Pandora's Box

Our film music would have remained incomplete without the message songs that we were treated to in the decades of yore. And I use treated, not flippantly, because these were verses written with a simplicity and a dignity that the film lyric as we know it today has lost. As contrived and unspontaneous as so much of our melodrama was, life's lessons were never lost sight of and more often than not lyricists were able to drive home a point with telling effect, and music directors channeled the words into poignant and eloquent melody:one often left the cinema hall feeling a bit wiser than when one had entered it. That really wasn't the end of it, though: the song and its message whether of Gods (a pantheon-full of them!), mortals or morals remained with us forever, via the radio and the gramophone record...

The fifties, especially, were known for this. Film directors sought to portray the weaknesses and vices inherent in our social structure and, unlike the priest in the temple, made the message more palatable by their musical tableaux on the screen. Beautifully worded songs were introduced at critical junctures during the course of the film and depending upon who was being invoked, the camera would either zoom in on the household deity or pan out to the heavens. If not, there was always the wandering baba with his timely word of advice to the errant character on the screen...

 Thus, the gentle pujari was a pivotal mouthpiece for director H S Rawail's melodrama Mastana (The Carefree One~1954). And I remember it well: a young woman saddled with an unwanted babe leaves the infant on the steps of the local temple and proceeds to the ocean to end her responsibility by it. Here's where the trio of composer Madan Mohan, lyricist Rajendra Krishan and singer Mohammad Rafi step in to keep life flowing, admonishing the mother, as it were, with  मत भूल अरे इन्सान तेरी नेकी बदी नहीं उससे छुपी, सब देख रहा भगवान्  (God is watching you, O straying human....). Pretty Dickensian, as was the wont then. The mother keeps moving towards the restless, fateful waves, Rafi-saab gives voice to one of his best (that's all he gave in that wonderful era, anyway!) and a scamp (the always lovable Mr. Motilal) adopts the infant (Master Romi, a bit further on in the movie) leading him to the happy ending, after a delectable wandering tour of old Bombay.

 The poet Gulshan Bawra, a contemproary, has gone on record saying, "The 50s belonged to Rajendra Krishan". This was the most prolific lyricist the industry has known: prolific in output and quality. There was not a music director of that generation who RK did not work with. Even the hardcore Shankar-Jaikishan team who would not look at anyone except Shailendra and Hasrat Jaipuri in those days, worked with him in College Girl. The ultimate romantic, RK held the pulse of the music-loving moviegoers and he expressed his poetry in simple yet eloquent Hindustani and we still remember his contribution to films right from Anarkali and Nagin at top of the 50s, all the way down to the late 60s.

He wrote a lyric for Gemini's Insaniyat (1955) that was picturized on a simple villager (Dilip Kumar) who bows before God when he realizes that the girl he loves has given her heart to another (Dev Anand). The song is couched in simple language, such that a yokel might give vent to in a situation like this. It would be considered laughable in today's context, but people can be and are simple at heart and capable of such transparent sincerity. Dilip-saab made an indelible impression with the song, as he emoted the words woven into C. Ramchandra's arrangement. आशा के जब दीप बुझे तो मनका दीप जला, जगका रस्ता छोड़ मुसाफिर तेरी राह चला, he exclaims (when the lamps of Hope dim, the mind awakens and Man moves towards You). This is more a soliloquy than a song. The 78rpm version leaves even more of an impact: unforgettable.

Madan Mohan gave us another great message song ओ माटी के पुतले इतना न कर तू गुमान पल भर का तू मेहमान (shed your arrogance, you are but a piece of moulded clay, your life a brief span!) a few years later in 1957 when he collaborated with the then up-and-coming poet, Qaif Irfani, in a film called Sheroo which starred Ashok Kumar and Nalini Jaywant and was directed by Shakti Samanta, in probably his first outing in the field. I have never seen the film but as a child remember being moved by the force with which Rafi-saab articulates the second  antara and, I just have to emphasise this, the gentle buildup he gives the verse before he reaches its climax with धन के लोभी येह न जाने क्या मांगे भगवान (those who cast money in the temples before God, do not realise that's not what He is seeking from His worshipers). 

As you listen to it even today, 55 years after the first time, you marvel at the ease with which this great singer did justice to the lyric.The temple bells are the lead-in for the minimalist arrangement and the ever present sitar once again defines the Madan Mohan we would grow to love. What's missing here, though, is the couplet at the top of the track that one heard in the film version.

And there were other lyricists who gave of their best to the films. There was Sahir Ludhianvi and there was Shakeel Badayuni.

Sahir was the maverick among the lyricists of the time: a rebel who saw himself as a social reformer, he riled against accepted social norms, lamenting the evil in them via his verse. His unconventional use of language and metaphor sometimes made it difficult for us to understand him but once we did, we absorbed his works. From the bitterness in तलखियां to the lighter sweetness of  गाता जाए बंजारा (a lot of which was adapted to our films), his verse stemmed from a pent up urge to set things right and he was stern in his rebuke of society (Pyaasa, Sadhana, Dhool Ka Phool, Dharmputra, Phir Subah Hogi et al). Unmatched.

Sahir's contribution to the great success of  B.R. Chopra's epic Naya Daur (1957) condemning the corrosive over-industrialisation that was eating away at the heart of agrarian post-British India, was immense. His collaboration with composer O.P. Nayyar in that film remains memorable with the monumental sathi haath badhana sathi re still echoing today. My personal favourite, though, is the philosophical tirade against hapless man losing his faith in Divinity: Rafi's आना है तो आ राहमें कुछ फ़ेर नहीं है, भगवान के घर देर है अन्धेर नहीं है  (there is no obstacle in your pathway to God, walk to Him, there is justice at His door).  It leads man to make his peace with the Almighty. And like Shakeel, though in a different way, Sahir convinces man of the forgiving essence of his Maker. Not for him the gentle coaxing of a Shakeel. 

Shakeel Badayuni, juxtaposed with Sahir, emerges the gentler of the two. His feelings were gentle, couched in soft, persuasive language--often the mentor to his listener. Unlike Sahir, he was patient with a failing humanity, recognized the pitfalls in Man's way and he often placed his hand on your shoulder, steering you away from the path you should not have taken, or were about to take. He was also the most romantic of our poets. His admonishments, like his poems on love, were tender and persuasive--rarely harsh.

Back in 1954, Mehboob Khan made his opus Amar: three people on the crossroads of life, with a denouement in the last 10 minutes that takes your breath away. Dilip Kumar's performance as the conscience-stricken Amar-babu is subdued yet shattering. You never want to take your eyes from his face, as Faredoon Irani's camera captures him in all those precious closeups. The end of the film is contained emotionalism at its best with Madhubala, realisation having dawned on her of what's what, gently steps aside leaving Nimmi, victim of his rape, to gather up what's hers. Three top performers at the peak of their careers, making the best of elements from classic Victorian literature.

Naushad Ali's magnificent scoring and Shakeel's moving lyrics reflect life's betrayals and beneficence--gently, all the way to the epic  इन्साफ का मंदिर है येह भगवानका घर है (This is a temple of justice, God resides here). One of the best, this resonating song plays in segments in the movie and reaches its climax at the end as Amar-babu finally takes faltering steps through the portals of the mandir. In the absence of a clip here is the complete, original 78rpm recording.

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That was a generation of romantics. There was also a parallel subculture that held sway from the 30s through the mid-50s which believed that if it is man's irrational fear of God that leads him to believe in Him, it is ultimately introspection that often fully convinces him of God's existence. They turned the eye inward and while their poetry had its base more in scriptural philosophy, the faith they propounded was intellectual and humanistic though not bereft of prayer. This was the Bengali influence in our films.

In its waning years, the legendary New Theaters of Calcutta made Yatrik (The Pilgrim-1952). Directed by Kartick Chatterjee as a travelogue into the Himalayas and starring Abhi Bhattacharya and Arundhati Mukherjee, the film is also a collage of philosophical poems written by Pandit Bhushan set to devotional music by the great Pankaj Mallick. Apart from Pankaj-babu himself, the other star singers were Dhananjay Bhattacharya and Binota Chakravarty, hoary singers both, long since departed.

While a lot of the lyrics were bhajan-oriented there is this one which is philosophical and dwells on the futility of man's search for God in places of worship, rather than within himself . तू ढूंढता है जिसको बस्ती में या के बनमें, वोह सांवला सलोना रहता है तेरे मनमें, he says. (The God whom you seek in the world outside, resides in you)...

....and again, an elemental Meera-वाणी, that has its base in love for all Humanity, sung by the melodious Binota Chakravarty. Perhaps at this juncture in Man's history when religious fury and fervour are unbridled in their savagery, both in the East and in the West, there is an humble lesson to be learnt here from a way of life that is, essentially, more a human philosophy than a religion.

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Finally, an essay like this can never be exhaustive. There were other poets more notably Kavi Pradeep, Pt. Bharat Vyas, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Shailendra and Indivar, who have written as well as the ones mentioned here and whose writing has been adapted to great music: compositions that have been beautifully rendered by the other singers we have known. A common link connects all great lyrics and great singers and composers and in these few selections here there is a hark back to all .....