A tale of a powerful collaboration and a stubborn clash
Ismail Darbar, the acclaimed music composer who scored the iconic score for Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, has opened up about a long‑standing creative tension with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali. In a candid discussion with journalist Vickey Lalwani, Darbar recounts how their professional bond began, how they navigated disagreements, and what ultimately drove a wedge between them during Heeramandi.
A unique working relationship, right from the start
Darbar describes a working dynamic that was both bold and collaborative. When he and Bhansali teamed for Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, he didn’t hesitate to share his own musical ideas and push back when he disagreed with a suggestion. “I was always very clear about what I liked and how I wanted things to sound. If Sanjay suggested something I didn’t agree with, I would say it upfront,” he explains. This willingness to engage in open debate became a hallmark of their process, allowing for a richly textured soundtrack that aligned with Bhansali’s ambitious vision.
Heeramandi: the turning point
Years later, the two collaborated again for Heeramandi, a project that required extensive musical craftsmanship. Darbar spent nearly a year and a half crafting the show’s music with dedication. Yet, a media article that labeled him the “backbone” of Heeramandi triggered a rift. The piece suggested Darbar had orchestrated the coverage himself, an implication Bhansali reportedly found difficult to ignore. The friction was not merely about words on a page; it touched the core of trust between the two artists.
The confrontation and its aftermath
Darbar recounts a tense confrontation in Bhansali’s office after the article surfaced. “I said, ‘Look, if I have to break the news, I won’t be scared of you; I’ll say it outright that yes, I said it…’” He recalls Bhansali’s reaction and the subsequent choice to “let it go.” For Darbar, “let it go” signified a broader warning: continued tension could push him to step away from Heeramandi. He ultimately left the project, a decision he says was driven as much by accumulated ego and fear as by a single incident. He alleges Bhansali understood the consequences—Darbar’s involvement was pivotal in earlier successes like Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam and Devdas—and feared losing credit to someone who had become indispensable to the music of Bhansali’s cinema.
The lingering ego and the cost of creative pride
Ismail Darbar does not shy away from acknowledging Bhansali’s formidable ego, which he believes played a decisive role in their fallout. He contends that the fear of losing creative primacy influenced Bhansali’s decisions, including the push to reduce Darbar’s public profile. “Fear had crept in that I work so hard and he takes the credit,” he says, underscoring how the balance of recognition can strain even the strongest partnerships. Darbar’s articulation isn’t just a personal grievance; he frames it as a broader commentary on collaborative dynamics in Bollywood where credit, control, and chemistry must align for a project to flourish.
Would he collaborate again? The current stance
When asked about the possibility of reuniting, Darbar remains resolute. His quip about a hypothetical Rs 100 crore offer from Bhansali—“Pehli fursat mein chale jaa yahan se”—signals a clear boundary. He emphasizes that any future collaboration would require a fundamentally different dynamic, one where both parties trust and value each other’s creative input equally. The interview suggests that while past collaborations yielded unforgettable music, the lasting relationship between Darbar and Bhansali has shifted from partnership to a cautionary tale of creative egos clashing with professional consequences.
Heeramandi and the art of musical memory
Darbar asserts that his contributions could have elevated Heeramandi to new heights, claiming that he would have elevated the project beyond its already ambitious scope. Whether or not the music would have changed the show’s reception, his perspective reflects the deep emotional investment artists have in their work and the consequences when collaborations unravel. The broader takeaway is a reminder that great cinema rests not only on star power and direction but also on the harmonies and tensions that drive creative teams to push beyond their comfort zones.
What this means for Bollywood collaborations
Across the industry, cases like this illuminate the fragility of long-term partnerships in a field defined by high stakes and high emotions. Open dialogue, mutual recognition, and a shared understanding of each creative voice’s value can either make a project legendary or fray the ties that bind it. Ismail Darbar’s account adds another layer to the ongoing conversation about credit, ego, and collaboration in Indian cinema, reminding artists and audiences alike that behind every iconic score lies a human story of disagreement, risk, and resilience.
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