Guest article by Arunkumar Deshmukh

(When I mentioned that Arunji is a living encyclopaedia, I was thinking of Hindi, Marathi, and perhaps Telugu films because of his early association with Hyderabad. While I was still struggling if I knew anyone who could write about Kannada, out of the blue, Arunji made an offer to write on similar songs in Hindi and Kannada. Now I know whom to approach for Santhali, Chhatisgarhi, Dogri or Manipuri languages, but I am sure Arunji will never cease to surprise us! After his excellent piece on Hindi-Marathi, please enjoy another highly educative article on the history of Kannada films, and their linkages with Hindi and other languages. – AK)

The First Talkie in 1931 was the beginning of a revolution in Filmdom. As expected even the first talking film was singing too! It had 7 songs. This stressed two points, one – India did not lag behind in technology, and two – music was an integral part of our lives, including entertainment.

From historical and even mythological times all kings – big or small had their “Court-Singers”. With love of common people and the royal patronage, it was not a wonder that ALL talkie films in ALL languages had songs in it.

Hindi – Aalam Ara (March 1931)
Telugu – Bhakta Pralhad (Sept 1931)
Tamil – Kalidas (Oct 1931)
Marathi – Ayodhyecha Raja (1932)
Gujarati – Narsi Mehta (1932)
Kannada – Bhakta Dhruva/Sati Sulochana (1934)
Malyalam – Balan (1938) etc

You will observe that while Telugu and Tamil films competed with Hindi films, Marathi and Gujarati films were closely following these three. But Kannada and Malayalam had very late beginnings. Not only that but Kannada film industry had a very slow development. Out of the four South Indian languages, Kannada films lagged behind not only in numbers but also in original productions till the 70s, comparatively.

In Karnataka, cinema started from the silent era, but the production was too small to be an entity here. This was because financiers and producers wanted to invest money in more profitable languages like Tamil, Telugu and Hindi. These films had a larger market and more profits. This attitude actually delayed the development of Kannada film industry. Initially only dubbed films from Tamil, Telugu and Hindi were shown in Kannada. People were fed with this.

For a long time Kannada films were made and processed in Madras as there were no studios in Karnataka. These films were mainly either the dubbed films or remakes of other languages.

In 1928, Surya film co. was established in Bangalore by Dave brothers. Almost 40 silent films were made here from 1928 to 1932 when Talkie films started dominating.

According to some historians, the first talkie film in Kannada was Sati Sulochana (1932). (Note: The thumbnail in this article is from the film ‘Sati Sulochana’.) It was shot near Kolhapur and was produced and directed by a Tamilian, Y.V.Rao. (It is said that when a lion roared in the film, half of the audience ran out of the theatre and many fainted with fear in the theatre itself).

Th Gubbi Veeranna Co. or Veeranna’s Sri Chennabasaweshwara Krupa Poshit Natak Sangh and other groups established themselves first as Drama Companies and then dominated the films. They provided all the first directors like H L N Simha (H.Laxmi Nar Simha), B R Panthulu and G V Iyer. It also provided the leading stars like Dr. Raaj Kumar, Leelavathy and most of the early hits like Bedara Kannappa (1953).

The production of Kannada films was very slow in the initial years.

In the 30s only 15 films were made (11 out of them by outsiders like Tamil and Telugu producers).

In the 40s only 21 films were produced.

In the 50s only 71 films were produced.

In the decade of the 50s, Raajkumar appeared on the scene and he changed the face of Kannada films in later years. In the 50s he had 8 films made with him in the lead. He was discovered by G V Iyer, standing in a bus queue in Bangalore. Raajkumar acted in 206 films and he never worked in any other language film – unlike other southern stars – excepting in ONE Telugu film Kalhasti Mahatmyam. The star line was followed by Narsimha Raju, Uday Kumar, Kalyan Kumar etc.

The point being made here is that right from the beginning till today, Kannada films depended heavily on remakes and dubbed films from Tamil, Telugu and Hindi.

When I sat to make a list of remade Kannada films, the list became so long that I simply gave up the idea. If one visits the IMDB site and looks for lists of remade films, he will find a list of more than 2500 remade films in one list alone.

Not that every film was a remade film. Some Kannada films were also remade into other languages.

Simply for this reason, there are many, in fact too many musical tunes in Kannada films which are copied from Hindi films. Of course some songs are from Kannada to Hindi too.

This is because when a Hindi film is remade, some of the songs are also copied ditto, in tune and in verse too.

In the initial era, when the regional centres were doing small business and did not have enough talented composers, borrowing tunes from others was understandable. Over a period of time, this practice diminished, as regional centres also became powerful, but it looks as if Kannada films have yet to grow out of it. Even today the number of remade films is more than the original Kannada films.

When I sat to select multiple version songs from Kannada films, it was so easy to select because the choice was very wide.

Here are about a dozen songs, where Hindi to Kannada and Kannada to Hindi songs are selected to be fair.

Enjoy the versions……

(I sincerely thank my friend Mr. Prakashchandra Udupa,from Udipi, who has done the selection of songs and provided the You Tube Links also. Thank you, Prakashji.)

Kannada film songs copied into Hindi film songs
Or
Hindi movie songs copied into Kannada movie songs

1.  Ishq Par Zor Nahin (1970)
Ye dil deewaana hai, dil to deewaana hai
Lata Mangeshkar, Mohammed Rafi
Anand Bakshi
S.D.Burman
(Sadhana, Dharmendra)

Kasturi Nivasa (1970)
Nee bandu ninthaagaa, ninthu nee nakaagaa,nakku nee nalidaaga sothe naanaaga
Singers:P.B.Srinivas, P.Sushila
Lyrics:R.N.Jayagopal
Music:G.K.Venkatesh
(Dr.Raj Kumar, Arathi)

2.  Yeradu Kanasu (1974)
Yendendu ninnanu marethu badukiralaare
P.B.Srinivas, Vani Jayaram
Lyrics: Chi.Udaya Shankar
Music: Rajan Nagendra
(Dr. Raj Kumar, Manjula)

Jaan Se Pyara (1992)
Bin tere kuchch bhi nahin hai jeevan meraa
Udit  Narayan, Sadhana Sargam
Sameer
Anand Milind
(Govinda, Divya Bharthi)

3. Bayalu Daari (1976/77)
Kanasaloo neene, manassaloo neene, nannaane,ninnaane
Vani Jayaram, S.P.Balasubramaniam
Lyrics: Chi.Udaya Shankar
Music: Rajan Nagendra
(Kalpana, Anant Nag)

Deewana (1992)
Aisee deewangee, dekhi kahin nahin
Vinod Rathod, Alka Yagnik
Sameer
Nadeem Shravan
(Divya Bharthi, Shahrukh Khan)

4.  Ratnagiri Rahasya (1957)
Amara madhura Prema, nee baa baaro chanda maamaa
P.Susheela
Lyrics: Kanagal Prabhakar Shashtri
Music: T.G.Lingappa
(Jamuna, Udaya Kumar)

Suhag (1958)
Chamko poonam chanda is dil ka sandes de do
Singer: Asha Bhosle
Lyrics: Ehsan Rizvi
Music:T.G.Lingappa

5. Sapan Suhane (1961)
Naam Mera nimmo, muqaam Ludhiyana
Lata Mangeshkar, Dwijen Mukherjee, Manna Dey
Shailendra
Salil Chowdhury
(Helen, Bhagwan Dada, Chandra Shekhar)

Samshaya Phala (1970)
Dooradinda bandanthaa sundranga jana
L.R.Eshwari
Lyrics: Ku. Ra. Seetharama Shashtry
Music: Salil Chowdhury

6.  Mera Saya (1966)
Nainon mein badra chhaye
Lata Mangeshkar
Raja Mehdi Ali Khan
Madan Mohan
(Sadhana,Sunil Dutt)

Yedakallu Guddada Mele (1973)
Viraha nooru nooru taraha, viraha prema kaavyiada kahi baraha
P. Susheela
Lyrics: Vijaya Naarasimha
Music: M. Ranga Rao
(Jayanthi)

7.  Beti Bete (1964)
a)    Radhike tune bansuri churayee (Mohammed Rafi)
b)    Aaj kal mein dhal gaya, din hua tamam (Rafi and Lata separate versions)

Tande Makkalu (1971)
a)  Raadhike ninna sarasavidenu (S.P.Balasubramaniam)

b)  Sanje kempu moodithu, irulu seragu haasithu  (S.P.Balasubramaniam, P. Susheela)

Lyrics: R.N.Jayagopal
Music: G.K.Venkatesh
(Ramesh, B.Saroja Devi)

8. Do Raaste (1969)
Bindiya chamkegi, chhoodi khankegi
Lata Mangeshkar
Anand Bakshi
Laxmikant pyarelal
(Mumtaz, Rajesh Khanna)

Ondagi Baalu (1989)
Balegalu aaduthive
K.S.Chithra
Chi.Udayashankar
Vijay Anand
(Manjula Sharma, Vishnu vardhan)

9.  Saaheb (1985)
Pyar bina chain kahan re
Bappi Lahiri, S.Janaki
Anjaan
Bappi Lahiri
(Anil Kapoor, Amritha Singh)

Karna (1985)
Preethiye nannusiru
S.P.Balasubramaniam, S.Janaki
Chi.Udaya Shankar
M.Ranga Rao
(Vishnu Vardhan, Sumalata)

10.  Naagara Haavu (1972)
Haavinaa dweshaa hanneradu varushaa
S.P. Balasubramaniam
R.N. Jayagopal
Vijaya Bhaskar
(Vishnu vardhan)

Zehreela Insaan (1974)
Saanp se badhke mera zehar hai
Shailendra Singh
Majrooh Sultanpuri
Rahul Dev Burman
(Rishi Kapoor)

11.  Geetha (1981)
Jote joteyali iruvenu heege yendu, hosa harushava taruvenu
S.P.Balasubramaniam, S.Janaki
Chi.Udaya Shankar
Ilayaraja
(Shankar Nag, Akshata Rao)

Cheeni Kum (2007)
Jane do na
Shreya Ghoshal
Sameer
Ilayaraja
(Amitabh Bachchan, Tabu)

12.  Johnny Mera Naam (1970)
O mere raja, khafa na hona, door se aayee, der se aayee
Kishore Kumar, Asha Bhosle
Rajendra Krishan
Kalyanji Anandji
(Dev Anand, Hema Malini)

Apoorva Sangama (1984)
Tharaa o thaaraa, naa ille iruve, jotheyalle baruve
Dr.RajKumar, S.Janaki
Chi.Udayashankar
Upendra Kumar
(Dr.Raj Kumar, Ambika)

Celebrating with three triad songs

Today SoY completes three years. When I look back, it is not merely more of the same. To be sure, the frequency has increased from the preceding two years. Thirty-three posts in the year gone by, i.e. a post every 11 days, is far more than the preceding two years. But more important is the variety. With songs on themes like River, Naiya, Kinare, Jigar; personalities like Asit Baran, Mubarak Begum, Minoo Mumtaz, some potpourri like Wrap Up of Songs of 1955, Mahamoorkhon ke gaane, and historical-musical travelogue of Rangoon/Burma, I have indulged in my freewheeling wanderings. I have to admit, as I have said earlier, that there is an element of स्वान्तः सुखाय here, borne out of the fact that I am the host of the blog. But what is really gratifying is that a lot many people with tremendous amount of knowledge have joined me in sharing my delights.

The year was also remarkable for the galaxy of guest authors who agreed to write for SoY. Beisdes Subodh Agrawal’s continuing series on classical music, Mr Ashok Vaishnav came up with the idea of multiple version songs, which has grown into a mega series, spanning similar songs across different languages and genres. Naturally it needed a collaborative effort, and quite effortlessly we had contributions from Mr Arunkumar Deshmukh on Hindi-Marathi, Mr N Venkataraman on Hindi-Tamil, Ashokji himself on Hindi-Gujarati, besides his articles on Hindi songs, and Anuradha Warrier on Hindi-Malayalam. With 4 articles by Subodh, and 11 in the mega series, the year belonged to the guest authors. They are people with awesome knowledge and generosity. I can’t thank them enough. And the readers too, with the standard of their comments, are as good as guest authors. Without any false modesty I can say that the SoY has been immeasurably enhanced by the readers and guest authors.

On the last two anniversaries I did not write a substantive article, I limited myself to a general overview and what was in my mind for future. In a departure from the past such occasions, let me also ‘write’ something on the anniversary. Let us celebrate this day with three triad songs, which are not merely songs, but represent three different eras and trends in the trajectory of our film music.

1. Duniya rang rangili baba by KC Dey/Pankaj Mullick, Uma Shashi and KL Saigal from Dhartimata (1938), lyrics Pt Sudarshan, music Pankaj Mullick

Once upon a time there was New Theatres which created eternal gems like this, and they were rightly the Gold Standard of music. The world is awash with colour is apparently a song of joy, but Pankaj Mullick gives it a poignant touch which is enhanced by KC Dey singing the first stanza.  A blind person himself, his Ye duiniya ek sundar bagiya shobha iski nyari hai/ Har daari par jadoo chhaya har daari matwari hai is a reminder to us to be grateful to have been born on this earth, which is bestowed with so much beauty. Before he tapers off, Uma Shashi joins in with a completely different tune. And before her stanza finishes, the mellifluous voice of Saigal flows in with yet another tune with very philosophical lyrics:

This world is like a river of sorrow in which our life is a boat
With the sail of hope, O boatman (My Lord)
Would you ferry us across
To a world beyond, which is delightful and joyous
This world is awash with colour

(KC Dey)
दुनिया रंग रंगीली बाबा दुनिया रंग रंगीली
ये दुनिया एक सुंदर बगिया शोभा जिसकी न्यारी है
हर डारी पे जादू छाया हर डारी मतवारी है
अद्भुत पंछी फूल मनोहर कली कली चटकीली बाबा
दुनिया रंग रंगीली
दुनिया रंग रंगीली बाबा दुनिया रंग रंगीली

(Uma Shashi)
कदम कदम पर आशा अपना रूप अनूप दिखाती है
बिगड़े काज बनती है जीवन के गीत सुनाती है
इसका सुर मिश्री से मीठा इसकी तान रसीली बाबा
दुनिया रंग रंगीली
दुनिया रंग रंगीली बाबा दुनिया रंग रंगीली

(KL Saigal)
दुख की नदिया जीवन नैया आशा के पतवार लगे
ओ नैया के खेनेवाले नैया तेरी पार लगे
पार बसत है देस सुनहरा किस्मत छैल छबीली बाबा
दुनिया रंग रंगीली
दुनिया रंग रंगीली बाबा दुनिया रंग रंगीली

This is the first time ever that counter-melody was used in Hindi film songs. After 75 years the song still remains evergreen. Please notice Pankaj Mullick’s signature style of composing each of the three stanzas in a different tune, which requires a great deal of virtuosity.  The record version has Pankaj Mullick’s voice in place of KC Dey. We find many such examples of the record version in a different voice than the film version. (A sub-category of Mr Ashok Vaishnav’s mega-series?)   I am presenting both the versions here.

2. Challa de ja nishani teri meharbani by Shamshad Begum, Mohammad Rafi and SD Batish from Bazaar (1949), music Shyam Sundar

All good things have to come to an end. By the end of the 1940s Bombay had prevailed over Kolkata. Among several reasons mentioned by scholars for the decline of New Theatres was the ability of Bombay to assimilate everything, while the former was stuck in its classicism. Bombay’s ascendancy was spearheaded in the mid-30s by Anil Biswas among others. A Bengali to the core himself, he was also open to other forms and influences. Bombay had its own very strong classical and Marathi Natya Sangeet tradition. Then it welcomed every genre – folk, ghazal, qawwali, Western, and music from every region. The most representative example of this syncretism is Ana meri jaan Sunday ke Sunday (Chitalkar, Meena Kapoor and Shamshad Begum; Shehnai, 1947 by C Ramchandra). But since this song is too well known, I choose a less known gem which represents another powerful force in film music. The beginning of the 40s saw a storm from Punjab (Lahore) hit the music scene in the voice of Shamshad Begum and composer Ghulam Hyder, which was full throated and joyous with beats of the tabla. Shyam Sundar was another stalwart of Punjab School. Rafi and SD Batish also came from the Punjab tradition. So you have pure Punjab in this song, which has no time for deep philosophy or social message. This is a song of undiluted delight. Shamshad Begum soars over the other two in this triad song as usual, even though the uploader has given Mohammad Rafi’s picture as the thumbnail. So let us pay our tribute to this great legend, whom we lost recently, with this song.  With this song, it is a unique coincidence that in my last three consecutive posts I have greeted or paid a tribute to her; not quite planned that way, but because she is such a great favourite that she keeps on appearing.

3. O Ramaiya vastavaiya by Mohammad Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar and Mukesh from Shree 420 (1957), lyrics Shailendra, music Shankar Jaikishan

The transition from the 40s to 50s, i.e. 1949 was an important watershed year when even a greater tornado than Shamshad Begum hit the film music. That was a girl twenty years old, named Lata Mangeshkar, who swept every one aside, and soon became a byword for female playback singing. Another landmark of that year was the young duo Shankar Jaikishan, who caused a sensation with their very first film Barsaat. Raj Kapoor became an institution with the ‘RK team’ which also had Mukesh, Shailendra and Hasrat Jaipuri. This song is a definitive celebration of Bomaby – Shankar from Hyderabad seamlessly using Telugu refrain O Ramaiya vastavaiya (O Lord Ram, when would you come), Jaikishan from Gujarat, Lata Mangeshkar from Maharashtra, Rafi from Punjab, Mukesh from Delhi and Shailendra from Bihar. The baton has passed on to the new generation of great singers and composers. Bombay is the place where Raj (a man from nowhere and everywhere) comes to seek his future. There are streets, poor people and innocence, and there is a dark, greedy and unscrupulous metropolis where the good Raj had strayed. He comes back to the street where he belongs, where he is embraced again by his people and joins in the song in the last stanza in the voice of Mukesh with a contrasting poignancy.

Guest article by Anuradha Warrier

(There are some guests on whose arrival you exclaim, “Wo aye hamarey ghar khuda ki qudarat, kabhi hum unko kabhi apne ghar ko dekhate hain!”   Anu writes an outstanding blog spanning books, movies, music and whatever. She is also a writer and editor. With all that, and with the constraint of having grown up outside Kerala, it is indeed a very kind gesture on her part to agree to write on similar songs from Hindi and Malayalam movies. With such generous people I am confident we should be able to cover all the major languages in India in which such cross fertilisation with Hindi movies and songs have taken place. Thank you , Anu, for your excellent article. – AK)

I’d been following the mega-series of posts by Mr Ashok Vaishnav on the various combinations of multiple versions of songs on Songs of Yore with great interest. With AK hosting these posts, and Mr Arunkumar Deshmukh and Mr N Venkatraman writing on the links between Hindi-Marathi and Hindi-Tamil songs, it’s been a journey worth travelling.

I do not presume to have the knowledge of music that any of these gentlemen have; this post came about as a result of my telling AK that Hindi film tunes crossed boundaries into my home state of Kerala as well, and asking if listing them in the comments would be an issue. In return, he promptly asked me to develop that into a post. So, with trepidation, here I am, writing a guest post for the first time. I agree with Mr Venkatraman that inspired/adapted songs from each of the four South Indian languages should have a separate post of its own; that said, I will only be writing about Malayalam film songs.

Having grown up outside Kerala, my initiation into Malayalam film music, apart from the songs I heard over the radio, came much later in life. As is the case with Hindi music, I tend to like old Malayalam songs, with certain exceptions being made for some excellent work in later years. I would like to acknowledge the great help and support that a fellow blogger, Cine Matters, gave me when I was floundering, wondering where to begin.

1928 (1930 – the jury is still out on this one) witnessed the birth of Malayalam Cinema. This was when the first silent movie Vigathakumaran (The Lost Child), directed by JC Daniel, was released. What is interesting about Malayalam cinema is that once talkies became the norm in the intervening two decades, Malayalam film songs drew their inspiration heavily from both Hindi and Tamil songs. For instance, the iconic Mohammed Rafi-Noor Jehan duet Yahan badla wafa ka reappeared as Manoharamee rajyam. Unfortunately, I cannot find a video or audio clip for this song. It seemed that the state’s rich musical heritage was being deliberately ignored in favour of imported compositions.

It wasn’t until Neelakuyil (Blue Cuckoo) in 1954 that the state of matters changed. Neelakuyil was a milestone in Malayalam films – a social drama that dealt with feudalism, untouchability and the treatment of women by society, made by a band of idealistic youngsters, and it changed the face of Malayalam cinema setting it firmly on the path of realism and in the social ethos of the state. Scored by K Raghavan, the songs introduced Malayalam folk music into Malayalam films for the first time.

Let me begin with pre-Neelakuyil examples. On his website, Cine Matters listed quite a few songs from Jeevitha Nauka (The Boat of Life) and Ponkathir that were direct lifts from old Hindi songs. Jeevitha Nauka, released in 1951, was Malayalam filmdom’s first ‘super hit’. With a theatrical run of more than 280 days, the film was simultaneously made in Tamil and Telugu and later, a dubbed version in Hindi was released. Its music director was the venerable V Dakshinamoorthy. In his debut film, Nalla Thanka (1950), the veteran music director was forced to adapt songs from Tamil, Hindi and Telugu. For those who understand Malayalam, here is a clip where he describes the brief given to him in those early days.

Here are two songs from what Cine Matters calls the ‘Xerox’ years. There is absolutely no effort to mask the origins, and songs have been taken from as many Hindi films as possible.

Malayalam 1: Akale aarum kaividum (Jeevitha Nauka/1951/MD: V Dakshinamoorthy/Singer: H Mehboob)

Hindi 1: Suhani raat dhal chuki (Dulari/1949/MD: Naushad/Singer: Mohammed Rafi

Malayalam 2: Anandamekoo bale (Jeevitha Nauka/1951/MD: V Dakshinamoorthy/Singer: P Leela)

Hindi 2: Hawa mein udta jaaye (Barsaat/1949/MD: Shankar-Jaikishen/Singer: Lata Mangeshkar)

Music director Mohammed Sabir Baburaj, better known as MS Baburaj is often credited as the man who engineered the renaissance of Malayalam film music. Having learnt Hindustani music in his childhood, he pioneered the use of Hindustani ragas in Malayalam music. His professional association with lyricist P Bhaskaran and singers KJ Yesudas and S Janaki resulted in some of the evergreen hits in Malayalam film songs.

Malayalam 3: Kadalivazha (Umma/1960/MD: MS Baburaj/Singer: Jikki)

This film saw the emergence of a new musical talent who would enthral listeners for almost two decades. Music director, MS Baburaj, who had made an indifferent debut in Minnaminungu (Firefly) three years earlier, began a new phase with the success of this film and carved a place for himself in the pantheon of the greats. Interestingly enough, this song mimics both lyrics and picturisation of its Hindi original.  While the musical connection may seem tenuous to most listeners, that is because the music director, Baburaj, seldom copied the tune as it is.  From what we have listened to from his huge body of work, one can safely say he was inspired by the tunes he heard to create his own, leaving his unique stamp on the final creation.  The cawing of the crow signifying the arrival of a visitor seems to be a belief common to many cultures.

Hindi 3: Mori atariyan pe kaaga (Ankhen/1950/MD: Madan Mohan/Singer: Meena Kapoor)

Malayalam 4: Tamasamenthe varuvaan (Bhargavi Nilayam/1964/MD: MS Baburaj/Singer: KJ Yesudas)

A great fan of music director Naushad, Baburaj was inspired by the veteran composer’s tune from the Muslim social Mere Mehboob to score not one, but two songs in Malayalam. This was a true case of inspiration and paying allegiance to the master – while Mere mehboob tujhe was composed in Raag Jhinjhoti, Baburaj used Raag Bhimpalasi for Tamasamenthe varuvaan. He later reworked his own tune for its twin version Pranasakhi njan verumoru from Pareeksha (1967).

Hindi 4: Mere mehboob tujhe (Mere Mehboob//MD: Naushad/Singer: Mohammed Rafi)

Now, here are two songs from Avalude Ravugal, Malayalam cinema’s first ‘Adults Only’ movie, which became notorious outside Kerala – for all the wrong reasons. A powerful film based on a prostitute’s life, it dealt with the emotions that a ‘fallen woman’ feels, and the way society treats her, even as it uses her services. Music director AT Ummer mentioned in an interview once that he was ‘forced’ to use Rajesh Roshan’s composition from Swami. One wonders at the compulsions that also led him to recycle RD Burman’s tune from Jheel Ke Us Paar for the wonderful lullaby from the same film.

Malayalam 5: Ragendu kiranangal oliveesiyilla (Avalude Ravukal/1978/MD: AT Ummer/Singer: S Janaki)

I personally prefer the Malayalam song to its Hindi original. The words seem to flow better, the Malayalam lyrics are definitely more meaningful, and S.Janaki’s voice has the pathos down pat.

Hindi 5: Pal bhar mere kya ho gaya (Swami/1977/MD: Rajesh Roshan/Singer: Lata Mangeshkar)

Malayalam 6: Unni aaraariro (Avalude Ravukal/1978/MD: AT Ummer/Singer: S Janaki)

What was a plaint in the Hindi film became a lullaby in its Malayalam avatar. Both songs are equally fascinating to listen to, and both are equally poignant, but for different reasons.

Full credit for the songs attaining their evergreen status goes to lyricist Bichu Tirumala for writing lyrics that fit so well into the Malayali ethos, and to S Janaki who sang both numbers.

Hindi 6: Keh rahe hain ye aansu baraste hue (Jheel Ke Us Paar/1973/MD: RD Burman/Singer: Lata Mangeshkar)

Malayalam 7: Mazhavil kothumbileri vanna (Adwaitham/1991/MD: MG Ramachandran/Singers: MG Sreekumar, Chitra)

A political thriller from Priyadarshan (as far as I know, the film’s plot was original), the film had a wealth of very melodious songs; again, as far as I know, they were all original compositions. So it beats me why MG Ramachandran had to be ‘inspired’ by:

Hindi 7: Mausam hai aashiqana (Pakeezah/1972/MD: Ghulam Mohammed/Singer: Lata Mangeshkar)

Malayalam 8: Ende manassiloru naanam (Thenmavin Kombathu/1994/MD: Benny-Ignatius/Singers: MG Sreekumar, Sujata)

Is it a sign, I wonder, that most of the ‘inspired’ songs in this list belong to Priyadarshan’s films? -What is a bigger shame is that music director Benny-Ignatius received the Kerala State Film Award for Best Music for this film. See if you can identify the classic Hindi song from which this is unashamedly ripped off.

Trivia: RD Burman had been signed on to compose music for this film, but he died before completing the score, and Benny-Ignatius was signed on.

Now listen to the Hindi original…

Hindi 8: Piya milan ko jaana (Kapala Kendal/1939/MD: Pankaj Mallik/Singer: Pankaj Mallik)

Malayalam 9: Kaliveedurangiyallo (Desadanam/1996/MD: Kaithapram/Singer: KJ Yesudas)

A copy, in my opinion, that far surpassed the original, whether it was the poignancy in the lyrics (the Hindi version was a nursery rhyme), the richness of the arrangement, or the depth of emotion in the singer’s voice.(Actually, it would be interesting to find out who copied whom in this song – both films were released in 1996.)

Hindi 9: Ghar se nikalte hi (Papa Kehte Hai/1996/MD: Rajesh Roshan/Singer: Udit Narayan)

Malayalam 10: Njan oru paatu paadam (Megham/1999/MD: Ouseppachan/Singer: KJ Yesudas)

So the ode to middle-aged romance is mangled beyond belief in this supposed-to-be-comic picturisation. (Watching Mammooty dance is unintentional comedy, anyway.) This is one of the should-never-have-been-touched songs that leaves the listener/viewer with only one question: What were they thinking of? (Actually, once I learnt that this was a Priyadarshan film, I stopped wondering.)

Here is the classic original…

Hindi 10: O mere zohra jabeen (Waqt/1965/MD: Ravi/Singer: Manna Dey)

Now, for the reverse… Apart from Salilda, who delighted in rearranging his compositions in multiple languages, I found a couple of instances where popular songs from contemporary Malayalam films ‘inspired’ their Hindi counterparts. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to know that the director was Priyadarshan and the music directors were Nadeem-Shravan. Two of the songs in the former’s Saat Rang ke Sapne, a remake of his own highly successful Thenmavin Kombathu, were recycled from other Malayalam films. (Ironically, Thenmavin Kombathu’s musical score used one of Hindi cinema’s iconic songs – copying and reverse copying? Why doesn’t it surprise me with Priyadarshan? It does surprise me that Nadeem-Shravan agreed, though. Not because I have any great faith in their ability to compose original tunes, but because they were usually ‘inspired’ by Pakistani and Arabic tunes.)

The title song of the Hindi version Saat rang ke sapnon mein was recycled from Poo venam (Minnaminunginte Nurunguvettu), while Jhoot bol na was ‘inspired’ by Paathiraakkili from Kizhakkan Pathrose.
In my trawling the web, however, I found that Malayali music directors have been, by and large, composing original songs (though I still found more songs than I’d hoped to find). Perhaps the reasons lie in the fact that our movie scripts are still rooted firmly inside the state, or if they do meander outside, the ethos is still Malayali. Music directors could, therefore, work within these constraints, not needing to go outside the state for ‘inspiration’. It’s also the reason why, until recently, we did not have many really good ‘western’ songs.

Secondly, for a small state, we have a wealth of folk music upon which to draw – Mailanji paatu, Oppana, Koyithu paatu, Vadakkan paatu, Pulluvan paatu, Ottamthullal paatu, Vanchi paatukal, Vilpattu, apart from the rich traditions of Carnatic classical music. In the many decades since Neelakuyil released, charges of plagiarism against a Malayali music composer have been few and far between (though, sadly enough, not completely unknown). In today’s times, that is a refreshing thing.

Guest article by Ashok M Vaishnav

(In the tenth article in the series on Multiple Vesrsion Songs, which is the second part of Ashokji’s article on cross-pollination between Hindi and Gujarati songs, he looks at the influence of Gujarati light/folk sangeet on Hindi film music.  Some of the examples are very well-known songs without our being aware of Gujarati folk influence on them.  So, here is another voyage of discovery of the Hindi film songs influenced by Gujarati folk dance and songs. – AK)

We had had a peep into the versions Gujarati light (sugam) sangeet from Hindi film music in the first part of this article. In this second part we will take a reverse track and have a look at the influence of Gujarati light / folk sangeet on Hindi film music.

The most popular form of Gujarati (folk) sangeet that can be heard, in very high decibels, during Navaratri (The festival of nine nights) is Garba. So, as can be expected, Garba does occupy the lion’s share of this post.

Garba, in fact, has several other variants also, like (Dandiya) Raas or Garabi. This is one form of Gujarati light /folk sangeet, which is must-have for any Gujarati film, and which has also found sustained usage in Hindi films, either in its (relatively) pure form or as its improvised adaptations.

Let us first look at ‘Garba’ songs in Gujarati films, so that what is presented thereafter can be better appreciated in terms of comparing those tunes with the basic form:

Taaliyo na taale gori Garbe ghumati jay re – Mangal Fera (1949), Avinash Vyas – Geeta Roy (Dutt)

I have picked this one, to show the apparent comfort with which Geeta Dutt goes on sing this playful tune, with quite native diction and throw of words.

Mahendi te vavi malve ne eno rang gayo Gujaraat re – Mahendi Rang Lagyo (1960) – Avinash Vyas – Lata Mangeshkar, Pinakin Shah

One of the most popular Gujarati (Garba) songs, from a film which had Rajendra Kumar and Usha Kiron in the lead roles

Amare angane avsar – Ghar Sanasar (1981) – Salil Chaudhary – Asha Bhosle

What is to be noted about this quintessential ‘garba’ is that even as the singer and music directors are non-Gujarati, the end result is a flawless rendition of a traditional Gujarati folk form. Interestingly, Salil Chaudhary, who had great penchant for using the tunes across different languages, has not used ‘garba’ tune anywhere else.

http://www.salilda.com/songs/film/gujarati/gharsansaar/ammare.mp3

(Note: By copying this link in the browser, the song can be heard on-line-streaming)

Next, we look at Hindi Films that have predominant Gujarati culture in the plot of the film, and therefore, necessarily, have at least one song on the ‘Garba’ format:

Main to bhool chali babul ka desh – Saraswatichandra (1968), Kalyanji Anandji – Lata Mangeshkar and Chorus

A song which has lyrics befitting ‘kanya vidayi’, but the composition of the song, and the dance on the screen, has true form of a ‘Garba’

Mero gaam – Manthan (1976) – Vanraj Bhatia – Preeti Sagar

‘Manthan’ is based on the legendary Verghese Kurien’s ‘white’ revolution saga, through the vehicle of cooperative milk production. The mainstay of his work was in and around Anand, a town in the central part of Gujarat. So, Vanraj Bhatia, who himself is a Gujarati, would certainly be expected to use Garba in the film.

AMUL, re-recorded the song in Sunidhi Chauhan’s voice for its advertising promotion, in slower rhythm for enabling the performance of the ‘Garba’ dance on that rhythm.

Ae dholi re bajav – Mirch Masala (1987) – Rajat Dholakia – Babubhai Ranpuri, Tejal Bharatri

Even though Ketan Mehta has principally addressed the subject of empowerment of women in culture of (rural) Bharat in this film, he has used the ecosystem of a Gujarati village for providing the background. Rajat Dholakia, son of late Shri Dilip Dholakia, a Gujarati music director, who also had had a long association with Hindi film industry, has retained all the true characteristics of ‘Garba’ as a traditional folk dance for all major social events in Gujarat.

Raja ki kahani puranee ho gayi, Godmother (1999), Vishal Bhardwaj, Usha Uthup, Kavita Krishnamurthy, Vishal and Rekha

This is a film based on the life of a (so called) ‘mafia queen’ of Porbandar, in western most part of Gujarat.

Or a male only ‘Raas’ form of ‘Garba’, from the same film:

Gunje gagan gunje lalakaren hum…Arjun bhi tum ho tum hi Shivam (Roop Kumar Rathod)

And, now look at the songs in Hindi films that have strong influence of ‘Garba’

Badal ki palki pe uhatke sawar, Chakradhari (1954), Avinash Vyas, Asha Bhosle and Hemant Kumar

Avinash Vyas himself has used deftly ‘garba’ tune for the song

And here is the song, belonging to the same year, inspired from ‘Garba’ tune:

Kanha bajaye bansuri – Nastik – C Ramachandra – Lata Mangeshkar

The dance is in the form of ‘Raas’ variant of ‘Garba’.

Some more examples of ‘Garba’ in Hindi Film Songs-

Na bole na bole Radha na ole re, Azad (1955), C Ramchandra, – Lata Mangeshkar

Mark the subtle use of ‘Garba’ as the base tune, as well as for Meena Kumari’s some of the dance steps on-screen

Adha hai chandrama raat aadhi, Navrang, C Ramachandra – The tune can be said to have been based on ‘Garba’ tune, but the composition has several improvisations added.

Chhod babaul ka ghar; Babul – Naushad – Shamshad Begum

Watch the ‘Raas’ style dance form of ‘Garba’, at its ‘classic’ flow in the way Nargis and her friends dance while singing the song.

Dholi taaro dhol baaje, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999) Ismail Darbar (who is also a Gujarati) – Vinod Rathod, Kavita Krishnamurthy, Karsan Sagathia – Here is a faster paced l ‘Raas’ form of ‘Garba’

Raadha kaise na jale, Lagan (2001) – A R Rehman – Udit Narayan, Asha Bhosle, Vaishali – Again a tune that has core of ‘garba’ in its base as well as on-screen dance.

And now let us take a look at how other Gujarati songs ‘inspired’ some other Hindi songs

The 1949 film, Gunsundari was filmed in Hindi as well Gujarati. Music for Gujarati version was composed by Avinash Vyas whereas for Hindi version music was composed by Bulo C Rani, Avinash Vyas and Hansraj Behl.

Here is the one song in Gujarti version – Aaj maari nanadi ye mahenu maaryun (My sister-in-law taunted me today) – by Geeta Dutt

http://www.raaga.com/play/?id=311734

(By copying this link in the browser, Raaga.com’s screen containing this song will open up).

Its counterpart in Hindi version, is the song – Nandiya maare, composed by Bulo C Rani – that is filmed on an identical situation, is not a replica of the Gujarati song in terms of the tune or composition, even though Geeta Dutt is one more common link. Even the lyrics do capture the mood very well, but can be said to be fairly original when compared to the lyrics of the Gujarati version.

And now, we take a look at (as direct as any) inspirations of some Gujarati songs into Hindi films:

Raakh na Ramakada mara Raame Ramatan Raakhyan re (My Ram has been playing with ash toys) – Mangalfera (1949) – Avinash Vyas – Geeta Dutt and A R Oza

And its inspired version: Tora manava kyun ghabaraye – Sadhana (1958) – N Dutta – Geeta Dutt

And here is a bonus, an additional version of this song in Mohammad Rafi’s voice

Recall the clip of Taaliyo Na Taale presented earlier in this article when we listened to – Dekh ke akeli mohe barkha sataye, from Baazi (1951), composed by S D Burman and rendered by Geeta Dutt

As put forward in the earlier articles by Shri Arun Kumar Deshmukh and by Shri N Venkataraman, we see that ‘inspirations’ have flown quite freely from one language to other enriching the film music on either side.

Our journey of Multiple Version songs continues. ….till we meet again…

Guest article by Ashok M Vaishnav

(Ashokji, who is the originator of the mega series on Multiple Version Songs, now takes us to the little known world of cross fertilisation between Hindi and Gujarati film and folk music.  He plans to do it in two parts, in the first part of which he presents an overview of the theme and impact of Hindi film music on Gujarati songs.  Needless to say, anything from his pen would show depth of research and eye for detail. – AK)

I will begin this post with an humble and honest disclaimer: This preamble will provide an entrée background to our subject of the present post, and is in no way any statement of authority on the subject.

In order to make the posting of the article manageable, we will split the article in two parts, first part dealing with impact of Hindi film music on Gujarati songs, while the second part will present the reverse effect of Gujarati light sangeet on Hindi film music.

Hindi film industry has had a reasonably fair share of Gujaratis associated in a vast range of roles, including back-end functions, like production etc., during all these 100 years of its journey. Many a Gujarati music directors have had a go at the Hindi film music, too. However, except for Jaikishan Panchal (of Shanker Jaikishan duo), and Kalayanji Anandji, no other Gujarati music director seems to have a substantive, and sustained, ‘commercial’ success in the world of Hindi film music, at least not to that scale.

There does not seem to be a major, direct influence of Gujarati music culture to and from Hindi film music, as compared to that of the other Indian languages, where the local film industry has made substantial strides. Obviously, there ought to be valid reasons for such a state of affairs. I am no expert on the subject, but as an individual who has been a ardent fan of all that is good in Hindi film music and Gujarati light music, I may submit that whatever impact, or exchange, has happened between two cultures, the subject does remain an interesting field, both, purely from point of view of enjoyment as well as from the point of view of serious study.

From late 40s to around end of 60s, qualitatively and quantitatively a prolific composer and lyricist in Gujarati sugam (light) sangeet, Avinash Vyas had been concurrent music director as well to around 50 Hindi films, equivalent to around 600 songs.

The possible impact of such an association can be judged by the fact that Geeta Dutt, a major playback singer of his songs, has done more songs in Gujarati (both film and non-film songs) than in her own Bengali. “She has sung 80-odd songs for 25 Gujarati films between 1948 and 1967, plus a handful of non-film songs. While this is not a large body of work, it is larger than her total Bengali output! It is substantial enough to carve a place for her in the pantheon of Gujarati singers of the era.” She would, obviously get the song written down in Bengali, but could deliver (reasonably) clear pronunciations and right throw of the words. (Ref: http://www.geetadutt.com/gujarati_songs.html )

We do also have a good many of songs in the voices of other leading singers like Amirbai Karanataki and Rajkumari too for the Gujarat films released in late 40s, as well as several non-film Gujarati songs around that period. Since then, all front ranking playback singers of Hindi film industry have lent their voice to several Gujarati – film as well as non-film – songs. This trend of mainstream playback singers of Hindi film industry singing in Gujarati, with an excellent native diction, in fact, helped in hugely popularising Gujarati light sangeet in the 60s and 70s. The leading record playing companies were quite comfortable in publishing the records of these songs, and these were commercial successes as well. Interestingly, Mahendra Kapoor went on to become the de facto first choice during 70s for the Gujarati songs based on Gujarati folk tunes. This was the period which must possibly go as quantitatively the most productive period of Gujarati film industry.

With this rather longish opening statement, we now turn to the subject matter proper.

One Gujarati film, Ghar Sansar (1981), will suffice to provide a perfect example of the transfer of tunes across languages. The beauty of such experiments is that unless known, you would always treat the song as native to that language. The master in the art of using the tunes across different languages, Salil Chaudhary’s Gujarati songs (!?) for this film provide us the only possible transfer of the tune, that I know of, from Hindi (or for that matter, from any languages) to Gujarati film music.

I present here one song from this film to illustrate the point:

Ho Halo Re Hans Mala – Singer: Prafull Dave

Prafull Dave was a well versed singer of Gujarati folk, particularly, devotional folk. Salil Chaudhary’s deft use of his voice does certainly help the song fit into the native locale.

http://www.salilda.com/songs/film/gujarati/gharsansaar/hohalore.mp3

The song seems to have its first Malayali version, rendered by Yesudas for a 1977 film Poomanaa

http://www.salilda.com/songs/film/malayalam/ethoruswapnam/poomanam.mp3

This tune was used again as a Lata Mangeshkar – Kishore Kumar duet for a 1980 Bengali film – Antarghaat as O aamar sojono go

http://www.salilda.com/songs/film/bengali/antarghaat/o_aamaar.mp3

(Note – By pasting these links in your browser, these songs can be heard on-line-streaming.)

Two more such songs from this film and their versions in other languages can be accessed @ http://www.salilda.com/filmsongs/other/gujarati/gharsansaar.asp.

Pag ghunghru bandh Meera naachi re

This Meera bhajan has several versions, which we would re-visit appropriately when we will take up this specific category. However, the two clips that can be accessed through the links provided below will substantiate the indirect influence of Hindi film music on Gujarati sangeet.

Well, Meera bhajans are treated as ancient devotional Gujarati poetry in Gujarati literature too. This audio clip is also sourced from the site which has collection of Gujarati songs only. Be that as it may, the clip, where Pandit Omkarnath Thakur presents this Bhajan, does emphasise the impact of Hindi film music on Gujarati sangeet.

https://soundcloud.com/ashokmvaishnav-1/pag-ghunghru-bandh-by-pandit

The accompanying audio clip, rendered by Krishna Kalle, just goes on to illustrate the range of singers of Hindi film world, readily experimenting for songs in Gujarati.

https://soundcloud.com/ashokmvaishnav-1/pag-ghungharu-original-bhajan

We have a very interesting case here –

Parawardigar-e-Alam from film Hatimtai (1957), Mohammad Rafi, lyrics Akhtar Romani, music S N Tripathi, may not be new to most of the readers of this blog.

This prayer has several other devotional versions, which we will address appropriately separately.

Please listen to an interesting Gujarati ghazal version (the similarity of these songs was presented to me by Tadatmya Vaishnav) by Talat Mahmood (Lyrics: Ramesh Gupta ; Music: Kersi Mistry):

Shaane guman karato (1961) – “What for is your arrogance …”

In the second part of this article we will take a look at versions of the Hindi Film Songs, influenced by Gujarati light / folk music.

Till then, more inputs on impact of Hindi films to, or from, Gujarati sangeet are indeed welcome, so as to enrich our discussion of Multiple Versions Songs series.

Guest article by N. Venkataraman

(Mr Venkataraman’s first part of Hindi-Tamil similar songs was on ‘Inspired and adopted songs’.  He also mentioned in that article that he would be covering the subject in three parts.  In the second part he discusses songs from Hindi movies which were dubbed in Tamil.  Synchronizing the lyrics, meaning, meter and lip movement requires a great deal of talent.  It is a journey into a fascinating world, which, I presume, is unknown to most of us.  There is a warning though.  There is something infectious about these songs – you would soon forget that Madhubala ever sang ‘Mohabat ki jhoothi kahani pe roye’, because ‘Kanu kanda kaathal’ will grip you, or that Nargis sang ‘Raja ki ayegi baraat’, because after reading this article you would be humming, ‘Kalyana oorvalam varum’, and so on. – AK) 

At the outset, I feel like a traveller commencing the second part of my journey through a desert looking for the elusive oasis. I am afraid that the scope and variety found in the first part will be lacking to a great extent in this article. Except the lyrics and the singer(s), everything else will be almost similar in both the versions. Even the singer(s) in one or two instances can be the same. Hoping that the deserts too can provide enough charm on a calm and moonlit night.

Expectation leads to disappointment, but hope leads to hope. Let me follow the saying, ‘When in Hope, do as the Hopefuls do’.

Dubbing movies in Tamil is not a recent phenomenon. Dubbing started as early as 1944. Harishchandra, released in 1944, was the first film to be dubbed in Tamil from a 1943 Kannada film Satya Harishchandra. Later Tamil movies were also dubbed from others languages. In the 60s a lot of mega Hindi movies were dubbed in Tamil mainly for their songs. But in the seventies many B-grade crime thrillers and action movies were dubbed in Tamil. Now dubbing movies is a separate industry by itself. Although Tamil films were remade in Hindi for the North Indian viewers, it is rare to find instance of Tamil films dubbed in Hindi before the eighties.

Gulebakawali (1955) / Gul-e-Bakawali (1956) – Music K V Mahadevan, M S Vishwanathan- Ramamoorthy

(Note: The thumbnail of this article is from the movie Gulebakawali).

One such rare occasion was in 1956. The Tamil film Gulebakawali (1955) was dubbed in Hindi as Gul-e-bakawali (1956). Gul-e-Bakawali is a species of cactus also known as Night Queen or Nishagandha. Kissa-e-Gul-e-Bakawali was a popular medieval romance story derived from a Persian Masnavi. Besides Pushtu, Punjabi and many other Indian languages, this was translated in Kashmiri by Lasa Khan Fida and in Bengali by the seventeenth century Bengali poet Nawajish Khan. Starting from the silent era till the 1980s, there are at least ten versions of this film, made in Hindi, Punjabi, Telugu and Tamil. Two versions were made during the silent era. Let us listen to two Tamil songs from this film made in 1955. Before I proceed, let me confess that I have used audio-video remix for those songs, where the original dubbed versions were not available.

1T.  Mayakkum malai pozhuthe nee po po by A M Rajah and Jikki from the film Gulebakawali (Night Queen) (1955), lyrics TN Ramaiah Dass, music Vishwanathan-Ramamoorthy(?)

The song Mayakkum malai pozhuthe nee po po was initially composed by K V Mahadevan for the film Koondukkili. (1954). Koondukkili was the only film where M G Ramachandran (MGR) and Shivaji Ganeshan acted together. Both of them wanted the song. The producer, Ramanna, unable to resolve the issue, decided not to use the song in this film. Later the song was used in the next film Gulebakawali for MGR! The credit for this song was given to Vishwanathan- Ramamoorthy pair, who scored the music for Gulebakawali. Let us listen to the Tamil version.

1H.  Mera kahan hai man mera by Talat Mehmood and Jikki from the film Gul-e-Bakawali (1956), lyrics Indeevar, music Gyan Dutt

This is a rare and equally beautiful duet of Talat Mahmood and Jikki. Music direction was credited to Gyan Dutt. I have provided link to the remix of Tamil video and Hindi audio for the Hindi version, because the original Hindi dubbed version is not available in the You Tube. Let us listen to Talat Mahmood singing for Puratchi Thalaivar MGR, who later became the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu.

2T.  Acchu nimirndha vandi by Chandrababu and Jikki from the film Gulebakawali (1955), lyrics TN Ramaiah Dass, music Vishwanathan-Ramamoorthy

Few words about J P Chandrababu who rendered this song with Jikki and can be seen in this song sequence also. Joseph Panimayadas Rodriguez Chandrababu was a Tamil film comedian-actor, singer and dancer, whose on-screen movements and singing style made him popular from the late 1940s to the early 1970s. But J.P. Chandrababu’s life was a tragedy and he died a pauper in 1974. It was Sivaji Ganesan who bore the cost of his funeral expenses. He was laid to rest at a graveyard in Chennai in 1974.

Let us listen the other duet from the same film, first the Tamil version followed by the Hindi version.

2H.  Bhaire maine is aalam by Md.Rafi and Shamsad Begum from the film Gul-e-Bakawali (1956), lyrics Pyarelal Santoshi, music Gyan Dutt

In the 1950s and early 60s a lot of mega Hindi movies were dubbed in Tamil. Movies like Aan, Aah, Udan Khatola, Naya Daur and Mughal-e-Azam were some of the Hindi films dubbed in Tamil, mainly for their songs. Naushad remains the most popular composer in the dubbed genre also. But none of the dubbed version of the films did well at the box-office. And in the sixties, this trend came to an end, to be continued again much later.

Aan (1952) – Music Naushad

Aan was first Hindi film to be dubbed in Tamil. It was also dubbed in French, English and Japanese. Mehboob Khan, a socialist, was an advocator of Welfare State and inclusive development. Through his films, he tried to speak the language of the have-nots. Scoffing at the royalty, films like Aan were popular among the masses. Dilip Kumar and Nadira did the lead roles in this film. Right from the beginning nothing was going right for Mehboob Khan. The film’s muhurat was done with Nargis. Nargis was busy with her assignment with RK Films. Finally Mehboob Khan was compelled to replace Nargis and the role went to Nadira.  Although Aan was not a thumping success in India, it had remarkable success abroad. It still remains one of the masterpieces of Mehboob Khan.

The Tamil version was also titled Aan. The lyrics were written by Kambadasan. In YT, both the versions are available only for three songs. I have presented the Hindi song Mohabbat choome jinke haath in my previous article. It is surprising that Mehboob Khan decided to use S M Sirkar, his assistant director, to render the Tamil version of Md. Rafi’s songs, instead of using one of the South Indian male playback singers. It seems Md.Rafi was not interested in singing the Tamil version songs.

3T.  Manthinil kaadal by S M Sirkar, lyrics Kambadasan

In spite of the fact that he did not have clarity in diction, S M Sirkar’s songs remained unchanged, Thus S M Sirkar’s name also got included to the many voices of Dilip Kumar. I am presenting the song rendered by the unknown singer S M Sirkar followed by the Hindi version rendered by Md Rafi.

3H.  Dil mein chhupa ke by Md.Rafi, lyrics Shakeel Badayuni

Initially, Lata Mangeshkar and Shamshad Begum sang the female version of the Tamil songs. The feedback received by Mehboob Khan was not very encouraging. Later Mehboob Khan got M.S.Rajeswari to sing the Lata Mangeshkar solos and Soolamangalam Rajalakshmi to sing the Shamshad Begum songs. But these changes too were done hurriedly and did not make much of an impact. Next I am presenting the Tamil version of a female solo from this film followed by the Hindi version.

4T.  Naan raaniye raajavin by Soolamangalam Rajalakshmi, lyrics Kambadasan

4H.  Main raani hoon raja ki by Shamshad Begum, lyrics Shakeel Badayuni

Aah / Avan (1953) – Music Shankar-Jaikishan

The R K Production film, starring Raj Kapoor and Nargis too did not live up to the expectation. The Filmfare reviewer writes; ‘For a young man weighed down by a frustrated love affair, two infected lungs, and a sensitive tortured poetic mind, he looks surprisingly well and plump.’ Compared to other RK Films this was not a success story. In a later dubbing the end was changed to a happy one but by then it was too late.

The film was dubbed in Tamil as Avan and in Telugu as Premalekhalu. The lyrics in Tamil were penned by Kamabadasan. Initially, Lata Mangeshkar was assigned to sing the Tamil as well as the Telugu version of the songs. There were objections to Lata’s Tamil pronunciation and M L Vasanthakumari’s name came up. Eventually Jikki and her husband, A M Rajah rendered both the Tamil and Telugu versions. I am presenting two songs out of the four songs for which both the version are available on the You Tube. Both of them are worth listening to.

5T.  Anbe vaa, anbe vaa, azhaikinra by A M Rajah and Jikki, lyrics Kambadasan

A M Rajah and Jikki have rendered this song quite well.

5H.  Aaja re ab mera dil pukara by Lata Mageshkar and Mukesh, lyrics Hasrat Jaipuri

This duet can be a strong contender for inclusion in the short list for ‘The Best Duets of 1952’.

6T.  Kalyana oorvalam varum by Jikki, lyrics Kambadasan

6H.  Raja ki aayegi barat by Lata Mangeshkar, lyrics Shailendra Needless to say, which version stands apart!

Udan Khatola (1955) / Vaana Ratham (1957) – Music Naushad

The Hindi film Udan Khatola was dubbed in Tamil as Vaana Ratham. This was Nimmi’s last film with Dilip Kumar. Again Kambadasan was assigned to write the lyrics in Tamil. The songs for the Tamil dubbed version were sung by Lata Mangeshkar, TA Mothi and R Balasaraswathi. Incidentally T Suryakumari, a well known South Indian actor-singer of yore, acted in this movie. She was nominated for the ‘Filmfare Award-Best Actress in a Supporting Role’, for her performance in the role of the queen in this film. Ultimately, Nirupa Roy got the award for her role in Munimji.

There were in all twelve songs in Udan Khatola. All the three songs sung by Md.Rafi were recorded in the voice of T A Mothi in the Tamil version. Initially two songs sung by Lata Mangeshkar were recorded in the voice of R Balasarswathi in Tamil. R Balasarswathi had gone to Bombay for the recording at the invitation of Naushad and Ghulam Mohammad. Surprisingly after the recording of two songs, Balasarswathi returned to Madras. The Tamil version of the other five songs was rendered by Lata Mangeshkar. R Balasarswathi should have been the natural choice, because her pronunciation would have been perfect, unlike that of Lata Mangeshkar. Let us listen to two songs from this film.

7T.  Enthan kannalan karai nokki pogiran by Lata Mangeshkar, lyrics Kambadasan

In the film Aan Naushad used a hundred piece orchestra, while in Udan Khatola he recorded an entire song without the use of orchestra. The interludes consist of chorus voices. Let us listen to the Tamil and Hindi versions of this song based on the Raag Piloo.

7H.  More Saiyyanji utarenge paar by Lata Mangeshkar, lyrics Shakeel Badayuni

There are five songs of both the versions available on the YT. I tried my best to locate the two songs sung by R Balasarswathi, but in vain. Among the two male Tamil version songs, the song Nee neerodaadaathe, is better rendered by T A Mothi.

8T.  Nee neerodaadaathe by T A Mothi, lyrics Kambadasan

Now let us listen to the original Hindi version rendered by Md.Rafi.

8H.  Na toofan se khelo by Md.Rafi, lyrics Shakeel Badayuni

Naya Daur (1957) / Paataliyin Sabatham (1958) – Music OP Nayyar

Paataliyin Sabatham, a very good dubbed version of Naya Daur, was based on a simple romantic story with a blend of socio-economic conditions prevailing at that time in our country. A BR Chopra Film, it is still remembered for the thrilling race between a bullock cart and a bus at the end, and memorable performances by Dilip Kumar, Vyjayanthimala, Pran and Ajit. Madhubala was originally supposed to do Vyjayanthimala’s role in Naya Daur. Due to her father’s reluctance to allow her for outdoor shootings, B R Chopra had to replace her and it led to an acrimonious court case. Asha Bhosle’s first big success was Naya Daur. Her duets with Rafi like Maang ke saath tumhara, Saathi haath badhana and Uden jab jab zulfein teri, penned by Sahir Ludhianvi and composed by O P Nayyar, gave her recognition. It was the first time that she had got to sing all the songs for the leading lady. Originally the film was made in Black and White, but later it was converted to colour. Let us listen to a beautiful duet from the Tamil version followed by the Hindi original.

9T.  Un mugil surul enthan koondal by T M Sounderarajan and P Susheela, lyrics Kamabdasan

9H.  Ude jab jab zulfein teri by Md.Rafi and Ash Bhosle, lyrics Sahi Ludhianvi

O P Nayyar was at his best. The song Ude jab jab zulfen teri, set to a beautiful tune, energetic play of the dholak, incomparable rendition by Md. Rafi and Asha Bhonsle, was magical.

Next I am presenting another beautiful duet from the same film. First the Tamil version

10T. Vazhkaiyil un korrikai pole by T M Sounderarajan and P Shusheela, lyrics Kambadasan

10H.  Maang ke saath tumhara by Md.Rafi and Asha Bhosle, lyrics Sahir Ludhianvi

Just listen to the violin piece at the beginning of this clip, a superb display of soul wrenching and heart melting appeal (Maang). A beautiful composition, full of pathos and pleasure leading towards an expectation, from O P Nayyar! The entire build up to the song, starting with the violin solo, the sound of gong resonating, the dialogue between Dilip Kumar and Vyjayanthimala, all together add to the aural delight.

Mughal-e-Azam (1960)/ Akbar (1961) – Music Naushad

K Asif had planned to make Mughal-e-Azam in three languages – Hindi, Tamil and English. While the Hindi version was a blockbuster hit, the Tamil version flopped badly. So the makers subsequently aborted the idea of dubbing the English version with British actors. But all the songs became popular. The lyrics written by Kambadasan were closely connected to the meaning of the original songs. The songs were sung by P Susheela and Jikki. Six songs from the 1961 version can be found in the You Tube. I would have liked to present the Tamil version of Bekas pe karam keejiye. But I could not locate it. I am presenting the Tamil version of the song Mohabbat ki jhooti. P Susheela has done justice to this composition. But comparison with Lata Mangeshkar’s rendition will not be fair.

11T.  Kanavu kanda kaathal by P Susheela, lyrics Kambadasn

11H.  Mohabbat ki jhooti kahani by Lata Mangeshkar, lyrics Shakeel Badayuni

The same Mughal-e-Azam was dubbed in Tamil again in 2006. It was released as Anarkali after it was digitally coloured. Nagore Salim re-wrote the lyrics and songs were rendered by Swarnalatha. Swarnalatha in her 30s, met with premature death in later part of 2000. Those who are interested in listening to this version can find four songs of this version in YT.

12T.  Aatrin karai thanile by P Susheela, lyrics Kambadasan

In the 1961 version sung by P Susheela, Kambadasan has remained faithful to the original lyrics. Let listen to 1961 Tamil version.

The original song composed by the all time great Naushad.

12H.  Mohe panghat pe Nandlal by Lata Mangeshkar, lyrics Shakeel Badayuni

With this beautiful song I come to the end of Part 2. One might have not found the elusive oasis, but definitely towards the end the full moon appearing twice would have provided the calm and the charm which I was looking for. Yes twice! Once in the first song of Naya Daur, where we saw one side of the moon revealed to us. And then the other side of the moon which was hidden from our view too was revealed in the last song from Mughal-e-Azam. Beauty personified.

Before I conclude, I will like to mention a point. In the dubbed version songs, the real challenge was with the lyricist. The lyricist had to strike as close a balance between the lyrical meter and musical meter, maintain the meaning as close to the original version as possible and try to match the lip movement. And this was a daunting task, especially in the close-up shots. Here Kambadasan who had written the lyrics for the Tamil dubbed versions, had tried his best to connect to the pronunciation and meaning of the original song. I dedicate this article to Kambadasan, who was adept at penning lyrics for dubbed films. He received very little recognition in his life time.

Vanakkam.

Wishing her Happy 71st Birthday on April 26, 2013

I am not a journalist, nor am I in a line which should bring me anywhere near film people. Yet, here I was having a relaxed conversation with Minoo Mumtaz in her apartment in Pune, a few months back. Some stories are epic in scale. This one had its beginning on the other side of the globe, about a year back, when I had gone for a conference in Toronto, Canada.

When we travel on work we try to mix business with pleasure, which normally means half a day or a day out for sight-seeing. After my conference was over, my flight back home was the next day evening, which gave me plenty of time to travel to Niagara. My local hosts had mentioned that AJ himself, the owner of the AJ Transport Company, whose transport was hired, would be driving me, and that he was a nephew of Mehmood. This was interesting, but it was said in a way as if he was just one among a whole lot of Mehmood clan.

A day out with Minoo Mumtaz’s son Ajaz Ali (AJ)

When it turned out that AJ was the son of Minoo Mumtaz, and she lived with him in Toronto, I felt bad that I came to know of this link too late, otherwise I would have much rather spent my spare time with her – I had been to Niagara earlier.

AJ himself is a fantastic person. Not only he has a successful car rental business, he runs an old age home in Niagara, and with its residents he shares a very apparent mutual affection. He is a thorough Niagara man – he shows you around a Niagara which is much more than the touristy Falls. The Falls are obviously awesome, but he knows Niagara’s other beautiful water bodies, picnic spots, restaurants, wineries, the world’s largest open butterfly park, and the picture postcard town Niagara-on-the-Lake, a few miles down from the Falls (it reminded me of Burton-on-Water in the Cotswold area, Oxford) – AJ takes you to spots where Lonely Planet cannot reach.

My first sentence to him on knowing that he was Minoo Mumtaz’s son was ‘So, saqiya aaj mujhe need nahi ayegi’. That opened the floodgates, whenever he was not able to answer my queries, he would call up his Mom. Sweet! You can see he is very articulate – in this short video recorded at ‘Guru’, one of his favourite restaurants, owned by one Anitaji (naturally his friend, who in Niagara is not?), he talks about the history of his family. It starts with Mumtaz Ali, Mehmood and Minoo Mumtaz’s father, and AJ’s Nana. We know of Mumtaz Ali as a famous actor of the vintage era. But what may not be known, as I piece together from what AJ told me, is that the child Mumtaz Ali, when he could no longer take the atrocities of his step-sister, one day ran away from his home in Saudi Arabia, and escaped in a vessel. On waking up he found himself at the Gateway of India in Bombay, and started to eke out a living as thousands of street children do. One Horniman Saheb took a liking for him and brought him up. He was a poet in theatre, and thus started Mumtaz’s entry into theatre and films. Mumtaz Ali had four sons and four daughters, one of whom is Minoo and another was Mehmood. With Mumtaz Ali, the daughter Minoo started travelling for theatre shows. Her dancing talent was recognized early. In one of her travels to Madras, the scion of Arcot family met and liked her, and thus it was that she was married to Syed Ali Akbar.

Some trivia about Mehmood narrated by AJ.  Mehmood struggled in life to make both ends meet – he would sell candies and do mimicry in trains. But when he became famous, even big stars were scared to act opposite him as he would steal the scene. Raj Kapoor refused to work with him after Parvarish, except for a two-seconds’ appearance together in Abdullah. AJ’s father directed Mamu’s (Mehmood’s) first production Chhote Nawab.

AJ then takes me to his favourite view point, some 15 kilometres down the Falls, and talks some more about his mother’s career and life. For the first time I came to know that she was the leading lady in Black Cat. And in a great coincidence, on my return, Zee Classic was showing Black Cat! I could catch only parts of it, but yes I did get to see Main tumhi se poochhti hun. She is thoroughly convincing as a heroine in this and other songs in the film. Her first film was Sakhi Hatim starring Daljit and Chitra. Her last film was Palki. Her other notable films are Chirag Kahan Roshani Kahan, Gharana, Taj Mahal, Howrah Bridge, besides the well known Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam.

With this much information, which was mostly new for me, I was ready to do a post on Minoo Mumtaz. Ever since I took notice of her in Saqiya aaj mujhe neend nahi ayegi, I had been fascinated by her, and I had started making a mental note of her other outstanding dance-songs. There was no particular reason for the delay, except that once in a while I would write to AJ if he could send me some more current material and photographs of hers. Then when I was least expecting, I got a mail from him that she was going to be in Pune for some time, and gave me her contact number. This was a stroke of great luck, because in the next few days I was to travel to Pune on work. So, in another mixing of business with pleasure, I landed at her apartment in Pune, where she received me with great kindness and charm. She was very spontaneous and spoke freely about the fascinating history of her family, her career and her present – most of which, I believe, would be coming in the public domain for the first time.

Minoo Mumtaz ki kahani unki zubani

“BG Horniman Saheb adopted my father, who was castaway at Gateway of India in a ship from Saudi Arabia. Daddy’s real name was Anwar Ali, but Horniman Saheb gave him the name, Mumtaz Ali (reasons not clear). Horniman Saheb used to bring out a famous newspaper.

“Dance was in my Daddy’s DNA. Bombay those days had a large number of theatre groups, where Daddy started dancing. Mr Horniman was not pleased, but looking at Daddy’s passion he agreed.

(AJ’s account that Mr Horniman was a poet in theatre is at slight variance with his mother’s that he was a journalist.  Please see the Note at the end.)

“Daddy was married when he was 16 and my Mummy was 11. She bore her first child when she was 14. Thereafter, one after the other, the children just kept coming. The only reasonable gap was after Usman Bhai, when I was born three years after him. We are eight brothers and sisters. The eldest, Hussaini Begum, went to Pakistan, where she passed away recently. The second was Mehmood Bhai, next was Hetunissa, thereafter, Usman Ali. After him I was born, my real name was Malika Begum. After me came, Zubeida Begum, then Shaukat Ali, and the last, Anwar Ali.

“Daddy was the first person to introduce dance into films. Devika Rani took a great liking for him, and employed him in the Bombay Talikes. His dance in the song Main to Dilli se dulhan laya re became a roaring hit.

“Among my brothers and sisters, I was the first to come into films. Soon after me came Mehmood Bhai. Anwar Ali was also into films, producing films like Khuda Gawah.

“My first film was Sakhi Hatim (1955) with Daljit and Chitra. In this film I did not have any dance. My role was of a jalpari. But dance was in my blood. I had learnt dancing from Daddy, who also used to teach many girls at our house. Kuldeep Kaur noticed me on the sets of Sakhi Hatim, and knowing that I was Mumtaz Ali’s daughter, asked me if I would like to dance. This is what I wanted. My first dance was in the film Miss Coca Cola. The next was Society. Thereafter, my dance duet with Helen in Halaku became very famous, in which I beat her in competition. I became famous as a dancer, and I got dancing roles in many films.

“Then I said, bahut dance hua, mujhe role chahiye. I started getting comedy roles with all the top comedians of the time – Johnny Walker, Om Prakash, Sundar Uncle and even Mehmood Bhai. With Mehmood Bhai in Howrah Bridge, I had a romantic role, and we acted and danced quite freely to a duet. But there was a great deal of protest from the public, how can brother and sister romance? Then I said, Lo Bhaijan, ho gayi chhutti, ab se hum sirf bhai bahan ka role karenge.

“I was opposite Johnny Walker in many films. In Kagaz Ke Phool I was with him in the song Humko pyar karna mangta. I also had a song with him in Paigham. In CID, Boojh mera kya gaon re on me is very famous. There was a duet with Madhubala and me in Insan Jaag Utha – Janu janu re – when the two sahelis tease each other about their love affair.

“Then I got tired of comedy roles or dances. I got the side heroine’s role in Chirag Kahan Roshani Kahan, in which two songs were picturised on me. My first film as a heroine was Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke. Then came Black Cat. Thereafter, I had lead roles in Ghar Ghar Ki Baat and Ghar Basa Ke Dekho.

“I was a great fan of Dara Singh, and had a desire to work with him, which was fulfilled in 1962 when I got a role opposite him as a heroine.

“I was married in 1963. My last film was Palki. It was four years into making, and my first two children – Ajaz and Mehnaz – were born while I was working in the film. This created a lot of difficulties. At times I had shootings eighth month into pregnancy. The Director would handle the situation by creating a scene that Jonnny Walker ke ghar mein khushi aa rahi hai. Later my two younger daughters, Shehnaz and Gulnaz, were born.

“About ten years back, a big tumour of four inches was detected in my brain. The doctor said that it had been sitting there for the last fifteen years, and growing. It came as a big shock. I had never felt anything wrong, I was absolutely normal until one day suddenly I blacked out. I started losing my vision, I lost my memory, I could not recognize anyone. I was operated by Dr Jha of Bombay. The doctor was not sure what would happen to me. My children bid me good bye, because they thought Mummy would not come back. When I came out of the OT, I could see. Suddenly I started remembering everything. My head was all opened up; it still has a long stitching mark. I have come back from the dead, and by the grace of God I am all right.

“Now we live in Canada. All my children are married and settled in Canada. I maintain my links with India. I spend six months in India – I have rented an apartment in Bombay and this one in Pune. Whenever I come to Bombay I do make it a point to meet up with old friends, Nanda, Shyama and Waheeda Rahman. We have a great time together. I spend some time in Bangalore, where Mehmood Bhai’s son Lucky Ali lives. We also visit Hyderabad, where my husband Syed Akbar Ali’s relatives live. By the grace of God, we are very happy.”

At the end of our conversation she agreed to record a small clipping, even though she was not in the best of health. This short video, along with the transcript of our conversation above, would give you an idea of the person – she is sincere, joyous and charming, with an innate goodness.

While leaving the apartment complex, I came across her husband, Syed Akbar Ali, who was just coming in. I was able to exchange some pleasantries; he is the kind of person who impresses you in the very first meeting – a thorough gentleman.

I had come across some very unpleasant piece on the internet about Mumtaz Ali. It is heartening to meet one branch of his, which is so well adjusted, nice and happy. As she celebrates her 71^st birthday today (she was born on April 26, 1942), now back in Canada with her family, let me give her my very best wishes and thank her for meeting me. Let me also greet and thank the wonderful AJ and Syed Akbar Ali

Now some great songs picturised on Minoo Mumtaz, some of which were especially recommended by her to me.

1. Aji chale aao aji chale aao tumhein ankhon se dil mein bulaya by Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle from Halaku (1956), lyrics Shailendra, music Shankar Jaikishan

Minoo Mumtaz made a special mention of this song as one of the first songs which made her famous, in which she beats Helen in the dance competition. Shankar Jaikishan are the masters of such dance songs based on folk, or at times, West Asian tunes, and this song has long been my personal favourite. Later they would create several exquisite dance solos and duets in a similar style in Yahudi and many other films. A great favourite of mine.

2. Boojh mera kya gaon re by Shamshad Begum from C.I.D. (1956), lyrics Majrooh Sultanpuri, music OP Nayyar

The impish Minoo Mumtaz, and joyous and full throated Shamshad Begum – one cannot ask for a better combination.  This is a stock style of Guru Dutt’s song picturisation in which the lead pair (in this case Dev Anand and Shakila) watch the performance from sidelines.  Shamshad Begum passed away recently. It was a sad irony that I greeted  her on her birthday, April 14, with her song Mere piya gaye Rangoon, hoping that I would be wishing her on many more birthdays, and within 10 days she was no more.  Boojh mera kya gaon re again represents the spirit of joy she epitomised with her songs.  Let us pay a tribute to her with this song.

3. Suno re suno re…miyan mera bada beimaan by S Balbir and Geeta Dutt from Ek Saal (1957), lyrics Prem Dhavan, music Ravi

No list of Minoo Mumtaz is complete without her comic songs with Johnny Walker, whom Minoo Mumtaz remembers with great fondness. It is difficult to choose one from several available on the net. This one is full of life as a street performers’ song where the lead pair Ashok Kumar and Madhubala are among the bystanders and they are pulled by the dancers to join them in the fun.

4. Gora rang chunariya kali, motiyon wali ki dil mera loot liya by Rafi and Asha Bhosle from Howrah Bridge (1958), lyrics Qamar Jalalabadi, music OP Nayyar

This is the duet between Mehmood and Minoo Mumtaz which raised the hackles of the then conservative society. Even for the highly prudish, there does not seem to be anything objectionable in this bhangra between brother and sister, which is commonplace today in wedding functions. Mehmood and Minoo Mumtaz are delightful and spontaneous, as she so fondly remembered.

5. Aye ho to dekh lo duniya zara, jeene walo le lo jeene ka maza by Suman Kalyanpur from Chirag Kahan Roshni Kahan (1959), lyrics Prem Dhavan, music Ravi

Minoo Mumtaz is great with party dancing songs. Here she is celebrating the birthday of her pet cat (as mentioned on the YouTube), in one of her significant films in which she had the second lead opposite Rajendra Kumar.

6. Kadam bahke bahke jiya dhadak jaye by Lata Mangeshkar from Bank Manager (1959), lyrics Indivar, music Madan Mohan

Bank Manager is significant for two terrific songs on her – Saba se ye kah do by Asha Bhosle, and Kadam bahke bahke jiya dhadak jaye by Lata Mangeshkar. Great composition by Madan Mohan. I can see Asha Bhosle fans choosing Saba se ye kah do, but my favourite is the Lata Mangeshkar song.

7. Main tumhi se poochhati hun by Lata Mangeshkar from Black Cat (1959), lyrics Jaan Nisar Akhtar, music N Datta

Among her films as a heroine, this song is my special favourite. One is used to seeing her as a mujra dancer, but as the heroine lip synching this song, as also another sweet song in this film – Sitare raah takte hain chale aao chale aao – she looks very convincing.

8. Janu janu re khae khanke hai tora kanganaa by Asha Bhosle and Geeta Dutt from Insaan Jaag Utha (1959), lyrics Shailendra, music SD Burman

This is another song which is a special favourite of Minoo Mumtaz. In this song she acts opposite Madhubala, the two sahelis teasing each other about their love affairs.

9. Dil ki kahani rang layi hai by Asha Bhosle from Chaudahvi Ka Chand (1960), lyrics Shakeel Badayuni, music Ravi

Chadahvi Ka Chand is among films in which there was more than one outstanding song picturised on Minoo Mumtaz – Bedardi mere sainyan and Dil ki kahani rang layi hai, both among the greatest mujras. This one leaves Guru Dutt speechless.

10. Jane jana yun na dekho by Asha Bhosle from Faulad (1963), lyrics Anjaan, music OP Nayyar

Minoo Mumtaz mentioned about her dream of working opposite Dara Singh. She could not recollect the name of the film, but here her dream is fulfilled, in which she is seen seducing Dara Singh (?).

Note: BG Horniman (Mumtaz Ali’s foster father?)

I believe Horniman Sahib whom Minoo Mumtaz and AJ referred to was this Englishman who is described in this picture as a ‘well-wisher of India’ and the editor of ‘Bombay Chronicle’.  There is plenty of material on him on the net, but none that I could find which gave Mumtaz Ali connection.  He was an Englishman, but a sympathiser of the Nationalist Movement.  His reports on Jallianwalla Bagh massacre and criticism of the colonial government led to his deportation to England.  He later returned to India and ran the highly popular evening paper “Bombay Sentinel”.  He died in Bombay in 1948.  A large park in South Bombay has been named ‘Horniman Cirlce’ in his honour.

Acknowledgment: I am grateful to imagesofasia.com  for permission to use the image of BG Horniman.

I wish I had never written this piece, and I tried my best to see that I didn’t have to. Yet there are times when you have to face up to unpleasant situations.

When I started Songs of Yore about three years ago, I did not have a clue what blogging meant. My only excuse was a notion I had about myself that I knew a good deal about old film music. As SoY has progressed, I have learnt a great deal more, and I realise how mistaken I was about myself and how little I knew. I have learnt from fellow bloggers and I have learnt from readers from their comments, and I have often been awed by them, and envious of them. At times I have also used material from them, acknowledging and praising them openly. Similarly, fellow bloggers, who are extremely accomplished, have often referred to something which I wrote, praising me generously and, at times, excessively. We have done it not only because it is legally and morally correct thing to do, but also because it comes so naturally.

This was the virtual word I had stepped into, which was also virtuous and which also matched with my own personal world of seeing goodness in everyone. And in this world, Anu (Anuradha Warrier) recently brought to my notice an instance of two Harvard students, lifting parts of my translation of Chalo ek baar phir se ajanabi ban jayen hum dono on their blog they have started about old Hindi films and songs.  They are 20-something, apparently from Indian background as it appears from Bollywood style pair-photos in ‘About Us’ on their blog.

In fact, if you compare, there is some more than what Anu pointed out. My past infamy has become my companion has been made into My past disgraces have become my companion.

We discussed it a great deal. I also discussed it with a few more people. Even after taking the most charitable view and giving the benefit of the doubt, the conclusion was that the similarities are too glaring to be a coincidence.

Then I posted this comment on their blog, giving them a lot of room to extricate themselves honourably.

My attention has been drawn to this post about similarities in your translation with mine which appeared in my blog on December 20, 2010 here:

http://www.songsofyore.com/a-mahendra-kapur-sahir-ludhiyanvi-ravi-classic/

I quote my translation here with portions being similar highlighted.

O my love! Let us be strangers once again
Let me not have any hopes of tenderness from you
Nor should you look towards me with longing eyes
Let not my words betray my trembling heart
Nor your eyes show the torment inside you
Come, let us be strangers once again

There is something that keeps you from taking the next step
As for me, they say these delights are not mine
My past infamy has become my companion
You too are burdened by the shadows of the nights gone by
Come, let us be strangers once again

When familiarity becomes an affliction it is better to forget it
When relationship becomes a burden it is better to break it
The story which can not be brought to a happy ending
It is better to give it a beautiful turn and leave it
Come, let us be strangers once again

The person who first brought it to my notice is a well respected blogger herself, and a writer and editor in her own right. I discussed the matter a great deal with her and some other readers and bloggers, who are all experienced people, before I decided to comment here. Even after taking the most generous view and giving the benefit of the doubt, everyone agrees that the similarities are too close to be a coincidence. It is possible you have inadvertently missed to acknowledge my translation. It is indeed a matter of happiness that two Harvard youngsters have undertaken this project on our valuable heritage. As an elder I would like to encourage you, and be of any help. It is fair that you post my comments, and make appropriate reference to my translation.

What would you expect two Harvard students to do on receiving this mail? If they were courageous they would have posted my comment with appropriate apology for failure to acknowledge earlier. If they found it too embarrassing, they would have removed that post and written me a private email of regret. The matter would have closed at that.

They were not even up to that. What do you think they did?

Mr and Mrs 55 (they might as well have described themselves as Bunty Aur Babli) ‘cleaned’ their translation and pretended as if nothing had happened.

But in the cyberworld your footprints do not get erased. Here is a picture of their offending post dated Jaunary 9, 2012 as it existed until a few days before their ‘cleaning up’.

And here is how the same page of their post looks after the cleaning operation, and this is how they would like the world to believe that the page always existed.

You will notice that besides changing the offending words, they have also changed the layout. Now their translation, instead of appearing separately in a paragraph, has been interspersed with the original lyric, one original line followed by its translation.

Seeing this, I didn’t know what to make of it. This was my first reaction which I wrote to Anu, and which I repeat here:

It still leaves a lot of troubling thoughts. We all commit mistakes, and learn from them. When these kids were caught, I thought Harvard would have instilled in them some sense of morality to own up and apologize, if not publicly, at least privately to me. One would have felt good that they have a genuine sense of remorse. Now I am not sure if they would grow up to be honourable people.

I am more sad than angry at this kind of stupidity by two ’Twenty-something Harvard students’. Let me try to salvage something and give another chance to these kids to redeem themselves, by addressing the final part of my post to them.

To Mr and Mrs 55

1.  We all commit mistakes, at all ages, and more so when we are twenty-something, because we are immature and unaware of many things. There is no shame in being told of a mistake, but the shame lies in trying to cover-up.

2.  In life you would often get a chance to own up and rectify yourself. The earlier you do it, the better off you are. I gave you a very wide window the first time, but instead of doing the honourable thing you chose to ‘cover up’. At times this may prove very costly.

3.  You ought to own up and say sorry not because the law says so, or the society’s moral code says so, but because you have to be true to yourself. You have ‘cleaned up’ your blog, pretending to the world that nothing has happened. But has it cleaned up your conscience, or can you pretend to yourself that nothing has happened? What about people who had commented on the old translation, who might have taken a copy, or who might recall that it is not the same? Are you honest to them?

4. And all this mess for what – a translation of Sahir Ludhiyanvi’s song? If you liked my translation so much, did it require too much of you to simply ask me, or after being pointed out, to simply acknowledge? What have you achieved by the ‘cover-up’? You went into great contortions to replace words, which may not convey the same meaning, and changed the sentence structure. In the process you have completely mangled Sahir Ludhyanvi.  Now if you read your ‘translation’, it is clumsy English not worthy of Harvard 20-somethings.

5.  On your blog, you have given this Commandment:

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Do you realise that if you do not follow this noble principle yourself, it would make you look like hypocrites?

6. You have displayed your affiliation with Harvard, one of the greatest Institutions in the world. Do you realise that among the people who would be reading this, it is possible that many, including myself, might have affiliation with Harvard and Yale and Princeton and Oxford and other great Institutions in much senior capacity? Character and ethics is most important for these Institutions. Please remember that it is not only a matter of your personal honour, but also that of Harvard.

7.  I can see that this is going to make you feel miserable and, trust me, I can put myself in your position and I feel bad about the whole thing. But there might be a lesson in this also. You would be facing far more difficult moral dilemmas as you grow older. You are learning a lesson very early in your life, albeit not in the way I had wished for you. Now you have to call upon your inner reserves and discuss with your trusted friends, family and seniors how best to redeem yourself from this situation. As for myself, and I can probably say for many at Songs of Yore, I only wish that you give us hope that you are as handsome within as you look in your photographs, that what you did was out of ignorance as you did not know how to go about it, and that you have learnt from it and you have it within yourselves to grow up into honourable persons.

(Note: I apologise to SoY’s readers for inflicting this upon them.)

Wishing Happy Baisakhi, Happy Indian and Myanmar’s traditional New Year, and Happy Birthday to a legend

When you think of Rangoon you think of Mere piya gaye Rangoon. Naturally this was what was uppermost in my mind when I visited Rangoon and some other places in Burma last December.

No one went to Rangoon in the song Mere piya gaye Rangooon - it is a stage song picturised on the yesteryear’s famous comedian Gope and the ebullient and beautiful Nigar Sultana. The fact that yet there is a reference to the city indicates that Rangoon evoked some deep connection in India. C Ramchandra was a genius of light-hearted fun songs – this song is in the tradition of the cult song he had created a couple of years earlier – Ana meri jaan meri jaan Sunday ke Sunday (Shehnai).

Mere piya gaye Rangoon by Shamshad Begum and Chitalkar from Patanga (1949), lyrics Rajendra Krishna, music C Ramchandra

The Last Mughal

It had completely slipped my mind that there was another more powerful and historically significant Rangoon connection, until a mention was made of the must-see place, Bahadurshah Zafar Memorial. Of course we knew from our school history that the last Mughal emperor was exiled in Rangoon, along with his family, where he died. I have seen memorials and memorials. But this one was unlike anything I had seen before. The cruelty of the times seems to come closer to you when you see these pictures of the Emperor in his last days, his wife Zeenat Mahal and his two sons displayed on the wall.

For music lovers, Bhadurshah Zafar is, of course, immortal for two ghazals he wrote in captivity – Lagta nahi hai jee mera ujade dayar mein and Na kisi ki aankh ka noor hun. There cannot be a sadder expression of despair and hopelessness. And you get an eerie feeling when you go down to the basement which houses his grave, which is flanked by these ghazals inscribed on the two sidewalls.

Several singers have sung these ghazals – both in films and non-films, making these befitting candidates for Mr. Ashok Vaishnav’s mega project on multiple version songs. SoY readers would be familiar with Rafi’s rendering in the film in Lal Quila. But my favourites are the versions sung by Habib Wali Mohammad.

While I was struck at the poignancy of the last days of his life, standing at his tomb I realised a coincidence – I was there in the 150^th anniversary year of his death (he died in 1862). Last year we celebrated centenaries and sesquicentenaries of several historical figures in our country, but we seem to have completely forgotten Bahadurshah Zafar – I do not remember any reference to him in our media. So let us recompense our omission, and pay our tributes to the Last Mughal with the two of his ghazals, which would ever remain immortal:

Lagta nahi hai jee mera by Habib Wali Mohammad live

This live presentation also has a brief profile of Habib Wali Mohammad.  And in a very poignant introduction, he describes how he was ‘exiled’ to the US by his parents for doing his MBA, when he was deprived of his music.  Thus, he brings out the pathos of this ghazal from his own personal memory.

Na kisi ki aankh ka noor hun live by Habib Wali Mohammad

This live presentation follows a different tune than we are familiar with.  But strains of the sarangi in Raga Desh heightens the sadness and despondency of the lyrics, perfectly matched by the sonorous voice of Habib Wali Mohammad.

MANDALAY

Mandalay also rang a bell from school history books – it appears along with Rangoon and Andaman in our consciousness. There was indeed something common between them. These are the places where Indian freedom fighters were deported. Bal Gangadhar Tilak was imprisoned here along with Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose and Lala Lajpat Rai. Tilak wrote his famous Geeta Rahasya here. Nothing remains of the cell where they were kept. The only remnant is the following:

Place where Bal Gangadhar Tilak was exiled in Mandalay

The Last Emperor and The Last Emperor

But the most fascinating link between India and Burma is what can be described as the history coming full circle. The last Mughal Emperor was exiled to Burma (Rangoon) – after the British overran Delhi – where he died.  The last Burmese Emperor, Thibaw, was exiled to India (Ratnagiri) with his family – after the British defeated Burma in the third Anglo-Burma war in 1885 – where he died in December, 1916 (i.e. after 31 years of captivity in ‘Thibaw Palace’ in isolation). Most interestingly, Thibaw line continues in India as a result of the eldest princess Phaya (Heiksu Myat Phayagyi) eloping with the gatekeeper of the palace, Gopal Sawant – in abject poverty, and now oblivious of their royal linkage. Amitav Ghosh’s The Glass Palace is a fictional account of the last Burmese dynasty.  But Sudha Shah, inspired by this book, has  written a monumental historical work, ‘The King’s Exile: The Fall of the Royal Family of Burma’, after seven years of research based on documents, archives, travels and meetings with Thibaw’s descendants in India and Myanmar.  You would find a very laudatory summary of this book by Amitav Ghosh on his blog.

Now you might notice a unique December connection.  I visited the Bahadurshah Zafar’s tomb in Rangoon and the Glass Palace in Mandalay in December.  Thibaw died in Ratnagiri in December.  And on December 22, i.e. about ten days after my visit, the President of Myanmar H.E. Thein Sen visited Thibaw’s Palace in Ratnagiri, and met his descendants in the office of the Deputy Commissioner of Ratnagiri (there are several reports on the internet).

Myanmar’s President at Thibaw Palace Ratnagiri

INDIA AND MYANMAR TODAY

One thing that strikes a visitor, especially if you drive through the countryside, is that the country and its people are lovely. It is primarily an agricultural country, which means the villages still have an old world charm. However, their new capital, Nay Pyi Taw (also written as Naypyitaw or Naypyidaw), is a gleaming futuristic city with grand public squares, wide avenues, and infrastructure which would be good enough for the next 100 years. Some of the vignettes of the cultural links, in today’s context, I came across are the following.

Myanmar loves Ekta Kapoor

Ekta Kapoor is one of the two modern icons of popular culture – the other being Rohit Shetty. Rohit Shetty says, “Leave your brains behind and laugh in my movies”. Ekta Kapoor is more erudite. Schooled in our ancient literature and Greek classics, she knows that the ultimate in performing arts is karuna rasa. So she says, leave your brains behind and cry in my serials. And what galaxy of crying women she has created – Tulsi, Parvati, and the CRYING QUEEN Archana (Pavitra Rishta). So I was filled with joy when I saw my favourite, Archu’s serial, Pavitra Rishta, coming on Myanmar Radio and TV (MRTV), with sub-titles, while ambling past a curio shop in a pagoda.

Dhoom macha le dhoom in Mandalay

It would be surprising if a cultural evening was held in India’s neighbourhood for Indians, where Bollywood would be missing. These two Myanmar girls do a very good job of dancing to Dhoom macha le dhoom.

Burmese New Year, Baisakhi, Vishu, Bihu etc.

And the strongest cultural link, which is eternal, is while people in many parts of our country are celebrating around this day the traditional New Year by various names – Baisakhi (Punjab), Vishu (Kerala), Poila Baisakh (Bengal), Maha Bisubh Sankranti (Orissa), Bihu (Assam) or Gudi Parwa (Maharashtra) – Burma is also celebrating, precisely at this time, its own New Year. In another striking cultural similarity, the most dominant part of their New Year festivities is ‘Water Festival’. This is similar to our Holi, with the difference that it is played with plain, rather than coloured, water. Even though the New Year was four months away, these Burmese girls presented a ‘Water Festival Dance’ – it is a treat to the eyes and senses for its melodious music and graceful moves.

Happy Birthday Shamshad Begum

I started with Mere piya gaye Rangoon. Though it is a duet, whom do you associate it with? There is an openness and force in Shamshad Begum, which makes her stand out in her duets. And what a coincidence that today is her 94^th birthday. It was 72 years ago with Khazanchi (1941), when she stormed the Hindi film music with a verve and joyous style of singing, which came to be known as the Punjab school of music. There are several posts on her in my mind. She is among the few surviving artistes from our vintage era. So while I remember Indo-Myanmar links, Baisakhi, Vishu, Bihu, the New Year, let us also wish Shamshad Begum, who so symbolises the spirit of Baisakhi, a very Happy Birthday.

Note: 1. I have, at places, used Burma and Rangoon for their official names Myanmar and Yangon. This is in the sense one uses Bombay for Mumbai (Ye hai Bombay meri jaan). I respect their sentiments for their official names.

2. The place where Bal Gangadhar Tilak was incarcerated is barred to the visitors. That our impossible visit became possible is due to Mr. Tarun Vijay, MP, a man of incredible charms and versatile talents. He was travelling in some other capacity, and our paths crossed at Mandalay.  His request was so earnest, and made in such an endearing manner that it melted the Chief Minister of Mandalay region, at the tea table, into giving approval instantly. By the time the two of us reached there, the message had already reached the guards. But they were still tentative and bewildered to let us in – the first visitors in about ten years. Thank you, Mr. Vijay, and Thank you, Excellency Mr. U Ye Myint.

Guest article by Mr Ashok Vaishnav

(Ashokji continues his mega series which is the seventh article in the series, a couple of which have been contributed by other guest authors, namely Mr Arunkumar Deshmukh and Mr N Venkataraman.  His last piece was on both the versions by female playback singers.  He develops the same theme further in the second part which deals with the specific case of female versions in which one version is happy and the other sad.  This article too bears his characteristic depth of research and ear for detail.  -AK) 

We continue the second part of our journey of multiple version songs in Hindi films – all versions rendered by female playback singer(s), in the form of one of the most basic use of version songs – to present a happy and a sad situation in the same film.  The instances presented here have cases where both the versions are rendered by the same female playback singer. As it happens, all songs except the last one are rendered by Lata Mangeshkar

Dustedoff, N Venkataraman, Gaddeswarup and Mumbaikar – the co-readers of SoY have already augmented this collection of All Female Multiple Version Songs during the enlivening discussion on the first part of the article of this sub-category.  I had clearly missed to collect or was not aware of the different versions of these songs.  I thank them for their valued contribution.  Since the basic idea is to bring, possibly, all songs of this genre on one platform, I have not repeated them on this post.

Incidentally, I have come across far more instances of compositions by Shankar Jaikishan in this sub-category. Therefore, I have juggled in a song by another music director in between two of SJ songs, just for the sake of variety. We also see only C Ramachandra more than once in this sub-category.

I am not very competent to draw any inferences from both these coincidences. I only assure you that this is not by design, but whatever I could lay hands on are these.

1. Barsaat mein hum se mile tum by Lata Mangeshkar from Barsaat (1949), lyics Shailendra, music Shankar Jaikishan

A happy, faster paced, a chorus dance version, which ultimately is going to shape up as SJ’s signature style for such situations:

And a sad version that has distinctively different orchestration and Lata’ style of singing:

It is said that Shailendra took long time in being persuaded to write songs for films in spite of fairly consistent nudging by Raj Kapoor. Thus this song became his maiden song.

2. Yeh zindagi usi ki hai by Lata Mangeshkar from Anarkali (1953), lyrics Rajnedra Krishna, music C Ramachandra

The first one is happy version. Note the ebullient notes from the word go, even as the lyrics are essentially better suited for the sorrow, whereas the second version is a sad version, a poignant climax to one more story of love between a commoner and a high-society scion / royalty.

Happy version

Sad version

3. Jo main jaanti unke liye by Lata Mangeshkar from Aah (1953), lyrics Shailendra, music Shanakar Jaikishan

Happy version

Sad version

The sad version probably is used on the film track only. And, this one also has Shailendra adding his lyrical touch.

4. Apanaa pata bata de ya mere paas aa ja by Lata Mangeshkar from Shagoofa (1953), lyrics Rajendra Krishna, music C Ramachandra

Happy version

Sad version

The sad version begins with an alaap, deep in sincere pathos, and then rhythm of the song becomes a little more easy paced

5. Bol ri kathputli by Lata Mangeshkar from Kathputali (1957), lyrics Shailendra, music Shankar Jaikishan

Both versions are classic examples of orchestration composed by SJ team – enjoy the use of piano accordion and ensemble of violins.

Happy version

Sad version

6. Meethi meethi baaton se bachana zara by Lata Mangeshkar from Quaidi No. 911 (1959), lyrics Hasrat Jaipuri, music Dattaram

Daisy Irani chirps in the first version to support the mood of the song. Do note the excellent use of mouth organ in the composition of the first version and dholak as fast percussion instrument.  Also, the second version has very subtle deployment of ‘duff’ and flute along with a slow paced rhythm. The second version climaxes with a positive resonating response in the voice of Daisy Irani. Enjoy the composite version.

7. Bhaiya mere raakhi ke bandhan ko nibhana by Lata Mangeshkar from Chhoti Bahen (1959), lyrics Shailndra, music Shankar Jaikishan

The first version is a very happy celebration of the festival of Raksha Bandhan, whereas the second version is when all the circumstances are diametrically at the other end, and everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong.  A classical SJ composition, where rhythm is provided by dholak and orchestration has an excellent blending of a range of music instruments. The link below is again a composite version.

8. Menhdi lagi mere haath by Lata Mangehskar from Menhndi Lagi Mere Haath (1962), lyrics Anand Baxi, music Kalyanji Anandji

A happy and a sad version. The second version is set to a Kanya Vidai tune, and has used shehnai to reinforce the mood and lyrics. Here is a composite version.

9. Duniya mein aisa kahan sabakaa naseeb hai by Lata Mangeshkar from Devar (1966), lyrics Anand Baxi, music Roshan

The first version is of the childhood of the lead protagonists whereas the second version presents the tumultuous emotions of the reminiscences when these young protagonists have grown up and have been destined to suffer the pains of growing up in different social milieu.

Happy version

Sad version

10. Aawara ae mere dil by Lata Mangeshkar from Raat Aur Din (1967), lyrics Shailendra, music Shankar Jaikishan

A fast and a slow version, which have been uploaded together in this clip

11. Ek thi ladki meri saheli by Asha Bhosle from Gumrah (1963), lyrics Sahir Ludhiyanvi, muisc Ravi

In the first version, mausi-turned-mother aims to win over the two children by an (autobiographical) story, whereas in the sad version, now having accepted the role of the mother, the woman inside her is not able to resolve her dilemma of her past and conflicts of the future, but does remorsefully hope that whatever shall happen will be for the good.

Happy version

Sad version

I am quite sure that the knowledgeable readers of SoY would be able to add  more variations of this sub-category, like songs by other female playback singers or songs by different female singers or songs by other music directors – All Versions by Female Singers.

The journey continues…