*Picture Courtesy: Hindustan Times
I could write an entire book about my admiration for Sooraj Barjatya and the unforgettable journey of assisting him on Prem Ratan Dhan Payo (PRDP), but for now, a series of blogs will have to do!
Growing up, I idolized Sooraj ji—watching Hum Saath Saath Hain at the age of 12 was my career-defining moment for me. But on my first day at Rajshri Productions, I was introduced to a gentleman who had been Sooraj ji’s hero behind the scenes and who, in the months that followed, would become mine—in more ways than one.
Surprisingly, despite devouring every film magazine and industry publication available to a child in Midwestern USA during the nineties, I had never come across a picture of this man. With his glasses and a face radiating kindness, wisdom, and creativity, I later discovered him to be Rajkumar Barjatya—fondly known as Raj Babu industry-wide—Sooraj ji’s father and the son of the legendary Tarachand Barjatya.
Sethji’s Room and M.F. Husain’s Madhuri Magic
I joined the PRDP team about a month before the film went on floors for our first schedule at N.D. Studios, Karjat—where, alongside a massive free-standing palace structure, a huge indoor Ram Leela tent had been erected inside a soundstage. My first interaction with Raj Babu took place in a grand room at Rajshri’s headquarters, fondly referred to as ‘Sethji’s Room’—where a portrait of Tarachand Barjatya (referred to ‘Sethji’ in the industry) hung on the wall. I had seen this portrait at the beginning of so many Rajshri films, following their signature invocation of Goddess Saraswati. It was also the only meeting room in the office space (apart from the costumes/music room) where shoes had to be removed before entering.
My earliest memory of Seth ji’s Room also involves the immediate sighting of magnificent paintings—abstract depictions of what seemed like images from Hum Aapke Hain Koun…! An idol of Lord Krishna, the turban of Manager Chacha that Nisha steals in her intro-scene, Nisha racing on her roller skates. I had a gut feeling about their origin and, sure enough, when I checked the bottom right corner of one of the paintings, I saw the signature of the iconic M.F. Husain. These were from his famed collection—paintings he created while watching Madhuri Dixit dance her heart out in a darkened hall of Liberty Cinema in 1994, accompanied by his brushes and oils. Sethji’s room also brimmed with cinematic milestones from the Rajshri legacy—including the irreplaceable Filmfare trophies bagged by Sooraj ji for Maine Pyar Kiya and Hum Aapke Hain Koun…!
First Impressions and a Test of Memory
Back to my first day—my first distinct memory of Raj Babu was his emphasis on goodness as a core value. Every day, On his crisp, spotless white safari suit, he wore a pin every day with the words ‘Happy Thoughts’, which he truly lived by. Raj Babu often surprised us with fascinating discoveries. About a month before PRDP’s release, he walked into the Assistant Directors’ room and handed each of us the monthly issue of Inspirational Quote, a magazine that still lines my bookshelf.
My first conversation with Raj Babu will always remain unforgettable. On my first day, he had joined a creative meeting in Sethji’s room to discuss logistics for PRDP’s first shoot schedule—accommodation, food, travel, and other production details. Midway, the conversation shifted to a script discussion. Raj Babu was noteworthy for drawing upon previous Rajshri movie references to provide context and richness to present-day discussions. He pointed to one of the two vintage, intricately carved chairs I was sitting on, and, with a beaming smile, said—
‘Jahaan tum baithe ho, maine yahin baith kar apne father ko Dulhan Wahi Jo Piya Man Bhaaye ka climax sunaaya tha!”
Later that day, Avnish (Soorajji’s son and my fellow Assistant Director, now a successful director himself) formally introduced me to Raj Babu—who called me ‘Guptaji.’ He joked that my name would cause confusion, as Rajshri already had its own ‘Guptaji’—Mr. P.K. Gupta, their veteran General Manager. (A few days later, Raj Babu, while introducing me to Anupam Kher, jokingly suggested we be differentiated by our initials —‘Yeh K. Gupta, Woh P.K. Gupta!’
During our chat, Avnish mentioned that I had been a fan of Dulhan Wahi…
Raj Babu smiled and threw a challenge my way:
‘Summarize it in four lines.’
I completely flubbed it—a failed pop quiz on day one! Little did I know, this was just the beginning of many such impromptu memory-and-focus tests from him.
Raj Babu’s Four-Line Formula for Storytelling
Lesson One: If you can’t tell your film’s story in four lines, you don’t fully understand it.
Lesson Two: The golden four-line structure of a successful film—
- Boy Meets Girl
- Boy Loves Girl
- Boy Loses Girl
- Boy Gets Girl
As I mentally replayed Sooraj ji’s filmography– it occurred to me how they all fit this mold so successfully. Barring Hum Saath Saath Hain that is – the backbone of which was Ramayana. In a sense however, the formula did apply to Prem’s character in the film.
Boy Loses Girl–
- Prem losing Suman to feuding fathers and class differences – Maine Pyar Kiya
- Prem losing Nisha to familial tragedy and the need for a maternal figure – Hum Aapke Hain Koun…!
- Prem losing Preeti to a sacrifice of broken engagement –Hum Saath Saath Hain
- Prem losing Sanjana to a case of mixed identities – Main Prem Ki Deewani Hoon
- Prem losing Poonam through a trial of fire –Vivah
- Prem losing Maithili to an established royal betrothment –Prem Ratan Dhan Payo
Raj Babu’s Pocket Books and Old-Warm Charm
Raj Babu’s ways of working were, as my generation would call it, old school—but in the best way. His office was filled with books, magazines, and newspaper clippings—real-life events he found intriguing enough to potentially shape a future film (fun fact: the Vivah climax was born from one such real-life story).
He also carried pocket notebooks and a pen in his shirt pocket at all times. One day, I stumbled upon his meticulously organized collection— decades of pocket books, stacked with precision, ready to be referenced whenever needed.
His practice of physically writing every word (something I keenly observed in Sooraj ji as well) had sharpened his mind like a razor through the years. I witnessed this most vividly during post-production of PRDP – each Assistant Director had been assigned a department to oversee for logistics. I was specifically given dubbing and subtitling, which meant working closely with Raj Babu.
Over several lengthy meetings in Sethji’s room, Raj Babu refined and revised the subtitles I would scribble – for both, the dialogue and the seven-odd songs of the film One of my most interesting conversations with him was about the title song of the film.
Translating Hindi and Urdu lyrics into English is always a challenge. I had initially translated “Paayo Re… Paayo Re… Paayo Re…” as “I have received…I have received…I have received…I have received…” but after nuanced discussions, we landed on “I have found”, which then flowed seamlessly into “I have found the treasure of love” (Prem Ratan Dhan Payo).
The Most Memorable Compliment
Raj Babu had a fantastic way of explaining things through relevant film examples. My favorite memory of him took place on set, during a creative discussion for the climax of PRDP at ND Studios. It was the scene in which Maithili (Sonam Kapoor) would return to Prem Dilwala (Salman Khan), thereby completing the full-arc of the Boy Meets Girl structure.
To illustrate the importance of a scene’s emotional arc, he narrated Vivah’s powerful hospital scene—where Shahid Kapoor marries Amrita Rao before her surgery. Not only did he describe the entire scene, but he also walked around the set with me, physically illustrating character movements. As we reached the final dialogue, I, in my excitement, finished the narration, quoting Mohnish Behl’s iconic line:
‘Aaj tak toh humne is hospital mein dahej ki aag mein jhulsi dulhano ke cases dekhe hain… aaj pehli baar kisi ko dulhan bante dekha hai!’
(‘Until today, this hospital has only seen brides burned in dowry fires. For the first time, we have seen someone become a bride!’)
His face lit up. He patted my shoulder and said,
‘Tumhein yaad tha? Bahut accha! Aaj hamare father zinda hote, toh tumse mil kar bahut khush hote!’
(‘You remembered it? Very good! If our father were alive today, he would have been very happy to meet you!’)
Those words, that moment—will stay with me forever.
Some memories fade, but those shaped by kindness, humility and a lifetime of cinema live on—etched in pocket notebooks and heartstrings alike!
