#KetchupTalks: "I’m a huge Vishal Bhardwaj fan. For me just being in this film felt like a dream come true" - Hussain Dalal on O Romeo

Hussain Dalal, a name you might know more for his writing, talks to us about what it was like acting alongside Shahid Kapoor in Vishal Bhardwaj’s O Romeo, how he balances the craft of being both a writer and an actor, and more!

If you’re anything like me, someone who grew up holding onto every dialogue from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, as if those were the exact words you needed to feel seen and understood, then imagine what it feels like to watch the writer behind that wisdom step onto the screen himself. Hussain Dalal is a voice you’ve probably heard of long before you consciously noticed his name. His filmography is so vast that every few months, there’s a new title rolling its end credits with Dalal credited for dialogue or writing. But he isn’t just a name on paper,  he’s also a face you might recognise from projects like Toofan, Jee Karda, or Margarita with a Straw, and many more.

Recently seen in Vishal Bhardwaj’s O Romeo, Dalal stepped into the role of Chhotu, the loyal second-in-command to Shahid Kapoor’sUstara.Chhotu is the kind of man who understands his hero’s pain just by looking into his eyes, anticipates his decisions before they are spoken aloud and carries his own quiet dreams without ever placing them above the needs of his best friend. But what does it mean for Dalal to inhabit a character like Chhotu? Does he see parts of himself reflected in him? How does he view the current state of filmmaking and its ongoing struggles? And how does he separate or reconcile the writer and the actor within him, especially when discussing the power and responsibility of dialogue in cinema? 

Also Read: Tu Yaa Main and O Romeo: When cinema moves to the lyricism of music!

In this candid conversation, Dalal, in his own poetic and disarmingly honest way, talks to us about it all!

Acting isn’t something new for you. But when you take on the role of the hero’s best friend, a typecast space of the supportive hand, especially opposite someone like Shahid Kapoor who can easily dominate a scene, how do you navigate that space while still standing out?

I don’t really look at it like that. I’m a writer myself, so I genuinely feel that those token “hero ka dost” parts don’t really get written anymore, at least not in the way people assume. And honestly, we’re all trying to survive typecasting in one way or another. But when it’s a Vishal Bhardwaj film, it’s never just that. The reason people are sitting up and noticing the character is because of the way it’s written and placed in the story. I mean, Vicky Kaushal played the hero’s friend inSanju. So it’s not about the label. I feel like as a society, we’re so deeply embedded in stigma that we’re always looking to stigmatise something. We’re aware of how the world perceives the “hero ka dost” role, it’s almost become a pet peeve for people to dismiss it and say, “Oh, he’s just that.” But when you watch a film by someone like Vishal Bhardwaj, who, for me, is one of the finest filmmakers in the country, you realise the character isn’t ornamental.

Take Chhotu, for example - he may be the eighth most important character on paper, but he’s so deeply embedded in the narrative that you can’t say, “If he wasn’t there, the film would be the same.” That’s how I judge a role. I don’t just look at the part, I look at the filmmaker. The three times I’ve played this so-called space have been with filmmakers I deeply admire: Raj & DK in A Gentleman, Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra in Toofaan, and now Vishal Bhardwaj. That’s a fairly tall order if you ask me. With directors like that, you’re confident the part will have substance. And working with ShahidKapoor was honestly a joy. He’s one of the finest actors we have, and we’re friends in real life too, which made the process easier. We were cracking the era together, figuring out the characters together, it was fun. Also, isn’t there more merit in the fact that people noticed my performance while I was acting alongside a top-performing actor in a film directed by a top filmmaker? Doesn’t that, in itself, add value to the work?

Vishal Bhardwaj writes characters who move to their own rhythm. Even Chhotu isn’t just Ustara’s second-in-command, he feels like his own person. Was the writer in you as excited about this character as the actor in you?

I’m a huge Vishal Bhardwaj fan. For me, just being in this film felt like a dream come true. When I was writing Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, I used to joke, “Yaar mujhe toh Vishal Bhardwaj ki film mein kaam karna hai, main love stories kyun likh raha hoon?” So working with him was one of those bucket-list things. Usually, the writer inside me is restless. He’s like, “Arre yaar, I’d do this scene differently,” or “Let’s tweak this.” But here, Vishal Bhardwaj’s writing was so on point that the writer in me just shut up and admired. It was like working with your hero. There was no struggle of wanting to add more or change things. The writer in me was just happy to be there. And honestly, as a writer myself, one thing I dislike is when actors try to change a character out of habit,  just to make it their own. I’ve seen that from the other side. So as an actor, I’m careful not to do that. When Vishal sir explained a scene, I could understand exactly what he was aiming for and think, “I’ll do it exactly like that because what you want is brilliant.” Being a writer helped me respect that process even more. In a strange way, it’s come full circle. I always wanted to be part of a Vishal Bhardwaj film while I was busy writing love stories and eventually, I became part of a Vishal Bhardwaj love story. So it’s like I always say - khwaab kitna bhi outlandish ho, apne khwaab ki khud ko izzat karni chahiye. Agar aap apne khwaab ki izzat nahi karenge na, toh koi aur bhi nahi karega.

View this post on Instagram

Chotu dreams of leaving everything behind and moving abroad, but it’s never really in his control. As someone who’s been in the industry for a long time and seen ups and downs, have you ever felt like Chotu? How do you deal with that?

I feel like we’re all Chhotu's in our own way. Insaan ki fitrat hi aisi hoti hai main jahan hoon, wahan kuch nahi hoon, mujhe aur chahiye. And somewhere there’s poetic justice in that. Chhotuko jaana hai, jaana hai, jaana hai and eventually, he does go in the climax. Toh meri larger philosophy yeh hai ki you have to let life happen. Jab aap life ko hone dete ho na, it eventually takes you to a better place than the one you were desperately trying to reach, bas problem yeh hai ki hum us par trust nahi karte. When I first hit a low phase in my career, I genuinely felt, “Bas, main toh khatam ho gaya.”But after being in the movie business for so long, I’ve developed that trust. Now when there’s a low patch, I tell myself, “Haan theek hai, yeh low patch hai. High patch bhi aayega.” Life waves ki tarah hoti hai - upar, neeche, upar, neeche. It never stays stagnant. Aur thahra hua paani bimaari deta hai, behte paani mein ilaaj hota hai. Behta rehna zaruri hai. As Chhotu Spain gaya end mein. Toh milta hai jo chahiye but zaroori nahi ki aapke tareeke se mile. Insaan ki akal bahut limited hoti hai. Hamari jitni umar hoti hai, utni hi akal hoti hai. Zindagi ki akal usse kahin zyada hoti hai. So I just say - let life happen! Life has more wisdom, more age, more clarity than we do. And yeh main un sab ke liye keh raha hoon jo khud ko stuck mehsoos karte hain.

You mentioned that actors sometimes change a writer’s words. But you’ve also worked on projects you’ve both written and acted in. How do you strike a balance between the writer and the actor within you? Do they ever conflict?

They don’t. I don’t let them conflict. I feel like I’m striving for excellence and when you’re chasing something bigger, you don’t get stuck competing over small things. For example, when I worked on Jee Karda, AbbasDalal and Arunima had written the show, and I was acting in it as well. I had also been involved in writing it. But we had such a wonderful team that it never became a struggle of ego or control. You have to look at the larger picture and not let one aspect of your creative life interfere with another. I’ve always been chasing the idea of wanting to act, direct, and write. In college, I used to joke that I want to be Raj Kapoor - main hi writer, main hi director, main hi actor.But to reach that level, there are miles to go before you sleep. So conflict isn’t an option. Growth is. I don’t see the writer and actor as rivals. I let them help each other. My writing can strengthen my acting because I understand structure, rhythm, and intention. My acting can strengthen my writing because I understand performance, pauses, and emotional truth. Even my ability to think through a scene helps both. You just have to stay very aware and keep your focus on the bigger picture. That’s always my main concern, not winning an argument between the writer and actor inside me, but making the work better.

You’re known for writing impactful dialogues, often the most memorable part of a film. At the same time, there’s this belief that the fewer the dialogues, the better the writing. What’s your take on that?

I think someone must’ve said that in passing at some bar and it just became a theory. It’s not true. Fewer dialogues work in poetic films or very controlled subjects. But if I’m writing a comedy and I reduce the dialogues, you won’t even understand the joke. Every shoe doesn’t fit every foot. Love stories are largely dependent on dialogue and music. Comedies survive on dialogue. Action films depend on big, punchy lines, although ironically, they’re also the only genre that actually needs the least amount of dialogue. We often make the mistake of making action films too verbose, and that’s when dialogue becomes a disservice. So really, dialogue isn’t about quantity. It’s about clarity. If you know where you’re headed, you’ll know exactly how much is enough.

Is it more pressurising to write for large-scale films like Kalank, Fighter, or Sikandar compared to projects like Taaza Khabar, Dhindora, or Bambai Meri Jaan, given the budget, scale, and stars attached?

I honestly don’t see anything as pressurising or easy. At the same time, nothing is inherently difficult either. The key is clarity. If you know your story clearly, that’s all that matters. The story decides whether a film is big or small. After it’s made, people label it that way. But for me, a story is a story. A big film and a small film are equally important. Sometimes you can’t judge scale by budget. Taaza Khabar, for instance, was made on a relatively small budget and became a runaway hit one of the most pirated shows in India. So how do you really define big and small? I work with my heart. I don’t work with pressure. I don’t like pressure, I don’t take pressure, it’s just not in my nature. Now, when you talk specifically about big stars, yes, there are certain format expectations. In films like Kalankor Sikandar, where you have mega stars, audiences expect powerful dialogue delivery. In Sikandar, for example, there was an expectation of big, memorable lines. But in Fighter, it was different. Hrithik Roshan isn’t known for delivering heavy, punchy monologues. So apart from the climax, he doesn’t really speak in big, dramatic prose because that’s not his nature, and it’s not the character’s nature either. You have to understand the need of the hour. When you’re working with a mega star, you know kids will want a line they can repeat something powerful. So yes, sometimes you’re tempted to give them that. But ultimately, it still has to serve the character and the story.

How do you feel when someone from the younger generation uses a line like “Main udna bhi chahta hoon...” from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani to express their emotions, but also turns dialogues from Brahmāstra into memes? Has writing for the younger generation become tougher?

Not at all. When you choose to work in the public domain, you have to accept that people can love something and hate something. That choice is theirs. This younger generation is a generation of opinions more than achievements. I find that quite hilarious. When we were young, we were busy trying to achieve something. Today, sometimes having an opinion is enough to make you relevant. You can make a hateful video about something and suddenly you have fame and money. Somewhere, the line between fame and shame has blurred. And honestly, I observe it with a bit of amusement. As an artist, though, I don’t take it personally. I’m older than a kid mocking me on the internet. If a line like “Main udna bhi chahta hoon…” inspires someone, that’s beautiful, it means the work is connected. And if a line from Brahmāstra becomes a meme or upsets someone, that’s also part of the journey. Maybe they interpreted it differently. Maybe I can learn from that. For me, everything is education. I don’t take myself so seriously that if someone dislikes my film, I’ll sit at home and cry. A movie has thousands of moving parts. As artists, we ride waves, sometimes you’re up, sometimes you’re down. Honestly, I enjoy it. It stimulates me.

Given that you make your livelihood largely through playing with words, do you ever fear that the creative well might run dry one day?

I honestly don’t think about it that way. I didn’t grow up being told I was special. I’m not from a background where there was a lot of money at home and parents saying, “Beta, tum bahut khaas ho, tum artist ho.” We’re not from that category. Hum bhookhe bachche the. And hungry children have a lot of stories. I’ll answer you with a couplet so at least you feel you got something poetic out of this interview (laughs) - “Main majbooriyon mein kaamyaab raha hoon ab tak, Mujhe itni bhi abhi tak shoharat nahi mili.”We started working in films out of necessity - ghar chalana tha. So if you ask me, my helplessness has succeeded. And when you come from that place, you don’t really fear running out. There’s too much lived experience. Too much hunger. Stories are not going to dry up so easily!

View this post on Instagram

There’s a lot of discussion around films and shows not working these days whether because of shrinking attention spans or issues in craft. What’s your take on the current scenario? 

I have a very simple take. It’s not shrinking attention spans. That’s not the problem. It’s fundamentally one issue and if we solve that one issue, we’ll be out of this problem. Find the right creators who are honest, and give them 100% creative control. Now, this is a double-edged sword. Because when you give 100% creative control, if the creator is dishonest or confused, they can mess it up. But if you have the courage to find the right creators and truly back them, nothing will fail. When you watch a film like Animal, Dhurandhar, Saiyaara, or Chhaava, you can sense it’s 100% the maker’s film and nobody else’s. You may agree or disagree with it, but you feel a singular vision. You can sense trouble in a film when it feels like someone has interfered with someone else’s vision, when too many fingers have pointed at the same canvas.

Filmmaking is democratic in process, yes. But creatively, it is also singular. And by singular, I mean the whole unit coming together for one unified vision. When the W-H-O-L-E has one direction, it works. When you start allowing multiple visions because someone financed it and has extra opinions, or because corporate culture demands “creative feedback” from everyone in the room you don’t let the creator fly. If attention span were truly the issue, then a 3.5-hour Dhurandhar, a 3.25-hour Animal, a 3-hour Saiyaara, or even a 3-hourO Romeo wouldn’t have worked or received such strong reactions. Attention span is not the problem. Quality and clarity are. Confusion is the real bane of the movie business. And confusion often comes from privilege. When filmmakers start coming from privileged backgrounds, without real lived experiences or real stories to tell, it becomes easier to blame the audience and say, “People don’t have patience anymore.” Don’t blame people for what you cannot make.

We still have hungry kids in this country with more than 10,000 stories. But if you’re sitting in an air-conditioned room with a foreign education, trying to manufacture what the public wants, it’s going to be more difficult. You can’t outsmart the audience. You have to know them. When we made Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, everyone said it was too long for a love story, almost three hours. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was trusting the art. So my advice is simple. First, find real artists. Not connected kids from parties. Not people who are just well-networked. Find real artists. And then give them 100% trust and freedom. If you do that, most of the so-called “attention span problems” will disappear. And yes, it’s not easy. But what is necessary is rarely easy.

For more such conversations, follow us on@socialketchupbinge.