Amid the horrors of Partition, the Hindi film industry’s future hung in balance. The music scene saw several luminaries migrate to the other side of the new border. But as new dividing lines were drawn, the one between cinema and literature blurred in beautiful ways.
Dard bhi hamein qubool, chain bhi hamein qubool,
Hum ne har tarah ke phool, haar mein piro liye…
– Majrooh Sultanpuri (Nau Do Gyarah, 1957)
If the phool (flower) in the above lines were to imply the songs of that era, what a spectacular haar (necklace) it would be! The first 15 years of Independence gave India delightful film music, and a great deal of credit for that goes to an array of wonderful lyricists of the time. So much so that one could say to that chaudhvin ka chaand of a period: Jaan-e-bahaar tum kisi sha’ir ka khwaab ho.
As India looked to overcome tumultuous times in the aftermath of Partition, the Hindi film industry’s future hung in balance. The music scene, still reeling from the death of the legendary KL Saigal in early 1947, was perhaps the most affected after the migration of several big names to what was now the other side of the border. As it panned out, the concerns were superfluous. The phase that followed was so magnificent that it has come to be widely acknowledged as the Golden Age of Hindi cinema.
Shailendra’s haunting lyrics enriched the Bimal Roy-Dilip Kumar tale of rebirth, Madhumati (1958).
While soulful albums such as Jugnu and Mela steadied the ship after Independence, it was 1949 that turned out to be a watershed year, with several important things happening in quick succession. Raj Kapoor’s Barsaat launched the careers of four prodigious talents: composer duo Shankar-Jaikishan and lyricists Shailendra and Hasrat Jaipuri. Naushad hit a purple patch with the music for Andaz, Dillagi, and Dulari. Light-hearted numbers such as Lara Lappa (Ek Thi Larki) and Mere Piya Gaye Rangoon (Patanga) were heard in all corners. However, the biggest musical event of all was the release of the prophetically worded Aayega Aanewala from Mahal (lyrics by Nakhshab Jarchavi), which marked the true arrival of a person who had been hovering on the fringes of fame, Lata Mangeshkar. The void left by Noor Jehan’s departure to Pakistan had been filled sooner than anyone could have expected.
To sum it up, the floodgates had opened. A host of gifted musicians steered countless albums to all-time glory and, in the process, became household names. Accomplished composers and singers were doing extraordinary work, but what really propelled the music of that era to dizzying heights was some incredible writing.
As new geographical borders were created, the dividing line between cinema and literature blurred considerably. The vibrant literary scene of the time didn’t escape the notice of perceptive filmmakers, and the film industry embraced young, promising poets, many of whom came from the Hindi-Urdu heartland. Cinema offered these writers a significant platform as well as a regular means of sustenance. In return, Sahir Ludhianvi, Shailendra, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Rajinder Krishan, Shakeel Badayuni, and others, elevated the films of the time and shaped the thoughts of generations of audiences. It needs to be said here that these names were just the proverbial tip of the iceberg. Even the less-celebrated lyricists of the era are bona fide greats.
Having fought and finally won freedom, India was a nation with hope in the air and the film lyrics mirrored this. Love bloomed in all its sublime shades. If Pyaar Hua, Iqraar Hua is the ultimate declaration, Shaam-e-Gham Ki Qasam is the poignant expression of an aching heart. There was intense passion (Seene Mein Sulagte Hain Armaan; Yeh Raat Yeh Chandni) as well as playful banter (Jaane Kahaan Mera Jigar Gaya Ji; Udein Jab-Jab Zulfein Teri). On the one hand, Shakeel Badayuni was raising the bar for wooing with Chaudhvin Ka Chand Ho, while on the other, Qamar Jalalabadi’s Aaiye Meherbaan was transforming seduction into high art. It’s difficult to say which was more persuasive – the euphoria of love (Piya Aiso Jiya Mein) or the heartbreak that could accompany it (Ajeeb Daastaan Hai Yeh).
Philosophy (Zindagi Khwaab Hai; Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Pe) and devotion (Man Tarpat Hari Darshan Ko Aaj; Allah Tero Naam), expressed in simple, powerful words, found ample favour in an atmosphere suffused with idealism.
Patriotic sentiment united the populace, and songs such as Watan Ki Raah Mein, Aao Bachchon Tumhein Dikhaayen and Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai struck a chord everywhere.
The prophetically worded Aayega Aanewala in Mahal (1949; lyrics by Nakhshab Jarchavi), marked the true arrival of a person who had been hovering on the fringes of fame: Lata Mangeshkar.
However, not everything in the country was turning out as envisaged and the inevitable disillusionment made its way to the pen of Sahir Ludhianvi. Uncomfortable realities couldn’t be ignored, and the ace poet asked some stinging questions with Jinhein Naaz Hai Hind Par Woh Kahaan Hain, Aurat Ne Janam Diya Mardon Ko and Cheen-o-Arab Hamaara. The anguish was genuine and Sahir was not one to pull his punches. As Kaifi Azmi once noted about him in the book series Naye Adab Ke Me’maar (1948), “If he is overcome by angst, he doesn’t hide it; if he finds his feet trembling, he isn’t ashamed of it.”
It was a momentous time for cinema in general. Filmmakers such as Bimal Roy and Raj Kapoor were rolling out masterpieces, and music was an indispensable element. If they knew how to smoothly integrate the songs into their narratives, a genius like Shailendra ensured that the lyrics were in sync with the subject’s texture. Awara, Shree 420, Madhumati, Bandini, and many more classics reaped the benefits. Similarly, the unforgettable scores of composers Naushad and C Ramchandra owe much of their success to Shakeel Badayuni and Rajinder Krishan respectively. And how does one even begin about Majrooh Sultanpuri? Showing a tremendous ability to adapt his style to suit any theme, the man extracted gold out of every emotion, and then used it as ink to write his songs. Suffice to say, wallah jawaab tumhara nahin!
Writing lyrics for pre-decided tunes – the norm in Hindi cinema – is never an easy task, but then we’re not talking of tasks but sheer magic. Many of us were not even born when these songs came out but we still recognise the melodies, and know the words by heart. The number of Golden Age melodies that we consistently sing in an antakshari game is testament to how eternal the songs are. In fact, lines like “Pyaar kiya to darna kya” and “Guzra hua zamaana aata nahin dobaara” have transcended their origins and are used as aphorisms now. In Nasreen Munni Kabir’s book Talking Songs (2005), Javed Akhtar says, “If you listen to even a totally mediocre song of the 1950s, it has a certain finesse of language.” It’s true. The language of Hindi film songs was never more elegant, more magical. It’s a spell likely to last forever, and we’re not complaining. Because, dil abhi bhara nahin.
