The Fiction of Friction: Vishal Bhardwaj on Crime, Literature, and the Cinematic Soul

Vishal Bhardwaj’s cinematic journey is more than just a filmography; it is an exploration of the complex relationship between literature, morality, and crime. Known for adapting Shakespeare into the Indian context with stunning depth, Bhardwaj has consistently blurred the lines between fact and fiction, truth and myth.

Vishal Bhardwaj breaks down his filmmaking which intertwines fiction, reality and crime

His ability to blend reality with fiction, sweetness with bitterness, right with wrong, has made his work a study in nuance. Whether adapting Charan Singh Pathik’s short story Do Behnein into Pataakha, or weaving Basharat Peer’s memoir Curfewed Night into the soul of Haider, Bhardwaj’s cinema resists simple binaries.

Speaking exclusively to Indulge Express, the filmmaker opens up about how these elements converge in his films and how literature continues to inform his creative process. With his next project set to explore crime once again—this time inspired by one of S. Hussain Zaidi’s book, during the launch of author’s latest book, From Dubai to Karachi: The Dawood Saga Continues (published by Penguin Random House India)—Bhardwaj’s reflections on crime and morality are more relevant than ever.

The Tangled Web of Literature, Morality, and Crime

Vishal Bhardwaj has long been celebrated for adapting Shakespeare into the gritty, complex world of Indian crime. His cinematic universe is a compelling blend of literary gravitas and street-level realism. When asked about the link between literature, morality, and the crime world—particularly in the Indian context, where fiction often bleeds into fact—he acknowledges a deep, intrinsic connection.

“I think all three—literature, morality, and crime—are closely connected,” he reflects. “There’s definitely a relationship between them. When we fictionalise facts, we’re doing it for the sake of storytelling—because cinema, at its heart, is about telling a story.”

For Bhardwaj, the ethical framework of these stories is never arbitrary. “Morality comes through the characters,” he adds, “and that’s where my own moral compass comes into play.”

To explain his layered storytelling, Bhardwaj reaches for a nostalgic metaphor. “You know, during summers we used to have Ganga-Jamuna juice—I’m not sure if the younger generation still drinks it. The beauty of that juice was that you couldn’t really tell how much tanginess, sweetness, or other flavours were being mixed into it. But in the end, the taste was always refreshing.” (smiles)

When Conflict Becomes Craft

Conflict, for Bhardwaj, isn’t just a storytelling device—it is the story. “If you're asking whether I face that kind of conflict when writing a character—yes, all the time. And I believe that kind of friction leads to stronger fiction,” he says.

He understands that once an audience loves a character, even their flaws may feel justified. “People who love me will look at my work one way; my critics will see it differently. But if there’s no conflict, no tension—no ‘two’—then there’s no story. The core of any character, situation, or film is conflict. It’s always that friction that creates the fiction.”

Beyond the Numbers

Asked whether literature could be the salve for Indian cinema’s recent dry spell, Bhardwaj pauses. “It’s true—we’re going through a tough phase, commercially speaking. But if we put aside the business aspect, cinema is so much more than just box office figures.”

He cites 'Ship of Theseus' as a landmark in low-budget, high-imagination storytelling and expresses curiosity about the creative opportunities emerging with new technology. “Now with AI coming into the picture, there’s so much more we can explore in storytelling. The potential is huge. Box office is one part of it; storytelling is another. And in terms of storytelling, I think we’re in a very interesting space.”

Parallel Rhythms

In the end, Bhardwaj remains a rare kind of director: one who sees literature and cinema not as siblings but as twin rivers running in parallel—sometimes colliding, often complementing, never quite the same.

“Literature has its own language, its own universe,” he says. “Yes, sometimes we adapt literary works into films, but the two are parallel worlds. They intersect occasionally, but they each have their own rhythm.”

And in that rhythm—between Shakespeare and Zaidi, between juice and gunpowder—Vishal Bhardwaj continues to compose his most arresting fictions.

(By Arundhuti Banerjee)