C H I T C HAT
Mohib Mirza discusses his
love for cinema, the
mechanics of television,
falling in love and much
more
T
he first thing I notice upon meeting Mohib Mirza is
how tall he is. In a blue shirt and a pair of faded
denim, Mirza looks lanky and every bit like a movie
star (as he opens the door to his bungalow).
After a quick smoke break and refreshments, we sit
down to talk, and it is obvious that Mirza is articulate,
passionate and has a story that is full of unwavering resolve. Exuding confidence and charm, Mirza is an actor
who continues to push the envelope with every performance. Other actors may generate a lot more headlines
but when it comes to skill, Mirza has no rival amongst his
contemporaries.
Most of all, he is a decent man who hasn’t allowed stardom to turn him into a monomaniacal superstar or forget
his roots and humble upbringing.
These days though, Mirza is in the glare of the spotlight
thanks to a little film called Bachaana that pairs him opposite Sanam Saeed and also features Adeel Hashmi in
a menacing role.
In the film, Mohib stars as Vicky, a taxi driver in Mauritius
whose chance meeting with Alia (Sanam Saeed) resides
at the heart of the film. Since its release, Bachaana, directed by Nasir Khan, has opened to mostly decent reviews and though some criticism and controversy has
chased the film since the arrival of the first trailer, Mirza
is unfazed.
“For so many days, I had been shooting indoors, you
know close-ups or against a wall. In Bachaana, the script
was light and required us to be outdoors,” says Mirza as
we discuss his new film in which he steps away from
dark, melancholic undertones
in exchange for some comedy.
And given the film’s story and
light feel, Mirza’s decision to
leave excessive dramatics behind was a smart one. “There
was no need to be overdramatic or to bring unnecessary
intensity. The process of making Bachaana was excellent,”
notes Mirza.
Though he has starred in several films post-revival, the kind
of professionalism and discipline with which Bachaana’s
shoot was conducted was a
first for Mirza.
I ask him why the film requires
the woman to be saved. Given
our television plays and their
dedication to regressive ideas,
does cinema also need such
ideas?
And Mirza shoots back: “It wasn’t like that. In two or
three instances, she (Sanam’s character) saves me: I
can’t swim, she saves me, she hits the villains with the
stick and towards the end of the film, a situation arises
where she’s trying to convince the villain to leave me
alone rather than me fighting actually.”
Mirza maintains that Sanam’s Alia doesn’t require saving and the comparison to Bajrangi Bhaijaan is uncalled
12 | BOOM