Music composer Ismail Darbar recently revisited one of the most powerful and emotional memories from the making of the 1999 cinematic classic Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, offering a rare glimpse into the creative intensity of filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali. In a candid conversation with Subhojit Ghosh on his YouTube channel, Darbar revealed the unforgettable moment when Bhansali first heard the now-iconic song Tadap Tadap.
According to the composer, the filmmaker was so deeply moved that he listened to the track nine times in succession before breaking down emotionally. By the ninth replay, Bhansali was overwhelmed with tears, reacting as though he had experienced a profound personal loss — a moment that Darbar described as both shocking and deeply touching.
Darbar shared that this emotional response marked a creative breakthrough for Bhansali. The song didn’t just resonate with him — it clarified his entire vision for the film. It was through Tadap Tadap, Darbar revealed, that Bhansali finally understood the emotional trajectory of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. The filmmaker reportedly admitted that the song helped him determine the film’s narrative structure, including where the interval should fall and how the story should conclude.
However, what followed was far from a straightforward creative victory. Despite the emotional impact of the composition, Darbar was surprised to find that Bhansali did not immediately finalize the music. The moment of artistic clarity did not translate into instant professional resolution, highlighting the complex and often unpredictable nature of their working relationship.
Over the years, Darbar and Bhansali have shared a deeply layered creative partnership that has produced memorable cinematic moments in films like Devdas. Yet their journey has been marked as much by disagreements as by mutual admiration. Darbar candidly described their bond as one defined by frequent clashes — comparing their arguments to constant battles — but also emphasized the strong respect and affection that underpinned their collaboration.
The relationship, however, faced a serious strain during the making of Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar. Darbar claimed that he had worked extensively on the project’s music for nearly a year and a half before being unexpectedly replaced. According to him, Bhansali had initially committed to working together but later moved forward without him, a decision that Darbar described as a betrayal.
Despite this professional fallout, Darbar’s recollections reveal a bond that extended beyond creative disagreements. He spoke movingly about Bhansali’s personal gestures of support during moments of grief. The filmmaker, he recalled, personally informed him about his father’s passing and traveled to Surat to attend the funeral. Years later, Bhansali also attended Darbar’s mother’s funeral uninvited, choosing to sit quietly by her grave longer than even close family members.
Reflecting on their strained relationship today, Darbar expressed sadness over losing not just a collaborator but a friend. He acknowledged that while their professional journey may have diverged, the emotional connection remains significant.
For Darbar, any possibility of reconciliation lies beyond personal desire. He believes that working together again would require something greater than mutual willingness — suggesting that such a reunion would depend solely on fate or divine intervention.
His reflections ultimately paint a picture of a partnership defined by passion, conflict, creativity, and deep emotional ties — proving that in the world of art, some collaborations are as personal as they are professional.
