Exploring the Poetic Journey of Irshad Kamil: Love, Heartbreak, and Creativity

Irshad Kamil: A Master of Emotions

Renowned lyricist, poet, and writer Irshad Kamil is celebrated for his poignant and stirring lyrics in films such as Rockstar, Tamasha, and Jab We Met. His ability to encapsulate themes of love, longing, and heartbreak showcases his exceptional command over language.

In a recent discussion on The Tribune Newsroom with Geetanjali Gayatri, Kamil delved into topics like love, heartbreak, and the influence of Gen Z, while also addressing contemporary issues such as remixes and the role of social media in art.

Geetanjali Gayatri (GG): When did you realize you could evoke deep emotions through your writing?

Irshad Kamil (IK): Even now, the most profound feelings often elude expression. Each step of the creative process—writing, singing, and listening—can dilute the intensity. Yet, despite these challenges, the connection to the heart remains strong. This journey of expression is one I continue to navigate.

Both love and art are innate discoveries that unfold over time. My transition from a boys' school in Malerkotla to a co-educational college exposed me to various forms of affection, which often changed rapidly. In those days of handwritten letters, my neat penmanship became a tool for friends seeking to express their feelings. This repetitive task led me to explore poetry for more profound expressions, reminiscent of Bashir Badr's timeless verses: “Jis par hamari aankh ne moti bichhaye raat bhar, Bheja wohi kaagaz ussay, humnay likha kuch bhi nahi.”

GG: Your background in literature and journalism blends facts with imagination. How does this influence your songwriting?

IK: While poetry often seems to soar into the realm of fantasy, it is equally grounded in reality. Poetry reveals truths we might overlook. Take my song 'Agar Tum Saath Ho' as an example.

“Teri nazron mein hain tere sapne,

Tere sapnon mein hai naraazi,

Mujhe lagta hai ki baatein dil ki

Hoti lafzon ki dhokebaazi.

Tum saath ho ya na ho, kya farq hai,

Bedard thi zindagi, bedard hai,

Agar tum saath ho.”

Which part of this isn't factual? The distinction lies in how we articulate these truths. Journalism presents facts plainly, while poetry conveys feelings through personal sensitivity.

GG: In your book, you wrote about the stories behind your songs. Can you share an untold story?

IK: Each individual is their own emotional editor. While feelings remain constant, the words we choose to express them evolve. No institution can teach the lessons learned through struggle. My early days in Mumbai were marked by the rapid expansion of television, which brought both opportunities and relentless deadlines. Often, I found myself writing through the night to meet the next day's filming schedule.

Those handwritten scripts were left in a milk bag holder outside my home for collection by a production assistant. The workload was relentless, and one night, after sending an assistant home, I continued writing alone. The next day, I received a call: “Sir, what are you doing?” “Working.” “Sir, you haven’t slept?” “No, I didn’t get time.” The response was unforgettable: “Sir, please sleep. It has been 72 hours.” This moment highlighted that my struggle was not unnoticed.

“That Punjab I left was more innocent, its soil more fertile, before life became increasingly mechanical and commercial. Now, appearances often overshadow authenticity,” — Irshad Kamil

GG: Being from Malerkotla, do you find that incorporating Punjabi elements in your songs helps you reconnect with your roots?

IK: Absolutely. If a character is from Delhi or Amritsar, I strive to infuse that essence into the song. Even when writing in Hindi, the tone and manner of speaking can convey a Punjabi identity. While some lyricists have successfully integrated Punjabi elements, I find it troubling when non-Punjabi writers attempt to do so inaccurately.

When crafting my songs, I ensure that no incorrect or distorted words are used. Creating new words is one thing, but misusing existing ones is another. For characters deeply rooted in Punjabi culture, I aim to deliver authentic expressions, as seen in the dialogue from ‘Jab We Met’ that states, “Main toh Bathinda ki Singhni hoon,” complemented by a complete Punjabi song like “Mauja Hi Mauja.” Yes, Punjabi does help me connect with my heritage.

GG: After spending 25 years in Mumbai, how do you perceive the changes in Punjab, especially among the youth?

IK: The Punjab I left was more innocent, its soil richer, before life became increasingly commercialized. Now, superficiality often overshadows authenticity. Yet, the essence of that Punjab lives on within me. Closing my eyes brings back memories of childhood games, unpaved roads, and friends who remain forever young in my memory.

A recent visit to my old school was not about observing changes but about reconnecting with the child who once sat on a wooden bench, waiting for the teacher to draw straight lines on a slate. That child still exists in my memories.

“Today, a sense of 'fake manhood' often dominates songs and the attitudes of young people, reflecting influences that feel borrowed rather than rooted,” — Irshad Kamil.

GG: You write across various emotions. How do you navigate between them while composing?

IK: Crafting an entire film's soundtrack is never a singular emotional journey. Each song captures its own moment. A sad song emerges from a place of sorrow, while a celebratory track requires a different mindset. Professional writing demands both skill and the willingness to immerse oneself in the emotional landscape of the story.

One cherished memory from my childhood in Malerkotla illustrates this balance between life and creativity. Every New Year’s Eve, my family would gather to watch the Doordarshan program, with mattresses spread out and my mother preparing gajrela. The warmth of family and Gurdas Maan's songs made the evening special. For us children, the real celebration began at midnight with that bowl of gajrela.

Years later, I recreated this tradition with my family in Mumbai. Mattresses were laid out, Doordarshan was on, and the gajar ka halwa was ready. Just before midnight, I received a call from A. R. Rahman’s studio needing lyrics urgently. My family worried the celebration would be interrupted, but within fifteen minutes, I had sent the lyrics and returned to the festivities.

This ability to transition between emotions stems from fully embodying a character. My background in theatre aids in understanding a character's psychology, allowing me to delve into the emotions of the song's voice. Whether writing patakha guddi, heer toh badi sad hai, agar tum saath ho, or dil diyan gallan, the process begins by feeling the character’s joy, heartbreak, longing, or hope as if they were my own. Each day brings new heartbreak, new love, and every song becomes another life lived through poetry.

GG: Youth today express themselves differently. What message would you like to convey to them through your poetry?

IK: Change is evident in every aspect of life. The ways we express ourselves have evolved; even love has transformed. People no longer write letters. The memes circulating about my song “Sada Haq aithay rakh” reflect this shift.

Sanjeev Bariana: With AI creating music and art, do you see it as a threat to human creativity?

IK: AI can only replicate what already exists, drawing from learned patterns and styles. When tasked to write a song in my style, AI can produce something similar, but it cannot capture the unfinished desires or new experiences that fuel original creativity. Even after writing countless songs, my goal is to innovate rather than repeat the past. In journalistic terms, AI merely rehashes existing material, while human imagination is an endless ocean of fresh possibilities.

Mona: Your songs resonate with dreams and heartbreak. When did you feel love most intensely?

IK: Love is the essence of poetry. Without experiencing it, writing about it would feel hollow. Each song begins by immersing myself in a character's emotions, making their feelings real. Love and heartbreak are not occasional experiences for me; they are daily companions, making every story deeply personal. I live in an endless ocean of love.

Bhartesh Singh Thakur: Can a deeply religious person be a great poet? Does religion influence creativity?

IK: Great poetry transcends religious boundaries. If it were limited, poets like Tulsidas, Soordas, and Meera would not hold such timeless significance. The Indian literary tradition is rich in spiritual poetry, from the Guru Granth Sahib to the verses of Kabir. Their words resonate because they were crafted with purity and artistic mastery. True art should connect with society without becoming propaganda. A poet's role is to uncover the emotional truth within every character and reveal the music in even the most ordinary human experiences.

“Remixes may offer an easy route, but they rarely create something truly original. They rely on someone else’s work,” — Irshad Kamil

Nonika Singh: Your collaboration with A.R. Rahman is legendary. What are your thoughts on new composers and the remix trend?

IK: Remixes often take the easy way out, lacking true originality. They depend on existing works rather than fresh creativity, which ultimately stifles artistic growth. New composers like Shashwat Sachdev and Tanishk Bagchi are striving to carve their own identities. Every creative journey involves compromises. I, too, began by writing songs for just Rs 100. Those early years were challenging but taught resilience. Inspiration continues to flow from A.R. Rahman, Pritam, and the new generation of composers.

Parbina Rashid: Bhakti music is gaining popularity among Gen Z. Do you see devotional themes entering Bollywood music?

IK: Writing devotional songs was a new experience that brought immense peace. My work on Krishan Avataram, which included seven Krishna bhajans, provided a unique satisfaction. Religion, in its purest form, should foster peace and humanity. If modern arrangements of devotional songs spread positivity, they hold value. However, if they merely commercialize devotion, the essence is lost.

I have turned down many projects where I felt I couldn't do justice. Creativity demands honesty. Just as a writer shares a play with friends for feedback, every artist must recognize where they fit best. Sometimes, recommending someone else for a project is part of being a responsible creative.

Mohit Khanna: You recently collaborated with Diljit Dosanjh and discussed Punjab’s innocence. Is there an effort to restore that innocence through music?

IK: Innocence cannot be reclaimed through a song. If it were that simple, countless songs could restore it. Genuine change requires effort. If someone else undertakes this work, it may become mere rhetoric; but when we take responsibility, it becomes a meaningful endeavor.

Rajendra Dhawan: You invest great effort in your songs, but sometimes films present them differently. Have you felt disappointed?

IK: Occasionally, a writer believes a song will be a hit, only to see it overlooked. Much effort goes into each song, but success is not guaranteed. There are times when people are unaware of who wrote it.

A notable example is the song “Aise na dekho” from Raanjhanaa: “Aise na dekho, jaise pehle kabhi dekha hi nahi. Mandir ki seedhi jaisa hoon main, Mandir ka hissa hoon, mandir nahi.” This song carried a social message, addressing those too busy to appreciate music due to life's struggles. Despite the film's success and A.R. Rahman's contribution, the emotion did not resonate as widely as I had hoped. Sometimes, even meaningful poetry waits for its moment.

Sukhwinder Pal Sodhi: You often reflect on Malerkotla and your childhood. Is there another place you'd like to revisit?

IK: Over the years, I rarely had the chance to leave Panjab University, a place filled with beautiful memories and familiar faces. Though it may be more crowded now, the old charm remains alive in my heart. The playground near the Five Number Hostel and those simple moments still hold a special place. Among all the places connected to that time, Punjab University and Tagore Theatre are closest to my heart.

Sunil Kapoor: When writing a song, do you start with lyrics or melody?

IK: Nearly all film songs are crafted after the melody is created. Whether it’s Kun Faya Kun, Agar Tum Saath Ho, or recent hits, the tune comes first, and the lyrics are shaped around it. The distinction between a poet and a lyricist lies in this discipline. A poet can express freely, while a lyricist must balance the melody, narrative, and commercial demands of the industry. This challenge fuels creativity, requiring the lyricist to immerse deeply in the emotion so that the listener feels only the character's voice.

Seema Sachdeva: How long does it typically take you to write a song? Do you prepare songs in advance or write only for films?

IK: There’s no set timeframe for writing a song. Sometimes it takes minutes, other times hours or even days. The real time is spent reaching the emotional space of the character. When the writer and character resonate, the connection is instant, and the song flows. However, there are moments of 'network failure' when that connection falters, lasting from an hour to longer. Creativity isn't always time-bound; it hinges on finding that emotional link.

“Writing a song is not a process of copy-paste. Even though emotions like love, heartbreak, and hatred are universal truths, their expressions are unique,” — Irshad Kamil.

Songs are never written as stock pieces. While poems and ghazals may be created independently, a song is tied to a specific character and situation. A song crafted for one person cannot simply be transferred to another, as each emotion has its own story. Writing a song is not a mere copy-paste process. Although emotions like love and heartbreak are universal, their expressions are distinct. The writer must uncover the unique feeling behind each character and give that emotion its own voice.

Many songs originate from ideas that first appear as poems. For instance, “Aurho” from Rockstar began as a poem, encapsulating the thought: “Apna aap bhi be-maani hai, jab aur koi ho jata hai, Yaar surahi, main, meena, saqi, sab aur koi ho jata hai.” The essence was preserved, but the emotion was simplified for broader reach. A powerful thought transforms into a song when it finds the right voice.

GG: Your ringtone is one of your own songs. Why not choose another?

IK: I have found no greater truth than the words from Rockstar: “Jo bhio mai kehna chahun, bardaad karay alfaaz mere.”

Jupinderjit Singh: What are your thoughts on Sidhu Moosewala and his music? How do you view his songs in today’s Punjab?

IK: I appreciate good writing. Whether a lyricist or poet, sincerity matters. Many writers face controversy for addressing violence or social issues, but expression often reflects diverse realities. This brings to mind the example of Chamkila. Right and wrong are often shaped by perspective. What seems wrong to one may appear right to another.

“Main sahi samajh kar jo bhi karoon, tum kehte ho galat, Main galat hoon toh phir kaun sahi?”

Everyone has the right to express their inner thoughts. If someone feels compelled to write or sing, they should do so. Whether others appreciate or reject it depends on their perspective.

Tanay Singh: The trend of linking songs to characters is declining, with many songs used mainly for promotion. How do you approach this?

IK: As a professional, one cannot refuse every creative demand. If you decline, someone else will step in, and you wouldn't want to miss that opportunity. If a film has five songs and requires a promotional track as the sixth, it becomes part of the responsibility. Writing promotional songs is not inherently wrong. I have penned tracks like “Swag se karenge sabka swagat,” “Dil diyan gallan,” and “Tu ne maari entriyaan,” each serving a distinct purpose. Creativity also involves adapting to various stories and situations.

Geetu Vaid: You are often referred to as a poet and lyricist. How would you define Irshad Kamil as a poet?

IK: In both contexts, the answer is simple. Irshad Kamil embodies an idea aspiring to become an ideology. An idea evolves into an ideology when people connect with it and embrace it. As more individuals resonate with that thought, it transforms into a larger movement.

Irshad Kamil is an idea that aspires to become an ideology. An idea becomes an ideology when people begin to connect with it and follow it.

Ravneet Kaur: Your name is Irshad Kamil. When did you feel connected to the meaning of “Kamil”?

IK: The name “Kamil” is part of my identity, but it does not imply completeness or perfection. True completeness is not an attainable goal; when everything is complete, there is nothing left to seek. The unfinished aspects of life—restlessness, pain, unfulfilled desires—are essential. They keep creativity and curiosity alive. I do not consider myself “Kamil” in the sense of being complete.

Rohit Bhan: You mentioned love letters and changing times. Has the intensity of love shifted from letters to Instagram reels?

IK: The expression of love has evolved. A handwritten letter carried a personal sentiment meant for two, while a social media reel often becomes a public display for many. While a reel may garner popularity, it often lacks the depth of a personal connection.

Everyone desires recognition, and social media fulfills that desire to some extent, but such fame is temporary. Followers and numbers are not permanent possessions; they can disappear like electricity going off suddenly.

What truly matters is self-discovery, as understanding oneself is more challenging than reaching the world. Genuine love transcends perfect images or artificial expressions; it is rooted in honesty, questions, and heartfelt emotions.

The love expressed in poetry is not merely romantic; it is a love that seeks truth:

“Maanga jo mera hai, jaata kya tera hai, Maine kaunsi tujhe jannat maang li.”

It is a voice that dares to question even destiny:

“Kaisa khuda hai tu, bas naam kya hai tu, Jo rabba, jo teri itni si bhi na chali.”

Perhaps people resonate with such words because they reflect their own emotions—a love that is simple, authentic, and profoundly human.