My love for old Hindi film songs is familiar to all those who have read my previous posts. And those who are familiar with my writing know that lyrics play a very important part in that liking. While the melody might initially draw me in, it is always the emotions that the words express that appeal to me, and make the song worth listening to, repeatedly. In the past, I have written about other wordsmiths - Sahir, Shailendra, Majrooh, Hasrat... today, on his 54th death anniversary, I pay my tributes to one of the finest romantic poets who worked in Hindi cinema.
Shakeel Badayuni was born Shakeel Ahmed on 3 August 1916 in Badayun, a small but historic city in the then-United Provinces (present-day Uttar Pradesh). As a child, he learnt a potpourri of languages – Persian, Arabic, Urdu, and Hindustani. Although his immediate family did not share his predilection for poetry, a distant relative, Zia-ul-Qadiri Badayuni, had earned quite a name for his religious poetry. Shakeel began attending mushairas where his uncle recited his poetry. Writing poetry was a natural progression.
By the time he joined Aligarh University in 1936, Shakeel was already writing poetry and an enthusiastic participant at inter-college mushairas. Aligarh University, famed as the ‘Oxford of the East’, was a fertile ground for those with an intellectual and artistic temperament. But unlike his classmates and peers whose writings were infused with progressivism and leftist ideals, Shakeel preferred to stick to writing about romance.
Soon after graduation, he married
Salma, a distant relative who was staying with this family. He was 24. Then, he shifted to Delhi,
where he worked as a clerk in the government’s Civil Supplies Department for a few years. In 1946,
like many other young men who flocked to Bombay to seek their livelihood, Shakeel
too left for the city of dreams in search of fame and fortune.
He found both, almost instantly – a fortuitous meeting with producer AR Kardar at a mushaira
led to a meeting with music director, Naushad Ali. The story, apocryphal perhaps, is that when Naushad asked
Shakeel to describe his talent, the latter quoted:
“Hum
dard ka afsaana duniya ko suna denge
Har dil
mein mohabbat ki ek aag laga denge.”
[ I shall recite stories of pain to the world
And ignite in every heart, the flames of love]
Impressed, Naushad got him on board for Dard, Kardar’s
next production [where this nazm found its voice in Shamshad Begum]. The songs of Dard, especially Uma Devi’s Afsana
likh rahi hoon dil-e-beqaraar ka proved to be immensely popular. This was the beginning of a long and successful collaboration with Naushad.
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Shakeel,
Naushad and Rafi Pic courtesy: Facebook |
Over the next 25 years, the duo would consistently create path-breaking compositions that still echo in the hearts of old Hindi film music lovers.
Unlike the other great lyricists of the time, especially Sahir Ludhianvi, Shailendra and Majrooh Sultanpuri (or even Kaifi Azmi and Jan Nisar Akhtar) Shakeel was preoccupied with romantic poetry.
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Sahir
and Shakeel Pic courtesy: Facebook |
Not for him the ideals of any ‘ism’ nor the socially progressive poetry of his colleagues; Shakeel remained a thorough romantic at heart, saying that his poetry wasn’t that removed from his life.
Perhaps the most ‘inquilaabi’
(revolutionary) thought he expressed was in his ghazal, Miri zindagi pe na muskuraa, where he wrote:
Mira kufr
haasil-e-zohd hai mira zohd haasil-e-kufr hai
Miri bandagi woh hai
bandagi jo rahiin-e-dair-o-haram nahin
My devotion is that which is not pledged to any place of worship]
Mandir mein masjid mein tu aur tu hi hai imaanon mein,
Murli ki taanon mein tu aur tu hi hai aazaanon mein,
Tere dum se diin-dharam ki duniya hai aabaad...
[Love fills the temples and the mosques / Love also lies in people's faiths
It lies in the melody of the flute/It swells the faithful's call to prayer
The spirit of love makes faith and religion flourish]
Yet it would be incredibly shortsighted to dismiss Shakeel as
merely a romantic poet. Remember his bhajans [Man tadpat Hari darshan ko aaj
(Baiju Bawra), Insaaf ka mandir hai ye (Amar)]? They
are infused with devotion. Or think of Madhuban mein Radhika naache re (Kohinoor),
Mohan ki muraliya baaje (Mela) or Mohe panghat pe (Mughal-e-Azam)
– songs that draw inspiration from the Radha-Krishna myths. Shakeel could craft his lyrics to fit any melody or situation –
he was equally adept at a lori as he was at bidaai; a ghazal, qawwali,
bhajan or mujra posed no difficulties to his inspired pen.
In a long career filled with beautiful verses, Shakeel achieved a hat-trick when he won three consecutive Filmfare
Awards for Best Lyricist: Chaudhvin ka Chand (1960) Gharana (1961) and Bees
Saal Baad (1962). [Interestingly enough, none of these films had his
long-time collaborator Naushad as the music director.]
Shakeel also wrote poetry outside of films. His poetry anthologies such as Raanaiyan (1944), Naghma-e-Firdaus (1948), Shabistan (1958), Ranginiyaan (1961), , Door Koi Gaaye, Dharti ko Aakaash Pukaare, etc., reflect a poet who heeded, above all, the call of his heart. Sadly, Shakeel died young; he was only 53 when he died from diabetes-related complications. In March 2013, the Indian postal service honoured him with postage stamp.
On his 54th death anniversary, here are a few of the songs he wrote that are my absolute favourites.
And Shakeel's verses add an additional poignancy to this plaint of heartbreak.
Is bhari duniya mein aaj kya mera koyi nahin
Kaisa ye toofaan utha jag mein andhera hua
Tod diya dil mera tu ne arre bewafa
Mujh ko mere pyaar ka khoob ye badla diya
Dulari (1949)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Mohammed Rafi
Prem Shankar (Suresh), the much-loved son of a wealthy businessman, has fallen in love with a gypsy lass, Dulari (Madhubala) – much to the chagrin of his father and her tribe. The lovers don’t care; they pledge to meet, and Prem is waiting at the appointed spot at the appointed time. The night is nearly over; the stars are bidding goodbye, and there is no sign of her yet...
Nazaare apni mastiyaan dikha dikhaake so gaye
Sitaare apni roshni luta lutaake so gaye
Har ek sham’a jal chuki tumhaare intezaar mein
Tadap rahe hai hum yahaan tumhaare intezaar mein
Khizaa ka rang aa chala hain mausam-e-bahaar mein
Baiju Bawra (1952)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Mohammed Rafi
Perhaps nothing expresses the feeling of secularism as a bhajan – a Hindu devotional song – that owes its creation to three Muslims – Naushad, Shakeel and Rafi. Vijay Bhatt, the director, had wanted to sign Kavi Pradeep as the lyricist, owing to his knowledge of Hindu myths and ethos. It was on Naushad’s insistence that Shakeel came on board. After listening to this song and to Man tadpat Hari darshan ko aaj (in which devotion is steeped in both lyrics and vocals) how can one not admit that faith, spirituality and devotion are not constrained by the barriers of man-made religion?
Mahal udaas aur galiyaan sooni
Chup-chup hain deewaaren
Dil kyaa ujdaa duniyaa ujdi
Rooth gayi hain bahaaren
Hum jeewan kaise guzaarein,
O mandir girta phir ban jaata
Dil ko kaun sambhaale
Uran Khatola (1955)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Mohammed Rafi
O door ke musafir has long been one of my favourite songs. As Soni (Nimmi) is led away to be the human sacrifice that the priests say the ocean demands, she begs Kashi (Dilip Kumar) to sing – his voice is the last thing she wants to hear as she goes to her death. Shaken, Kashi begins by ruing that while she’s leaving this world, he cannot even hope to die.
Chale aaj tum jahaan se hui zindagi paraayi
Tumhe mil gaya thikaana humein maut bhi na aayi
He then pleads for her to take him along. For his life – without her – is worse than death.
Dil uth gaya jahaan se le chal humein yahaan se
Kis kaam ki ye duniya jo zindagi se khele re
Hum ko bhi saath lele hum rah gaye akele
Kohinoor (1960)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Mohammed Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar
Kohinoor was inspired lunacy, and both Dilip Kumar and Meena Kumari seemed to be having fun on-screen and off. The songs come in quick succession in this film, and it's a blessing that they are all good to listen to. Interestingly enough, this song, a romantic duet, comes even before Prince Dhivendra Pratap (Dilip Kumar) and Princess Chandramukhi (Meena Kumari) fall in love - this is the first time they meet. (The song is mostly sung separately, with the hero and heroine only meeting once the song ends.)
Shakeel's words are drenched in romance as the night is drenched in moonlight...
Chand taare meri raahon mein bichhe jaate hain
Choomta hai tere kadmon ko gagan aaj ki raat
Saari duniyaa nazar aati hai dulhan aaj ki raat
Mughal-e-Azam (1960)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
I love everything about Mughal-e-Azam – the acting, the dialogues, the sets and… the songs. And of them, my favourite is this na’at, addressed to both Hazrat Ali [the 4th Rashidun Caliph in Islam]:
Ae mere muskhil kushaa fariyaad hai fariyaad hai
Aap ke hote hue, zindagi meri barbaad hai
Bekas pe karam keejiye sarkaar-e-madina
Gardish mein hai taqdeer bhanwar mein hai safeena
Lata soars effortlessly in this na’at, her voice rising fluidly as Anarkali (Madhubala), chained and thrown into the dungeon for her audacity in falling in love with the prince, appeals to a higher power.
Mughal-e-Azam was one of Naushad’s stellar scores; indeed, the very soundscape of the film stands testament to his talent. Shakeel, too, worked overtime on this passion project – there were 17 iterations to the lyrics of certain songs before Naushad, a poet himself, was satisfied.
Chaudhvin ka Chand (1960)Music: Ravi
Singer: Mohammed Rafi
If there’s one song that expresses almost reverential awe for a beloved’s beauty, it must be this one.
Chaudhvin ka chand ho ya aaftaab ho
Jo bhi ho tum Khuda ki kasam lajawaab ho
Shakeel, like Hasrat Jaipuri, was past master at describing a woman in the most poetic terms. Apart from the very complimentary comparisons, there is an element of adoration, of respect, of awe (almost) that is implicit in Mohammed Rafi's rendition and Guru Dutt's enactment of it on screen as he watches his beloved sleeping. Waheeda's ethereal sensuousness deserved every bit of praise that the lyricist lavished on her.
Chehra hai jaise jheel mein hansta hua kamal
Ya zindagi ke saaz pe chhedi huyi ghazal
Jaan-e-bahaar tum kisi shaayar ka khwaab ho...
Waheeda certainly looked like a poet’s dream.
Nain lad jai hai
Ganga Jamuna (1961)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Mohammed Rafi
Ganga (Dilip Kumar) has just received confirmation that his feelings for Dhanno (Vyjayanthimala) are reciprocated. It’s a moment of sheer happiness, of celebrating the love they share, and as always, he envelops his whole community into sharing his happiness with him. So he explains to the villagers exactly what’s happened to him, and how he feels that morning. When a shy Dhanno comes out of her hut, she’s both embarrassed and happy at the acceptance their relationship receives from friends and family. If you want to see how graceful Dilip Kumar was, dancing, just watch him in this song.
Shakeel shows that his fluency in languages was not just restricted to Farsi, Urdu and Hindi. The lyrics here are in a mix of Bhojpuri and Hindi, as were the film’s dialogues. Yet, it is easy enough for the average listener to understand.
Bees Saal Baad (1962)
Music: Hemant Kumar
Singer: Hemant Kumar
I dithered between Beqaraar kar ke humein yun na jaayiye and this, but decided to pick this quiet song, gentle and teasing, that approaches the woman with gentleness and serenity. Shakeel’s description of a woman’s beauty is different from that in Chaudhvin ka chand ho; but you can almost visualize the kind of woman he’s describing in:
Kitni masoom lag rahi ho tum
Tumko zaalim kahe woh jhootha hai
Ye bholapan tumhara, ye sharaarat aur ye shokhi
Zaroorat kya tumhen talwaar ki teeron ki khanjar ki
Nazar bhar ke jise tum dekh lo wo khud hi mar jaaye
Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam (1962)
Music: Hemant Kumar
Singer: Geeta Dutt
This was, in my opinion, the crowning glory of a stellar score from a classic film. The achingly haunting notes trigger the opening scene, and Shakeel’s words express the woman’s distress with such poignancy:
Aas tod ke mukh mod ke
Kya paaoge saath chhod ke
Birhan ko ab yun na tarsaao
Chale aao… koi door se awaaz de
Chale aao
Beautifully picturized by Guru Dutt, the song soars into the silence and like Bhootnath (Guru Dutt), we are transfixed.
Ace cinematographer VK Murthy lights the ruins with his characteristic light and shade and Geeta Dutt’s voice holds a wealth of pain and longing, filled with desires of which we know nothing. The film truncated this song [unforgivably, in my opinion]; here's the full audio version.
Mere Mehboob (1963)
Music: Naushad
Singer: Mohammed Rafi
'Love at first sight' is a trope that Hindi films have dealt with quite often. In this case, all he (Rajendra Kumar) has seen is a pair of beautiful eyes behind a naqaab, and a fair, slim hand that stretches out from under the burqa. It is the last day of college and he might never see her again, much less find out her name, or who she is. What is he to do?
His friend advises him to write a nazm to his beloved and sing it at the farewell function. And he does so, pouring out his attraction...
Yaad hai mujhko meri umr ki pehli voh ghadi
Teri aankhon se koi jaam piya tha maine
Meri rag-rag mein koi barq-si leheraayi thi
Jab tere marmari haathhon ko chhua tha maine
and his frustration:
Dhoondhta hoon tujhe har raah mein har mehfil mein
Thak gaye hain meri majboor tamanna ke kadam
Aaj ka din hai meri ummeed ka aakhri din
Kal na jaane main kahan aur tu kahan ho sanam
Do ghadi apni nigaahon ka sahara de de
While she sits in the audience and listens…
Do Badan (1966)
Music: Ravi
Singer: Lata Mangeshkar
I'm not entire sure why Manoj Kumar persuaded Raj Khosla to remake/adapt (whatever you want to call it) a trainwreck like Deedar, which had nothing to recommend it except its songs. Do Badan, too, has only one saving grace - its songs.
And just as the film winds wearily down to a contrived tragedy, comes this song, in which Shakeel captures the deep anguish of the interminable waiting for someone you love.
Lau thartharaa rahi hai, ab shamm-e-zindagi ki
Ujdi huyi muhabbat, mehmaan hai do ghadi ki
Mar kar hi ab milenge, jee kar to mil na paaye
Lo aa gayi unki yaad wo nahin aaye...
Perhaps his words had such a deep influence on Manoj Kumar which is why he falls dead as well.
Shakeel died when he was only 53. But he left behind a legacy that has withstood the passage of time. So long as old Hindi film music finds new listeners in generations to come, Shakeel will never be forgotten.
What are your favourite Shakeel Badayuni songs?
