“Tumko yaad rakhenge guru hum…”

When Irrfan delivered that line with his trademark smirk, it felt like a promise, a threat, a mic drop wrapped in North Indian swagger. The kind of line that echoed through hostel rooms and college canteens long after the credits of Haasil rolled.

And who can forget the poetic guerilla warfare threat: “Wo gunde hain. Sarkari gunde. Hum krantikari hain. Tum log gorilla ho. Gorilla war kiya jayega.”

Twenty-two years ago, on May 16, 2003, Director Tigmanshu Dhulia’s cult debut Haasil arrived and redrafted the Bollywood rules in UP slang. Pure cinematic chutzpah that sounded like a revolution wrapped in pan masala and gunpowder. Long before streaming platforms made “gritty realism” into a buzzword, Tigmanshu Dhulia, backed by Irrfan, Jimi Shergill, Ashutosh Rana and a pitch-perfect supporting cast, pulled out a folding chair, planted it firmly in the Hindi heartland, and asked: “Ready for the real show?”

I remember when Haasil first hit theaters, it barely made a splash. It was quickly buried beneath flashier Bollywood fare. But like a stubborn seed, it cracked through the concrete of indifference, and bloomed into that rare cinematic species we now call a ‘cult classic’. Especially for the audiences of North India, Haasil wasn’t just a film, it was a political thesis disguised as a campus romance.

So, what lies beneath the making of Haasil‘s legend?

The trigger point of Haasil was a small news item about a smooth-talking thug from Mathura chasing a college girl. The plot is deceptively simple: a small town where life moves in its steady rhythm, and a young man in love caught in a world of jealousy, corruption, and conflict at a politically charged North Indian university.

Tigmanshu Dhulia assisted filmmaker Shekhar Kapoor and served as casting director for the acclaimed Bandit Queen. It was on Shekhar’s urging that Dhulia moved to Mumbai. But when Shekhar left for Hollywood, Dhulia was left to chase his own filmmaking dreams. After years of writing and directing for television, Dhulia chose to set his first film in Allahabad, the city he grew up in and knew intimately.

Jimmy Shergill and Irrfan Khan in a film still

Finding a producer for his first film was a nightmare, but Dhulia didn’t give up. He kickstarted the dream with a bit of crowdfunding. For the romantic lead, he was looking for someone who looked cultured, well-mannered, and sincere. When he met Jimmy Shergill at filmmaker Shaad Ali’s house, he knew right away Jimmy was the one. Having lived in Lucknow, Gorakhpur, and Delhi, Jimmy instantly understood the story’s vibe and rhythm.

“I told Tigmanshu if I don’t do this movie, I am going to haunt you…I have to do this movie because nobody can do this movie better than I do it. Nobody can make you feel the vulnerability,” Jimmy says in an old interview from the making of the film. Then they auditioned for the female lead and were truly impressed by Hrishita’s [Bhatt] performance.

For the role of the right-wing student leader, Dhulia had only one name in mind: Ashutosh Rana. A junior from his days at the prestigious National School of Drama (NSD), Rana was on board right away. The choice made perfect sense. Ashutosh had a strong command over Hindi, the kind needed for fiery speeches and the forceful tone. The role demanded a certain authority and Dhulia knew exactly how to tap into Ashutosh’s persona and play to his image.

With most of the casting done, the key villain role was still open. Dhulia had his heart set on Manoj Bajpayee. Satya had hit big, and Manoj was a star. Dhulia knew that if Manoj said yes, the film would instantly gain weight and saleability. He went to Manoj and narrated the role. “Manoj listened and then gently turned it down saying he wasn’t ready to play a villain at that point in his career,” Dhulia mentioned in an interview with NDTV.

Manoj’s refusal left Dhulia with only one other choice, none other than Irrfan Khan. A casting choice that, in hindsight, feels less like a Plan B and more like fate stepping in.

Irrfan had been quietly hustling for over a decade. Familiar on television, overlooked by cinema. His brilliance was waiting to be seen. It was as if Haasil had always belonged to him, and the universe was just waiting to reveal it. As the discussions over the film began, the title was also finalised, “I remember the title came to my mind at his rented Evershine Nagar flat… brainstorming twenty years ago,” Dhulia had tweeted remembering Irrfan.

There was no producer yet. The ones who promised to back the film, backed out. Dhulia had planned to shoot the film’s climax at the iconic Kumbh Mela (2001) in Allahabad which was near.

Dhulia recalled in a 2003 interview to rediff.com during the film’s release, “Haasil‘s script had a certain deadline. The climax had to be shot at the Kumbh Mela… At this time, my friend Amita Sehgal, now the film’s executive producer, got some money from her family and friends — about Rs 4-5 lakh. We took our actors to Allahabad and shot the big scenes, the moving shots and everything and came back and edited the footage. Then we started showing this footage to people; that’s how the film started.”

Irrfan Khan in a film still

Dhulia used “guerrilla-style cameras” in the Kumbh and told the actors to run into the crowd. People around were confused, wondering who the guy was, running with a girl and shouting. The shots were wide and real, capturing the true energy of the Kumbh.

The climax of Haasil was the first to be shot. The rest of the film followed. It wasn’t plot-driven. There wasn’t a rigid script; much of it lived in Dhulia’s mind, meant to be improvised on set. Everything hinged on storytelling and the way characters spoke and interacted.

As the shooting schedule drew near, Irrfan struggled to find the tone and mood the role demanded. Dhulia had chose Allahabad as the film’s canvas, drawing on the city’s authentic pulse to bring the story to life. Reflecting on those days in an old interview with Lehrein Retro, Irrfan recalled Tigmanshu’s words: “Yaar Irrfan, role ko lah jana… In Allahabadi slang, lah jana means to utterly mesmerise everyone.”

Before shooting began, Irrfan wanted to spend time soaking in the city’s vibe. He asked Tigmanshu to take him to Allahabad early. Once there, he began meeting students and university leaders to soak up the character’s true colours.

But when Tigmanshu reached Allahabad to shoot his debut film, he was met with a storm of hostility. Local authorities and some student leaders of Allahabad University didn’t let him film on campus.

Reflecting in an old interview, Tigmanshu had recalled, “I faced immense struggles making this film, releasing it, and bringing it to the audience. I grew up in Allahabad, and yet when I arrived there to shoot, I found a calculated political game in motion-a carefully woven conspiracy. I had come as an excited kid making his first film in his own city, but what happened to me was nothing short of sabotage. Those opposing the shoot told me-something I learned later-that I couldn’t portray the university in a negative light. That’s why, in Haasil, I made the choice never to name the city. Nowhere in the film do I mention Allahabad.”

This was a time of intense turmoil for Dhulia. He battled tirelessly to convince everyone, but couldn’t shoot the film extensively in the city as he had envisioned.

Yet, it was in this storm of setbacks, shattered plans and Dhulia’s unwavering courage that Irrfan found a spark and his inspiration. He recalled in a 2003 interview to Lehrein Retro, “When we went to Allahabad, it happened that they said, ‘You must leave, you can’t shoot here… pack your bags and go back… and who knows when we’ll shoot again… what will happen… because we don’t have the budget to keep coming back over and over.’ The way Tishu handled that situation mujhe pahli baar bahaduri shabd ka arth samajh mein aaya our mujhe laga kaise lah jana hai role ke liye (that’s when I first truly understood what bravery really means. And I thought, this is exactly how I need to approach this role and mesmerise everyone.”

And mesmerise he did, leaving everyone spellbound as Ranvijay Singh.

Later, many university scenes in the film were actually shot at locations in Pune and Mumbai, cleverly transformed to resemble Allahabad University. But the spirit of Allahabad was there unmistakably. Haasil broke the Bollywood mould with its raw, unpolished vibe unlike the cliches Bollywood is known for. Dhulia’s sharp, off-the-cuff Allahabadi banter was utterly captivating.

In a way, Haasil was like Romeo and Juliet, but set against student politics, simmering caste rivalries, power struggles, and sharp Allahabadi one-liners. Remember the scene when Ranvijay (Irrfan) teases an angry man holding a gun- “Ek baat suno pandit, tumse goli woli na challai. Mantar phoonk ke maar diyo saale.” Irrfan crafts a villain that’s cool yet reckless, charming yet menacing delivered with effortless confidence.

Take this line: Tiwariji aap mast rahiye, jyada phantom na baniye.

Or Gaurishankar’s sharp threat to Ranvijay: “Do minute ka maun hoga tumhari yaad me. Tumhare launde aakar gana gayenge – ‘Chalte chalte mere yeh geet yaad rakhna.’ Bas! National holiday hoga ka tumri yaad me?”

Or the unforgettable exchange between Ranvijay and Anirudh (Jimmy Shergill):

Ranvijay: Matlab sex-vex ho gaya kya??

Aniruddh: Nahi bhaiya, usko is nazar se nahi dekha kabhi.

Ranvijay: Nazar ka hi toh khel hai sab. Warna saala dil toh humara bhi saaf hai. Bhagwan ne humein aisi aankhein de di hain, kya kahein!

Irrfan Khan embodied the brooding anti-hero. His eyes did half the acting. His pauses did the rest. His restrained dialogue delivery felt less like lines and more like slow, deliberate daggers. Even the side characters who were usually irrelevant in Hindi films felt important. Like everyone had a motive and a moment.

Haasil also gave Hindi cinema a dialect and a texture making the Hindi heartland feel raw, real, and effortlessly cool, years before streaming platforms caught on. And the great thing was that telling the story of a region where abuses are practically punctuation, the film told its story without using any expletives.

The shooting was over. But the journey of releasing the film wasn’t easy. Despite the buzz from industry screenings and trial shows organised tirelessly by Tigmanshu Dhulia, the film found no takers. “At every trial, people loved what they saw,” Dhulia recalled. “But they all asked the same question-‘There’s no star. How will it run?'”

The original producers had backed out. It was only later that Shyam Shroff of Shringar Films stepped in and gave Haasil a lifeline.

Made on a modest budget of Rs 4 crore, Haasil released quietly on May 16, 2003, with barely any promotion and minimal publicity. Critics praised the performances, especially of Jimmy, Ashutosh and Irrfan, but weren’t too kind to the story and script. Theaters didn’t see packed houses.

But slowly, something began to shift.

Haasil caught fire, and gradually, genuine applause began emerging from the viewers, from college dorms, hostel corridors, and chai stalls across the Hindi heartland. Word spread. Lines from the film became inside jokes. The character of Ranvijay became Irrfan’s breakthrough, searing into screens and hearts alike.

In the years that followed, Haasil earned the rare title of a ‘cult film’. And perhaps, a trace of this character quietly echoed in many of Irrfan’s performances that followed.

In an interview, Tigmanshu Dhulia was asked when he first realised his debut film had turned into a cult movie. He answered, “The moment the calls started pouring in. The offers to sign me for new projects. When ‘Haasil fan clubs’ sprouted up on Orkut (a social media platform now defunct) overnight. Suddenly, everyone from university halls to college corridors was buzzing about the film’s dialogues. Even stand-up comedians like Raju Srivastava and Sunil Pal were mimicking Irrfan’s character on TV, and it blew up. That’s when I knew something had clicked.”

For some reason the film wasn’t sent to the National Awards but Irrfan went on to win the Filmfare Award. Long before the accolades, he alone knew this was the breakthrough he had been waiting for. After watching a few scenes in the editing room, Irrfan had declared that this villain will be remembered like Gabbar Singh of the iconic Sholay. Maybe not quite, but Haasil did for Irrfan what Sholay did for Amjad Khan. It marked him as a powerful new presence on big screen.

At the time of Haasil’s release, Irrfan had reflected, “People won’t be able to forget my character in this film. It will stay with them for days. This is the true reward for all my years of hard work and struggle.”

If you read the interviews of Tigmanshu Dhulia or the reviews, you’ll realise no one, during the making or right after its release, sensed the impact Irrfan would have. But Irrfan felt it in his bones. Though not his first role, Haasil truly introduced us to his powerhouse talent.

Despite its commercial failure, Haasil gave Dhulia a strong foundation to build many memorable films in the years ahead. Twenty two years later, the lines from his debut are still quoted. The scenes are still revered. And the legend of Haasil lives on, not in box office numbers, but in the hushed awe of every fan who stumbled upon it and whispered,

“Ab toh yeh jung hogi.”