The show must go on

reconnects with Phat Phish boss Anand Surapur and finds that his enthusiasm for niche, new products hasn't dulled at all.

Three years ago, when I met Anand Surapur at the modest Bengali Sweets in Sunder Nagar, New Delhi, I asked him what most journalists already had: Why did Surapur's company, Phat Phish, back Rabbi, an artiste who had tried, unsuccessfully, to release his songs for the past so many years?

Surapur, relishing his cup of coffee in a little steel mug, had replied, "I was always convinced about Rabbi's sound and backed nothing but his talent."

So much time has passed since that sunny morning when Surapur spoke excitedly about his forthcoming projects. There was a film that he'd had in mind. He wanted to call it Fakirs of Venice and had already roped in director Farhan Akhtar to star in it.

He spoke about Mou, a singer who, if I recollect, was going to be the voice of pop in the otherwise fledgling industry. There were also two children who sang at a railway station, whose voices, he thought, were "raw and cutting edge". He had followed his instinct and packed them off to a recording studio. So yes, there were plans that he had and like an excited, enthusiastic child, he could hardly wait to start. That was then.

When I speak to him after all these years, I realise that a lot has changed. "What happened to Fakirs of Venice?" I ask. "It got delayed but we are going to release it very soon," he mentions. "And the two kids you'd found at the railway station?" I remind him. "Set to release." "Mou?" "She's had a baby but yes, that project is ready too."

He explains, "I fell short of money. It eventually delayed Fakirs of Venice." He says this in an absolutely cool-as-a-cucumber tone. And just when I begin wondering about how he managed the funds for the film eventually, he fills in: "I sold my house, my office, everything, everything."

I wonder how a person gathers such an enormous appetite to take risks, how someone like Surapur remains unfazed in matters which leave him, literally, with no roof over his head, no home to call his own, no office space? He simply laughs in response.

"Are you married?" I ask him. The answer, as I expect, is in the negative. "I don't shoulder those sort of responsibilities and I suppose my marital status explains the risks that I'm able to take." We laugh together.

It's exactly this ability to laugh in times of crisis and his attitude that make him a complete go-getter. "I want to take niche content and bring it on a popular platform. That's what I've always aspired to do," he says. "If I want", he carries on, "I can work with Rabbi again but what's the point? Someone needs to take risks, promote new talent." I see his point, thinking of how Phat Phish has backed Avial, the first Malayalee rock band.

"Avial's doing well after the release of their album, they're getting gigs from all over the country and yes, they are recognised," Surapur says. But he's equally vocal about music channels, particularly MTV and Channel V, not promoting regional music. "I never expected this change, especially because I was an employee at Channel V for a long time."

Speaking of which, Quick Gun Murugun, the lovable small strip that used to run on Channel V, is now being converted into a full-fledged feature film for which Phat Phish has invested Rs 10 crore. The company has also completed No Problem, a film directed by Soumik Sen (who, by the way, was a colleague at Business Standard), partly produced the critically-acclaimed film Frozen and Neeyati (a Rs 3 crore venture).

"There are audiences, all we need to have is a steady flow of a certain kind of niche cinema that needs to find its place in the Indian film industry," explains Surapur. Though he admits money is important in the scheme of things, his belief is that he is still driven more by creative content than by sheer numbers.

"Even if I got a lot of money, I would still need to prove my mettle. I'm no Yash Raj. We need to make small films which can recover costs somehow but don't compromise on content. That's what I am certain about," he says.

It could well be a reason why Phat Phish also started its distribution label for music albums. "We have eight new artistes waiting to be heard, including a Delhi-based band called Dasas. Earlier, we had been distributing other labels. We may not release as many copies (Avial released with 10,000, after which some more were added) as other record labels, but with the understanding that we have with our retailers and select music stores, we are reaching our target audiences," Surapur says.

Without pausing for breath, he adds, "Even if we have tapped 10 per cent of listeners, it means a huge chunk of youth are, if nothing else, familiar with our brand of music."

Having opened a small office in New York, Phat Phish is all set to open offices in France and London. "I want to pick up global content, we want to make collaborations and co-productions a reality, and want to co-produce content at regular intervals," Surapur says.

With so much happening on the professional front, I ask him the question that I've been waiting to ask since the beginning of the interview. Is he getting tired? "I'm the same," he grins, adding quickly, "except that there are a lot more headaches and I'm constantly fighting the system. There's a lot that's been cleared by way of projects but a lot still needs to be done."

And no, he corrects me, there's no lethargy, no nervousness despite delays in projects "" "I'm so confident about my work, not just me but also my team of 55 people have the strongest belief in whatever we're doing," he says.

Suddenly, Surapur sounds familiar all over again. He's once again the same guy I'd met years ago and sipped coffee with, the same guy with an enthusiastic ring in his voice, the same guy who still promises to bring marvellous entertainment content to the table.