A moving, intimate remembrance by Sharad Raj of writer Satyam Tripathi—his brilliance, arrogance, tenderness, creative agony, artistic integrity, and friendship—set against Indian television, cinema, poetry, loss, and a shared love for uncompromising storytelling.

Writer, filmmaker and creative producer Sharad Raj reflects on his long friendship with acclaimed screenwriter Satyam Tripathi, tracing their collaborations across Indian television, youth dramas, cinema references, poetry, loss, and artistic struggle, in a heartfelt tribute to a restless creative soul. 

The year was 2005, if my memory serves me right. We at B.A.G Films were doing an episodic series on crimes against women on Sony Entertainment Television called Rihaee and we were looking for writers so our dear friend Charudutta Acharya recommended a certain Satyam Tripathi for the series. Charudutta, my junior from FTII himself is a formidable writer himself so his recommendation mattered. Those days I used to have a Salma Hayek photograph as my wallpaper, I clearly remember Satyam for a moment, stood at my cabin door and looked at that wallpaper, it was an icebreaker and we hit it off right away. What followed were a series of meetings between him and me, he the writer and me the creative director and every meeting would start with us dancing and singing, “Salma pe dil aa gaya, ki Salma pe dil aa gaya!” We had become friends.  

Then a few years later I was the Fiction Head at Cinevistaas and ZEE was launching a new youth-oriented channel ZEE Next and Siddharth Malhotra, Mr. Prem Kishen’s son who was in charge asked me to develop something on the lines of Beverly Hills 90210, I prepared a broad story docket first and then Siddharth called Satyam and Yahan Ke Hum Sikander (YKHS) was born. What completely bowled me over was his commitment, passion and not to stop writing till he was convinced it is the best he can do. His constant refrain was, “ mein inn saley Cs ke liye thodi hi likhta hun, yeh soch bhi nahi saktey jo mein likhta hun…”(he meant channel heads and executives!). And he was dead right. Satyam had no competition when it came to screenwriting.

Satyam was a master of nuance. I cannot remember a script or a scene written by Satyam that was rhetorical, didactic or black and white in its playout. In a world of dumbing down, simplistic television, Satyam delineated a complex world of human emotions. Predictability was not his forte, he surprised with his freshness.

Work, Arrogance, and the Agony of Perfection

Few people will be able to get away with the kind of arrogance Satyam had and the extent he could be dismissive of his contemporaries no matter how much money they were making. For him quality was supreme and quality writing doesn’t come easy he believed and rightly so. His wisecracks could make him get away with murder. His other refrain was, “ phir hum toh unn mein se hein jo keh dengey yeh raha tumhara show tum sambhalo, hum chale Ganga desh.” He attributed his arrogance what he called “akadh” to his father Mr. Kumud Tripathi, well known character actor of his times, lyricist and poet. Satyam held his father in high regard and proudly believed his father perhaps did not get his due for he never accepted mediocrity. He was happy to be like his father with pride.

Poetry, Loss, and a Friendship Beyond Work

Once my team and I walked up to this pub Hawaiian Shack near our office in Bandra to grab a drink after work when I got a call from Satyam and he started to narrate a scene to me between a character called Arshia (Kritika Kamra) and her single mother who is getting into a new relationship. He was so happy narrating a complex play of emotions between the mother and daughter that it went on for 20 minutes with me talking to him on the phone while my colleagues were happily getting drunk inside! Such was the agony and ecstasy of Satyam Tripathi. My instant response was, “what a scene!”

He had spent two days cracking the way forward between the mother and daughter.

Satyam gave his everything to YKHS. He took the story docket that I had prepared from me and said he would return in a few days with more work. Some days later he returned with some of the most exciting references from movies like George Lucas’s America Graffiti, Saturday Night Fever, Grease and Dirty Dancing, on representation of youth in an elitist, consumerist society. I consider myself extremely fortunate that he became so fond of me over time, we just got along like house on fire, in fact he once gifted me Saratchandra’s biography “Awara Massiha” by Vishnu Prabhakar saying I would love this.

We would discuss world cinema, poetry, music, literature before and after every meeting and then talk work. A meeting with Satyam would mean a few hours often supported by chicken sandwiches from Candies and coffee.

Some years later I got Satyam on board another show that I was doing for ZEE, and he would come to my place for meetings. On one such visit he started to read my father’s poems from his collection “Yatra” and fell in love with them. I soon introduced him to my dad when he was visiting me in Mumbai and left them in a room to talk Hindi poetry. Once again Satyam appreciated things that were not obvious.

When papa passed away Satyam took my call and immediately agreed to read papa’s poems in his prayer meeting and then he read the whole of Yatra on papa’s 13th day closure of our mourning.

Satyam and I briefly worked on an OTT series also that we thought we could produce. But then he got what we in television call “bread and butter” work.

Satyam always wanted to direct a film but then he would quote his friend and actor Lovleen Misra who had once told someone, “yeh iss Janam mein sirf recce karne aaye hein, film yeh agle Janam mein banayengey!”

Today, when he has left us, I can only wish that he returns in whatever form to do what he always wanted to, make a film. He has left us and the entire television fraternity numb. My last WhatsApp exchange with him was on 4th Febuary, 2025 when he sent me a picture of my father’s new poetry compilation, “Kavita ko Mandap Mein Le Aao” that I had edited with a message, “yeh meri copy maine magwa li! Ab mandap mein layi gayi hein toh mahamandal mein baith kar padunga.”

“Mahamandal?” does it not sound prophetic? Perhaps both papa and he are discussing poetry in some part of our galaxy. Amen.