Euphony

Music is in footsteps eager to reach you, the bell ring, the sound of whispers in ear, of knuckles unknuckling lazily, the swish of clothes, of laughter, and the name being called out. Again and again.

Music is windows rattling, wind knocking, thunder, rain, the splashing in pools of muddy water, the gurgle of drains, of gumboots plodding, the towel drying wet hair.

Music is opera, the gut-wrenching cry of unspeakable sadness, of stories that never die about people who always do.

Music is the church choir, stiff collars scraping necks, throats belting out hymns in sync, the uniformity of consent, of community, of togetherness.

Music is the huge temple bell rung just once to announce arrival and once more to depart, an offering to an idol created by the cadence of hands.

Music is the azaan, the call of the muezzin, especially at dusk, intoned like the sun cooling off, like air trapped in the hollow of cheeks that breaks free and escapes into the sky.

Music is the symphony of an orchestra where hands seem to quiver. Of the soloist at a pop concert who has to match voice with attitude, timbre.

Music is the turning of the pages of a book, of scratching out words with a pen, of sketching on rice paper, of the fan blowing into face, of lips puckering to blow away the strands of hair.

Music is distant traffic at night, of the phone on silent and a call with a name so familiar you divert it to voice mail so that you can listen to the sigh.

--

© Farzana Versey

Manna Dey gets an award or a token?

Why does everyone feel so humble? Is this a sign of true greatness always? If I were Manna Dey, I’d either sit quietly with a glass of honeyed water and keep doing my riyaz, as he indeed does, or tell those blokes who decide on giving national awards to go stuff it.

A man has sung over 3000 songs, is over 90 years old and some politicians and bureaucrats decide they need to give him something he can die peacefully with? What nonsense. This has been happening for years and these awards have become just a plaything for some people. Who knows? Some babu must have been sitting with his cheap rum at a sidey club and heard the strains of some Mannada song, maybe “Ai meri zohra jabeen” and his wife blushed thinking he looked so happy and hummed along for her, this tubby hubby of hers who spends time pushing files away from his desk and looking for every opportunity to show his power.

So, she is smiling and saying, “O ji, such a lhuuvly song. Reminds me of old days…” even if those old days were as exciting as parathas on the tawaa. Husband realises in his slightly tipsy state that there is this singer and he should propose his name for the Dadasaheb Phalke Award. And they all gather and say, “Haan ji…”

These are mostly such haan ji moments.

To say that Manna De deserved it would be reducing him.

I cannot say I like everything he sang and I find that number from Zanjeer, "Yaari hai imaan mera, yaar meri zindagi" execrable. I also do not like his rendition of "Pyaar hua, iqraar hua, pyaar se phir kyon darta hai dil”. This is an out and out Shanker-Jaikishen triumph.

His range was in the songs, not the voice (the exception being "Eik chatur naar" from Padosan). And I say was because of his old songs. "Poochcho na kaise maine raen bitayee" and "Sur na saje kya gaaoon main" have very strong memories. They were sung at our house since I was a child, a state so pure that it recognises purity and ensures it retains.

I personally like this one because it is so quiet…like a pin in the haystack. It can still hurt. And make you ache…

Ye kooche ye neelaamghar - Manna Dey

Coffins and Cultures

'Drop in when you drop dead' was the line at the Undertaker’s outlet on my regular route. I imagined stone cold corpses walk in for a cuppa and a casket. It invariably made me smile.

I thought about the smiles I saw at the Michael Jackson memorial service. They were not celebrating death, but life. Brought up in a culture where this is unusual and loud weeping is common and acceptable, it made me see the cultural differences clearly.

This empty hearse touched me more than anything else.


Someone called A Body, just a body, would be driven in it to his final resting place. Such finality. Moving through the grounds of Forest Lawn Memorial-Parks and Mortuaries, there was desolation in the person of the hearse. It was a lonely carriage without even a passenger who could see nothing, speak nothing, sing nothing.

The other details are there: A $25,000, solid bronze, 14-karat gold-plated coffin, described as a rare Promethean casket, had a blue velvet interior and mirror finish. This was a celebrity and these minutiae perhaps become immensely important for the public.

But, what is the death industry all about?

All my childhood and college days I was surrounded with Christian friends, yet I did not know the bodies had to be embalmed. What I did know is that the kind of coffin chosen had a great deal to do with how much money could be spent. The area where I live is very cosmopolitan and we have people from all communities living either in the same apartment block or down the road. One would often stop out of courtesy and respect as the hearse with the mourners and priests passed; the music was a dirge if the dead person was young and a bit less sombre if the person had lived life long enough. I still hear the sound of this music as a funeral procession makes it way to the churches close to where I live. Instinctively, I pause doing what I am doing.

I recently read a report from Denver about the ‘Green way to go’ in biodegradable coffins made from recycled newspapers or cardboard or banana sheaves or bamboo. One funeral director said, “I guess you can go to hell in a handbasket now.”

An exhibition in Poland of biodegradable coffins

In natural burials, bodies aren’t embalmed and eventually decompose into the earth.


Muslims have always buried their dead this way, with only a white sheet covering the person as s/he is released into the earth and handfuls of mud are thrown over it by close family and friends and shovelled back to ‘seal’ the place. Flowers are allowed to be placed there but no permanent tomb or even a mark is permitted. It is believed that the soul lives on. Even a grave is not seen as permanent and someone or the other will replace that space in time. The caretakers of the graveyard seem to know all the dead in the locality and the moment they see a family member they know where to direct her/him.

My mother used to visit my grandma’s grave. She had sown some seeds and a plant had sprouted. I thought she had created a beautiful memorial. On a later occasion she saw a huge chaadar – a thick sheet of flowers – over it. Some relative in the enthusiasm to offer prayers had killed the plant. Sometimes, I accompanied her. We would sprinkle water over the grave, light agarbattis and say a prayer. I would just look intently and in that gaze of intensity memories came alive.

That is the reason I do not like to see tombs, that too ones that are ostentatious. Muslims who do not believe in idol worship end up doing that when they bow down before a dead saint at one of the many dargahs that exist even in Islamic societies.

In India there are other ways to go as well.

Hindus are cremated. The bodies are either burned over piles of wood, the quality of the wood and the grease denoting the status of the family. When the body is devoured by flames and the skull is cracked, the ashes are put in an urn and given to the family. Many take them to be dropped in the holy rivers or a place which they consider important. These days there are electric crematoriums and quite a few people opt for it.

Parsis are a dwindling minority. They do not follow any of the other ways to go since they do not wish to pollute the earth or the air and believe that even in the end a person must be useful. So, in their Tower of Silence vultures descend and peck on the corpse. A peculiar problem has arisen in a city like Mumbai. The vultures have almost disappeared and the bodies decompose and spread a stench. Since the resting place is in the urban hub with tall buildings around, earlier too there was a problem when the birds would sometimes carry bits of flesh and deposit them anywhere at all. Bits of a life?

“I believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep”
- Charlotte Bronte

Adnan Sami, Benazir and the PPP

Why is a couple's domestic problem so important that not only does it become news but also a diplomatic issue between two countries?

Aside from the fact that Adnan Sami's marriage has made the headlines, it is distressing to note that he has contacted the Pakistani president and prime minister after reportedly getting death threats. He says it is to ensure that the wrong people are not accused. What the hell does he mean? Should there be a serious attempt on his life, on what grounds can the government of his country of origin point fingers and demand an explanation?

We create doubts about the intentions of our own people from certain communities.

So why keep quiet as the Adnan tamasha gets into top gear with even an element of violence?

I don't know and don't care about the inside story of the Sami affair but it is disgusting for Pooja Bedi to make the report available to the media where she gives a graphic description of what his wife did to ironically mimic Pooja's sense of dressing. What is she trying to prove?

Where in all this vulgar recounting of details do the Pakistani leaders come in?

---

Talking about Pakistani leaders, specifically the PPP, they had sent their members early this month to disrupt the Shanakht art festival. They objected to one particular painting of Benazir Bhutto on the lap of General Zia.

I have not seen any images of it and it is obvious the artist was making a political point. It does not look like a tasteful idea but then reams have been written about how Pakistani democracy invariably plays along with the army. This happens to be historical reality. Besides, is art merely supposed to be tasteful and not comment wryly, or even with a whiplash, at prevalent norms and mishaps?

Did the PPP have to go on a rampage at the venue where other art was displayed and theatre to be performed?

Pakistan does have some amazing artists and they are quite open about even painting nudity. I have seen such exhibitions so I know. Would the artists dispassionately say that the BB painting was vulgar? Then, does a rampage not qualify as vulgar too? If, say, Benazir is shown as Mother Teresa, would the moral-keepers of Pakistani society object to her non-Muslimness, her Indian connection or her canonisation, which is against Islam?

I am curious.

Redefining national shame: India, Pakistan, Israel

This is the season of shame. Everyone is so into this national shame business. Of course, it is all skewed. It is as though feeling ashamed makes you a patriot.

Indian Pachchtava League

For those who have been jumping around about the IPL being shifted outside the country – as though it ever was a national tournament – being a shame to the nation, I only wish they’d stop in their tracks awhile.

Nah, I am not going to do a Chidambaram and say Gujarat riots were a national shame (then one will have to talk about apartheid in South Africa and all that)…all the politicians squawking about what is none of their business is a round-the-year shame.

I wish to draw attention to a report that says:

A South African peace conference of Nobel laureates has been postponed after the government’s decision to deny a visa to Tibet’s spiritual leader the Dalai Lama.

Several Nobel peace prize winners had threatened to boycott the event over the visa ban, but the government said it was standing by its decision. Local media said the visa was refused after pressure from China, a big investor and trade partner.

So, do we talk about national shame that South Africa has got the IPL contract for our great Indian Premier League when our great generosity of spirit and commitment towards the Tibetan cause is being put to test? Are we going to be great trade partners with that country as China is or will we choose our great ethical position for our refugee with a hill station?

*Pachchtava = regret

Pakistan’s real losers

Zardari figures among the big losers of the world. Pakistanis are feeling chastised that they let him get away with the murder of democracy and all that jazz. How the hell does it matter? And what kind of a loser is he when he has been on a winning streak – money, fun, houses, and the Presidential seat?

They should be more ashamed about the financial state of ghazal maestro Mehdi Hassan.

“My family, which has exhausted even its ‘rainy day securities’, is now badly failing to foot the treatment bills,” said his son Arif.

The ‘Shahenshah-i-Ghazal’ will need monetary assistance for the rest of his life if he is to survive, the report said.

Arif said he still has to pay about Rs 5 lakh to the private hospital for accommodation and treatment, in addition to meeting other expenditures incurred on Khan Sahib and his family.

Forget the government, what about the music industry in Pakistan, the artists, the film and television sector, NGOs? What about all those music companies that still play his numbers and don’t bother about royalties?

I hope some of them get up and contribute and do so quietly without fanfare. Show the man respect. If today anyone recognises Pakistan’s ghazal singers, it is entirely due to Mehdi saab’s tremendous contribution. All of us have heard him first before we went on to anyone else.

And no one is ever going to Zardari in a hurry, not even Sherry…medium dry?

Israeli military’s pretence

Israeli soldiers wore T-shirts with a pregnant woman in crosshairs and the slogan “1 Shot 2 Kills,” adding to a growing furore in the country over allegations of misconduct by troops during the Gaza war.

The shirts “are not in accordance with IDF values and are simply tasteless,” the military said in a statement. “This type of humour is unbecoming and should be condemned.” The army said it would not tolerate such behaviour and would take disciplinary action against the soldiers involved.

Oho…what a shame…you can go and raze whole Palestinian villages, put a blockade over essential supplies, occupy a land that is not yours, but when it comes to raising a moral bogey, blame the T-shirt.

Are those soldiers doing it as Israelis or as individuals? Are we to believe that there is no schooling in hatred? Has the Israeli army not killed pregnant women? These were enlisted men.

If you want to feel ashamed, then do so for the basic politics and pugnacity you revel in. The T-shirts are only a reflection of this same attitude.

Nano – saving us from shame?

Now that we have Nano, are we to feel less ashamed? I am sick of seeing that car all over the place and Ratan Tata giving the people’s car to the people. All we saw was TV channels covering the press conference, biggies talking about its body and mileage and such stuff…real people will have to shell out the “little over a lakh rupees” and stay away from the public eye. Incidentally, why are there three types with different pricing? Does it not contradict the very purpose of the notion of a cheap car for the common man? Why grade the common man?

This is a nice game being played of people versus people. The World According to Nano was my take on this very idea when the butt-ugly car was being conceived.

Tum...pukar lo...

Sometimes it is a line; sometimes the holding back of a line…taken over by a rhythm like a pulse beat.

I can think of several songs, and I know it is a cheesy thing to do today, but I feel like it. Perhaps I have already shared the words in bits and pieces. Perhaps, I have bared many words in bits and pieces.

There are several faces and phases of love.

Here are two subtle ones…

The beginning of the first one is both profound and playful, “Pyaar par bas to nahin hai mera lekin phir bhi tu bataa de ke tujhe pyaar karoon ya na karoon” (I have no control over my love, even so you tell me whether I ought to love you or not.)

And the lines that grab me:

poochh kar apni nigaahon se bataa de mujhko
meri raaton ke muqaddar mein sehar hai ke nahin

(Ask your eyes and then tell me

If my nights are destined to see the dawn or not)

Pyaar par bas to nahin hai mera lekin phir bhi

* Movie: Sone Ki Chidiya

* Singer(s): Asha Bhonsle, Talat Mehmood

* Music Director: O P Nayyar

* Lyricist: Sahir Ludhianvi

* Actors/Actresses: Talat Mehmood, Nutan, Balraj Sahni

* Year: 1958

- - -

A beautiful aspect of this one are the visuals of long shadows, curtains, light falling and creating patterns. The woman can only hear his voice and in that there is stillness as she enters the house and moves towards the stairs, framed at one point climbing them – there is a tantalising building up of expectation that may never see fruition, as though moving willingly towards imprisonment. Even when she first sees him in the course of the song, only his back is visible. How much we suppress…

For those acquainted with Hindi literature she is carrying a copy of Kalidasa’s Meghdoot (The Cloud Messenger). So much darkness with promise of rain…

As I have said often. I don’t think anything can surpass this simple expression:

dil bahal to jaayega is khayaal se
haal mil gayaa tumhara apne haal se

(The heart will be sated with the thought

That I know how you feel because of how I feel)

Tum pukar lo

* Movie: Khamoshi

* Singer: Hemant Kumar

* Music Director: Hemant Kumar

* Lyricist: Gulzar

* Actors/Actresses: Waheeda Rehman, Dharmendra, Rajesh Khanna

* Year: 1969

Jaaye to jaaye kahaan...

This might sound strange. I put this song in the romantic category. Romantic in capital letters, as in a love beyond love.

apna bhi gham hai, unka bhi gham hai

ab dil ke bachneki, ummeed kam hai

This is about making another’s sorrow one’s own. A soul crying out…

Jaaye tau jaaye kahaan:

Film: Taxi Driver (1954)

Singer: Talat Mehmood

Music: S.D.Burman

Lyrics: Sahir Ludhianvi

Saawan Beeta Jaaye

I had no idea how this song was filmed. It took me by surprise to see Mehmood and Shubha Khote performing since Guru Dutt and Meena Kumari were the principal characters. It is film classical at one of its best…

Saawan Beeta Jaaye- Suman Kalyanpur & Rafi

Movie: Saanjh Aur Savera
Singer(s): Mohammad Rafi, Suman Kalyanpur
Music Director: Shankar-Jaikishan
Lyricist: Hasrat Jaipuri

Ms. Hawa Hawaii

I usually post old Hindi film songs. This one is from 1987, which will be old according to some! It works bigtime for me because it has all the ingredients of good Bollywood masala.

The song begins with gibberish and it is wonderful to hear it in Kavita Krishnamurthi’s trained voice.

What do I like about it? That it is parodying the genre while paying tribute to it. It is so over the top and black and white (and shiny gold) that when you find those sensitive moments of playfulness in Sridevi’s eyes, you realise that mainstream cinema has thawed many a cold heart and added richness to many a poor life.

Mr. India - Hawa Hawaii

- - -
Results of previous poll

What is god?

A specific one for each religion - 3 (27%), An abstract entity - 1 (9%), Nature - 2 (18%), Conscience - 3 (27%), What god? I don’t believe - 3 (27%)

Badal jaaye agar maali...

...chaman hota nahin khaali...

Mahendra Kapoor is dead. The obits talk about his patriotic songs. For me that would mean as important as referring to Manoj Kumar as Mr. Bharat.

I did not like his Mere desh ki dharti numbers, in fact. They were loud, very Daler Mehdi-Sukhwinder-ish. I know these are ‘in’ voices, together with that other guy, Kailash Kher, and they all come under the blanket of Sufi sangeet.

Mahendra Kapoor could have been a good ghazal voice, but the Rafi hangover was far too much. And when he did veer away, as in Nikaah, he sounded breathless and not in a Talat Mehmood way. Listen to “Dil ki yeh arzoo thi” from that film and you will know what I mean. But then Salma Agha did not deserve better. I would stuff Himesh Reshamiyya up her nose.

I am afraid this is not sounding like a tribute. And there is no compulsion for me to do so. But everytime I encounter some association with old Hindi film songs, I do start thinking of the ones I have heard. They fact they have stayed does convey the power of everyone involvd in its creation.

While “Chalo eik baar phir se” from Gumraah would definitely rate very high, I found “Aadha hai Chandrama” from Navrang surprisingly peppy and controlled. Who would imagine Mahendra Kapoor singing for a dance number, that too with Gopi Krishna?

However, I am putting up something else here. For its simplicity, flawless enunciation…the silken plea of “meri zindagi mein apani, chaahat ka rang bhar do”…

meri jaan tum pe sadake, ehsaan itna kar do

Movie: Sawan Ki Ghata
Singer(s): Asha Bhonsle, Mahendra Kapoor
Music Director: O P Nayyar
Lyricist: S H Bihari

Yehi hai Asha!

I always loved Asha Bhosle. Today, she turned 75. And she is still reinventing. To list Asha favourites won’t work for me. Instead, I will present one of those songs that are rarely lauded. Listen to it carefully. It is pitched so perfectly. The pathos, the pining. Unlike Umrao Jaan where she sang at one pitch lower, as suggested by director Muzaffar Ali, to add depth to the rendition and perhaps also to the lyrics, here she has retained her normal range and just followed the slower tempo to give us this beauty.

It is true that O.P.Nayyar brought out the best in her during the early days and later R.D.Burman. But this S.D.Burman composition penned by Shailendra is sensitive without being overly cloying.

Ab ke baras

Aashiyaan jal gaya – Habib Wali Mohamed

Recall a funny episode related to this song. We were driving to a village, not too far from Mumbai. I was working on a short film. The cameraman ditched, so I was also going to shoot. I was driving with the people who were involved with the project. Met them for the first time. One of them started talking about Urdu poetry; he thought I was one of those angrez ki aulad. He said he wrote poetry. And he started quoting,

“Ae naseem-e-seh’r tujhko unki qasam
Unse jaakar na kehna mera haal-e-gham”

I did not know how to react. He really thought I would not know? Habib Wali Mohamed was so much a part of our everyday life. I had to politely smile because if I said anything he would come across as foolish…and his colleague was there. Yet, I couldn’t let him get away with it. So I quoted from “Kab mera nasheman ahle chaman”. Yes, I was being wicked!

Aashiyaan jal gaya – Habib Wali Mohamed

Birgit beyond the Prelude

Wagner wanted to convey the motifs of longing, yearning, the gaze, Tristan, Tristan’s suffering, grief, sorrow, love potion, desire, magic, anguish of Tristan, death potion, Tristan and Isolde.

As the music starts and the story unfolds you will find that it is all about men and the trophies they collect.

Tristan and Isolde

A short transcript of the opera:

A young sailor’s voice is heard, singing about an Irish girl he has left ashore. Isolde hears the words and feels insulted, thinking that the sailor is mocking her. She is being conveyed from Ireland to marry the King of Cornwall on the ship of Tristan, the king’s nephew. She begins to rage and her maid Brangaene tries to comfort her without success. When Isolde cries out for fresh air Brangaene opens the curtains enclosing her pavilion. Tristan can be seen deep in thought, looking out to sea. Watching him, Isolde mutters the words, “Chosen for me and lost to me.” She instructs her maid to summon Tristan to her.

Brangaene attempts to do as her mistress wishes but is courteously rebuffed by Tristan. He will not go before Isolde. He is merely conducting her to Cornwall to become the bride of his uncle. His companion, Kurwenal interjects with information that makes clear that Tristan and Isolde have had previous dealings. Kurwenal tells the crew the story of Tristan’s combat with Lord Morold of Ireland over the issue of tribute between Cornwall and Ireland. Morold was Isolde’s intended husband. Tristan killed him and sent Morold’s head back to Ireland, to Isolde, in place of the tribute he had demanded in Ireland’s name.

Brangaene returns to informs her of Tristan’s words. Isolde, who has heard Kurwenal, bitterly states that she has now become the tribute sent from Ireland to Cornwall. With a furious rush upward in the orchestra, Isolde begins a long monologue, giving more information about the past and why her state of mind is so turbulent. This monologue is occasionally presented in the concert hall entitled, “Isolde’s Narration to Brangaene,” or, “Isolde’s Narrative and Curse.” The narration begins using a fragment of a motif from the Prelude. Isolde relates how a small boat carrying a very sick man called Tantris drifted onto the Irish coast seeking the healing arts of the Princess Isolde. After healing the man she realized that he was the one who had killed Morold and his name was not Tantris, but Tristan! She wanted to kill him, to avenge Morold’s death, but when she held the sword over him she could not strike. He had looked into her eyes and it stayed her hand. She nursed him, she protected him, and now how does he repay her? He takes her from Ireland as a token, as a price to be paid to Cornwall, as a wife to his uncle, the old king! Her narration becomes more frenzied as she relates the story, the music reflecting a motif called “Isolde’s anger.” The narration culminates with Isolde’s wild curse on Tristan and a call for vengeance and death - death for them both!

Singer: Birgit Nilson, Swedish soprano

Nazia Hasan or Begum Akhtar - who is a legend?

Does a tragic and untimely death make a person a legend? Why do we use words so carelessly? I clearly recall Nazia Hassan and her voice. She died young and it is truly nice to know that her parents have set up a foundation in her memory to promote causes that were dear to her. In the report she is referred to as a “singing legend”.

She had a fan following and was most certainly talented, but we need to keep in mind that beyond the skills, she did not reach the core of hearts. Perhaps it was the songs – they were more of the Boom Boom variety…but like any pop diva her shelf life would have been restricted. Death unfortunately has catapulted her into a hall of fame.

Here she is in a mellower mood:

Sun, mere mehboob sun - Nazia Hassan



Comparisons, as everyone tells us, are odious. So, I shall refrain. But if you want legend, then watch this:

Aaye kuchch abr kuchch charaag aaye - Begum Akhtar

A memory and Munni Begum

Umm..ummm…ummm..aaa….aaa….thodasa muskurake nigaahein milaiye…mujhko meri hayaat ka maqsad bataaiye...

“Munni Begum hai na?” I could hear S maamu say.

Ammi came into the room. It was me. Even when I was an adolescent, I had a full-bodied voice. Those young days, as I have said so often, were filled with eclectic music. My uncle mistaking me for Munni Begum was a huge kick. I am aware that most people rate her lower than Iqbal Bano or Mallika Pukhraj, but she was a singer and she sang the songs I liked…and it made me different. No high-pitched trill. I did not want to be a nightingale; I wanted to be a vulture with its kill, the heavy sound of breathing as it heralded life and death in one breath.

A few years later an older acquaintance told me about the similarity again. He said I laughed like her. “Where did you hear her laugh?” I asked.

“I did not…when she sings certain ghazals, it seems like laughter.”

No one makes such comparisons anymore, alas. But Munni Begum is memory, mazaak, mehek…

If I become objective, then I find tremendous madhoshi, the sufi meets seductress:

niyyat-e-shauq bhar na jaa'ye kaheen - Munni Begum

O, cruel world...

It is a new steel glass. The label refuses to come out. Apply oil. It slips and falls. See what I mean? Even new things come with tags, some so well-glued that they refuse to come off. We try to get them to drop those labels and they slip and fall. Right from our hands that have held them.

- - -

Many people see the following song as morose. I don’t. The wail, "Haae, haae yeh zaalim zamaana" (Oh, cruel world) is quite metaphysical and not just about a particular sorrow…I am completely besotted by K. L. Saigal and many wonder why I don’t think the same about Mukesh. Saigal never sang from just his throat and his voice was not nasal as those imitating him tried to mimic. He had a naturally zukhaam hua (suffering from a slight nasal congestion) voice just as he had a zakhmi tone…as though an arrow was threatening to pierce him and all he had was tears as shield.

Listen to Gham diye mustqil… and you will know what I mean…

yahi armaan lekar aaj apne ghar se ham nikale

Am sure Naushad saab had no such desires when he left this world – to see his beloved Carter road named after him. But it is now Sangeet Samrat Naushad Ali Marg. Indeed, a well-deserved posthumous honour. This is not the first time it has happened and not the last, therefore we will have to stop cribbing about the changing of road names. If there is one thing about this one, it is that it is not a political act.

My little memories have been penned here, but today I am thinking about the film Babul and Dilip Kumar at the piano and Munnawar Sultana joining him intoning Shakeel Badayuni’s words. Talat Mehmood of the quiver in the voice and Shamshad Begum with that nasal tone singing in low notes sounding like she always did – frisky and feverish. I liked the contrast in the two sounds.

Milte hi aankhein dil hua deewana kisi ka
Afsaana mera ban gaya afsaana kisi ka

I have often talked about subsuming in love…this is one more example when two stories merge and become one.

The same applies to Man Tadpat Hari darshan ko aaj(Baiju Bawra)

Here it is oneness with god, a god-figure, a unifying force, even the higher self that seeks a path (guru)…

This song is in Raag Malkauns, an evening raag supposed to possess supernatural powers. I have watched Baiju Bawra four times, and even in black and white the sense of dusk, dust settling, sun setting is so palpable. I choke just listening to the alaap… “Hari om, hariiiiiii…om”…imagine starting at the pit of the stomach and stretching every syllable in the body of the words…am eternally grateful to a childhood that was filled with these sounds…

I will be repeating what has been stated several times, if this is seen as a bhajan (a devotional song sung for Lord Krishna), then it is almost entirely a Muslim creation…

Music: Naushad; Lyrics: Shakeel Badayuni; Singer: Mohammed Rafi

These things are immaterial in the larger scheme. Just as Shanker-Shambhu took singing at dargahs and in praise of Allah and the paighambars to great heights, devotion is about belief in oneself to become better.

“sun more vyaakul man ki baat”

A mind that is constantly in search will always find.

Today morning

Sitting with my back to the sun, I liked the shaft of light on the floor.

A song that may seem unconnected but which I hummed...

jalate hai.n jisake liye, terii aa.Nkho.n ke diye
Dhuu.NDh laayaa huu.N vahii, giit mai.n tere liye
jalate hai.n jisake liye

dard banake jo mere dil me.n rahaa Dhal naa sakaa
jaaduu banake terii aa.Nkho.n me.n rukaa chal naa sakaa
aaj laayaa huu.N vahii giit mai.n tere liye
jalate hai.n jisake liye

dil me.n rakh lenaa ise haatho.n se ye chhuuTe na kahii.n
giit naazuk hai meraa shiishe se bhii TuuTe na kahii.n
gunagunaauu.ngaa yahii giit mai.n tere liye
jalate hai.n jisake liye

jab talak naa ye tere ras ke bhare ho.nTho.n se mile
yuu.N hii aavaaraa phiregaa ye terii zulfo.n ke tale
gaaye jaauu.ngaa yahii giit mai.n tere liye
jalate hai.n jisake liye

Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri; Music: S.D.Burman; Singer: Talat Mehmood; Film: Sujata

January 26

On any national holiday, one gets to hear the same old songs...most are good. For me, Saathi haath badhana from Naya Daur remains a favourite because it does not merely wallow in patriotism...it asks us, the people of India, to work and claim what we deserve. I like the following lines best...


maaTii se ham laal nikaale.n motii laae.n jal se
jo kuchh is duniyaa me.n banaa hai banaa hamaare bal se
kab tak mehanat ke pairo.n me.n ye daulat kii za.nziire.n
haath ba.Dhaakar chhiin lo apane sapano.n kii tasvIre.n


Saathi haath badhana





For those who want the more conventional, there is Vande Mataram: The following are two versions, both not the original.


Lata Mangeshkar






A R Rehman

Kabhi tanhaiyon mein yun...

...hamari yaad aayegi?

Like many people who enjoy old film songs, the name Mubarak Begum will not be unfamiliar.

What is familiar is the story of people who are not smart enough being left by the roadside. A Mirror report says that she is living on Rs 700 a month pension she gets from the government; her two sons drive taxis and have their own families to look after.

It is also the story of the caucus that has always existed in most so-called glamorous professions. It is mentioned that she was a far better singer than Suraiyya. I have no doubt it. Suraiyya was just about okay for the kind of songs you hum when you are either falling asleep or trying to get someone to sleep…and do not throw the numbers from Mirza Ghalib at me. Here the words were enough and I should imagine the intent was to read out the verses in tarannum. I hope so…there were no high octaves, no mudkis. Suraiyya's was a dull voice.

But she was a sharp businesswoman. She lived well and continued until the end to stay in her large house at Marine Drive, and is said to have left behind lots of wealth and jewellery which became the cause of dispute.

Mubarak Begum did not know how to manage these things, perhaps. Besides, she did not have the advantage of being a singer-actress.

Also, the report does quote her as saying, “I was a victim of politics. There were a couple of singers who appropriated all singing contracts for themselves and ruined not only my career but of several others like Vani Jairam and Suman Kalyanpur. I refused to bootlick as I had a lot of self-respect. That's what cost me my career.”

This is true and, not just these seniors, even those who came in later had to face these problems. Sulakshana Pandit who wanted to sing songs filmed on her had to beg for it; Hemlata had to be content with some songs for Ravindra Jain; and Anuradha Paudwal managed to survive because of Gulshan Kumar and his music label.

In fact, had it not been for the new music directors, the caucus would have remained. However brilliant some singers are, there is always room for experimentation. After all, the divas stated by emulating those who were there before them. I am glad that A. R. Rehman does not fall prey to names, although he does get excited about the stars. Fine, as long as we get to hear a Chitra or a Mahalakshmi Iyer, I can live with it.

Mubarak Begum’s situation makes one wonder why nothing is done to protect the interests of these people. We have trade unions for mill workers, canteen employees, unskilled labour, doctors, teachers…what about those who are still giving us joy with their lilting voices?

- - -

Picture shows Mubarak Begum on the left with her daughter Shafaque Bano: Mirror