling it a language born from the interaction of Hindi, Persian, Arabic, Turkish, Sanskrit and Khari Boli — a living symbol of India’s diversity. Introducing Akhtar through a poetic blend of literary greats, she described him as an embodiment of Faiz’s passion, Ghalib’s depth, Sahir Ludhianvi’s fire, Kaifi Azmi’s compassion and revolutionary spirit, with a touch of Shelley’s idealism and Christopher Hitchens’ rationalism. Akhtar began by sharing deeply personal memories of his mother, who died when he was eight but left a lasting imprint on his love for language and storytelling. It was she, he recalled, who taught him words as a game and narrated novels to him after school — carefully editing out the romantic portions — planting the seeds of his future as a writer. Addressing whether growing up in a family of renowned poets and progressive thinkers ever felt intimidating, Akhtar firmly rejected the idea of comparison. “Getting threatened by talent is an unhealthy attitude,” he said. “You should have the confidence to appreciate people who are better than you, not compete with them.” He spoke about the influence of the Progressive Writers’ Movement, explaining that values are not consciously chosen but absorbed through atmosphere and upbringing — “like breathing.” Secularism, he argued, cannot be taught as a crash course but must be lived as a way of life. Sharing a story of his deeply religious grandparents alongside a fiercely independent grandmother who refused to impose religion on him, Akhtar said that moment marked the end of his formal religious education and the beginning of his lifelong rationalism. The audience broke into applause when Akhtar recited two of his poems — one a powerful meditation on crowds, conscience and moral responsibility, and another on the many angles of sadness — reminding listeners of his enduring poetic force beyond cinema. Turning to Bollywood, Akhtar traced how mainstream cinema mirrors social and economic shifts. From socialist heroes like mill workers and taxi drivers to the rise of vigilantes during periods of institutional distrust, he explained that film protagonists reflect the moral aspirations of their times. He noted how economic liberalisation, the growth of the middle class and the emergence of multiplex culture have reshaped storytelling, making cinema increasingly tailored to urban, affluent audiences. “Cinema doesn’t exist in a cultural vacuum,” he said. “It shows what society is becoming — its desires, insecurities and ambitions.” On complaints about declining lyricism and language in songs, Akhtar was blunt: if families no longer read poetry or expose children to literature, they cannot expect refined language from popular culture. “You broke the relationship with language and now blame cinema,” he remarked. Responding to a question on why many in Bollywood hesitate to speak truth to power, Akhtar pointed out that few media houses, corporations or public figures are truly anti-establishment. “Power,” he said wryly, “is what most institutions ultimately serve.” To young writers, his advice was simple but uncompromising: read relentlessly — classics and light fiction alike. “Input is essential before output,” he said, warning against relying on shortcuts like social media summaries instead of books. He also addressed rising on-screen violence, suggesting it reflects latent anger and dissatisfaction within society itself, and spoke strongly against communal stereotyping. “No community, city or country is a monolith,” he said. “Judging in bulk is not just unfair — it’s foolish.” In a particularly animated moment, Akhtar dismissed comparisons between Urdu and Sanskrit’s antiquity, noting that Sanskrit and Tamil are among the world’s oldest living languages, while Urdu is relatively young — a reminder, he said, of how linguistic histories are often misunderstood. As the session drew to a close, Akhtar left young listeners with a grounding message in an age of relentless comparison: “Your real competition is with yourself. Some people will always be better than you, some worse. If you measure your life that way, you’ll always be unhappy. Focus on becoming better than you were yesterday.” The conversation — humorous, reflective and deeply human — stretched beyond its scheduled time, with both audience and organisers reluctant to bring it to an end, a testament to Akhtar’s enduring power as a thinker, storyteller and public intellectual.