Vehmon gumaan se duur duur…
Yakeen ki hadd ke paas paas…
Dil ko bharam yeh ho gaya…
Unko humse pyaar hai..
Rekha and Amitabh Bachchan framed by gregariously nodding yellow tulips.  And a universal hope encased in the above lines. And romance as if it was a precious pearl preserved in a velvet lined jewel box.
***

And the moments frozen in time. Rekha, her hair flowing like a moonlit, dark river, pressing her face into a bunch of red roses.
Shahrukh Khan screaming out primal pain.
Sridevi swirling in a petal shower.
Poetry running like life blood through Waqt, Kabhi Kabhi, Silsila, Chandni, Veer Zara,
Rajesh Khanna and Sharmila Tagore and Sahir’s Mere Dil Mein Aaj Kya Hai in a sunlit forest.
Rakhi and Amitabh Bachchan walking in rain under an umbrella to the tune of Jageya..jageya.
Rakhi and Amitabh Bachchan on a snowscape, before a fire crackling to the tune of Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein Khayal Aata Hai...
Sadhana, ethereal and sparkling like a constellation and singing Chehre Pe Khushi Chaa Jaaati Hai.
Love as an orchestrated symphony where music, dialogue and choreography and colour-coded locations and sets  create living paintings we can never really forget.
This is Yash Chopra to me.

He represents among other things, Sahir Ludhiyanvi’s poetry in Dharam Putra, Waqt, Kabhi Kabhi, Trishul. The musical memories he co-created with N Dutta, Ravi,  Khaiyyaam  Shiv Hari,  Uttam Singh, Madan Mohan. And the  seamless romance between Hindi and Urdu.
***
I remember the Yash Chopra of refined excess who along with Raj Kapoor, showed us how rich people really lived. In Waqt, we saw for the first time, young people racing imported cars, playing badminton in private courts, having tea in never ending gardens with sumptuous trolleys in attendance, wall to wall carpeting in homes that seemed straight out of a design catalogue of the time. Homes that looked like dreamscapes with billowing, misty curtains, soulful, luxurious emptiness. In a country just beginning to dream, he was the perfect dream merchant. Someone who made Switzerland as recognisable as Hanging Gardens and filled Swiss meadows with strains of Chandni O Meri Chandni and countless other songs.

The Yash Chopra who defined the Hindi film heroine. Draped in chiffons, pastel dupattas, and romance, Unattainable, pure as milky chaadni but sensuous like rain. Saadhna, Rakhi, Rekha, Sridevi, Juhi Chawla, Madhuri Dixit. Each in career and image defining roles.
***
And then the other Yash Chopra that people forget. The Yash Chopra of  a country that knew dreams were only for a few and that affluence came with a price. The Yash Chopra of Deewar, Kaala Patthar, Trishul. Of sweaty, blood beaded action. Salim Javed’s sword sharp repartee. Of Billa number 786. Of Amitabh Bachchan’s angry monologue before a Shiva statute. Of Parveen Babi playing the first Yash Raj heroine to smoke in bed with her lover. Of an edgy, angry, passionate hero striding  through a dockyard to say,”Aaj Phir Ek Mazdoor Hafta Dene Se Inkaar karega.” Of angst in the belly and fire in the soul of a nation just beginning to grapple with corrupt politicians, greedy builders, immoral policemen.

This was the unadorned Yash Chopra who took a break from sanitised love stories to walk through coal mines, dock yards, reeking dens, heart break , emotional and physical violence. Even though, even in his violent films, there was romance like a burst of sunshine after a storm. Like when Rakhi says to AB’s brooding Vijay in Kala Patthar as the two are walking through a dark street in rain, “Koi baat nahin..bas agle mod par roshni hai.”
***
Then the Yash Chopra who lost it when he tried to gauge the mood of the new generation in titillating outings like Vijay and Faasle. The former was unendurably crass with a bikini clad Sonam being compared to a sweet and salty cracker. And Meenakshi Sheshadri being set up for a prolonged lip lock in a car park. And Faasle, which had its lucid and lyrical moments with Rekha and Sunil Dutt, Farah and Rohan Kapoor but had a needless interlude of awkward intimacy between the debutants.
***
And the Yash Chopra who began to dream again and taught us to dream again. Love again. Sing again. The Yash Chopra of Chandni, Lamhe, Darr, Dil Toh Paagal Hai, Veer Zaara though not all films got the same amount of success. Then ofcourse, the focus shifted to Aditya Chopra and Yash Raj became a conglomerate,  a nursing ground for good, bad, indifferent film makers and acquired a corporate entity.
***
I don’t know if his cinema still has a soul or just a formula. Can he still make us feel new things with old devices or will he like always,  flow with the times to create somthing we can recognise and identify with but in his likeness? Still in the 100 years of Indian cinema..many decades of Hindi cinema are influenced, shaped, marked by him.
***
If I were to sum up his cinema in one line, I would borrow a Sahir flourish from Waqt and say that his cinema taught us to never take love lightly, to believe in magic of inexplicable connection, and to understand that, “marne ka saliqa aate hi jeene ka shaoor aa jata hai.”

Reema Moudgil is the author of Perfect Eight (http://www.flipkart.com/perfect-eight-9380032870/p/itmdf87fpkhszfkb?pid=9789380032870&_l=A0vO9n9FWsBsMJKAKw47rw–&_r=dyRavyz2qKxOF7Yuc